The plane was bound for Miami. It was a twin-propeller aircraft and the propellers had already been spinning as they were ushered onto it with the last few remaining passengers. Ben didn't know why, but there was something about a twin-prop plane that made him feel less safe than a jet plane. They looked out of date, somehow, and his mind wasn't put at rest by the interior of the aircraft either. He had the impression that this plane had been in service for a very long time. He put that thought from his mind: the pilot would know what he was doing. He wasn't going to risk his life and the lives of everyone else on board by taking off if he thought it was dangerous.
'Thanks for doing this,' he said to Angelo. 'Looking at the chaos back at the terminal, I reckon I'd have been lucky to get a flight this side of Christmas.'
Angelo looked a bit embarrassed. 'Di niente,' he said shortly. 'It's fine. There have to be some advantages to—' He stopped mid-sentence, as though he had caught himself saying something he didn't want to say. Instead, he glanced down the aisle of the plane. The last couple of passengers were boarding, bringing the total number of people on board this small plane up to about twenty or thirty. They took the last two remaining seats, one just near Ben and Angelo, the other much further back. 'Anyway,' Angelo continued, 'other people seem to have got seats. You would probably have been OK.'
Ben shrugged. 'Maybe,' he said, as the gentle hum of the engines became a little louder. A voice came over the speakers and the cabin crew performed their safety announcement as the plane trundled towards the runway. It turned, paused for a moment and then the engines started to scream. The plane accelerated, Ben was pushed back in his seat and moments later they were airborne.
He hadn't been wrong about the bumpy takeoff — it was a bit like being in the boat earlier on. The winds buffeted the plane, knocking it from side to side and making the whole aircraft shudder. Ben found that he was gripping his armrests, white-knuckled, and when he glanced over at Angelo, he saw that his friend had gone rather pale.
'It's fine,' Angelo said, though he sounded more like he was reassuring himself than Ben. 'We need to get above the winds. I've been on lots of bumpy fl—'
He didn't finish his sentence, because the plane performed a horrible lurch, then seemed to drop from the sky momentarily before continuing its ascent.
'It'll be fine,' Angelo breathed again. Ben just closed his eyes and waited for the shaking to stop.
It took about five minutes for the flight to settle down, although it seemed like a lot longer to Ben. Still, it was a real relief when it happened. He and Angelo gave each other a sheepish smile. Neither of them, he sensed, wanted to admit how much the takeoff had frightened them.
'Where are you headed after you get to Miami?' Ben asked. The plane tilted as he spoke, and the sun shone directly into their eyes.
'To Italy,' Angelo replied. 'Back home.' He didn't sound too thrilled by the idea.
'Yeah, it's home for me too.' Ben smiled. 'Worst luck.'
Angelo looked at him and then spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. 'It's not so bad for you,' he breathed, and pointed his thumb back towards the seat his bodyguard had taken. 'You don't have people like him following you all the time.'
Ben had to admit that it didn't sound great being under someone's watchful gaze every waking moment, but he tried to cheer Angelo up. 'It can't be that bad,' he said a bit weakly. 'At least you know you're, er, safe and everything.'
Angelo snorted. 'Safe from what?' he asked. Ben didn't have an answer to that question.
They had been flying for about twenty minutes when the captain announced over the loudspeaker that they had reached their cruising altitude. All signs of the turbulence they had encountered at takeoff had disappeared now, and the ride was smooth. Angelo's bodyguard stood up and walked a little way up and down the aisle. He walked nonchalantly, as if he was simply stretching his legs, but the dark look Angelo cast him suggested to Ben that the guy was doing a little more than that. Clearly he was satisfied that everything was all right, however, because he soon sat down again, winking at the two of them — a bit patronizingly, Ben thought — before he did so.
'Does he really follow you everywhere?' Ben whispered.
Angelo nodded his head. 'There are three of them,' he confided. 'They take it in turns.'
'But why?' Ben asked.
Angelo inclined his head slightly. 'I soldi. Money. My father is a very wealthy man. Wealthy men can be paranoid. He thinks I am at risk of being…' He paused for a moment, searching for the word.
'Kidnapped,' he said finally. 'He thinks I will be kidnapped and held for ransom. Me, I think it is stupid. Only famous people get kidnapped.'
Ben wasn't so sure that that was true. He kept his mouth shut, though: it was clearly a sore point for Angelo. Instead he settled back in his seat and felt his eyes becoming heavy. He had slept badly the night before, and it had already been an eventful day. After a few moments he nodded off to sleep.
The temperature was dropping in the hold, and fast. The man's body was bruised and sore from the way he had been thrown around during the bumpy takeoff, but he put all thoughts of that from his mind. He clambered his way to the front of the plane, climbing over the pallets of luggage as he went. Before long he came to a metal panel sealed along the side with a number of tightly wound screws.
Quickly he opened his rucksack and pulled out an electric screwdriver. It was difficult to keep his grip true down here, but the screws unwound quickly enough. In a couple of minutes he was able to pull the metal panel away. He clambered into the small chamber that he could tell, from the rounded shape of the plane's nose, was just below the cockpit.
It was freezing now, but the aircraft was still climbing. He looked above and saw the trap door that led into the cockpit. He would not break through it yet. Not just yet. He would wait a little longer. Wait until the cold became unbearable. By that time, he hoped, the aircraft would be fully on course.
Only then, he decided, would it begin.
It was the sudden, clunky juddering that woke Ben up — a juddering that felt as if someone had taken the plane in their hands and given it a good shake. It felt like they had done the same to Ben's stomach too. And then there were the screams — the screams and the horrible sensation of the aircraft going into freefall.
'What's happening?' he shouted as, terrified, he gripped on firmly to the arms of his seat. 'What's happening?'
The cabin crew had been hurled to the floor at the back by the sudden change in the plane's movement. Ben thought that one of the screams came from an air stewardess — never a good sign. He looked out of the window, half expecting to see the bubbling skies of the hurricane they were escaping. But he didn't. All he saw was clear blue.
When your plane is going down, time has no meaning. It couldn't have been more than about twenty seconds that they stayed like that, but it seemed like half a lifetime. Half a lifetime of cold, blind terror. Suddenly, though, Ben felt the plane straighten up, and the popping in his ears told him that they were gaining height again. He exhaled deeply with relief, and he could sense Angelo doing the same.
'What's going on?' he breathed. 'What was that?'
Angelo shook his head, but he still seemed too scared to speak. The bodyguard, on the other hand, immediately got to his feet. He said something to Angelo in curt Italian. Angelo nodded.
'What happened?' Ben demanded, not at all sure that the bodyguard spoke any English.
'I don't know,' the burly man replied in a perfect American accent that slightly surprised Ben.
'Something to do with the hurricane?'