Epilogue
Angelo had bought Ben a small cup of thick, black Italian coffee, but he didn't really feel like drinking it.
Instead he sat at the edge of the airport café, watching the hubbub all around him.
There was still a sense of repressed panic. Nothing like the aftermath of Hurricane Jasmine, of course. But a sense of panic nevertheless. Florida would take months to recuperate from the effects of the storms, if not years, and they were still in the middle of the hurricane season. Nobody really expected another battering of that magnitude, but still — Ben had the impression that there were some nervous flyers in the airport that day. And he was one of them.
He winced slightly and looked down at his arm. It was encased in plaster from the wrist up to the shoulder. It ached dully, but that wasn't the worst thing: the itchiness of the skin was driving him to distraction. There was no way he could scratch it, though, so he tried to divert his attention by sipping on the coffee. It was incredibly bitter and he pulled a sour face. He liked his Italian friend a lot — after everything they had been through together, they were almost brothers — but the guy had a rotten taste in drinks.
Just then, Angelo reappeared. He was clutching a newspaper as he battled his way through the crowds and he nodded at Ben as he approached and sat down. He pointed at the coffee.
'Not drinking that?'
'Er, no,' Ben replied. 'Delicious and everything, but I just don't fancy it.'
Angelo shrugged, laid the newspaper on the table and downed the coffee in one. Ben glanced at the front page of the paper. The picture it bore was predictable enough. Every newspaper had shown a similar image each day for the past week: the Overseas Highway, battered and destroyed, and the huge gap in the road that had been ripped out by the storms. No one knew how long it would take to repair the road, and everybody was astonished that nobody was reported killed as a result of the disaster — though Ben and Angelo knew better, of course.
The death toll elsewhere, however, had been a different matter. At the latest count 300 people had lost their lives in the storms. An awful statistic, and already people were looking for someone to blame — as if anyone could be blamed for such a freak of nature. Ben couldn't help wondering, though, what the reaction would be if things had gone just a little differently and the South Miami Oil Refinery had turned into a fireball. Even now the thought made him shudder.
It had been an exhausting week. Ben had woken in an ambulance with Angelo by his side. They'd given him morphine for the pain, then plastered his arm in a makeshift hospital that had been set up in a large community centre. They'd stayed there till morning, by which time the storm had abated. Ben and Angelo were then immediately airlifted from Key Largo to the mainland in a military Chinook.
It had seemed odd that they were airlifted before anyone else, but when they saw the three grim-faced FBI officers waiting for them as their helicopter touched down in Miami, it all started making a bit more sense. The FBI men had told him curtly he needed a responsible adult present; Ben had immediately thought of Alec. The old man was walked into the room in which Ben was being held only hours later. He looked tired and stooped; Ben learned that his house had been torn away, but at least he hadn't been hurt. The expression of relief on his face when he saw Ben safe and sound was noticeable.
'I thought you were going to try and stay out of trouble, matey,' he had said as he took Ben's hand, shaken it warmly, then ignored his natural diffidence and given him a hug.
'Yeah,' Ben had replied. 'Well I did try.'
The interrogation took two days. They wanted to know everything: the hijacking, Danny, the mercenary. Ben had wearily told them the whole story, and when he had finished they had made him start all over again. They separated him from Angelo, called him 'kid' and eyed him with mistrust. Even Alec looked as if he thought Ben was embellishing the truth, though loyal to the last he said nothing.
But then reports started to come in: reports that substantiated his story, especially from members of the crew and passengers on their doomed flight, all of whom seemed also to have made it. As that happened, the looks of mistrust started to be replaced with stares of astonishment and respect. Ben supposed it should make him feel good, but it didn't. He just felt awkward, and he wanted to go home.
Angelo too was given the all-clear, as well as several wide-eyed stares of disbelief when the FBI guys realized what he'd been through — and what he had achieved.
Eventually, they had given permission for Ben to leave the country. In less than an hour now, he would be boarding a flight to London where his parents would be meeting him. He couldn't wait.
'Hey,' Angelo said. 'I want to show you something.' He put down the coffee cup and opened the paper.
'You know what?' Ben said. 'I think I've read quite enough about the storms.' But Angelo shook his head, a mysterious smile on his face, and pointed to something else. The article he showed Ben was hidden away on the financial pages towards the back, after all the many pictures and reports of the storm damage. Ben read it curiously.
The Bandini Oil Corporation has recently announced a review of its operations in the Indian Ocean. Fabio Bandini, CEO of the corporation, said the review was due to internal restructuring and a realignment of the country's ethical policies. The share price dropped twenty points on the news.
Ben raised an eyebrow. 'Fabio Bandini?' he asked.
Angelo nodded. 'My dad.'
'You persuaded him?'
Angelo closed the newspaper. 'I made a promise to Danny, didn't I?'
At the name of Danny, they both fell silent. His death hadn't been reported — he was just one of the many who had lost their lives in the storms — and Ben wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. The guy had tried to kill them, after all. But it wasn't quite as simple as that. Danny had been brave at the end — a courageous man who had done the wrong things for the right reasons. And in the end he had seen the light and made good his mistakes. Ben's view of the world had got a little bit more complicated in the last week, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Angelo broke the silence. 'Come on,' he said, looking up at the nearby information board. 'They're calling your flight.'
Ben nodded silently, then stood up as Angelo took his hand luggage for him.
'You'll come to Italy sometime to see me?' Angelo asked. He grinned slightly. 'The weather's normally pretty good.'
Ben smiled. 'No storms?' he asked.
'Well, now and then. But the sun always comes out again afterwards.'
'Sounds good to me,' said Ben. 'I could do with a bit of sunshine.'
Angelo nodded enthusiastically. 'Anch'io,' he replied. 'Me too.' And with that they started walking, unobserved by the other passengers — none of whom knew what they had been through — into the airport crowds and towards the aeroplane that would fly Ben across the Atlantic, and back home.
Author's note
The Florida Keys were originally connected to the US mainland by the Overseas Railroad. This was partially destroyed by a hurricane in 1935 and was replaced by the Overseas Highway.
The Atlantic hurricane season lasts from June to November. The duration and strength of hurricanes has increased by 50 per cent over the past three decades. Scientists do not know for sure whether this is a result of global warming, but they do know that heat is a key factor in the formation of hurricanes. It seems likely, therefore, that as the temperature of the oceans and the atmosphere continues to rise, hurricanes are going to get worse.