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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?'
     
'Looks bright and sunny outside to me,' the bodyguard growled. 'Stay where you are. I'll go and find out.' He stepped out into the aisle and walked down to the crew.
     
Ben and Angelo watched them intently, but from this distance it was impossible to tell what they were saying or what was happening. After a while, Ben couldn't hack it any more. They should have heard something from the captain by now. His silence was worrying. With a determined look on his face Ben unbuckled his seatbelt and pushed past Angelo. 'I'm going to find out what's happening,' he said, before walking down to the rear, ignoring the stares of the other passengers, who obviously wanted to do the same thing but were too scared to unbuckle themselves.
     
'What's going on?' he demanded of the worried-looking cabin crew.
     
One of the air stewards – a tall man with perfectly groomed dark hair and a cheesy smile – answered. 'Nothing to worry about, son,' he said. 'Take your seat, please.'
     
But Ben didn't take his seat. He wasn't going to be fobbed off like that. He turned to the bodyguard. 'Have you found out what's happening?' he demanded.
     
For a moment the bodyguard hesitated, as if he was in two minds whether to tell Ben or not. When he finally spoke, he was tense and serious. 'There is an intercom between the cabin and the cockpit,' he said quietly. 'They've been trying to buzz through to the pilot to find out what went on up there, but there's no reply.'
     
Ben's brow furrowed. 'Can't we just open the door?'
     
The air steward shook his head. 'Can't be done,' he said. 'Since 9/11, no aircraft cockpits can be entered from the cabin.'
     
'How many pilots are there?' Ben asked.
     
'Two.'
     
'And neither of them are replying?'
     
The air steward shook his head again.
     
'What are we going to do?'
     
The man gave Ben a patronizing smile. ' We ,' he said emphatically, 'are not going to do anything. You are going to take your seat and keep quiet about all this. The last thing we need is any more panic in the cabin, OK.'
     
Ben glanced over his shoulder back at the terrified passengers. 'I think that might be asking a bit much,' he murmured. As he spoke, the air steward took him by the shoulders, turned him round and gave him a little shove back towards his seat.
     
But Ben never got there, because just as he started up the aisle, the loudspeaker crackled into life.
     
'Ladies and gentleman,' an unfamiliar voice announced in an accent Ben did not recognize. 'I advise you all to remain very calm. This plane has been hijacked and is under my control. I will be giving you instructions very soon. In the meantime, be assured that if anyone tries to enter the cockpit or tamper with its door, they will immediately be shot.'
     
With that, the loudspeaker went dead.
     
There was a brief moment of silence, and then the sound of panicked screams filled the aircraft.
     

Chapter Three
It was only fair, the hijacker thought to himself, that the passengers should know why they were going to die before it happened.
     
Beside him, the two pilots lay dead. They had shouted in surprise as the hijacker emerged through the trap door, but two silent, accurate shots from his suppressed weapon – a Beretta 92FS that he had stashed in his rucksack – had floored them before they could raise the alarm. It had been a nasty surprise when the plane had veered out of control – he had expected there to be an autopilot, but clearly they had been flying manually. Only with difficulty had he managed to take the pilot's seat and steady the