One car behind him. Two more ahead. The plane was now in the air, the back wheels lifting off. The guards taking aim. Everything at seventy miles an hour.

Alex let go of the steering wheel, grabbed the harpoon gun, and fired. The harpoon flashed through the air. The yo-yo attached to Alex’s belt spun, trailing out thirty yards of specially designed advanced nylon cord. The pointed head of the harpoon buried itself in the underbelly of the plane. Alex felt himself almost being torn in half as he was yanked out of the jeep on the end of the cord. In seconds he was forty, fifty yards above the runway, dangling underneath the plane. Z9t5kthh2jKMFNOjcdFyKLsAygcSq56LtiPjYHCX6zHtA6Wpi5pBW8XF4+O9W/55