A sympathetic young woman listened to his pleas and told him she would do what she could for him. He waited in the lounge, pacing back and forth, chain-smoking as he watched her making several phone calls.

“There is one thing we can do,” she said. “We can put you on stand-by for a return flight to the States. Once you get home, you’ll have to pay for the return ticket.”

“Of course!” he said. “I’m not trying to beat the ticket. I’ve got money at home. All I want to do is get back, and I’ll pay it right away.”

He kept babbling away at whoever would listen to him, and finally he could see that they were desperate to get him off their hands. It was what he counted on. They finally put him on a 747 back to the States.

“Thank God!” he whispered as he sank into the seat and fastened his safety belt. He didn’t trust himself to go to sleep, so he kept awake reading every magazine on board. When he got back to Columbus, a security official drove him to Lancaster. Allen found money from paintings he’d sold just where he’d hidden it—behind a loose board in the broom closet—and paid for the return ticket.

“I want to thank you,” he told his escort. “Pan Am has been very understanding. As soon as I get a chance, I’m going to write a letter to the president of your company and tell them what a wonderful job you’re doing.”

Alone in the apartment, Allen became very depressed. He tried to communicate with Arthur. It took a long time, but Arthur finally came out and looked around. When he saw he was no longer in London, he refused to have anything to do with anyone.

“You’re all a bunch of worthless blighters,” he grumbled.

And then he turned his back and sulked.

(2)

At the end of September, Allen was hired by the huge Anchor Hocking Glass Corporation, where Billy’s sister Kathy had once worked. His job was to pack the glassware as the women took it off the moving belt. But sometimes he worked as a selector, examining the product just off the belt. It was a torturous job to stand there—ears deafened by the roar of the flame jets and air blowers—pick up the still-warm glasses, examine them for defects and stack them on open trays for the packers to remove. There was a great deal of switching between Tommy, Allen, Philip and Kevin.

With Arthurs approval, Allen had rented a three-bedroom duplex apartment in Somerford Square in the northeast section of Lancaster—1270K Sheridan Drive. Everyone liked the place. Allen liked the gray, weathered fence that hid the apartments from view of the parking area and the highway. Tommy had a room of his own for his electronic equipment, and there was a separate room for a studio. Ragen had a walk-in closet that he could lock in one of the bedrooms upstairs, where he kept all his guns except the 9-millimeter automatic. He kept that on top of the refrigerator, back where none of the children would see or reach it.