The Rig 2: Storm Warning (6 page)

“Maybe we can find out something about this Akhmed Hussain Abbasi on our own?”

Elly thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “Ok, let’s do that.”

The FBI agent got in the van with the producer to monitor what came in from the helicopter, then Elly, the cameraman and a technician got into a car. They drove away from the heliport, off the tarmac, through the gates and back onto the road. An FBI van was at the entrance. Suits were checking everyone going in, but they paid no attention to anyone leaving the heliport.

“Right,” Elly sighed as she steered. “Now what?”

The cameraman looked at her.

“You’re the journalist. How about Googling the guy’s name?”

“Ah, yeah.” Elly wondered why she had not thought of that herself. She handed her phone to the cameraman. “Can’t Google and drive at the same time.”

“You should get one of those glasses,” the cameraman said, as he began to do the search.

Elly reached out and slapped him around the head.

“I’m not going to be a gl-asshole.”

The cameraman grinned. “Ah well.”

It took a minute before the cameraman showed her the phone again. He had pulled up the Facebook page of the alleged terrorist.

Elly glanced at it.

“Wow... creepy...”

“Yeah...”

“Pull up that note?”

“Sure.”

Death to the Infidels.

For too long, the Americans infidels have raped and plundered the land of Allah. For too long, the United States Government has raped the faithful followers of Allah.

Last month, Allah spoke to me and he told me to do this work in His honor. He told me to strike back at the infidels who have killed His people.

Today I will ascend to heaven as a martyr of Allah, taking out the biggest target since 9/11 in one fell swoop, in one big strike against the whores of the Church. Today will be the day I earn my place at Allah’s side. I will join the greatest martyrs and rejoice in the Glory of Allah.

Today, the United States of America will know how to fear us again. Today will be the day that the United States of America is shocked to the core.

9/11 shocked America, but caused the government to strike against the faithful in Afghanistan and Iraq. It then struck in Libya and is sending terrorists into Syria and Egypt, causing more deaths of innocent women and children of the faithful.

No longer can anyone sit by and watch this injustice without revenge. And today will be the day of my revenge, in the honor of Allah.

“Wow...” Elly said again. She stared at the screen, transfixed.

“Road!” the cameraman shouted.

Elly jerked at the wheel, pulling the car back into the right lane. Her eyes were wide open and her heart was racing. She had been so focused on the Facebook note, she had not been paying attention to the road. She sighed.

“And you wanted me to get some of those damned glasses.”

The cameraman looked up the rest of the data on the Facebook page.

“Seems he’s in a relationship with a woman called Helen Schneider.” He tapped the name with his finger. “She just posted she’s pregnant.”

“She’s a radicalized convert? And pregnant with a terrorist’s baby?”

Elly looked at the cameraman, ignoring the phone this time.

“Nah, she seems to just be normal.”

“That’s weird... must be a ruse...”

“Yeah, must be...”

***

Helen did not know what she could do, so she just went about her day. She was due to be at work in forty minutes and so she got dressed and went downstairs. Nothing showed yet of her baby bump when she looked in the mirror. Baby bump; she hated that term, it was so disrespectful. Yet it was used so often, she found it had crept into her mind as well.

After her breakfast, she walked outside. The coffee shop was only a few blocks away and she could easily walk it. She would do her shopping when going back. She would have done it earlier, but then Akhmed had called. She did not understand how any of that could have happened. She saw the note on his Facebook page as well, but it completely perplexed her. There was no way that Akhmed could have posted that. He did not even care about God, he was an agnostic. It did not make sense. And he had his phone on him it seemed.

It all raced through her head as she walked down the stairs and stepped out the door. She just hoped the day would be quiet. But outside the door, a spotlight shone in her face. Immediately, a microphone was shoved under her nose.

“Elly Boukhari, CBS News. Miss Schneider, how do you feel about the father of your child, Akhmed Hussain Abbasi, having committed the greatest terrorist attack since 9/11? And how much has his radicalization affected you? Was he ever violent to you? Did he make you convert to Islam, too?”

She felt her jaw drop. What the hell was going on here? In a reflex, she retreated back into the hallway. She noticed that the reporter was trying to follow her, but she slammed the door shut as hard as she could. And she felt the tears well up in her eyes.

Chapter Fifteen

The dinghy still drifted close to the USCGC Hurricane when the VHF DSC phone rang. Commander Lovell sighed when he saw the frequency that it came in on. He picked up the receiver.

“Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner. This is Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Do you copy?”

The Commander pressed the button to transmit and spoke the call sign back.

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal, this is Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner. Copy.”

“Is that Commander Lovell? Over.”

“Affirmative. Over.”

“Commander Lovell, you are required to let the FEMA officer board. Over.”

Commander Lovell sighed again and rubbed his face. He swore under his breath. How could anyone demand that he let strangers on board his cutter? Especially if they were going to try to boss him around. “Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Repeat.”

“Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner. Let the FEMA officer come aboard. Over.”

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal cannot comply. Over.”

“Commander Lovell. Explain. Over.”

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Man tried to come aboard my cutter claiming to be from FEMA but refusing to identify. Have standing orders not to accept unidentified persons on board cutter. Over.”

