by Chris Ryan
Alec had been right. The storm had passed, and Ben could enjoy the last two days of his holiday. And even though it was very early, he knew that Angelo would already be waiting for him.
Angelo Bandini was a lot more used to the luxuries of the Cayman Islands than Ben. He was a bit shorter than Ben, but a good deal more tanned, with long dark hair and deep brown eyes. He was one of those people you could tell was rich just by looking at him: expensive clothes, all the latest gadgets. His dad was a successful businessman – something to do with oil, Ben had worked out, though Angelo seldom talked about it – and had a house on Grand Cayman just next to Alec's, as well as several others dotted around the world. There were quite a few differences between Alec's simple place and Angelo's, however. For a start, Alec didn't have men with guns at the door. Angelo was holidaying without his parents, but he was very far from being alone. He didn't like calling the burly American guy who shadowed him everywhere he went a bodyguard, but that was what he was.
They had met on the first day of the holiday and Ben had innocently asked his new friend what the deal was with all the security. Angelo had blushed. 'It's just my dad,' he'd explained evasively in an English that put Ben's lack of Italian to shame – a result of the years of schooling Angelo had had in America. Ben sensed that it wouldn't be a good idea to press the matter. 'Hey' – his new friend had changed the subject – 'you know how to scuba dive?'
Ben had grinned. 'Not really,' he said. 'But there's a first time for everything, isn't there?'
Angelo had been a patient teacher. They'd started out in his father's swimming pool. It had only taken a couple of days for Ben to get the hang of it before his Italian friend had decided he was good enough to take the plunge into the sea. And once that had happened, Ben felt he was hooked for life. They had gone diving every day – sometimes twice a day – and Ben was keen to fit in as much as he could before it was time to leave.
He quickly threw on some clothes, tiptoed out of the house to avoid waking Alec, then hurried round to Angelo's house.
Angelo's guards were used to Ben by now and he was allowed into the beach-facing garden without any problems. His Italian friend was already waiting for him there, the scuba-diving gear at his feet and an expectant smile on his face. 'Sei pronto, Ben?' he asked in his musical Italian accent. 'Are you ready?'
'Sure am,' Ben replied. He looked up to the sky. 'Hey, did you see the storm clouds last night?'
Angelo gave him a strange look. 'Storm clouds? No, Ben, I did not see any storm clouds. The sky is clear.'
Ben gave a moment's thought to explaining, but then decided not to. The sea was calling, and he could tell they were both eager to get started. Together they gathered up the equipment and trudged down to the beach where Angelo's speedboat – a sleek white machine – was moored, one of Angelo's father's helpers already aboard. There was no one else there at this early hour, just a few birds paddling on the wet sand and occasionally burrowing their beaks to look for food. Ben and Angelo waded out to the boat, carrying their gear above their heads, then slung it in and clambered aboard. As Angelo started up the motor himself, Ben noticed the ever-present figure of one of his bodyguards watching them from the shore.
The beach was shallow, so they had to motor a little way out to get enough depth for diving. By the time Angelo stopped the boat and let down the heavy motorized anchor, the bodyguard was just a dot in the distance. It was incredibly peaceful out here; their on-surface helper was so quiet he was almost invisible and there was nothing else but the splashing of the sea against the side of the boat for company. The two friends remained silent as they donned their canisters and masks before throwing themselves backwards over the side of the vessel.
The water was cold but not icy, and Ben soon got used to it. With Angelo alongside him, he kicked his way down, switching on the powerful underwater torch as they got too deep for the sun's light to penetrate fully. Instantly the ocean seemed to light up and a nearby shoal of brightly coloured fish swerved away from the sudden light in a single, graceful movement. Ben's ears were filled with the heavy sound of his own breath, and as he kicked even deeper he moved the torch around to try and find the bank of coral that he loved visiting so much.
It didn't take long to locate the complicated wall of colour that they were looking for. They approached it reverentially, as if they would scare it away if they were anything other than respectful. As they swam towards it, Ben saw the huge, flat form of a stingray. When he had first seen one of these strange, beautiful fish, he had been a bit fearful. But Angelo had explained that they rarely attacked human beings with their poisonous stinger, and Ben had learned to admire them at close range. The stingray drifted away and in its place another shoal of bright-yellow fish seemed to appear from nowhere. It was a beautiful sight, caught against the oranges and purples of the coral. Ben felt he could stay down there for ever.
Time never seemed to have any meaning underwater. It could have been half an hour or longer that they drifted around the coral bank, admiring the amazing range of sea creatures that congregated there. Ben knew that his oxygen wouldn't last more than an hour, though, so after a bit he decided, regretfully, that it was time to surface.
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. B
en'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.
Chapter Two
'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 indis
tinguishable 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.
