“No, Boulder County.”

“That’s out of Noonan’s territory. Suppose I take you over there and hand you to the sheriff?”

“No. He’s Senator Keefer’s son-in-law⁠—Tom Cook. I might as well be here. Noonan could get to me through Keefer.”

“If it happened the way you say, you’ve got at least an even chance of beating the rap in court.”

“They won’t give me a chance. I’d have stood it if there’d been a chance in the world of getting an even break⁠—but not with them.”

“We’re going back to the Hall,” I said. “Keep your mouth shut.”

Noonan was waddling up and down the floor, cursing the half a dozen bulls who stood around wishing they were somewhere else.