Twister (3 page)

And it was at just that moment that he saw them.

They seemed to appear from nowhere – four divers, with bright beams and black wetsuits. Ben started, then quickly turned his head towards Angelo, who was also looking all around him, clearly surprised by the sudden company. Two of them were coming towards him and in the few seconds he had to look at their faces through the masks, Ben saw expressions of grim severity. Instinctively he kicked his flippers and tried to get away.

Immediately they were after him. From the corner of his eye, he could see that they had already grabbed Angelo, who seemed to be struggling. He wanted to go and help his friend, but what could he do against four fully-grown men? Indeed, what could he do against two of them – the two who were only metres behind him as he kicked as fast as he could and tried to get away? Panic surged through him. Who were they? What did they want? Shoals of fish flew out of his way as he forced the muscles in his legs to work hard, but it was no good. He felt the firm grip of a hand round his ankle. His body went into spasm as he tried to escape, but in seconds he was being firmly held by the two divers, who slowly started moving up towards the surface.

Ben's brain was working overtime, but there seemed no way he could escape. There wouldn't be much oxygen left in his canister and he knew that as he was struggling he was likely to be taking bigger breaths, which meant he could run out very soon. There was nothing for it but to see what these men wanted.

Suddenly the underwater silence was shattered by a roaring noise in his ears as they broke through the surface of the sea. Ben had only a couple of seconds to take everything in. It was so different to when they made the dive: the sky was grey and the sea, which had been calm and flat, was now angry and swelling. Angelo's boat was overturned, its hull bobbing up and down in the rough water. Then a wave hit Ben full in the face, blinding him momentarily and making him gasp for breath. When he emerged, he realized that the two divers had let go of him and the air was filled with their shouts. 'Get to the boat!' a voice called, full of urgency. '
Get to the boat!
'

Ben looked around. Just beyond Angelo's speedboat there was another vessel – larger, but still struggling in the billowing waves. It bobbed out of sight momentarily with the swell. '
The boat!
' a voice called again. A figure came into Ben's field of vision. It was one of the divers. He was close by. 'Ditch the gas,' the man shouted. 'Ditch it now! It's weighing you down!'

Ben found himself underwater again. He fumbled with the buckle that tied the air canisters to his body and was desperate to breathe by the time he got rid of them. It was easier to push himself up now. When he emerged again, he gulped hungrily at the air before hurling himself round the capsized boat and towards the bigger vessel.

He could see Angelo being pulled aboard, along with three of the other divers. Ben's muscles were burning with the effort; he felt weak. 'Keep going!' the voice called from behind him. Ben set his face into a grimace and urged himself forward.

It was dangerous approaching the boat – it seemed out of control, buffeted by the winds and the rough sea. Someone threw him a length of rope with a flotation ring tied to it. Ben only just managed to grab it before it was washed out of reach. He felt himself being pulled in. As he approached the boat a wave caught him and his face smashed against the side of the hull. It stung, but he grimly held onto the ring and slowly he was pulled up into the boat.

As soon as he was in, he felt his knees buckle. At the same time, the boat lurched. Ben fell awkwardly to the floor.

'Ben!' He heard Angelo's voice, but he couldn't see him. '
Il tuo viso! Stai sanguinando!
Your face, it is bleeding!' Ben touched his hand to his cheek, then looked at it. Blood. He had obviously cut himself when he hit the side of the boat.

The wind was screaming now, so loud that it almost drowned out the noise of the motor being started up. Ben saw one more man – the helper who had been on board their small boat – being pulled up into the vessel before it suddenly moved away, crashing up and down through the billowing sea towards the shore. It was chaos on board – there seemed to be too many passengers for the small craft – and when Ben shouted he didn't really know who he was talking to.

'What's going on?' he screamed.

'Hurricane,' one of the men replied curtly. He had short-cropped blond hair, but as he was no longer wearing his mask, Ben couldn't tell if he was one of the guys who had grabbed him. ''Fraid you got whipped by the edge of it.'

'The edge of it?' Ben shouted. 'You mean the actual thing's worse?'

'Yeah, son. Much worse. This one came out of nowhere. Even the weather boys weren't expecting it. Good job we knew exactly where you were – your surface guy called it in, but you'd be fish food if we hadn't found you.'

Ben looked around and saw Angelo. His tanned face had gone pale and his long hair was stuck to his skin. As he gripped onto the side of the boat he looked shocked. Shocked and scared. Ben didn't blame him. One look at the state of the sea told him how lucky they had been.

