'Shut up!' Danny screamed suddenly and so violently that it made Ben jump. 'You don't know what you're talking about. Just shut up and get out of the truck!' His face was filled with rage; his hands were shaking. For a terrifying moment Ben thought he was going to fire the gun; instead he nudged it sharply into his ribs, winding him and forcing him to catch his breath.
At that very moment the door opened. Ben's ears were filled with the sudden rush of the wind and the rain sheeted ferociously into the cab of the truck. He felt himself being pulled out of the pick-up by the scruff of his neck. While Danny had been screaming at him, the man outside had clearly had enough of waiting. He pulled Ben roughly from the truck and then, with a sharp crack, whacked him across the side of the head with the handle of his gun. Blood flowed into Ben's eyes, blinding him momentarily. He was pushed to the floor and then kicked harshly in the stomach.
His body curled up into a protective ball and he looked up. The man was staring down at him with a severe, uncompromising look on his face. He looked deeply sinister with his hair blowing in the wind and backed by the thick, unrelenting rain; and as Ben lay there in agony, one thing became very, very clear to him.
He might suspect Danny of having doubts; but this new stranger had none whatsoever. He was here to do a job, and he wouldn't be leaving until it was fully accomplished.
Chapter Sixteen
The next thing Ben knew he was being pulled to his feet again, before Angelo was dragged unceremoniously out of the pick-up.
'I'll take it from here,' the new man barked at Danny. 'If you want my advice, put some distance between yourself and the refinery. Several miles. When it blows, it's really going to blow.'
Danny didn't reply. He seemed uncomfortable as he moved into the driving seat.
'You should head south, down to the Keys. The storm's moving north so things should be less dangerous there.'
Danny made no sign that he was even listening. He just breathed deeply and stared straight ahead. The man shrugged. 'It's up to you,' he shouted. He looked at his watch. 'You've got an hour before I detonate. Maybe a few minutes longer.' He slammed the door shut.
The thought of being left with this man made all the strength sap from Ben's body. It took a superhuman effort to summon up the energy to throw himself towards the pick-up and bang his fist against Danny's window. He shouted out at him one last time. 'Think of Basheera, Danny!' he yelled. 'Think of what she'd say! Think of—'
He never finished his sentence, because the man thumped him on the side of the face for a second time. It sent an agonizing, stinging pain down one side of his body and he felt dizzy. He fell to the floor again. The man started shouting. 'Get to your feet!' he bellowed.
Ben could barely move; but just then he felt the unmistakable clunk of cold steel against his head. 'I said, get to your feet. You've got five seconds.' The man was having to scream over the wind and the rain.
Ben groaned as he forced himself to stand up. As he did, he watched, with a horrible sinking feeling, as the pick-up truck started to move. Danny reversed in a semi-circle so that the vehicle was pointing back the way they had come. He came to a brief halt and stared at them through the window. Ben stared back, jutting out his chin defiantly and trying to ignore the pain from the bleeding wound on his face. Danny's expression hardened. He nodded to himself, and then drove off.
Ben watched the pick-up truck trundle away, its rear lights becoming blurred and hazy from the rain. He wasn't allowed to wait until they disappeared, however. Their new captor clearly had plans for them. And he was obviously in a hurry.
'Move,' the man told them. He rapped Ben on the back of the head with his gun to underline his command. Ben's eyes flickered to his right. Angelo was there, his hands still tied behind his back and his head bowed. He looked exhausted and dejected, as if he wasn't even aware of the howling gales and pounding rain around them. Just then there was an ominous creek. It was the sort of noise Ben was used to hearing at home in the middle of the night, only this was a hundred times louder. It sounded like the huge tower ahead of them was being forced from its roots, as though it was about to split in two and empty its oily guts all over them at any moment.
'Move!' the man repeated. He pushed Angelo, who stumbled forward. Ben instinctively grabbed his friend's arm to stop him from falling, then looked back at the man behind them, the rain almost blinding him.
'Where?' he demanded.
The man used his gun to reply, pointing it towards the tower. Ben's face set into an expression of grim concentration and, still holding Angelo's arm, he walked in that direction.
The cold rain and the wind didn't even affect him now. He hardly noticed them. His mind was on other things: on Danny, and the way he had betrayed them; on his own stupidity for not listening to Brad the bodyguard and being suspicious of absolutely everyone on that plane. He tried his best not to think about what was awaiting them, because every time he did that, he felt horribly sick.
It took them less than a minute to reach the foot of the tower. It stretched above them into the darkness like a giant, and the creaking sound — like the giant's roars — now dwarfed even the sound of the storm.
'Stop!' the man shouted from behind them.
They did as they were told and Ben turned to look at him again.
He was skirting round them, his gun still firmly pointed in their direction. The man edged towards the door of a low building that was situated below the tower. Ben couldn't really make out what it looked like from this distance — it was too dark, and the rain hampered his vision. He could see what the man was doing, however. He tried the door: it was locked. He banged against it with his foot as though he might be able to force it open with a good kick, but it only made a dull, metallic echo. And so he stood back, a good two metres, and pointed his gun towards the door.
Now's your chance, Ben urged himself. If he could rush the guy while his gun was pointing in a different direction…
Too late. The man fired at the lock of the door. The crack of the gun seemed to echo all around the refinery like a sudden crack of thunder. The bullet sparked against the door and there was a second, less obvious bang as it ricocheted off. It had done its work well, however. The door shuddered from the impact and then slowly, as if being opened by some sinister and unseen butler, swung open.
Without hesitation, the man strode back towards them. He grabbed Angelo's free arm and pushed him in the direction of the building. Ben followed. As he did so, he felt the man's gun against the back of his head once more. It was warm this time. Warm from use. It was the sort of warmth that made Ben shudder.
They were hustled through the open door and into the building where, for a moment, they stood in darkness. Ben felt the water dripping from his clothes as he heard the man clattering around. Suddenly he squinted as the lights were switched on — two flickering strip bulbs on the ceiling that flooded the room with a harsh, unnatural brightness. It took several seconds for him to be able to open his eyes properly: when he did, he looked around to get his bearings.