Adolescents like them naturally weren't conscious of being followed, and they were all talking and laughing as they marched downtown, looking no different from ordinary youths.

After leaving their block, they found an intersection and shared a pack of cigarettes on a bench. They ranged from twelve to eighteen, but each had a cigarette between their lips, puffing hard.

The leader, Bruce Brown, spread his arms over the bench while hiding his baseball bat behind his back.

His eyes were narrowed