Chapter 2: Whistleblower

Eight hours later, Luke was still sitting in a small holding cell in what passed for the headquarter of the campus police. He had received no food or drink, and his right to a phone call had been denied. That was wrong: his angry demands had simply been ignored.

What had happened to John? John must have known about his arrest. He would call Luke's father, would he? The hunger was getting stronger now, but he tried to control it. He thought hard. Why did the Dean react that strongly? It was a harmless prank, a message popping up on his computer on the startup screen wishing "Happy Halloween!". What had ever provoked such a strong response?

It must have been something else. The campus police were in clear violation of his basic civil rights. Why would they risk that?

Maybe it was those data that he had downloaded? The file folder about the physics department annex? Maybe he could explain that he hadn't even looked at it? Bad idea. That would be admitting to breaking into the dean's computer. Right now, all they could have would be a TCP-IP address, but those were easily faked. He had been under suspicion a year before when the Math exams had been lifted off Professor Pincer's computer, and he had successfully argued that a TCP-IP address could be forged. Even Pincer had admitted to the possibility. That could work again. They might not believe it, but it was a valid defense.

Oh shit! It must be late afternoon already, and Katie would be waiting for him all day. Oh God! She'd think he had snubbed her. Shit! He had some explaining to do. Oh, Katie! The thought of her alone gave him some balance. He'd get out eventually, and then he would explain things to her. God, he didn't want to louse it up with her.

With a screech, the door lock was worked and in came ... the dean! Professor Lawrence in person! He cast an ugly look at Luke and looked around.

"I imagine you may be willing to talk now," he observed casually, but Luke could see a flicker in his eyes. The man was scared!

"Sir, I have no idea what this is all about. I have been arrested without cause, I was denied fundamental civil rights, and I was left without water or food for the entire day."

Lawrence waved his hand. "Spare me the rubbish! We nailed you last year when you came up with that flimsy excuse. It won't help you again."

"Sir, with all respect, if somebody has assumed my identity last year, he can easily repeat that."

"Oh yes, of course. Don't worry. The IT staff is going over your laptop with a fine comb. We'll know it soon."

Luke kept his mouth shut. No need to tip them off that he had securely deleted everything before switching off the laptop. If only they didn't find the thumb drive!

"Yes, and then I will run your ass off this campus!" Lawrence continued warming up to the prospect.

Luke shrugged playing for time. He needed to get in help. "The campus police is still in violation of my Miranda rights. Whatever you bring up, a judge will throw it out."

"Fine, fine! I'll get you a lawyer. Maybe he can talk sense into you."

"I have the right to an attorney of my choosing, Sir."

"Look, why not simply tell me what you stole from my computer? Return the files, and all I'll do is suspend your rights to use the intranet. You'll be graduating next year, right? Why would you want to ruin your future?"

"Sir, you are in violation of my rights. I demand a lawyer, I demand the right to a phone call."

"Fine! Have it your way!" Lawrence snarled angrily and knocked on the door.

Luke saw his chance. He knew the central administration building well enough, and he knew that campus police was lodging on the ground floor right next to the main exit. The arrest cell was nothing more than a disused office with a reenforced door and a barred window. Campus police mostly consisted of retired police officers, most of them over sixty.

Therefore, when the door opened to Lawrence's knock, Luke rushed it. He wasn't a jock but he wasn't a wimp either. He was tall – almost 6'3" – and in reasonably good shape. When he impacted on the door he brushed Lawrence to the side and sent the elderly cop stumbling backwards. Then he was through the door. He took only a fraction of a second to get his bearings, and then he sprinted towards the exit.

The cop hollered behind him, Lawrence screamed, but before anybody in the watch room could react and set down their coffee mugs, Luke was barreling through the front door and into the open.

Instinct made him run for his dorm building, but he was already contemplating the wisdom of this. This was where they'd look for him first, but he needed stuff from his room, like his stash of money and the old driver's license. Both were well hidden on top of a ceiling tile. And the thumb drive. Please God, let it still be there. Chances were that the campus cops couldn't tell a thumb drive from an eraser and had left it there.

There was the building. He sprinted up the front steps as his ears picked up the first siren. Thank god, the door was not closed. There was an old umbrella, a big sturdy one in a corner of the entrance hall. Luke stuck it through the door handles from inside, effectively blocking the door.

Up the flight of stairs he slammed into the door to his and John's apartment. There was John staring at him with disbelief first and then fear. In a second, everything was clear: John was struggling this year. Ratting Luke out would earn him enough brownie points with the dean to get passing grades.

"You shit!" Luke snarled advancing on his roommate.

John unfroze and jumped back into his room, slamming the door shut and pushing home the deadbolt. No time for John! There was yellow crime scene tape in front of Luke's room but he simply threw his weight against the flimsy door. Doors in a dorm do not have an easy life, and Luke's door had been on the receiving end of kinetic energy a few times in the past. It flew open under Luke's weight.

