You're a Rat... and a little cunt. Where's your fucking dad?" said Foulkes. "He's not here yet," blurted Lester. "I have an apartment at the Plaza!" "We're going to the precinct," said Foulkes. "We're going to the East Seventy-third Street station." "But I have an apartment at the Plaza!" "What?" Foulkes looked confused. "What does that mean?" "My father doesn't live here, on East Seventy-third Street." "What?" said Foulkes again, the tone of his voice changing to one of suspicion. "What did you say, son?" "He lives somewhere else," said Lester. He was starting to feel guilty about lying, especially since one of his friends had just been wounded. He tried to make it sound convincing. "He has another house. In Washington." "Washington?" Foulkes said, his voice rising a notch. "Where in Washington?" "In Georgetown." "Lester," said Foulkes, "come over here and sit down." Lester got up from the radiator and walked toward Foulkes, who looked suspicious. He knew he shouldn't have told Foulkes that his father lived somewhere else, but he couldn't come up with a good lie right then and wasn't going to get one out of his mouth. "Is this the truth?" said Foulkes. "Yes," said Lester. "Where does your father live?" "He doesn't live in New York," said Lester. "He lives in Washington." "What's the address?" "I don't know," said Lester. "On M Street." Foulkes paused for a moment. Lester knew it was a bad sign when someone you knew took their time before answering a question. It meant that he wanted to ask another question, and probably another, before answering. "What's the address?" Lester opened his paper. "Four twenty-seven M Street." "Where is M Street in Washington?" "Georgetown," said Lester. "In D.C. It's south of Rock Creek Park, south of the center of town." "Is this your father's name?" "Yes." "Is this his apartment?" "No, it's not. It's our apartment," Lester said, but then he started to feel bad again about lying and he added, "It's our apartment." Foulkes looked back at the phone, then at Lester. Lester thought he looked angry, but Foulkes didn't say anything. He put the receiver down. "We're going to the precinct," he said. He got up off the radiator. Lester was very scared. He'd heard stories of kids who were locked up for making trouble in Brooklyn. "What is it you're going to do?" said Lester. Foulkes didn't answer. He turned around and walked out of the room. Lester followed him, wondering what the precinct was like. He was going to meet some of the people who worked there. Some of them he had met, like Sergeant Lester of Brooklyn's own Six-Eight Precinct, whom he'd gotten to know quite well while they'd been doing night patrols together in Fort Greene. Lester had really liked Sergeant Lester and he missed him a lot. There was no one around and he decided to say something to Foulkes. "Maybe I could walk with you?" said Lester. "You're too young to walk anywhere," said Foulkes, turning around. "I'm only eleven. And I'm going to meet my father," said Lester. "What's your father's name?" "Lester," said Lester. He wished he hadn't lied about that part. He'd gone out of his way to tell Foulkes he was going to meet his father. But now he wasn't. The F-word. It was in front of him and he knew Foulkes didn't like it one bit, but all his friends called him that. "What do you mean 'what's your father's name?'" said Foulkes. "I thought you said his name was Lester." "It is," said Lester. "I told you that." "Well, then, what are you doing walking the streets? Isn't it dangerous?" said Foulkes. "This area is dangerous. This whole goddamn city is full of criminals and hookers." "You can't catch criminals with a kid," said Lester, "and I'm not a hooker. I'm eleven." "You should be in school, and not out on the streets." "I'll be in school tomorrow. I have to go to Washington tonight." "What?" said Foulkes. "What's going on?" "A police officer called my father about me. He's coming to get me," said Lester. "My father's a New York cop." "You're right," said Foulkes. "Why are you talking about a policeman?" "Because I am talking about a policeman," said Lester. "I'm talking about a policeman who's coming here to get me." He was feeling sick and tired of lying. "My father's coming to get me. He wants to take me home. To Washington." "Let's go," said Foulkes. "Wait," said Lester. He started feeling sorry for Foulkes now. He knew how it felt to come home and discover his mother had run off with another guy. It wasn't easy. "I can take a subway or a bus." "No," said Foulkes. "Let's go." Lester walked over to a chair and pulled it over by the radiator and sat down. "Maybe you should let me get my things," he said, although he was happy to leave the room. Foulkes said nothing. He just walked back into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and put it back down. "I'll go get my stuff," said Lester. "I don't like this," said Foulkes. "This is not a good place to spend the night." He walked past Lester to the front door. "Let's go," said Lester, but he didn't move. Foulkes stepped outside and shut the door, then he came back and sat down on the radiator. "I have to go to the bathroom," Lester said. "Okay," said Foulkes. "Let's go." He got up from the radiator, but then he turned around and walked over to the door. He turned the lock. "Foulkes?" "Yes?" said Foulkes. "This is not good," said Lester. "You can't do this." "I'm not doing anything." "You're keeping me in this room against my will. That's not right." "What?" said Foulkes. "You're not the one who's doing this." He turned to look at Lester and his face softened. Lester felt so sorry for him now, he didn't know how to turn him back into a mean cop. "Come on," said Foulkes. "Let's get you home." "Yes," said Lester, but he didn't move. "Come on." Foulkes looked at him and a slow smile came over his face. He walked over to Lester and took off his hat and jacket. He unbuttoned the jacket and put it on Lester, then buttoned it. Lester smiled at Foulkes, but he didn't move. He didn't want to go anywhere with him. "Where do you think you're going?" said Foulkes. "All the way up in this goddamn building." "My father's going to come and get me. It's not far. Five minutes from here." "You'll get yourself lost," said Foulkes. "It's dangerous up here. You could get robbed. Or mugged." "I'll take the subway to Grand Central, then another to the Fulton Street station." "Okay," said Foulkes. "Let's get out of here." Lester got up from the radiator and walked over to the door and opened it. Foulkes stood in the doorway and watched Lester walk over to the radiator and pick up his books. Lester picked up a few of his pictures, then he went over to the refrigerator and picked up the box of cookies. He started to get up, but Foulkes moved in front of him. "Hold it right there," said Foulkes. "You're not leaving this apartment, except through the back door." Lester looked down at him, hoping he was joking. It was really fun to throw the cuffs on him and make him stay in the house. He'd have a great time until Foulkes figured it out. But he hadn't figured it out yet