Twister (14 page)

'What about me?'

Danny's face twitched. 'You're in the wrong place at the wrong time,' he said. He sounded genuinely regretful.

Sounds like the story of my life, Ben thought to himself. He didn't say it out loud, though. His mind was working overtime as he tried to think of a way to get out of the car, to raise the alarm and stop all this from happening. 'You haven't got any argument with me,' he said. 'Why don't you just let me out? Whatever you have to do with Angelo doesn't need to involve me – I hardly even know the guy.'

Danny smiled a sad little smile. 'Nice try, Ben,' he said quietly. 'But you're too resourceful for me to let you go free. You might even have escaped the panthers if I'd left you back there. So I decided to bring you with me. You've been a good friend to Angelo over the past few hours. And it's only right that good friends should be together at the end, isn't it?'

Ben blinked as the implication of what Danny was saying sank in.

'I'm sorry, Ben,' Danny continued without looking at him. 'You shouldn't really have to die. But I can't risk you messing this up. You'll be with Angelo when the refinery blows. You don't need to worry about it. It'll be quick and painless. The explosion's going to be very,
very
big. It will all be over for you in a second.'

And with that, Danny increased the speed of the pick-up, his face a picture of concentration as he negotiated the road and the storm and tried to keep the truck from being blown from side to side in the howling, powerful gales.

As far as he could tell, the refinery was completely deserted now. He was glad he had taken the worker's uniform, however, because the yellow hard hat protected his head from the debris flying dangerously around in the terrifyingly strong winds. Even so, he had to keep his head down and his forearm across his eyes in order to move further into the metal jungle with any kind of safety.

The noise of the wind seemed to bounce off the huge metal towers and canisters that surrounded him. It was as though there were sirens all around him, shrieking impossibly loudly, warning him not to go any further. 'Danger!' the gales seemed to shout. '
Danger!
' The mercenary put that fanciful thought from his mind. He was here to do a job. It would have been a lot easier without the storm, but he wasn't going to let a freak of the weather get in his way. He'd only received half his money so far; the rest was payable when the refinery became a fireball. He had to make sure that happened; and he had to make sure he was a long way from there when it did. A long way away and a good deal richer – as soon as the tapes reached the media. He concentrated on that one thought as he pushed onwards.

He was in a covered area now, its vaulted roof supported by huge metal girders. The wind still blew through it, but it was a little less severe. He didn't slow his pace, however. The whole structure was creaking ominously, as though its skeleton was being pushed to breaking point. It was almost a relief to get back out into the open air. Ahead of him, looming in the near-distance, was a large container tower, bigger than the rest, dominating this part of the immense refinery like a skyscraper in the middle of a village. He grunted in satisfaction: this was where he was headed. The first device needed to be placed against the shell of this tower to cause maximum devastation. He would be destroying others, too, but this was the important one.

Minutes later he was at the base of the tower. A metal ladder stretched up to the top of it, but before he climbed that he needed to prepare the device. He sheltered as best he could from the wind behind the wall of a small Portakabin, then opened his bag and felt inside.

He had five blocks of C-4 plastic explosive in his bag, each of them weighing 500 grams. They were small – not much bigger than a bar of soap – but it was a powerful variety and he knew it would be enough to rip through the shell of the oil container. Once that happened, of course, the thing would go up like a rocket. He pulled out one of the blocks, then fished around for one of the tiny fuses he had carefully constructed the previous day. The fuse itself was only a little bigger than the block of plastic explosive: a black metal box with two sharp prongs sticking out of it. Inside there was a powerful magnet and an electronic receiver – small, but with a long range. It needed to be, if he was going to get far enough away to activate the fuse remotely.

Once the device was prepared, he clutched it firmly in his hand and approached the ladder.

