The naked edge

22

Eighty-thirty.

The spreading chaos forced Carl to park a half mile away. Even from that distance, he heard the shouting.

"Sounds like the party started." He grinned at Raoul. "This is what it's all about. Everything else is just waiting."

He and Raoul stepped from the van and made certain their loose shirts covered their weapons.

"Here's your party favor," Carl said, handing Raoul his knapsack. He put on his own.

They followed Magazine Street six blocks north of the convention center. As they neared the shouting, they saw a bus come to a stop. Amid numerous departing passengers, six members of their group emerged, keeping separate as instructed. Like good operators, they never glanced at each other as they took separate directions through the crowd.

"Don't you love it when a plan comes together?" Carl asked Raoul.

Progress became difficult. Carl passed one of his men halfway down the block, exactly where he should be. Although they didn't acknowledge one another, their brief eye contact told Carl how much the man was reassured.

And so it went. Shifting through the crowd, passing various members of his team, Carl verified that everyone was obeying instructions. That gave him reason to believe they would continue to obey.

By nine, he and Raoul reached the conference center, where the crowd was so immense, the protestors so animated that the four-lane boulevard in front was almost totally blocked. Behind barricades, police officers readied themselves to push back.

"Where are the cars?" a demonstrator demanded to his friends. "They should have been here by now!"

Energized by anticipation, Carl continued through the turmoil, buoying his widely separated men with his presence while he made sure they were in place.