Alarm bells sounded in his head. What was this? Was someone onto him? He removed one hand from the steering wheel and grabbed the handgun that was on the seat next to him. Clutching the weapon, he peered through the side window at the pick-up that was steadily driving alongside.
He was too high up to see into the cab, but as he glanced down he saw an astonishing thing.
A man was leaning out of the driver's side of the pick-up and peering above the roof. How on earth he was keeping the vehicle straight was anyone's guess — with difficulty, by the look of it. It was swerving dangerously. The mercenary's first reaction was to pull back again, but then he squinted. He recognized that face. He had seen him only recently after all.
Something was wrong. He didn't know what, but something was wrong. He brought the truck to a halt and watched as the pick-up stopped alongside him.
All his senses were in a heightened state of alert. This was unexpected. A surprise. And if there was one thing the mercenary didn't like, it was surprises. He clutched the handgun even more firmly, then opened the door and stepped outside into the wind and the rain. The bag containing the detonator remained safely on the passenger seat and for the moment he kept the weapon concealed inside his jacket. No point in displaying it too openly: if he needed to use the gun, much better that he had the element of surprise.
Carefully he walked round to the front of the pickup. The man calling himself Danny did the same.
'We've got a problem,' Danny shouted above the wind.
'What do you mean?' growled the mercenary. He couldn't see what could have possibly gone wrong. His eyes darted from side to side. He was keeping a lookout, even though he didn't know what for.
Danny opened his mouth to speak. 'It's—' he started to say. But he never finished his sentence, because at that very moment he hurled himself at the other man. The mercenary crumpled to the floor as he felt the sudden weight of the man's body against his, and he grunted in pain as the small of his back slammed against the hard road. In a flash he felt Danny's hands around his throat, squeezing tightly. The mercenary gasped for breath, but no breath came.
'Where is it?' Danny demanded. His fingers dug deeply into the soft flesh of his neck.
'What?'
'The detonator,' screamed Danny. 'Where is it?'
It was nearly impossible for the mercenary to breathe, let alone speak. But he managed to get one word out.
'Why?'
'Never mind why,' Danny shouted. 'Just give it to me.'
The mercenary looked into Danny's eyes, then narrowed his own. He wanted to stop the explosion, that much was clear. But too much trouble had been gone to for him to allow that to happen. Far too much.
And if the refinery didn't blow now, then that would be the end of the money coming his way. Money he wanted.
The mercenary didn't speak. He just manoeuvred his hand so that the gun was pointing upwards. The bullet would go through his jacket and straight into his attacker's belly.
And then he could get on with his work.
He was quite expressionless as he pulled the trigger. The same could not be said for Danny. The dark-haired man's eyes widened suddenly, and his grip loosened immediately. It only took a gentle nudge from the mercenary to push his attacker off him, and he watched without emotion as Danny rolled powerlessly to one side.
The mercenary pulled the gun out from his jacket. His outer garment was shredded by the force of the bullet and wet from the sudden burst of Danny's blood. With a look of distaste he quickly pulled the green jacket off and cast it onto the floor. Then, without a second look at the assailant he had just shot so calmly, he hurried back to his truck, started the ignition and drove away.
The sound of the gunshot went through Ben as surely as if the bullet itself had entered his body.
He froze; at the same time he heard Angelo gasp.
'Stay still,' he hissed. 'We don't know what's happening out there. We can't risk being seen.'
They remained as still as stones, pressed against the uncomfortable wet metal of the pick-up with the rain sheeting down on top of them. Ben strained his ears to listen to what was happening, but it was almost impossible to hear anything above the howling of the wind.
It felt like they had to wait for ever, their hearts in their throats.
And then they heard it. The low rumble of the truck moving off again.
A deathly chill seemed to freeze Ben's limbs. Only one person could be driving that truck, and that person wasn't…
'Danny!' Ben whispered. Angelo looked at him in shock and it was clear that the same thing was going through both their heads. They pushed themselves up from their crouching position and jumped over the side of the pick-up. The mercenary's truck was already disappearing into the distance. Ben looked around, desperately hoping to be able to see Danny standing, fit and well.
But that was a hope too far.
It was Angelo who saw him first. The Italian cursed under his breath in his native language as he tugged on Ben's sleeve and pointed to the ground in front of the pick-up.
Danny's body was lit up by the headlamps of the pick-up. He was lying with his face to the sky, clutching his belly, as the rain poured down on his now-pale face. He was shaking violently and Ben could see something dark seeping through his clasped hands.
Ben ran to his side and knelt down. With obvious difficulty, Danny turned to look at him. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a coarse coughing sound. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth; the rain smeared it at first, then washed it clean away. Ben looked over his shoulder at Angelo.
'Help me!' he shouted. 'We need to get him into the truck.'
Angelo ran to his side; but as he did so, Danny finally managed to speak.
'Ben,' he croaked, 'you have to leave me here.'
Ben felt hot tears of anger rising in his eyes. 'I'm not leaving you anywhere,' he said from behind gritted teeth.
'He's getting away, Ben.' There was another bout of feeble coughing. 'You won't catch him if you don't leave now.'
Ben looked furiously down the road. The lights of the mercenary's truck had completely disappeared.
'He's right, Ben,' Angelo whispered. 'We don't have any time.'
Still Ben hesitated. He had forgotten all the bad things Danny had done that day: at that moment he was just a wounded human being who needed their help.
Danny spoke again. 'Listen to me,' he hissed weakly. 'I woke up this morning expecting to die. If it happens, it's no more than I deserve. I was wrong — I understand that now. But you have to help me undo everything that's been put in motion. You have to stop him, both of you. For me. And for my sister.'
Danny stared at them. Somehow his pale face managed to look urgent.
And then, slowly, as if in a dream, Ben stood up. It was clear what he had to do.
'I'm coming back for you,' he told Danny hoarsely. 'Stay here, because I am coming back for you.'
Danny didn't reply. He didn't even look as if he had heard. His body started shaking more violently and the coughing came back. It was a pitiful sight.
Ben felt another tug on his sleeve.
'We have to hurry, Ben,' Angelo urged him. 'He's getting away.' The Italian's voice had a high-pitched note of panic in it.
Ben allowed himself one more look down at Danny before nodding his head, reluctantly but decisively.
'All right,' he said quietly. 'Let's go.'
An absolute determination surged through him as he headed round to the driver's side of the pick-up truck.
This had to stop, he told himself. It had to stop now.