The Rig 1: Rough Seas (8 page)

“There's no pizza delivery here, is there? Then you could just keep watching television.”

“Actually there is. Good pizza too. Indian and Chinese too.”

Sheila popped her head into the room and smiled at him.

“Maybe we should consider one as an option then.”

***

Dave and Joy walked down the Central Plaza and looked at the stage for a second. Everything had been set up, but there was nobody there yet. People had started to gather in the plaza though, many with beers in their hands. They ducked into the pizza place on the corner and ordered a large
quattro stagioni
and went to sit at a table out front when it came. They bought a couple of beers too and sat there eating a few slices in silence.

It was Joy who spoke first.

“He really does seem to like her.”

Dave nodded.

“Yeah. But she's a firecracker, so I'm not surprised.”

Joy sighed and she looked downcast. She had hoped Dave would contradict her there, but he didn't.

“You're a firecracker too,” Dave said, before picking up another slice of pizza.

Joy looked up at Dave and saw him wink at her. Suddenly she could not control herself and she leaned forward, pushed the hand with the pizza away and pressed her lips to his.

Dave was completely taken aback by it. He dropped the pizza slice in surprise. Joy reached a hand behind his head and he did the same, then opened his eyes in shock as he realized he was smearing tomato sauce into Joy's hair.

They broke apart and there was a twinkle in Joy's eyes as she picked up a slice of pizza again.

Dave was speechless, flabbergasted and he just sat there in silence. He did not notice anything but Joy. Not the people coming onto the stage, or the music starting, just Joy.

Chapter Sixteen

Fatíma, or DJ Medina as the crowds knew her, hopped out of the helicopter. She carried a small backpack with her. The pilot had asked her what she was carrying and she had answered it held her outfit for the night and her laptop. She did not mention the gun she had been given to finish her job.

She made her way down to the offices and went straight for Stryker's office. Stryker was not there, but that was only a small snag in the plan. She reached for her phone to call him, but then she saw the man had left his own phone on the desk. For a moment she doubted what she would do, but then she walked over to the desk and reached into a drawer. She took a notepad from the drawer and began looking over the desk for a pen.

“Hey. Who are you? What are you doing in Mr. Stryker's office?” a voice said from the doorway. Fatíma looked up and saw a man there with a tablet in his hand and a tired look in his eyes.

“DJ Medina. I was told to meet Mr. Stryker before the performance.”

Her tone was innocent and sweet. She managed to perfectly hide the fact that her heart was beating at a million miles an hour. It was the result of years of training.

“He's not here. Been trying to get to him for ages, but he's not answering his phone either.”

Fatíma shrugged.

“Don't know where he is either. I just got here. Why are you trying to get ahold of him?”

“I'm Reg McCoy, his PA. And we struck oil earlier. He doesn't know yet.”

“Well, if I see him, I'll let him know you're looking for him.”

“Thanks.”

Reg was stressed and he barely realized he walked out of the office, leaving someone unknown to him in his boss’ office.

***

When Akhmed came back from the mosque, Fatíma was already plugging her laptop into the sound system. She smiled at him and complimented him with the work he had done. Everything had been set up perfectly. He nodded and sat down on the edge of the stage. Fatíma sat down beside him and gave him another dazzling smile.

“You've done very well, you know,” she said. “I think everything worked out perfectly.”

“Are you sure you can do this?” Akhmed asked her softly.

Fatíma nodded, a bright look in her eyes.

“Of course I can. Don't worry about that.”

“I just hope nobody gets hurt.”

“Maybe some cuts and scrapes from breaking glass, but nothing more.”

She looked at him sincerely.

“I promise you that.”

Akhmed nodded and sighed.

“I'll hold you to it.”

Fatíma got up and sighed.

“I'm going to open a playlist and then go up and change. Can you start the playlist in ten minutes?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Fatíma took the lift up, back to the offices to change and Akhmed was alone again. He could see people beginning to gather. Most of them were in a party mood already and beer and wine was in ample supply. The cafes and pubs around the Plaza would be doing well tonight, until Akhmed and Fatíma's protest started, that is. He kept a watch on the clock and found the minutes ticking by very slowly. They passed so slowly now and he tried to retain that tranquility he had been able to find in the mosque, but he grew more nervous with every idle second.

Finally ten minutes had passed and Akhmed got up and walked to the laptop. He clicked the play button on the player and sat down again. It took a few seconds before anything happened, but then music began to flow from the speakers and Akhmed's nerves seemed to disappear again. He sat down on a chair by the boxes of records and closed his eyes. He tapped his foot to the beat and finally felt that nothing could go wrong any more.

***

Fatíma swore as she came back to Stryker's office and still found it empty. She had just realized the significance of the oil find. If the rig blew now, it could lead to a massive environmental disaster and somehow it struck her as something she could not face doing. But she had been paid to do the job, and she decided she would follow orders. As long as she knew what those orders were. She took out her own phone and sent a text to Smith. She said they had struck oil and asked whether she should proceed as planned. Then she began to undress.

When she got down to her thong, her phone buzzed. A text from Smith. ‘Proceed as planned’ was the entire message. She took her clothes out of her bag and began pulling them on.

“Are you in here again?” Reg asked, as he walked in.

Fatíma cried out in surprise, clutching her bright orange top to her chest.

“I was told I could use this office to change!”

