But there’s no way I could let someone like him get away with plutonium. There was no telling what he might do with it or who he might sell it to. I surveyed the area and saw a gap in the fence behind the house. Logically, I decided that’s where Allmand fled.

The hole led to a long grassy alley. It was just a gap between houses on different streets. I just guessed and turned right and started jogging away from the house. There was no one chasing me. I just hoped to pick up Allmand’s track.

Every time there was a break in a fence or between two houses, I looked out on the streets on either side of the alley. It felt like more and more people were pouring into the streets. Rumors of a house holding prisoners in a neighborhood like this would inflame people. I couldn’t blame them. I sort of did the same thing when I found out there was a prison near my home in Marlboro.

I noticed many of the people on the street had weapons. Mostly just sticks or garden tools. Every once in a while I saw someone with an AK-47. I even saw two different men carrying rocket-propelled grenade launchers. One of them had what looked like a homemade RPG launcher. It looked a little like an old-style bazooka, only smaller and lighter. It was designed to sit on someone’s shoulder and fire into the line of sight.

I had my head on a swivel and was starting to sweat from running and the heat. My legs were still shaky from my captivity. But it sure did feel good to be outside and moving.

Just as I was about to give up searching in this direction, I saw someone ahead of me running from cover to cover. The runner used the fence, and then a bush, then an old abandoned Cadillac to hide.

I picked up my pace and started running hard in a straight line toward the figure. My lungs started to burn. All I could think about was the plutonium and all the people that might be at risk if Allmand managed to sell it.

When I was within fifty feet, the man turned and I could see clearly that it was Allmand. He no longer seemed interested in me, and just wanted to get away. He gave up his idea to run from hiding place to hiding place, and just started to dash away from me. I followed, running as hard as I could.

He stopped fifty feet in front of me. In a smooth motion, he reached behind his back and pulled a pistol. He fired two quick shots at me.

I fell to the ground and tried to use a garbage can as cover. I fired back at him three times. The problem, I knew, was that the gunshots would attract people. Both the curious and the well armed.