Now he held the steering wheel to the Ford station wagon with his right hand because his left wrist was still sore from slipping the handcuffs in Miami. He had a white bandage over his knuckles on his left hand and still couldn’t move his thumb. Considering the alternative, he wasn’t upset by the injuries.

He had been a little disappointed that his stunt had not gotten more than a day’s play in the national news, but the memory of that scene was burned into his head. He still felt the charge from it.

Alicia, snoring lightly, snuggled up under his arm closer. He hugged her.

Still, the tanker would be nothing next to his next plan. He smiled when he saw the sign for the Superdome, then glanced down at the book he’d stolen from the Miami Public Library: The Principles of Nuclear Fission.