CHAPTER THIRTY
Zero whipped the MP5 around, certain that the second crash had come from the doorway that led to the vestry, where the old cleaning lady had appeared. As his grip tightened around the barrel, there was yet another stupendous shattering—and this time he saw its source.
He watched in stunned silence as a tall stained glass window of the Virgin Mary collapsed inward with the force of a projectile. Eight-hundred-year-old glass rained across the nave floor as a green canister bounced into the pews.
Across the cathedral, a translucent portrayal of St. Peter broke with the force of another canister. There was a bright flash from each, and thick white smoke plumed from the grenades.
“Tear gas?” Alan shouted.
“No.” Zero recognized the canisters—they were M-18 smoke grenades, typ
