I finally figured out what the plot of this story was.
“Yeah.” Greg shook his head as he looked for an empty parking lot. “This is all wrong. Messing with the FI’s not something regular crooks do, and cultists would just try to kill us. Something wants to send a message. Head’s up, I see somewhere to stop. You rated on canister guns?”
Bernice blinked at the sudden subject change. “Yeah. Why, you got one?”
“Under the seat. There’s a flap by your left hand; pull it up, and you’ll see the grip. It’ll come out with a good, hard pull, so don’t be shy.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s not wedged in too hard there. I can get it out. Guns blazing, or are we talking first?”
“Oh, I’m a big fan of talking it out,” Greg told her as they parked. “Just make sure you got the door open, and be ready to clear if things go south.”
“No kidding. Sir.” Bernice grinned, suddenly. “You do many firefights from inside a car?”
“Nah,” he replied as one of the four vans pulled into the parking lot. The other three kept on driving. “It cramps my style.”