The mercenary didn't need to climb too high, but it was still a precarious business as he clutched the ladder with one hand, the device with the other and braved the powerful winds that almost seemed to be
trying
to knock him off. By the time he reached the bottom of the canister, he was sweating profusely and his muscles ached from the exertion. He held on tight as he stretched out the hand which held the bomb and clamped the device firmly to the metal of the massive canister. To his satisfaction, the device stuck fast. He clutched the ladder with both hands and slowly, carefully, climbed back down.

One down. Four to go. Everything was proceeding according to plan. He turned his back on the main tower and went in search of the remaining locations.

Danny and Ben travelled in silence. There wasn't much more to say.

Night was beginning to fall and the pick-up's headlamps shone brightly. They illuminated the bits of vegetation and who knows what else that were swirling ahead of them, as well as lighting up the road. At one point, Ben was convinced he saw the huge cylindrical shape of a massive snake crawling over a fallen tree. A python? He shuddered. He vaguely wondered too what had happened to the cabin crew and other passengers from the plane. He had seen no sign of them as they drove towards the outside edges of the Everglades. He supposed they had found transport out, like themselves, but he didn't really dwell on the question. There were more pressing matters now, after all.

Every now and then he glanced over his shoulder into the back of the truck. Angelo was still unconscious. Danny must have hit him pretty hard – Ben's Italian friend was going to know about it when he finally woke up. When that happened, Ben was going to need a plan. Angelo would find out soon enough what Danny had in store for him, but as the truck struggled through the winds Ben decided that it would be better to put off telling him for as long as possible. Angelo was a good guy, and brave in his way; but he had a tendency to panic and that was the last thing they needed if they were going to try and get out of this. No, Ben thought to himself. He would try to keep quiet about his friend's potential fate.

After a little while – Ben couldn't have said how long – they reached the eastern entrance to the park. A huge billboard bore a cheerful greeting, but it had been knocked over in the wind and now lay on its back. There were a few low buildings here and there, but the whole area was deserted. Ben briefly considered trying to break out of the truck, but he soon put that thought from his mind. He was the only one who knew what Danny was planning to do to Angelo; and even if his friend's life hadn't been in danger, he had to stop this man from carrying out his threat to blow up the refinery. It would be devastating at the best of times; but in the middle of a hurricane, who could tell what sort of pandemonium it would cause. Ben didn't know where the oil refinery was, but he knew it could well be situated near a populated area. And if the fire spread . . .

He shuddered as memories of Adelaide flickered through his brain. He
had
to do something to stop this. He
had
to.

As if called into his field of vision by the thoughts that were going through Ben's head, a huge road sign approached. 'Florida City' it announced. '9 miles.' Ben blinked, then turned to Danny.

'The refinery,' he asked. 'Is it far from Florida City?'

Danny shook his head. 'Just south,' he replied. 'But we need to get into town to approach it.' He looked over at Ben. 'Don't try anything stupid, Ben. I've still got the shotgun by my side, remember.'

As if I'm likely to forget
, Ben felt like saying. And then his brow furrowed as a thought struck him. If Danny had the gun all along, and if he wanted Ben out of the way, why hadn't he just shot him back at the wardens' station? Why was he taking the risk of having to get Ben to the refinery when all it could do was make life more difficult for him. Could it be that Danny, despite all his hard words, did not have the stomach to kill Ben in cold blood? Could it be that there was a chink in his captor's armour? Ben stowed that possibility away in his mind, ready to use it should the opportunity arise.

The wind was still screaming outside, causing the palm trees that lined the road to bend as though they were made of rubber. Signs of the devastation the wind had caused were everywhere: abandoned cars turned over onto their sides, broken-in windows of deserted houses, fences all but obliterated; trees felled. At first the road remained clear, but as they sped away from the Everglades towards Florida they started seeing more traffic. The cars were few and far between at first, but after a couple of miles they became increasingly numerous. Ben had half expected to see lines of traffic heading out in one particular direction, evacuating the area; but in fact the vehicles seemed to be taking all sorts of routes. He had the sense that the people driving them were in a panic. He didn't blame them.

