Stuck in traffic on the Cross-Bronx Expressway, Detective Sergeant Shelly Lowenkopf finds himself in the middle of an apparent attack by young black Indians with rubber-tipped arrows when another motorist fires back. Shelly takes the shooter down to the station, where he learns that the event was a staged performance, one in a series of events arranged by performance artists competing for a prize around the Bronx. To the surprise of both the police and the artist, the blanks in the rifle have been replaced with real bullets. Someone is turning performance art into the art of death.