“Ah,” muttered Reg and he walked to the desk.

“Do you mind?” Fatíma asked indignantly.

“I still have to do my work,” Reg said and he began looking for something on the desk. He moved her bag. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something odd. He looked closer and saw the gun in the bag.

“What the fuck is this?”

He stood up straight and looked at Fatíma. But Fatíma had closed on him like lightning and her fist crashed into his temple. Reg staggered back and began falling. Another fist hit him on the other temple and then Fatíma slammed the palm of her hand into his chin and his vision went black.

***

Fatíma took her bag back down on the elevator with her and laid it by her feet under the turn tables. Akhmed was still sitting quietly in the corner and minding his own business. She was happy for that. She looked at the box of records below the one she would be using. He had not opened it. His fingerprints would be all over it because he had hauled it in. It was the box that the bomb had been placed in.

She sighed. She liked Akhmed, but things had to be done. She looked at her watch and knew it was time. She winked at Akhmed and reached into her bag.

“A few minutes left. Shall we go to the restroom and then get some drinks? We won’t have any time once I get started and I’m gonna need you to stay close to me.”

Akhmed nodded and walked ahead of her to the restrooms next to the elevator. She followed him, hiding her gun and silencer in the folds of her dress.

***

Dave and Joy made their way to the stage. They held hands, even though Joy had given Dave a slap for getting tomato sauce in her hair. When they saw the DJ and her roadie leave and walk towards the restrooms, they figured the show would be properly underway in another twenty minutes, so they went into one of the bars on the Plaza. It was busy but there was still space to sit down at the furthest end, behind the long bar. They sat down there and Dave went to the bar to order them some beers. He came back with pints and they sat down close to each other. They did not know what to say to each other now. Everything had just changed between them and it took some adjusting.

Dave noticed the attraction every time he looked Joy in the eyes and he knew she did too. He wanted to act on it, but his own sense of decency held him back. He did not want to be seen groping her in such a public place, they were both respected professionals on the rig. He would have to be really drunk before that would happen. Instead, he laid his hand on Joy's knee. Joy responded with a smile and laid her hand on his. Their fingers intertwined and they just sat there, drinking and waiting for the best moment to head into the Plaza.

***

Fatíma stepped into the men's room just as Akhmed stood by the urinal to empty his bladder. She walked up to the man and raised her weapon. She held it close to the bottom of Akhmed's ear and sighed. Akhmed heard her and wanted to turn around but she stopped him.

“Uh uh.”

She glanced at her watch.

“Two more minutes. Then I pull this trigger and you will have committed suicide.”

“Wh... wh... h...” Akhmed stammered.

He had no idea what was going on.

“Listen, pet. There is no sound effect. There is a massive big bomb that you brought onboard this monstrosity all on your own. So you will be found here, in one of the very few places that will be left untouched by the initial blast. And you will have found it impossible to reconcile your actions with your faith and so you shot yourself in distress, or whatever.”

Akhmed felt his sphincter clench and he had to concentrate not to soil himself. He did not understand what was going on. But he knew that he was going to die. And he wanted to do that with a tiny bit of dignity. He shivered involuntarily and just waited.

***

When Sheila came back into the room, all thoughts of dinner or television left Wes' head. Sheila walked in wearing nothing but a black thong and a pair of pumps. She slowly strutted towards him and sat herself down in his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him.

With a sigh Wes responded. He kissed her back and their tongues began a dance of passion. He held her in his arms and his fingers stroked her soft skin.

When their lips parted, Sheila bit her lip and looked at him with lust in her eyes. She stroked a finger through his fringe.

“You rocked my world the moment I saw you.”

Wes grinned and ran his hand over her body, up to her face. He cradled her cheek and kissed her on the forehead before gazing into her eyes.

“You rocked my world too. I'd known about you from some of your research, but when I met you, you made everything happen.”

Sheila bit her lip again and moved to kiss him.

And then both their worlds were rocked. A massive blast shook ‘The City’ and Wes and Sheila toppled over and fell onto the floor. Everything in the room that was not bolted down shook and fell down. The television tumbled over and exploded on the floor, the lights shook, light bulbs shattered and the cupboards opened and emptied themselves of their content.

“What the fuck?” Wes shouted.

He looked up. He had landed on top of Sheila and shielded her from the shattering and falling glass by pure chance. His ears were ringing and he had trouble making out what Sheila was saying to him. He got up and made his way to the window, looked down and suddenly saw something that worried him even more than the sudden explosion. There was oil spreading from underneath the rig and pieces of sheet metal floating around in the waters below. Some of the boats had come away from their docks and were drifting in the oily waves. But he saw the gleam. He saw the gleam of flames above them and debris falling past the window.

Wes ran back to a dazed Sheila and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her to the bathroom and laid her down in the tub, then covered her with his own body. He lay down just in time. Because just then he heard the roar of flames from the surface of the sea. Then there was another blast, a deeper one now, followed by a huge roar as the oil that pumped up through the pipes caught fire and enveloped ‘The City’ in flames. And in his heart Wes knew they were all doomed.

Epilogue

There were always blasts around San Clemente, Juan knew. He knew he should expect it when he went down there in his boat from Santa Catalina. He knew it was a dangerous place to go, but he kept going back. The places that were never hit by the US Navy's shells were great places for crabs and shellfish. But this time was different.