Sixty-Six

Nothing’s better than a rooftop patio. You can sit under a humid July night sky, drink a Dogfish IPA, and soak in the skyline. Today the patio was going to be part of my home-field advantage.

I pulled on socks and sneakers, shoved my mother’s storage bill into my pocket, and climbed the stairs, ignoring protests from my ankle. Reaching the top, I burst out onto the roof. It was a cool September night. I heard someone knocking on my apartment door. “Mr. Tucker! This is Lieutenant Lee of the Boston Police.” I’d left the door open as a distraction. It would buy me some time.

I padded across the wooden patio and climbed over the wall. I jumped down to the rooftop with a gravelly crunch. I winced with pain and fear of noise. It would only take a minute for them to search my condo. I didn’t have much time. I’d need to use the fire escape.

I ran to the top of the fire escape and peeked over the roof, dipping back when I saw a cop in the parking area watching the ladders. That wouldn’t work.

Sneaking away from the police was going to be a lot like breaking into a computer. The obvious approaches are always blocked by intricate passwords, firewalls, and virus-detection software. The key is to understand your opponent’s assumptions and use those assumptions to your advantage. The assumption here was clear. The police had covered the front door. They had covered the fire escape. They were in the apartment. They assumed the building was now secure, because they thought that I couldn’t get to another building.

The houses on my block run together, creating a single structure with a common roof. A firewall separates the buildings. Switching buildings was simply a matter of climbing over the two-foot firewall between them. I ran to the first firewall and clambered over it. Then the next, and the next. When I got to the last building, I climbed onto their rooftop patio and entered their hallway. Piece of cake. The cops had my building secure, but not this one.

I limped down the staircase. I would run out the front door, bang a right, and lose myself in the park behind the houses. It was perfect. I opened the door, stepped into the sun. Lieutenant Lee barred the steps.

“Aloysius Tucker, you are under arrest.”