In a flash, he pulled his desk chair to a corner near the bed. He stepped up on it and pushed up a ceiling tile. Yes! His stash was untouched. There was his driver's license along with his cash reserves, seven hundred and fifty dollars. He only now became aware of the utter chaos in the room. Everything had been turned over! He ran to where the desk stood haphazardly, about a foot from the wall. The tin can with his pens was nowhere to be seen. He looked under the desk. There! The cops must have pushed it back over the edge of the desk. Quickly, he crawled under the desk. For six or seven precious seconds he fumbled for the thumb drive but then he found it. Stuffing it into his pockets, he grabbed for one of his warmer jackets that was lying on top of a heap of clothing and pulled it on.

From downstairs he could hear shouting now, and he quickly opened the window sash. The rear of the building was standing against a small hill, and the drop from the window was a mere seven foot onto soft grass. He squeezed himself through the open window and without a backward glance he jumped. He quickly found his footing and ran uphill. That side of the campus was surrounded by a six foot brick wall that bordered on a highway. It took him just two attempts to get one foot on the wall. Behind him, he heard the sounds of men running, but now he was on the wall and let himself drop down on the other side.

Just ten strides later, and he was on the highway. A gas station was located just half a mile down the road, and Luke set out for it in a hurried jog.

He was in luck. A trucker was just exiting the shop and heading for his semi.

"Excuse me, Mister. Are you heading for Portland?"

"Yeah. Portland, then Tacoma. Why? Looking for a ride?"

"Yes sir! I just got word that my dad had a heart attack. Can't find a flight that late, and I thought..."

"Oh, shut up and get in," the trucker grumbled. "And spare your poor father all those heart attacks when you just want to hitch a ride."

The driver's name was Eugene Manning. He was about thirty, had a picture of a pretty lady and a small kid in his dashboard, and he had his stereo set to a classic rock station.

"Keeps me from falling asleep. You running from the law?"

"Nah, not really. Just campus cops, and they've got nothing on me. Still, I need to put some distance between them and me."

"Whatcha do? Smoke grass?"

"Naw, they kinda have this idea that I did something on the dean's computer."

"Totally untrue, of course?"

"Totally," Luke assured him.

°°°

Eugene Manning dropped Luke off in Tacoma early on the next morning. Luke found a breakfast place and enjoyed his first real meal in over 36 hours. The speed with which he put away a load of pancakes made the waitress giggle, and they bantered for a minute or two. When he asked her nicely she allowed him the use of the telephone. He was lucky. His father was still at home.

"Dad, this is Luke. I'm in Tacoma."

"What the hell are you doing in Tacoma?" his father wanted to know.

"I'm sorta on the run, Dad. The campus police arrested me yesterday morning and they kept..."

"Arrested you? What the hell did you do this time?"

"Thanks for your trust in me, Dad," Luke retorted, not really worried. His father was a fellow nerd and prankster, and although he was a senior manager at a major software company near Seattle he had not lost his sense of humor yet. "They held me for the full day. No lawyer, no phone call, no food, no drink. Dean himself pressed me to confess to some nonsense. When he left my holding cell I ran for it and made it out of the building. I hitched a ride to Tacoma. Shit, Dad, it was the only thing I could think of."

"Held you without due process? You're not shitting me?"

"No, Dad, the truth."

"You have money on you?"

"Yup. Recovered my stash, so I'm covered money wise. I even got my old driver's license, you know: the one I thought I'd lost. It should still hold up in a control."

"Okay, here's what you do. Find yourself a phone shop and get a disposable cell. Call me on my cell then. I'm on my way to pick you up."

"Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate it. I'll do as you say."

"Okay. Get that cell and call me."

Thank God his father was a cool guy. His mother would have had a cow, but she had left his Dad seven years ago to pursue a life on the fast lane. He'd only seen her once in the last years, for fifteen minutes with her taxi cab's engine running. On the whole, he preferred his father anyway. For his sister Anna it could have been harder, but Anna was diametrically opposed to their mother being a hardcore nerd.

°°°

Once Luke found a phone shop and a cheap cell with a prepaid card, he called his father. Not thirty minutes later, Luke saw him drive up in the Volvo convertible that told the world that Erwin Braun was doing well as project manager for a major software company. With a sigh of relief, Luke dropped into the passenger seat.

"You look like shit," his father remarked. "Smell like it, too."

"Add feel like it," Luke sighed.

Luke's father put the Volvo in gear and left the curb.

"Okay, Lukas. Let's hear your story."

By the time they reached Seattle, his father had already contacted his lawyer who in turn found a colleague who was licensed to practice in California. He made an appointment for the afternoon and then drove to their modest home on Mercer Island. For the first time in almost two days, Luke had a chance for a shower.