Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,101

in the wooded section he’d found last week during his scouting trip. The small, densely shrubbed area was a perfect place to hide his bike and don the black pants and hoodie over his biking gear.

And after his job was finished, all he had to do was wend his way back here and become a biker again. With the massive congestion in the park on Saturdays—weddings, family reunions, picnics, joggers, bikers, equestrians, the activities at the rec center . . . not to mention the chaos he’d soon cause—he should have no problem melting into the melee and slipping away.

Still, despite all the careful planning, it would be a relief to have this over. The job had to be done—and it was an honor to be trusted with the task—but crossing a major moral line like this was a bit . . . unnerving.

Even if it was necessary for the cause.

He pulled on his hoodie, shoved the scarf into his slacks, and quashed the tiny trace of doubt niggling at his conscience. This mission required his full focus.

Squaring his shoulders, he jogged down the path toward the parking lot where everyone had been instructed to gather.

As he emerged from the woods, he gave the area a slow survey. It wasn’t hard to pick out the Antifa folks. They were all dressed like him. In black. Not the most common color choice for a day in the park when temperatures were expected to approach eighty—but it was a free country.

Or so the other side said.

At least there was no law against black clothing. Yet.

Brown tones were also in evidence—thanks to the large police presence.

A typical intimidation tactic.

Settling his shades more firmly on his nose, Buzz strolled over to a small group of black-clad people congregated on the asphalt.

His people.

While he didn’t know their names, they were all fighting for the same cause.

They welcomed him as he drew close, and he blended into the group as one of the guys began giving them a rundown on the plan for the day and passed out a few signs emblazoned with the slogan “Down With Government Oppression.”

Similar small groups were coalescing elsewhere in the lot, forcing the cops to spread out in order to keep tabs on everyone.

Smart tactic.

Plus, while large gatherings required a permit, small clusters were legal. That’s why they weren’t going to join together until the speeches began and they were ready to do what they’d come to do.

Demonstrate and disrupt.

Or that’s what most of these people were here to do.

His assignment, however, was much, much bigger—but only he and Dan knew about that.

Buzz touched the bulge in his pocket where his Glock rested, loaded and ready to do its job. As he was ready to do his.

“—the ten-minute mark, we’ll start marching toward the stage and chanting. Keep the volume loud, to drown out the speaker. And stay bunched together. We want a large block of black to heighten the impact.”

Buzz tuned back in to the guy issuing quiet instructions to the small huddle of people around him.

“As we get close to the stage, one lucky person in each group gets to hurl one of these.” He pulled out a smoke cartridge and discreetly displayed it. “This will emit smoke for three minutes and add to the impact without causing any harm. Do I have a volunteer?”

A woman stepped forward, and he passed the cartridge to her, keeping it out of sight of the cops. She tucked it under her hoodie.

“When I raise my hand, let it fly. Everyone put your hoods up before we leave here, and cover the bottom of your faces with your scarves. Got it?”

At the nods of assent, Buzz exhaled. Everything was playing out just as Dan had said in the instructions he’d picked up, right down to the smoke that would intensify the confusion as the shots rang out—and make it more difficult to locate their source.

While Antifa’s loose conglomeration of independent groups lacked a central authority, a few people—like Dan—had their finger on the pulse of the movement and knew how to rally the different factions when a statement needed to be made.

Today they were going to make a big one.

Far bigger than anyone here but him realized.

And it would happen in—Buzz twisted his wrist—one hour and thirty-five minutes. During the march and chant their temporary leader had mentioned. In all that noise and confusion, he should have ample opportunity to slip on his latex gloves as they got close to Eve Reilly—and