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.”