Reckoning by Ian Barclay Read Free Book Online Page B

the fog.
    The pilots continued to set the chopper down slowly through the grey swirls of mist, peering to make sure the rig did not
     suddenly materialize immediately beneath or in front of them. Dartley found himself staring intently, ready to yell a warning
     about any ominous shape emerging from the fog. They seemed to spend a long time hovering slowly down in the noisy, vibrating
     machine. Then the fog thinned enough for them to see the grey cold seawater about twenty feet beneath them. Staying close
     to the sea surface in order to take advantage of the layer of lighter fog there, the pilots cautiously advanced, checking
     their instruments and squinting ahead and to the sides.
    A huge concrete leg loomed out of the fog directly ahead. The chopper paused in its forward motion and began to lift, revealing
     giant diagonal and horizontal crossbeams leading away from the concrete leg and disappearing into the vapors. Some of the
     passengers cheered the pilots, who could not hear them because of their headsets. Dartley looked up and saw the installation’s
     enormous superstructure still high above them. Other supporting legs and structural framework were not visible. A great sheet
     of flame flapped like a flag above the installation.
    The helicopter did not land on the Brent Delta installation, but on a flotel moored next to it. The flotelwas a semi-submersible—four stories of superstructure fixed to two monstrously long floats which were almost completely submerged.
     The flat top supported two helidecks, a small hangar and two large cranes for unloading ships.
    Dartley climbed out of the chopper, picked up his bag after it was unloaded from the back and made his way across the steel
     deck covered with rope mesh work. The noise was tremendous. The roar of the Sikorsky’s engine competed with those from heavy
     machines aboard the nearby installation, the waves crashing against the concrete legs far below, the hiss and flapping of
     the gas flare above the rig and the ring and din of pipes. He followed his orange-suited fellow passengers, hauling their
     duffel bags, down the metal steps of a passageway. He handed in his chopper flight pass and was given another in exchange
     which listed his lifeboat station and cabin number. He shucked off his survival suit and went, as directed, to his lifeboat
     station and placed his card in a slot in a board there. In an emergency, every man went to his lifeboat station, pulled his
     card and put on a lifejacket. Once the board was cleared of cards, all hands attached to that lifeboat station had been accounted
     for.
    He had an upper bunk in a four-bunk cabin. Nicholas Avedesian had the other top bunk. Only one occupant was present when Dartley
     arrived.
    “We’re all packed in like fucking sardines here, mate,” he said to Dartley in a Cockney accent.
    Dartley looked around at the tightly designed cabinwhich left a minimum of space—certainly not enough for three or four men to be out of their bunks at one time. “It’s like
     a submarine.”
    “You were in them?”
    Dartley shook his head. “Army.”
    “Me too. British army. All I did was march and stand at attention for hours in the bloody rain. At least if I’d been in a
     submarine, I’d have been dry.”
    Dartley laughed.
    “You a fooking spy on us then?” the man asked.
    “Sort of.”
    “Well, you better take good care then. We have a lot of industrial accidents out on these rigs. You wouldn’t want to step
     in anyone’s way while you was doing your spying.”
    Dartley said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    “Be sure you do.”
    The man with cropped fair hair and broad shoulders was instantly at attention when he heard the name Dockrell over the airport
     announcing system. John Dockrell. He relaxed. His real name was Douglas Dockrell. He wasn’t traveling under that name, of
     course. It was just that hearing the last name while he waited for his flight gave him a start—nothing visible to an