Ben blinked.
'I mean it, Ben. I'm slightly smaller than you, and if this goes according to plan, you don't want to be fighting the hijacker when you should be getting to the controls of the cockpit. And anyway, this should be my job.'
'Why?' a woman's voice asked.
Angelo didn't reply. He just stared meaningfully at Ben, who nodded slowly and handed the vest over to Angelo.
'All right, Angelo,' he said softly. 'If that's what you want.'
The two of them turned to look at the cockpit door. Ben couldn't help noticing that everyone had got out of their way and had retreated to the safety of their seats. Only Danny was standing with them.
Ben took a deep breath. Now was the time. The safety of everyone on the plane was up to them.
The two striker aircraft — Lockheed Martin F-35 Lightning IIs — had taken off from Key West Naval Air Station within minutes of the Code Red being raised. They roared from their island base out over the sea before making a sharp turn and heading through the clear sky up towards their target. Each of the aircraft carried easily enough weaponry to take down a civilian plane in mid-air, and both of them were flown by experienced pilots. Pilots who had been in war zones. Pilots who weren't afraid to carry out difficult orders if the chain of command made them.
The two F-35s appeared immediately on Jack Simpson's air-traffic control screen. These military aircraft were a different colour to the civilian planes that filled his screen. They moved faster too. Much faster. It was difficult to estimate these things, but Jack reckoned it wouldn't be more than ten minutes before they caught up with the rogue plane. What happened then would be anyone's guess. He felt his sweat seeping through all the pores of his skin as he tried to keep tabs on all the other air traffic and do his bit to guide them in safely. But it wasn't easy to concentrate when things were going so wrong up there. He wanted to close his eyes and pray for the poor passengers on the plane whose lives were hanging by a thread. But closing his eyes wouldn't have been sensible at all.
'Weird kind of day,' Jack's colleague observed. The guy's voice was tense.
'You can say that again,' Jack replied.
A pause as they both looked at their screens.
'They're calling it Hurricane Jasmine,' Jack's colleague continued.
'Pretty name,' Jack said.
'Not such a pretty storm.'
A voice shouted in the background. 'Listen up, everyone. All Florida airports to be closed to incoming traffic. Hurricane's moving quickly and unpredictably. Divert everything up north to Atlanta or Cincinnati.'
Jack's colleague snorted. 'Wouldn't mind being diverted up north myself. It's looking nasty out there.'
'We're safe here, aren't we?' Jack asked.
'Should be. Hurricane should pass to the west of here. Thing's got a mind of its own, though, so don't take my word for it.'
But Jack wasn't paying attention to him any more. He was staring again at the two striker planes moving inexorably towards the civilian aircraft.
It was just a communications failure, he told himself. Just that. Jack ignored the fact that the plane had changed course and increased its velocity. That was just a blip, surely. Maybe the pilot had been spooked by the approaching hurricane. Jack knew he would be.
But if the aircraft had maintained its original course, it would have landed well before the hurricane hit.
He put all those thoughts from his head. Any second, the radio frequency would burst into life and the military aircraft could pull away.
It was all going to be OK. Surely it was.
The bulletproof vest, opened up and held sideways, covered Angelo's head, his body and the top part of his legs.
'You ready?' Ben asked tersely.
'Ready,' Angelo replied. He was staring straight ahead of him and chewing his lower lip.
'OK,' Ben said. 'Listen carefully. I'm going to stand right behind you. We'll approach the door together and when we're there, you need to start kicking on it. Do it as hard as you can — it's really got to sound like we're trying to break the door down if we're going to persuade the hijacker to do something about it.'
Angelo nodded mutely.
'The plane's going to nosedive again the moment he lets go of the controls,' Ben continued. 'You need to be ready for it. Whatever you do, and whatever happens, you need to keep your head covered, OK?'
'OK.'
'I'll tell you when the door opens. Soon as it does, we charge him. If we get the right element of surprise, we might be able to knock him down before he even fires.'
Angelo turned to Ben and smiled weakly. 'Nothing like being optimistic,' he said.
Ben grinned. 'I find it works for me,' he replied. 'Come on, let's go.'
There was absolute silence in the cabin as Ben and Angelo stepped forward. Ben could sense Angelo's anxiety, which only made the nerves he himself was feeling ten times worse. His hands were shaking and he couldn't get rid of the horrible sensation that he was only moments away from his own death.
'Good luck, Ben,' Angelo murmured.
'You too,' he whispered back. 'OK. Go for it!'
BANG! Angelo kicked the cockpit door with all his strength. He did it once, twice, a third time. The door rattled slightly.
'Keep going!' Ben told him. 'Keep kicking the door!'
Angelo's kicks became regular. As they continued, Ben noticed that his Italian friend had inadvertently lowered the bulletproof vest. The top of his head was peeking out above it. From behind, he yanked Angelo's arms. 'Keep it up,' he hissed. 'Keep the vest up.'
Angelo covered his face again. But as he did, the plane dipped.
Everyone in the cabin screamed again. Everyone, that is, except Ben and Angelo. They were expecting it, and they knew what it meant. 'He's coming!' Ben shouted. They both fell against the cockpit door, which suddenly opened.
It all happened so quickly. Ben heard the sound of the bullets this time as he was close to the suppressed weapon. They thudded into the bulletproof vest, ripping the material but not going any further. As the shots were fired, the two of them fell straight into the cockpit and onto the body of the hijacker. The three of them smashed against the instrument panel, and Ben heard the crunch of broken glass as they did so. The plane started screaming. Through the windscreen of the cockpit, Ben could see the sickening sight of the sea, far below but approaching at a forty-five degree angle.
They were going down.
'I've got him!' Angelo yelled, his voice thick with panic. 'Get the controls, Ben. Get the controls!'
Ben looked around him. There was someone else in the cockpit and in the confusion he realized it was Danny. The man was helping Angelo restrain the hijacker, whose arms were flailing and who was shouting out in a foreign language Ben didn't recognize. Just to his right was the control stick, vibrating and juddering. It took all Ben's strength to fight against the G-force of the plane, but he just managed to get his fingertips round the stick and push himself into the pilot's seat. With all his might he pulled on the control stick, straining his muscles against the force that was urging the plane downwards.
Behind him, shrieks of terror came from the cabin. 'The controls, Ben!' Danny was still shouting. 'Get them!'
'I'm trying, all right!' Ben yelled back, but he wasn't sure if anyone would have heard him over the earsplitting sound of the engines. He gritted his teeth and pulled the control stick as hard as he could. 'I'm… trying… ' he roared.
And gradually, almost imperceptibly, the plane started to straighten.
Sweat was dripping down Ben's face as the horizon line started to level. Beside him there was scuffling and he glanced over momentarily to see the hijacker on the floor. He was a small man, but stocky, and with an angry red scar down one side of his face. His eyes were filled with fury. Danny had taken the man's gun and was holding it over him while Angelo got to his feet.