“It must be,” she said.
“Devin. Marnie. It’s Rich. I’m standing directly in front of your car,” he yelled. “We’re clear, and we need to get out of here immediately.”
“You okay?” asked Devin.
“I didn’t get shot, if that’s what you mean,” said Marnie. “You?”
“I’m good,” he said before slowly rising from a crouch to a standing position.
His shin burned from the bullet that had grazed him, but that was about it. He’d been extremely lucky. An inch back, and the bullet would have torn muscle and possibly fragmented bone. They were both lucky, when he thought about it. Several bullets had zipped under the car during the gun battle, any one of them with the potential to have altered the night’s outcome.
Rich met them along the side of the car, next to three dead operatives. Suppressed assault rifle slung across a black-plate carrier vest, he pointed at a black SUV parked at the edge of the intersection.
“Get in the back with Karl,” said Farrington. “We’re out of here in fifteen seconds. Go!”
They took off for the SUV, Devin surveying the carnage as they ran. Rich and three of his associates quickly spread out among the vehicles, yanking the masks off several of the shooters and taking pictures. The moment Devin and Marnie reached the SUV, Rich spoke into his microphone and the crew bolted in their direction. Marnie opened the door and got inside, while Devin watched a precision machine in action.
Rich stopped next to Devin’s car and took something that looked like a phone from one of the dead shooters’ hands. After pocketing the device, he tossed two cylindrical devices in the car, one in the back seat and one in the front. He took off for the SUV as soon as the second device left his hand. Down the street, beyond the sedan that had boxed them in from behind, a massive billow of smoke exploded in the middle of the intersection, followed by a second, rapidly expanding cloud of smoke about twenty yards past the first.
Scott sprinted by him and continued past the two cars parked tightly behind the SUV. He pulled the pin on a smoke grenade and overhand threw it at least fifty feet down the street. On his way back, he prepped another grenade and tossed it about half as far as the one before. The distant grenade detonated, instantly obscuring the street with a pure white smoke. The second popped a few seconds later, thickening the smoke screen. They did the same at all points leading into the intersection, as the sound of sirens approached, and police lights started reflecting off the trees in the adjacent park.
A blinding flash lit the entire intersection, followed almost immediately by a hollow-sounding explosion. Devin turned in time to see the second incendiary grenade detonate in his mother’s car, ejecting a shower of brightly burning pellets out of every window in a hissing fireworks-grade pyrotechnic display. The interior of the car burst into flames instantly. Rich raced up to the SUV and handed him a satellite phone, which he recognized as his own. One of the Russians must have taken it.
Devin slid inside and shut the door. The SUV lurched forward and pinned him against the seat. Visibility beyond the windshield dropped to zero as soon as they turned onto Eastern Avenue. They drove blind for several seconds before emerging from the smoke. The traffic light a block ahead was green. Flashing red and blue lights reflected off the intersection’s buildings. Scott slowed the SUV as two police Ford Interceptor SUVs raced into view and turned in their direction.
Rich raised his rifle a few inches, adjusting his grip. Devin glanced at Marnie, who had apparently noticed the same thing. Berg leaned forward.
“Rich. We had an agreement,” he said.
The rifle lowered. “Sorry. Just a little wired.”
The Interceptors sped past them, and Devin turned to watch them through the cargo compartment windshield. The two police vehicles stopped at the edge of the expanding street-wide cloud and immediately backed up, their white reverse lights already hazy from the smoke. The two sedans carrying other members of Rich’s team peeled left at the intersection they’d just crossed, headed north on South Ellwood Avenue. The Interceptors stopped backing up about halfway to the intersection, but none of the officers got out. A lone police car swerved into the intersection from the north, where Rich’s associates had just turned, and parked next to the SUVs. It appeared that the police hadn’t taken notice of them. Yet.
“Looks like we’re clear for now,” said Devin.
Rich glanced between the seats. “Clear is a relative term at the moment. This changes things.”