“They’ll find him.”

“I’ll bet they don’t. He’s probably in Mexico City right now, getting his face worked on by some plastic surgeons who got rich re-doing the eyes and noses of drug lords. I’ll bet they never find Pete Duffy.”

“I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’s back here in thirty days, in jail.”

“You got it, twenty bucks.”

There was a rustle of activity and the bailiffs sprang to attention. The lawyers streamed out of Judge Gantry’s chambers and took their places. The spectators scurried for their seats and became silent. “Remain seated,” a bailiff barked. Judge Gantry assumed his position on the bench. He rapped his gavel loudly and said, “Order. Bring in the jury, please.”

It was 11:00 a.m. The jurors filed into the courtroom and took their seats in the jury box. When they were in place, Judge Gantry looked sternly at Clifford Nance and said, “Mr. Nance, where is the defendant?”

Nance rose slowly and replied, “Your Honor, I do not know. We have had no contact with Mr. Duffy since ten thirty last night.”

Judge Gantry looked at Jack Hogan and said, “Mr. Hogan.”

“Your Honor, we have no choice but to move for a mistrial.”

“And I have no choice but to grant one.” Judge Gantry then turned and addressed the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, it appears as though the defendant, Mr. Peter Duffy, has disappeared. He has been free on bond, awaiting this trial, and, well, he has evidently vanished. The sheriff’s department is conducting a search and the FBI has been notified. Without a defendant, we cannot proceed at this time. I apologize for the inconvenience, and, once again, I thank you for your willingness to serve. You are dismissed.”