It was going to be a bad day, Jason realized. In the back seat of the police cruiser, he examined every last detail of his environment, waiting to discover an advantage he might use during his daring escape. He decided to make conversation, “I am a federal agent!” he shouted to the officer driving. “You must release me immediately!”

“We get five nut-jobs like you a week, pal. Just relax. We’ll be at the station before you know it.”

At that moment a white conversion-van ran a red light, crashing into the squad car. The car spun out of control, its final resting place a telephone pole. Three men advanced upon the car.

The officer was unconscious, as was Jason. “What do we do with the pig?” Guillermo asked.

“Leave him,” Marcos answered. “Our only instructions were to take the kid.”

“His father will be happier than a giggling Hilton twin to know he’s alive,” Victor commented, carrying Jason’s limp body to the van. “But do you think he’ll pay?”

“He’ll pay, if he ever wants to see his son again.”