Point of Danger (Triple Threat #1) - Irene Hannon Page 0,102

if the Antifa people were loud enough, his several back-to-back shots wouldn’t even register at first.

The instant he fired his last round, he’d drop the gun, dive into the throng, and escape through the bedlam as first responders rushed the stage and the Antifa people scattered.

As soon as he was safe in the woods, the lighter in his pocket would melt the gloves. Back at his bike, it wouldn’t take more than forty-five seconds to shed his black attire, stow it in the saddlebag, and continue his ride—in the opposite direction of all the excitement. The clothes could be disposed of in the dumpster behind the mall.

He had it all planned, down to the tiniest detail—and his dry runs had been flawless.

Given all his preparation, the real deal shouldn’t be any different.

And after all was said and done, there would be one less high-profile person undermining their cause.

It was a brilliant plan—with him as the linchpin.

A surge of pride swept over him, and his resolve hardened. He would do this, and do it well.

Best of all, he would walk away, ready to continue the fight. The police may have identified Eve Reilly’s harasser sooner than expected, jeopardizing the cover they’d counted on to mask Antifa involvement, but Dan had a plan to deflect suspicion to Jackson. Had said so in their last text exchange.

There was nothing to worry about as long as he did his part.

Fingers twitching, Buzz again ran his hand over the outlines of the Glock and took a steadying breath.

Soon, baby.

Soon.

24

TWO STEPS into Olivia’s basement office, Brent came to an abrupt halt. No wonder the patrol officers had sent for reinforcements.

A high-end laptop in screensaver mode was open on the desk, a large monitor beside it. Three burner phones were lined up on the faux wood surface, within reaching distance of the swivel chair. A tablet next to the phones was filled with notations in some sort of shorthand. Four filing cabinets lined one wall. A flat-screen TV was tuned to CNN, the sound muted. An oversized map of the United States filled a significant portion of another wall, pins with colored heads stuck in various cities around the country.

“Wow.” It was all he could manage.

“Yeah.” Colin completed his own three-sixty perusal. “This place looks like command central. Who is this woman?”

“I have no idea—but she’s not the sweet, tech-challenged senior citizen Eve thinks she is.” He motioned toward several photos lying on the desk. “Those are pretty clear evidence that this space isn’t being used to manage investments or run an eBay business.”

“Yeah.” Colin moved toward the shots that featured black bloc protestors in full demonstration mode, then motioned toward a faded, framed photo on the desk of a twentysomething jeans-clad guy sporting a full beard and mustache, with a bandanna tied around his long hair. “I wonder who that is?”

“No idea.” Brent scanned the image. The man was holding a hand-lettered placard that said “Stop the War.” In the crowd behind him, similarly dressed young people were toting signs referencing Vietnam. “But if we can ID him, that could answer a lot of questions.” He pulled out his cell and snapped a photo of the framed picture. “We need a warrant.”

“Not happening without grounds. We can’t search someone’s house or open an investigation because of an affiliation with Antifa. That isn’t illegal. There has to be evidence of a crime, threat of force, or violence.”

“I know that.” Unfortunately. “But if Olivia is as deep into Antifa as those photos suggest, she has reason to hate Eve based on ideology—and many of the zealots affiliated with that movement have no compunction about the use of violence to achieve their ends.”

“I hear you. But it’s not illegal to support organizations involved in protest activities. Our hands are tied unless their actions turn violent.”

“There have already been threats and violence against Eve.”

“Perpetrated by Steve Jackson, per your young witness.”

“I can only link him to two of the four incidents—and the most recent one occurred while he was out of commission at the hospital. Who had easier access to leave that last note Eve found than her neighbor?”

“But to what end?”

“She may have seen the bomb scare and related incidents as an opportunity for someone in the group to silence Eve without taking the fall for it. As a chance to pin it on someone else.” Brent raked his fingers through his hair. “We have to get that warrant.”

Colin eyed the stacks of material on the desk. “I don’t