Ethan grunted in acknowledgment, dragging a metal crate into position against the door. “That should slow them down,” he said. A static hiss broke through the radio. “Ethan? Can you hear me?” Martin asked, adjusting the dial. He twisted the knobs desperately, but the only response was white noise.
His stomach sank. “A jammer,” he muttered, the realization settling in. The thieves were escalating, cutting off communication and tightening their grip on the train. The thought of Ethan facing them alone sent a chill through him.