Having Eve on stage—and clueless about the planned attack—was ideal, but isolating her could also work to his advantage . . . if he could convince the small-group Antifa leaders his proposal had merit.

He followed his fellow protestors back to the lot, formulating his spiel as clusters of people drew close to their leaders to hear the low-pitched updates.

“From what we’re observing, the organizers and cops think the keynote speaker should have extra protection. She’s been secured in a tent.” The thirtysomething guy who was in charge of his group pulled up his hood and shifted away from the cop loitering a few yards away. “We assume that’s why they’ve delayed her speech. Worst case, they could cancel it. We’re of a mind to proceed with the march, but we want to hear your thoughts.”

Buzz let a few people speak first. No one had any alternate ideas, and the consensus seemed to be to proceed with that approach given how far many of them had traveled to take part in the protest.

“I have another suggestion.” Buzz pulled up his own hood. “I think we’re missing an opportunity here. Eve Reilly stands for everything we hate. I have to believe, given the original plan, that our gathering was designed to call attention to the disparity between her view and ours—and the danger she poses to our cause thanks to her wide platform.”

Nods of assent gave him the confidence to continue—and as he outlined the tactic he’d come up with for the group to home in on her, they grew more vigorous.

“I like your idea.” The leader glanced around at the other groups. “And we have to make it happen fast. She could leave the park at any moment. Let me touch base with the others. If everyone’s in agreement, we’ll head over there ASAP. Be prepared to move. And you”—he indicated the woman with the smoke emitter—“watch for my signal as we get close.”

Buzz faded back, avoiding the quiet conversation taking place in his group. He didn’t have to say anything else. His idea had been well-received by everyone, and the other groups would likely fall in line.

This wasn’t as perfect as the original plan, but it would give him the access and black bloc anonymity necessary to carry out his mission.

And before this day was over, if all went as he hoped, he’d make history—by making Eve Reilly history.

“No way.” Brent folded his arms tight against his chest and gave Eve his sternest look. The one that never failed to intimidate even hardened street criminals.

It had been bad enough to arrive on site and find she’d refused to leave until the two of them talked, but her idea to smoke out Al was short-circuiting his lungs.

Unfortunately, his intimidation tactic didn’t work with the woman standing toe-to-toe with him.