The black van tore through the rainy London streets, its tires throwing up blinding sheets of spray against the brick walls of Covent Garden. Inside the dim, windowless cargo hold, Jake lay on his side, his hands securely bound behind his back. The heavy black cloth over his head muffled the frantic, echoing screams of Ken that still vibrated in his mind.
Up front, the kidnappers were tense, their breathing heavy and synchronized.
"We got him. Move, move!" the passenger barked into a burner phone. The driver grunted, slamming his foot onto the accelerator as the van barreled toward a massive, four-way intersection.
They never saw the heavy, double-decker transport truck coming.
