Later Arthur said Ragen had behaved badly that day. “You can’t go around the city of Columbus playing Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to give to the poor children.”

“It gives pleasure.”

“But you know very well that carrying that gun violates the conditions of parole.”

Ragen shrugged. “Is not much better out here than prison.”

“That’s a stupid thing to say. Here we have freedom.”

“But vat you do vit freedom?”

Arthur began to suspect Allen’s hunch was right. Ragen had come to prefer any environment—even prison—in which he could control the spot.

The more Ragen saw of the working-class district on the east side of Columbus, the angrier he became over the struggle of the people to survive in the shadow of the glass-and-steel office buildings of the wealthy corporations.

One afternoon as he passed a rundown house with a sagging porch, he saw a beautiful bond-haired child with wide blue eyes sitting in a laundry basket, her withered legs bent at awkward angles. An old lady standing in the doorway came onto the porch, and Ragen asked her, “Vy does child not have leg braces? Or veelchair?”

The old lady stared. “Mister, you know what them things cost? I been begging the welfare for two years, and there ain’t no way I can get them things for Nancy.”

Ragen went on his way, deep in thought.

That evening he told Arthur to find out which medical-supply warehouse would have childrens wheelchairs and leg braces. Though he was irritated at being distracted from his reading, as well as at Ragens demanding tone, Arthur humored him and made several phone calls to medical-supply distributors. He discovered a company in Kentucky that had the size Ragen described. He gave Ragen the model numbers and the warehouse address, but asked, “What do you want this information for?”

Ragen didn’t bother to answer.

That night Ragen took the car, his tools and a nylon rope, and drove south to Louisville. He found the hospital-supply warehouse and waited until he was certain everyone had left. It would not be difficult to break into; he would not even need Tommy’s help. Strapping on the tools, Ragen climbed over the wire fence, slipped around to the side of the building hidden from the street and examined the brickwork alongside the drainpipe.

In TV shows he had seen, cat burglars always carried grappling hooks to climb up to the roof. Ragen sneered at such devices. He fished a steel shoehorn out of his bag and removed the lace from his left running shoe. With the lace he tied the shoehorn so that its curved end turned downward near the tip of his shoe, creating a hook that served as a crampon. He climbed up to the roof, cut a hole in the skylight, reached in and unlocked it and, using the nylon rope fastened to a bracket, slid down the line into the building. It reminded him of the times he’d gone mountain climbing with Jim years ago.