Somehow, however, he didn't share their panic, though he had enough reason to. He felt numb to it: numb to the wind and to the danger; numb to the horrific scenario that awaited him. For some reason he heard Alec's voice echoing in his head.
You're a brave lad, Ben. But you can't go round the world saving everyone, you know
.

Ben clenched his jaw. Alec was probably right. But sometimes you didn't have a choice. Sometimes saving everyone and saving yourself went hand in hand, and there was no way Ben was going to sit back and let disaster come to him. He wasn't going down without a fight.

'You can't do this, you know,' he told Danny, struggling to make his voice heard above the wind. 'It's madness. To set fire to an oil refinery on the edge of a populated area – think of the consequences. Think how many people could be killed, especially if the winds make the fire spread.'

Danny said nothing.

'Trust me,' Ben persisted urgently. 'I've been around one bad fire. It's not the sort of thing you'd want on your conscience.'

Danny's face remained emotionless. 'My conscience is clear,' he said shortly. 'My conscience—'

But he didn't finish his sentence, because at that moment there was a massive crashing sound as something flew directly into the windscreen. Ben tried to throw his arms over his face to protect himself, but all he managed to do was make the ropes dig in more; Danny did the same thing, and immediately he lost control of the truck.

Everything was a blur: the darkness outside, the headlamps, the shattered glass. Ben could barely see what was happening, but he could feel it sure enough. The pick-up veered towards the side of the road, then suddenly stopped with a sickening crunch. Ben was thrown forward violently; he was only stopped from flying through the shattered windscreen by the seatbelt that locked him firmly in place. It hurt, though, as the whiplash cracked through his body, and he thought he could feel bits of glass prickling over his skin.

The wind continued to howl, but between Ben and Danny there was a moment of silence. In front of them was a palm tree. They had driven into it and the front of the pick-up was completely crushed. Ben looked towards his captor. A shard of glass had sliced one side of the man's face, but Danny barely seemed to notice it. Instead he was looking round, as if trying to work out what he was going to do now.

'Angelo!' Ben shouted suddenly. 'We need to check he's all right. He's not strapped in. He could have been really hurt.' He looked back over his shoulder into the rear of the vehicle, but it was too dark now to see his friend.

Danny's face flickered as he undid his seatbelt and grabbed the shotgun. 'You,' he said shortly, his voice slightly less sure of itself than it had been during their car journey. 'Stay there. Any heroics . . .' He looked meaningfully at the gun. It was clear what he meant. Ben's captor jumped out of the truck and he heard him opening the rear doors of the pick-up.

Ben's mind was doing somersaults as the wind roared through the windscreen. He half closed his eyes to protect them. This felt like a chance, but he didn't know what he could do. His hands were tied and Danny had a gun. Maybe his best bet was just to jump out and try and flag down a car. But who would stop for them in the middle of a hurricane?

His silent question was immediately answered as his eyes were suddenly blinded by the headlamps of a vehicle approaching. He couldn't tell what sort of car it was, but as he vaguely made out the silhouette of a person coming towards him, he felt a massive wave of relief. Whoever it was had their coat pulled up over their head and was moving quickly, as though they didn't want to stay out in the open air too long. It was a man, Ben saw as he approached the passenger side window, with a beard – but that was all he could tell. He rapped on the glass. 'You OK in there?' he screamed. 'You need help?'

Ben nodded his head furiously. 'Open the door!' he yelled over the wind. 'I'm tied up – I can't do it?'

Ben's words obviously sounded strange to the man, because a look of confusion crossed his face. 'Tied up?' he asked. 'What do you mean, tied up?'

Ben opened his mouth to answer, but the words never left him. Because just then he saw the tip of Danny's shotgun appear outside the passenger window and press against the side of the bearded man's skull.

The man froze.

'Very slowly, give me your car keys, and get on the floor,' Danny shouted, his hair blowing wildly in the wind.

The man's eyes flickered between Danny and Ben, but he had no option other than to do as he was told. He slowly lowered the coat that was covering his head, handed over some keys and then hit the ground.