'Sorry if we scared you down there,' the voice continued. 'Wasn't really the time and place for proper introductions.'

'Forget about it,' Ben said shortly. He was more concerned about getting his feet on dry land.

They reached the shore with difficulty. Even in the shallow water it was difficult to wade out, and when Ben and Angelo finally got to the beach, they both collapsed on the sand while the frogmen who had rescued them ran off, no doubt to continue their life-guarding duties. Within seconds Angelo was surrounded by two bodyguards, who started talking to him in hushed voices. Ben tried to get some sense of what they were saying, but without success. It was only when Angelo stood up that he seemed to realize that Ben had no idea what was going on.

'There's a' – Angelo paused as he searched for the word – 'a hurricane. A bad one. It's approaching now. My father wants me off the island – there's a small charter flight leaving in half an hour to the US mainland. It takes off from the other side of the island. They think they can stay away from the danger area.' A serious expression crossed his face. 'He got a ticket on the plane for you too, if you want it. But we have to leave immediately.' He glanced at one of the bodyguards, an enormous man with a square, unsmiling face. 'Brad's taking me to the airport now.'

Ben bit his lower lip. He didn't much fancy staying here on the island, but as that thought crossed his mind, he glanced up the beach towards Alec's house. He didn't feel great about leaving the old man here to face the devastation to come, either. Ben jumped to his feet. 'I'll be two minutes,' he shouted.

He ripped off his flippers and hurtled up the beach, ignoring the way the wind stung his wet skin, up into Alec's garden. The old man was waiting for him in the porch. The moment he saw Ben, a look of relief crashed over his face. 'Bit blowy out there,' he said wryly.

'Yeah,' Ben replied breathlessly. 'You could say that. I just heard a hurricane's going to hit.'

If Alec was surprised or worried by the news, he didn't show it. He just nodded his head calmly. 'First I've heard of it,' he commented.

'Came out of nowhere, apparently. Angelo said he can get me off the island on the same flight as him.'

'Then you must go,' Alec replied. 'I'm sure you don't want to add this to your ever-growing list of disasters.' He winked mischievously.

'What about you? I could ask him if there's another seat on the plane.'

Alec smiled. 'Ben,' he said softly – so softly that he was difficult to hear over the sound of the screaming winds outside – 'listen. If only half of what you have told me about your exploits is true, you're a brave lad. A very brave lad. But you can't go round the world saving everyone, you know.' He looked out to sea. 'Besides, I've seen a few strong winds in my time. I think I'll just batten down the hatches and sit it out.' He looked back at Ben and winked. 'Go on,' he said. 'Get your things together. If you get off the island today, you can be back home tomorrow. And I don't think we need a long drawn-out goodbye, do you?'

It only took Ben a couple of minutes to change and stuff everything into his holdall. When he was ready he sprinted downstairs. Alec shook his hand. 'It's been nice to have you, Ben,' he said. 'Come and see me again soon, won't you?'

'You bet,' Ben replied.

'You should go, matey,' Alec said.

Ben nodded and made for the door. As he left, he looked back over his shoulder. Alec was staring out of he window, over the sea and to the boiling sky beyond. His wild hair was blowing in the wind and he seemed lost in thought. Ben left him to it.

Minutes later, he and Angelo were in a spacious Mercedes driven by the big bodyguard. As they sped away from the house, there was no reason for either of them to notice an altogether less impressive car pull into the road and follow them, keeping its distance, but being very, very careful not to lose them.

'They are on flight GXR1689 bound for Miami, leaving from Gate 3.'

'You are sure?' The man ran his finger gently down the scar on the side of his face as he spoke – a habit of his.

'They will be boarding any minute.' The two men on either side of the telephone conversation were not speaking English, but some other language.

'And will you be on the flight with them?' the scarred man demanded quietly.

'I have the last seat.'

'Good. We are lucky. This storm was not expected. Let us hope that bringing our plans forward at the last minute does not ruin them.'

'You are nearby? You will be able to board the plane unnoticed?'

'I think so.' He continued to stroke his scar. 'But if I am unsuccessful, I wish you luck with our backup plan. Remember, we do this for the good of our people. Do not be scared.'

'I'm not scared. If death comes, I will embrace it.'

'As will I.'

The man pressed a button on his mobile phone and hung up.

