U.S. District Court
New Orleans, Louisiana
“Hey, y’all come down here. Quickly.”
The Agents ran down to Sandy. The side of his car was spray painted. And on the door was painted “Die.”
“Ah Sandy, I’m sorry. It’s because you represented me.” She brushed a lock of hair from her eyes.
Sandy wiped some of the paint with his handkerchief. “Office car. Insurance.” He continued to wipe paint off the car window and Nan and the agents walked back up toward the agents car.
Suddenly, a hot gust and explosion knocked her and the agents flat on the pavement. She looked over her shoulder, fire was bellowing from Sandy’s car. She screamed and tried to move, but an agent held on to her.
One of the agents was on his cell phone. A van pulled up and she was pushed in the open side door. She scooted up next to the seat. Between her sobs she asked, “What happened?”
“Somebody is following you once you were exposed they probably thought the lawyer was giving you a ride.”
“Taking me back to the safe house?” Emotions ran over her and sirens blared and she thought she heard fire trucks passing.
There was no answer from the front seat.
The van bumped along the street. She figured only five or six blocks then turned. The window got dark so she figured she was in a garage. A minute later the door flew open and a blue suited man offered her a hand to stand.
“Can I ask where I am?”
“Federal District Court office wing – Eastern District.”
“I’m going to Court?”
“Not really. You are going to the Marshall’s office.”
They entered the building and an elevator; she walked down the hall following two men and trailed by two. The second office they stopped on opened the door. The blue suited man said. “Marshall Doman, our victim.”
A woman behind the desk stood and pointed to a chair. “Hello I’m Amy Doman, and in charge of witness protection. Lets get down to it.”