"Job done." A man wearing wearing a ski mask reported with a phone pressed on his ear.
"Good," the person on the other end said, "and I hope you didn't bring anything he can use to track you?"
"No, sir," the man replied immediately, keeping his voice steady.
He stood beside a dark van parked within an abandoned industrial yard, its engine was still running. Around him, two other masked men were loading a large, sealed crate into the back.
The line went silent for a moment before the voice spoke again.
"Then dispose of the vehicle and proceed to Phase Two. Make sure she's not harmed — not yet."
"Understood."
The phone let out a beep as the call was ended.
The man lowered his phone and turned to the others. "You heard him. Clean up, We leave in five."
The men nodded, working quickly. One began wiping the steering wheel and dashboard of the cars they'd hijacked; another poured a canister of accelerant across the seats.
Within seconds, the smell of gasoline filled the air.