There was silence on the other side of the line. Commander Lovell knew they were discussing something at the station. Then the radio phone crackled back to life. Another voice came through the receiver.

“Commander Lovell? This is Charles Palermo. I order you to let FEMA run this operation.”

There was a long silence, but Commander Lovell did hear the click of the transmission being released. He said nothing. He would not make this easy on them, even if the secretary for Homeland Security was giving him direct orders now.

“Commander Lovell? Did you hear me?” The voice came through the receiver again.

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. This is Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner. Did you transmit? Over.”

“Commander Lovell, you will listen to my orders!”

The voice sounded angry. Commander Lovell grinned. It was the sort of anger that came from powerlessness. The man did not understand procedure and did not understand why he was not listening.

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Did you transmit? Over.”

A tirade rang into his ears and he held the receiver away from his ear. He saw the master next to him on the bridge smile broadly at him. Eventually the tirade stopped and he heard another voice come back on the line.

“Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner. Commander Lovell? We have the secretary of Homeland Security with us, ordering you to let the FEMA officer come aboard. Do you read? Over.”

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. I read but cannot comply due to standing orders. Over.”

There was silence again. He could imagine the scene at the station. He knew the man had made an issue of not having to identify, but he would not let him take over his cutter without knowing his name.

“Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner. FEMA officer belongs to headquarters of FEMA Region Niner. Name confidential. Over.”

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Cannot comply. Cannot allow strangers on board due to standing orders. Over.”

“Whiskey Papa Charlie One Niner.”

There was a pause in the transmission, even though the button remained pressed down.

“FEMA officer will be advising only. Please comply. He will not be taking command. Over.”

Commander Lovell shook his head, but he knew eventually they would simply solve the problem by ordering him back to port and sending another cutter.

“Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Inform the man in the dingy he may come aboard as an advisor. Over.”

“Thank you Commander Lovell. We will inform the dinghy. Uniform Sierra Charlie Golf Whiskey Decimal. Out.”

Lovell still did not like the man when he came aboard and made his way onto the bridge.

“Steer closer and engage your sonar system,” the man bluntly ordered, without even bothering to greet him.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” the man growled.

“I heard you say something, but I am disinclined to listen to your yapping.”

“You have orders to listen to FEMA officers.”

“I have no such orders. I was told to accept you on board as an advisor.”

Commander Lovell caught himself crossing his arms and glaring at the man.

“So either you advise me or you shut your trap. I have no use for orders from you.”

The FEMA officer grunted and puffed his chest out. He wanted to protest that again, but he realized Lovell would not be listening to him. He sighed and deflated.

“There are a few FBI agents on board. We believe they will try to use one of the research submarines to escape from the rig when they have finished their work. We need you to keep everyone at bay and use your sonar system to find the submarine when it leaves ‘The City’.”

“Why would you think that?”

“We’ve been in touch with them. Their phones are still working and they claimed earlier that they would use one of those to escape if need be. We need to rescue them.”

“Why are we just rescuing FBI agents? Why is there not a big rescue action mounted to save as many people from that place as possible?” Commander Lovell was astounded by the cold-heartedness of the man and the organization he represented.

“We don’t need anyone else to survive, Commander.”

Chapter Sixteen

Akhmed slowly emerged from behind the submarine. He kept the gun pointed at Wes, but his hands shook.

“Akhmed Hussain Abbasi?” Wes asked him gently.

“Who are you?” Akhmed asked nervously. “What do you want?”

“I’m Wes Canfield. I’m one of the marine biologists who work here. I just want to talk to you.”

Sheila showed up behind Wes. Akhmed twitched the pistol to point at her.

“And you?”

Sheila ducked and crouched behind Wes, her hands on her head.

“For fuck’s sake,” Akhmed swore. “What do you want?”

“Never mind Sheila. I just want to talk,” Wes distractingly said.

“Talk?” Akhmed looked puzzled.

Wes stepped closer and looked Akhmed in the eyes.

“Did you do what they say you did? Did you set off that bomb?”

Akhmed shook his head. He slowly lowered the gun.

“No...”

“Who did?” Wes dropped his hands.

“Fatima. The DJ...” Akhmed watched Sheila come closer, too, finally having risen again. “She was working with Smith and Garcia. They had a plan to blow this place up and kill me, and make everyone believe I was responsible for it.”

Wes looked behind and saw Sheila come closer. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his side.

“Do you know why they would do that?” he asked.

Akhmed shook his head again, but then looked up.

“I might,” he said. He looked both Wes and Sheila in the eye. He put the safety back on the weapon and tucked it back into his belt. “Have you ever heard of the six-week cycle?”

Wes shook his head and Sheila just gave him a blank look.

“What is the six-week cycle?”

***

Smith checked his gun before he even entered the staircase. It was a precaution he hoped would not be necessary, but he did it. He felt nervous. His body was not doing what he wanted it to do and he knew he was on edge and emotionally unstable. He knew what he needed as well, and he knew he would not be able to get it until they got off this stupid rig.

Smith kept the gun out of the holster as he began making his way up the stairs. It was tougher than he wanted it to be, with his body demanding he stop and take what he had so liberally supplied it with for months now. He swore at himself and pushed on. He would have to deal with that problem when he got back to shore.