He was not a big man, but he was stocky and strong. The scar down the left-hand side of his face was angry and red, and at that exact moment he stood at the edge of Grand Cayman airport, only metres away from an aircraft hangar. The sea was behind him. He had already cut a hole in the wire perimeter fence and he lost no time in clambering through it. He ran quickly to the hangar, then skirted around the outside until he found the entrance. It was there that he discovered what he was looking for: a member of the airport staff dressed in the regulation short-sleeved khaki uniform. He stepped into the worker's field of vision, then disappeared again behind the hangar.

'Hey!' the worker called. 'What are you doing there?' He followed the man suspiciously.

That was his big mistake.

It only took the man one blow on the back of the worker's neck to knock him unconscious, and as soon as the victim hit the ground he started to remove his clothes. They didn't fit him
that
well, but they would do. In under a minute he was indistinguishable from any of the other airport workers on site, other than the fact that he carried a small rucksack full of essential items. Essential to him, at least.

It was not a big airfield, and he could see Gate 3 less than 100 metres away. A small twin-propeller aircraft of the kind used for short hops was waiting there, its luggage being loaded. It was an old-fashioned-looking plane that had clearly been hauled into service to get people off the island before the storms hit. A few final passengers were walking across the tarmac and climbing up into the aircraft as he approached, but none of them paid him any attention. Nor did the two baggage handlers who were using a truck to reverse pallets of luggage up into the plane. He walked in the shadow of one of these pallets, completely unobserved, and up the ramp. Quickly, before anyone could notice him, he hid behind a pallet that was already loaded.

No one would see him here, he decided. When they were in the air he would have to work quickly – the temperature in the hold would soon drop. But for now he had to keep quiet.

He had to keep still.

He had to trust his luck, and wait until takeoff.

Ben didn't mind admitting to himself that he felt nervous as he strapped himself firmly into his seat. He'd been in enough aeroplanes, of course, in his time; he'd even flown a microlight over Adelaide in some pretty hairy circumstances. But as he sat next to Angelo in their seats near the front of the plane – Angelo's bodyguard had taken a place in the seat behind them – he could already hear the wind outside. It wasn't as strong as it had been at the beach, but it was still – as Alec would have said – a bit blowy, and Ben knew that it was going to be a bumpy takeoff.

The plane was bound for Miami. It was a twin-propeller aircraft and the propellers had already been spinning as they were ushered onto it with the last few remaining passengers. Ben didn't know why, but there was something about a twin-prop plane that made him feel less safe than a jet plane. They looked out of date, somehow, and his mind wasn't put at rest by the interior of the aircraft either. He had the impression that this plane had been in service for a very long time. He put that thought from his mind: the pilot would know what he was doing. He wasn't going to risk his life and the lives of everyone else on board by taking off if he thought it was dangerous.

'Thanks for doing this,' he said to Angelo. 'Looking at the chaos back at the terminal, I reckon I'd have been lucky to get a flight this side of Christmas.'

Angelo looked a bit embarrassed. '
Di niente
,' he said shortly. 'It's fine. There have to be some advantages to—' He stopped mid-sentence, as though he had caught himself saying something he didn't want to say. Instead, he glanced down the aisle of the plane. The last couple of passengers were boarding, bringing the total number of people on board this small plane up to about twenty or thirty. They took the last two remaining seats, one just near Ben and Angelo, the other much further back. 'Anyway,' Angelo continued, 'other people seem to have got seats. You would probably have been OK.'

Ben shrugged. 'Maybe,' he said, as the gentle hum of the engines became a little louder. A voice came over the speakers and the cabin crew performed their safety announcement as the plane trundled towards the runway. It turned, paused for a moment and then the engines started to scream. The plane accelerated, Ben was pushed back in his seat and moments later they were airborne.

He hadn't been wrong about the bumpy takeoff – it was a bit like being in the boat earlier on. The winds buffeted the plane, knocking it from side to side and making the whole aircraft shudder. Ben found that he was gripping his armrests, white-knuckled, and when he glanced over at Angelo, he saw that his friend had gone rather pale.

'It's fine,' Angelo said, though he sounded more like he was reassuring himself than Ben. 'We need to get above the winds. I've been on lots of bumpy fl—'

He didn't finish his sentence, because the plane performed a horrible lurch, then seemed to drop from the sky momentarily before continuing its ascent.

'It'll be fine,' Angelo breathed again. Ben just closed his eyes and waited for the shaking to stop.

It took about five minutes for the flight to settle down, although it seemed like a lot longer to Ben. Still, it was a real relief when it happened. He and Angelo gave each other a sheepish smile. Neither of them, he sensed, wanted to admit how much the takeoff had frightened them.

