Early Friday, Theo, Ike, and the entire team descended onto the Metro and rode trains for three hours. Nothing. Frye suspended the search at ten thirty, and Theo and Ike returned to the hotel. They killed some time, had a quiet lunch together in the hotel restaurant, and were talking about doing some sightseeing when Frye popped in and invited them to take a tour of the FBI headquarters. They jumped at the invitation and spent two hours in the J. Edgar Hoover Building on Pennsylvania Avenue. At four p.m., they were back on the subway, looking at strangers and seeing no one of interest.

By seven p.m., Theo was thoroughly bored with everything — the subway, the hordes of people, the constant thoughts of Pete Duffy, and the city itself. He just wanted to go home.

Agent Daniel Frye was a nice guy, but he was becoming a drill sergeant. He insisted the team work early Saturday, because, who knows, Pete Duffy just might move around some. He had obviously changed his routine, and since Theo and Ike were in town anyway, why not ride a few more subway trains and hope for a miracle? Their flight didn’t leave until noon.

Over an early breakfast, Theo and Ike talked about the obvious: If Pete Duffy had not been back to his apartment in four days, he was gone. Something had spooked him and he’d vanished again. They had been lucky once, but their luck had run out.

They devoured pancakes, then met with the team for a final foray into the underground.

A miracle was not in the works. At ten a.m., Theo, Ike, Slade, and Ackerman left the hotel in yet another black FBI van and went to the airport. They checked in and, after a long walk through a concourse, found their gate. They had over an hour to kill, and Theo was immediately bored. He was also tired of this little adventure. Furthermore, he was irritated because he was missing his weekly round of golf with his father.

During the tour of the Hoover building the day before, he had entertained thoughts of becoming an FBI agent, of traveling the word stalking terrorists and the like. Now, though, he dismissed those thoughts and could not imagine a career that involved sitting on subway trains for hours on end. He told Ike he was going to find a restroom and roam around. Ike, his nose stuck in a newspaper, grunted in response. Slade and Ackerman were both on the phone and watching planes take off and land in the distance. The airport was not busy, and as Theo walked along the concourse he passed a bookstore, a gift shop, two bars where some folks were already drinking too much, a sad little quarantine box where the smokers were caged in, and several restaurants. He used the restroom, and as he stepped back onto the concourse to continue his stroll, he bumped into a man who was in a hurry. The contact was slight, but it was enough to make the man drop his carry-on bag.

“Sorry,” the man said as he hurried to pick up his bag. When he bent over, his eyeglasses slipped off.

“Sorry, too,” Theo said, embarrassed.

As the man grabbed his glasses, Theo looked at him and moved back a step. Something about him was familiar; in fact, he looked a lot like Pete Duffy, but with blond hair and different glasses. He froze for a second, glared at Theo as if he knew him, then smiled as if all was well. Theo froze, too, but quickly remembered Frye’s warning: Don’t stare. He returned the smile and walked in the opposite direction. Duffy continued on, in a hurry, and Theo ducked behind a newsstand. As he watched Duffy hoof it down the concourse, he realized he’d seen that walk before. He called Ike. Straight to voice mail. He had numbers for both Slade and Ackerman. He called Slade and began trailing Duffy, who was getting farther away. Twice he glanced over his shoulder, as if he knew someone was back there.

Slade answered after the fourth ring. “Yes, Theo.”

“I got Packer,” Theo said. “Come quick.”

“Where?”

“Down the concourse. He just passed gate number thirty-one. He’s in a hurry and I think he’s trying to catch a flight.”

“Stay on his tail. We’ll be right there.”

Theo moved along the edge of the concourse, trying to stay out of sight but having trouble keeping up with Duffy. At gate twenty-seven, though, Duffy slowed down and got in the back of a long line of people boarding. He glanced back again, but Theo was hiding behind an information booth. He waited for what seemed like hours until he saw Slade and Ackerman walking rapidly toward him. Ike was trying to keep up.

Theo waved them over. “He’s at gate twenty-seven, waiting to board.”

“Are you sure it’s him?” Ackerman asked.

“Pretty sure. We made eye contact. I think he thought he’d seen me somewhere before.”

“Which guy?” Ackerman asked as they peeked around the booth. A lady at the desk asked, “May I help you?”

Slade said, “FBI, ma’am. We’re cool.”

Theo said, “He’s at the back of the line, brown jacket, khaki pants, black carry-on bag. He’s got blond hair now.” Ackerman looked at the large screen above them and said, “Gate twenty-seven. Delta nonstop to Miami.”

Slade said to Ackerman, “Call Frye. Get the flight delayed or grounded or whatever. Let’s stay here, let Packer get on board, and at that point there’s no escape.”

“Right,” Ackerman said, punching numbers on his phone.

Slade said, “I’ll go get in line behind him, just to make sure he doesn’t disappear.” Slade casually strolled down the concourse, like any other passenger, and got in line for the flight to Miami. There were six people between him and Duffy and the line was moving slowly. Duffy seemed a bit jumpy. He was probably wondering where he’d seen that kid before, and he kept glancing down the concourse. Ackerman was talking to Frye. Ike was crouching behind Theo and breathing heavily. The lady at the desk just stared at them. She was probably thinking This kid ain’t no FBI agent. But she said nothing.

Ackerman stuck his phone in his pocket and said, “Got it. The flight will be delayed until we do our business. Packer won’t make it to Miami. Assuming, of course, it is Packer.”

“Is it Duffy?” Ike grunted at Theo.

“I sure hope so,” Theo replied, and then almost got sick again with the thought that maybe he had picked the wrong guy. What if all this was one big mistake?

But it was Duffy. Theo had seen his eyes, and he’d seen him walk.

As soon as Duffy handed his ticket to the Delta agent and disappeared through the door to the walkway, Slade walked to the counter, flashed his badge to another Delta agent, and said, “FBI. This flight is being delayed.”

Ackerman hurried to the gate, with Theo and Ike right behind him. All passengers were on board and the crew was preparing to push back. Ackerman said, “I’ll walk on board and see where he’s sitting. That way we’ll have a name.”

“Good idea,” Slade said.

Ackerman explained things to the Delta agent and hustled on to the airplane. Five minutes later he was back at the counter. He said, “Seat fourteen B. Who’s the passenger?” The Delta agent pecked the keys, scanned the monitor, and said, “A Mr. Tom Carson. Bought the ticket yesterday at a Delta office on Connecticut Avenue.”

“Cash or credit card?”

“Uh, let’s see. Cash.”

“Cash for a one-way ticket?”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. We think we need to have a chat with him. There is a warrant for an arrest, but first we need to verify his identity and it might take some time. Have your pilot announce that there is a slight delay. No one will be surprised.”

“Sure. Happens all the time.”

Twenty minutes later, Daniel Frye arrived in a rush with three other agents, all new ones. He huddled with Slade and Ackerman, and he asked Theo, “Are you sure?”

Theo nodded and said, “About ninety percent.”

Frye said, “Okay, here’s the plan. Let’s get the guy off the plane and talk to him. We’ll check his paperwork and see where that goes. If it’s the wrong guy, then we’ll apologize, send him on his way, and hope he doesn’t sue us.”