'Don't worry,' Ben interrupted. His voice was hoarse and sore from shouting. 'That's not what I was going to suggest. But if I get close enough, do you think you could hit one of his tyres?'
Angelo stared at him. 'In the dark?' he asked. 'Ben, I don't think I'll even be able to see them.'
Ben thought about that. 'What if I switch the headlamps on at the last minute. Reckon you'd have a chance?'
Angelo looked down at the shotgun. 'I don't know,' he said dubiously. 'It only holds two rounds. That means I'll only get two shots at it, and once we've let him know we're here…'
'He's going to find out sooner or later,' Ben interrupted. 'We might as well grab the element of surprise.'
There was a nervous silence. Suddenly the windscreen of the car was splashed with water. What scant vision Ben had disappeared for a moment.
'What was that?' he screamed.
'Rain?' Angelo suggested.
'I don't think so,' Ben shouted back. 'It's been raining all the time. That was something else.' He glanced out of the side window. 'I think it was spray from the sea. It must be getting rougher out there.' An image of the tornado they had seen flashed across Ben's brain. The thought of it made him shudder, and he tried not to think of it any more than he had to.
Angelo was gingerly picking up the shotgun. 'I'll need to open my window,' he told Ben.
'OK. Wait till I get closer.' He fixed his eyes on the lights of the truck up ahead and concentrated on narrowing the gap.
It wasn't easy. More than once his vision was blinded by spray from the sea; the road was slippery too, and it became more and more difficult to regain control of the pick-up whenever the wind knocked it off course. They drove in silence, each of them knowing that when they came within firing distance of the mercenary's truck, they wouldn't have much time to bring him to a halt; and as soon as they alerted him to their presence, they wouldn't get a second chance.
The atmosphere inside the pick-up truck seemed thick with tension as they drew closer. They were barely twenty metres away when Ben spoke again.
'Ready?' he asked Angelo.
The Italian boy took a deep breath then nodded his head slowly. 'Ready,' he replied. 'As ready as I'll ever be, anyway.'
Slowly, he wound down the window.
It felt as though they had suddenly let the storm into the truck. Ben was blinded by a blast of spray and he almost lost control of the pick-up as he wiped the water from his face. His lips tasted salt: clearly the water that had just splashed into the truck was not rain, but sea.
'Keep it steady!' Angelo yelled, a note of accusation in his voice.
'I'm trying!' Ben shouted back. The muscles in his arms burned as he tried to keep the truck on course. 'I'm trying!' His ears were filled with the howling of the wind as, beside him, Angelo awkwardly manoeuvred the shotgun out of his window and then leaned out himself.
Keep it steady, Ben told himself. Keep it steady. Angelo was looking precarious, and it was clear that any sudden movement would risk throwing him out of the truck altogether.
Fifteen metres. The truck ahead kept a steady course: there was no indication that the mercenary had seen them approach.
'Closer!' Angelo shouted. 'You need to get closer!'
Ben set his jaw. The pick-up felt like it was wobbling over the slippery road, but he held to his course and increased his speed a little. The gap between them started to close.
'Closer!'
Ben's clothes were soaking wet, but he still found himself sweating with concentration. The gap shortened to ten metres.
'NOW!' Angelo roared.
With a sharp flick of his hand, Ben switched the pick-up's headlamps onto full beam. The back of the mercenary's truck was suddenly lit up. Its big wheels threw great lines of spray in its wake and for a moment the sudden light made Ben's eyes hurt. He kept a level course, though, and did his best to ignore the images that danced on the edge of his vision: great waves swelling up and crashing against the elevated highway that stretched improbably out into the sea. The very thought of all that water surrounding them made his stomach lurch, so he concentrated on the matter in hand.
'Shoot!' he yelled at Angelo. 'Now!'
There was a bang as Angelo fired a round from the shotgun. The bullet might even have found its mark if a huge wave hadn't crashed over the edge at that very moment and slammed into the side of the pick-up. Ben heard Angelo shout in pain as he was knocked harshly against the metal of the truck and suddenly the inside of the vehicle was filled with a gush of water. He skidded wildly; the truck ahead did the same. With a mammoth effort he managed to regain control of the pick-up but he knew, beyond doubt, that the mercenary would have clocked them.
Any second now he could reach for the detonator.
Any second now and all this could be for nothing.
They only had one more chance. And they had to grab it quickly.
Both vehicles had straightened up now. Angelo was still leaning out of the passenger window. Ben couldn't see his face, but he could tell the Italian boy was bracing his body, getting ready to shoot.
'Don't miss,' he whispered to himself. 'Just don't miss.'
Crack! The gun fired.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Up ahead, Ben saw one of the rear wheels of the mercenary's truck explode in a blistering cloud of shredded rubber. The whole vehicle started to wobble dangerously and Ben slammed on his brakes to avoid a collision. Angelo slumped heavily back into his seat, no longer carrying the shotgun, as the pick-up turned ninety degrees and started sliding sideways along the slippery road. They were out of control, and both Ben and Angelo started shouting in fear.
But if the two of them thought they were in trouble, it was nothing compared to what the vehicle ahead was encountering.
At first it looked like the mercenary's truck was going to veer straight towards the edge of the raised highway. As it hurtled towards the sea, however, it seemed to flip and spin in the air. It was flying away from them, but the sight of all that metal out of control made Ben automatically fling his hands over his face in a gesture of self-protection. When he dared look again, he saw that the truck had upended itself on its roof and was scraping noisily along the road, throwing up a shower of sparks as it did so. It crashed into the barrier at the edge of the highway, destroying it completely before coming to a sudden — but deeply precarious — halt.
Both vehicles were suddenly still. Deadly still. It felt as if time itself had stopped. Even above the noise of the storm outside, Ben could hear his heart pumping and his breath came in short relieved bursts. His body was demanding a rest, but there was no time for that. The detonator was still in the possession of the mercenary, so Ben opened his door.
'Come on!' he shouted at Angelo.
He didn't wait for his Italian friend to reply before he jumped out into the road.
Chapter Twenty
The minute his feet hit the ground, Ben could sense the immense, billowing waves on either side; and as he ran to the overturned truck, he found himself choking on the thick, salty spray that had filled the air.
The mercenary's truck was lucky not to have fallen into the sea below. The vehicle's cab was dangerously close to the edge and the back wheels, which were positioned a little behind the cab, were actually overhanging. It wouldn't take much, Ben realized, for the truck to go over. He had no idea if contact with the water would activate the detonator, but that was a risk he wasn't prepared to take. Even though he felt scared to approach the edge too closely, he ran towards the upturned truck, vaguely aware that Angelo was following him.