'Where are you headed after you get to Miami?' Ben asked. The plane tilted as he spoke, and the sun shone directly into their eyes.

'To Italy,' Angelo replied. 'Back home.' He didn't sound too thrilled by the idea.

'Yeah, it's home for me too.' Ben smiled. 'Worst luck.'

Angelo looked at him and then spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. 'It's not so bad for you,' he breathed, and pointed his thumb back towards the seat his bodyguard had taken. 'You don't have people like him following you all the time.'

Ben had to admit that it didn't sound great being under someone's watchful gaze every waking moment, but he tried to cheer Angelo up. 'It can't be that bad,' he said a bit weakly. 'At least you know you're, er, safe and everything.'

Angelo snorted. 'Safe from what?' he asked. Ben didn't have an answer to that question.

They had been flying for about twenty minutes when the captain announced over the loudspeaker that they had reached their cruising altitude. All signs of the turbulence they had encountered at takeoff had disappeared now, and the ride was smooth. Angelo's bodyguard stood up and walked a little way up and down the aisle. He walked nonchalantly, as if he was simply stretching his legs, but the dark look Angelo cast him suggested to Ben that the guy was doing a little more than that. Clearly he was satisfied that everything was all right, however, because he soon sat down again, winking at the two of them – a bit patronizingly, Ben thought – before he did so.

'Does he really follow you
everywhere
?' Ben whispered.

Angelo nodded his head. 'There are three of them,' he confided. 'They take it in turns.'

'But why?' Ben asked.

Angelo inclined his head slightly. '
I soldi.
Money. My father is a very wealthy man. Wealthy men can be paranoid. He thinks I am at risk of being . . .' He paused for a moment, searching for the word.

'Kidnapped,' he said finally. 'He thinks I will be kidnapped and held for ransom. Me, I think it is stupid. Only famous people get kidnapped.'

Ben wasn't so sure that that was true. He kept his mouth shut, though: it was clearly a sore point for Angelo. Instead he settled back in his seat and felt his eyes becoming heavy. He had slept badly the night before, and it had already been an eventful day. After a few moments he nodded off to sleep.

The temperature was dropping in the hold, and fast. The man's body was bruised and sore from the way he had been thrown around during the bumpy takeoff, but he put all thoughts of that from his mind. He clambered his way to the front of the plane, climbing over the pallets of luggage as he went. Before long he came to a metal panel sealed along the side with a number of tightly wound screws.

Quickly he opened his rucksack and pulled out an electric screwdriver. It was difficult to keep his grip true down here, but the screws unwound quickly enough. In a couple of minutes he was able to pull the metal panel away. He clambered into the small chamber that he could tell, from the rounded shape of the plane's nose, was just below the cockpit.

It was freezing now, but the aircraft was still climbing. He looked above and saw the trap door that led into the cockpit. He would not break through it yet. Not just yet. He would wait a little longer. Wait until the cold became unbearable. By that time, he hoped, the aircraft would be fully on course.

Only then, he decided, would it begin.

It was the sudden, clunky juddering that woke Ben up – a juddering that felt as if someone had taken the plane in their hands and given it a good shake. It felt like they had done the same to Ben's stomach too. And then there were the screams – the screams and the horrible sensation of the aircraft going into freefall.

'What's happening?' he shouted as, terrified, he gripped on firmly to the arms of his seat. '
What's happening?
'

The cabin crew had been hurled to the floor at the back by the sudden change in the plane's movement. Ben thought that one of the screams came from an air stewardess – never a good sign. He looked out of the window, half expecting to see the bubbling skies of the hurricane they were escaping. But he didn't. All he saw was clear blue.

When your plane is going down, time has no meaning. It couldn't have been more than about twenty seconds that they stayed like that, but it seemed like half a lifetime. Half a lifetime of cold, blind terror. Suddenly, though, Ben felt the plane straighten up, and the popping in his ears told him that they were gaining height again. He exhaled deeply with relief, and he could sense Angelo doing the same.

'What's going on?' he breathed. 'What was that?'

Angelo shook his head, but he still seemed too scared to speak. The bodyguard, on the other hand, immediately got to his feet. He said something to Angelo in curt Italian. Angelo nodded.

'What happened?' Ben demanded, not at all sure that the bodyguard spoke any English.

'I don't know,' the burly man replied in a perfect American accent that slightly surprised Ben.

'Something to do with the hurricane?'

'Looks bright and sunny outside to me,' the bodyguard growled. 'Stay where you are. I'll go and find out.' He stepped out into the aisle and walked down to the crew.