Hell Rig by J. E. Gurley Read Free Book Online Page B

“I was, when Mac disappeared on me. I finished up by myself and came up here.”
    “That’s strange. I just saw Mac down by the chemical room.”
    Tolson cursed under his breath. “Damn slacker. You just can’t trust those brainy types,” he said with a grin.
    “Meaning me?” she asked, her voice dripping acid.
    Tolson chuckled. “Nah, you’re okay, for a skirt. It’s Mac. He signed on as a roustabout and welder’s helper but I know he’s well educated, maybe too smart for the job.”
    “How?” Her curiosity was aroused.
    “Back in port while we were waiting on the chopper, I saw him reading a book. When he saw I was watching, he dropped it in the garbage. I got curious and fished it out after he left.” He pulled a slip of paper out of his shirt pocket. “I wrote it down. It was titled Analysis and Interpretation of Fire Scene Evidence by Almirall and, uh, Furton.”
    “Maybe he just wanted to learn a bit more about our job,” she suggested, intrigued that Tolson had written down the book’s title.
    “Why hide it? I think he’s a cop, sent out to investigate the deaths here.”
    As much as she hated to admit it, Tolson’s idea made sense. “Look, don’t tell anyone else about this. We can keep an eye on him. If we’re wrong, no harm done. I wouldn’t want to ruin his job on a weak assumption and you know what they say about assuming.”
    Tolson smiled. “Something about your ass and me, right?” he said, leaning over and checking out her ass.
    “Grrr. You’re hopeless!”
    She took her coffee and left, headed for her room. She bumped into Jeff in the hall. He had a very serious look on his face.
    “Come with me,” he said, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her after him, almost spilling her coffee.
    “What?” she asked.
    Saying nothing, he led her outside and down the stairs to the cellar deck using his flashlight to light the way. Threading their way through a maze of pipes, pumps and storage tanks, they reached the big red emergency escape lifeboat. It rested level on the edge of a forty-five degree metal rail that led down to the water.
    “This is the TEMPSC , ” he said, playing his light on it, “The Totally Enclosed Motor Propulsion Survival Craft, capable of holding ten men. Notice anything about it?” He pointed his light to the control panel.
    She looked it over and saw, besides the singe marks from the flames, the control box gaping open. Someone had cut the release wires. “It’s been tampered with. So what? Waters said the Digger Man disabled it.”
    “He said the Digger Man ‘might’ have disabled it. He just saw that the TEMPSC was still here.”
    “So?”
    “Look closer. Someone has tampered with this electrical release box recently. There’s no sign of seawater or corrosion inside. It’s as dry as a bone. Besides,” he pointed down the sled. “The rail has been twisted out of position. The bend is still shiny and new. If the TEMPSC was released manually, it would just get stuck there.”
    “What are you getting at?”
    She didn’t like the way Jeff looked around conspiratorially before answering. “Someone in this crew did this,” he announced.
    She shook her head, shocked at Jeff’s accusation. “Someone on the delivery chopper could have done it.”
    “Maybe, but I’ll bet they unloaded and got out of here as fast as possible. It seems this rig has a dark reputation.”
    “What do you mean?” she asked.
    “I talked to Ed earlier. He said the first crew that came out here after Hurricane Katrina to check out Waters’ story heard and saw strange things.”
    “Yeah, like dead mutilated corpses.”
    “No, strange things, things in the shadows, a quick glimpse of something and just as quickly it was gone and they heard voices inside their heads. One of the crew committed suicide a week after they returned. He hung himself from a closet shelf. A second started drinking and hasn’t stopped yet.”
    A hard knot grew in her stomach as Jeff spoke.