1: The Rolling Bootlegs Edward opened the back door just as Szilard’s leather shoes began to burn. “…What the hell…?” None of the police officers, Edward included, had any idea what had happened. Shoes were on fire, the Martillo Family executives were assembled, the priest and nun from earlier were there, a car with a badly dented body was stopped farther down the alley, and the whole place stank of liquid fuel. “What’s going on? …Explain this, Firo Prochainezo.” He strode over to the tired-looking boy and hauled him up by his collar. “From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t look as though anyone died, but… Are you planning to start a handgun orchestra or something?” “…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Don’t play dumb with me! We’ve been getting civilian complaints about nonstop gunfire around here! You want me to haul you in for violating the Sullivan Act?!” Just then, a roar echoed through the area. The squad of police officers hastily ducked, shoving their hands into their jackets and looking around for the source of the noise.
