It was late afternoon when court finally adjourned for the day. As soon as it did, Carlo was hustled, well protected by a posse of Marshals, through the same tunnel they’d used to bring him into the building. From there, a nondescript van, driven by one of the Marshals, took him, Walter, and Pat back to the safe-house via a very circuitous route.
Carlo remained silent the whole time, tension evident in his demeanor as he glared darkly at anyone who tried to talk to him. When they were back in the apartment he immediately went to his room, closing the door behind him.
“One of us should go talk to him,” Walter said.
“I’d volunteer, but I’m the cook, you’re the counselor,” Pat replied with a bit of a smirk, heading to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Walter muttered. He rapped on Carlo’s door, and
