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the calls, and told the FBI of Catherine’s fears of retribution should he take the stand against the syndicate. The family were quickly packed up and moved into protective custody: a small two-bedroom house just outside of New York. A veritable disaster greeted their arrival. Cobwebs coated every corner of the ceiling. It had taken almost two days of cleaning before the house looked anything like a home.
    Catherine had been surprisingly reluctant about clearing the spiders’ webs. Martin had always assumed women were deathly afraid of spiders, and other creepy-crawly things. When he’d questioned her reluctance, she had simply said, “They’ll bring good luck. Clearing them away brings misfortune into a new home.” Martin’s laughter had almost shaken the webs from the walls, and Catherine hadn’t spoken to him for the rest of the day.
    Angelique, still too young to understand, simply found herself torn from all of her friends and the home she’d grown up in. Shunted to a dust-filled and cramped shoebox of a house, with armed FBI agents getting in the way every time she wanted to play, her tears had rent Martin’s heart. For safety’s sake neither she nor Catherine were allowed outside unless they were under guard, with Martin only supposed to leave when he needed to appear in court.
    The days dragged into weeks, and Catherine and Martin began to argue. Initially over simple things: the hassle they had to go through simply to take the garbage out for collection. First, they had to use the two-way radio to contact the FBI agents waiting either in a car out front or a similar house across the road. Next the FBI had to check the area to ensure no one suspicious lingered. Finally, they would come to collect the garbage for disposal. Simple things added up and soon Catherine decided she’d had enough of the entire situation.
    “For God’s sake Martin, I’m starting to feel like I have to ask the FBI if it’s all right for me to go to the bathroom,” she yelled.
    “Now honey, they’re only doing their job,” he said, trying to sooth her fears. “Once this is all over, things can go back to the way they were.”
    “They’ll never go back to that again. We’ll always be looking over our shoulders if you testify.”
    “So that’s what this is about: you don’t want me to testify.”
    Catherine paused and looked away, no doubt recalling their continued arguments. Her pleas that if they didn’t get back to their old way of life soon, she feared it would tear the family apart long before the Romolovs ever saw them in court.
    “No,” she said quietly, “I don’t think you should.”
    “You think they should just go free for what they did to Steve, huh?” Martin grew tense, his voice rising. Catherine knew she’d gone too far this time. “You think if I don’t testify I’ll ever be able to live with myself? For Christ’s sake woman! It’s bad enough I failed when Steve needed me; now you want me to turn my back when I can get the bastards who killed him! What do you think I am?”
    “You’re the man I love,” she said, her voice small. “I’m afraid if we don’t get out of this soon, no matter what the outcome of the trial is, we’ll never be the same. For God’s sake Martin! Stop letting your pride affect your thinking. Sometimes you can just be so....” She paused, searching for the word. “You can be so fucking vain!” she screamed finally.
    Martin glared at her briefly before turning and stalking to the front door. He stood silently in the open doorway before speaking quietly over his shoulder. “Vain or not, my friend’s killers will pay.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The FBI agents parked across the street didn’t see him go, and he cursed them silently for it. How could these men protect his family if they didn’t even notice him walking through the front door? He made a mental note to berate them when he returned.
    Martin had no real destination in mind leaving the safehouse. He simply