by Dale Mayer
Table of Contents
Title Page
About This Book
Complimentary Download
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
About Axel
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
About This Book
When a friend of Tesla’s sends out an SOS on the lowdown on an oil rig in trouble, Troy has a good idea what he’s getting into. As far as he is concerned, the maximum danger, the potential for betrayal, and the chances of not coming home sounded like the right kind of job for him.
After all, he lived alone. So going into these situations with no family to worry about him made him the ideal candidate—until he meets someone at the oil rig who suddenly makes him see his future in a different life.
Berkley knew something dangerous was going on. No way this oil rig hadn’t been sabotaged. She’d requested to remain with the skeleton crew until her help arrived. And was surprised at the size of the team that showed up to assist her.
Who knew it would take all of them to get to the bottom of this mess and to keep them alive, as human nature and Mother Nature combined to take them all out.
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Prologue
After two weeks in Greenland along with Colton, Troy Landry had finished up the training they had been trying to get done. Once the weather had cleared, their progress had improved rapidly, and now he was on his way back home again. First to Coronado base and then onto a US destroyer. And he was okay with that. He liked to spend as much time out on the water as he could. It was very different being a Navy SEAL on shore versus out on one of the big destroyers. He wasn’t sure what the mission was this time, but he was happy to be a part of it, no matter what was happening. He liked excitement; he liked the action. But some downtime would be nice too.
If any was coming his way.
Back in Coronado, he unpacked, then repacked his gear to be ready when the call came. Just as he moved his bag to the front door before heading to the pier, he got a phone call.
“Change of orders,” Mason said in a clipped tone.
“Okay,” Troy said, quite used to having his schedule spin on a dime. “What are we doing instead?”
“Heading up to the coast of Alaska. An oil rig’s in trouble. Quite a few workers being rescued right now. A programmer called in with an SOS on a suspected sabotage,” he said. “She’s still on board, as are a few others. Bad storms are coming in.”
“So, why are we still talking?” Troy said. “I figured you’d be out front already.”
“I am,” Mason said, his laugh dark. “I was hoping you’re on your way to the pier.”
With the phone still in his hand, Troy took one last look around, shut off the lights, grabbed his bag, and opened his front door. Locking it, he said, “I’m coming down the hallway toward you.”
“Good thing,” Mason said. “This one looks bad.”
“How many teams?”
“One six-man team,” Mason said.
Before they were done talking, Troy was out front, storing his duffel bag into the rear of the navy jeep, before taking the last vacant spot in the back seat. Lots of faces he knew, and a couple he didn’t. He just smiled and said, “Good to go.” He slammed the door shut even as Mason pulled away from the curb. “Are we going incognito, or is this with full military backing?”
“Always military backing,” Axel said from the front of the vehicle. “Just, in this case, we’re also talking a little bit of stealth.”
“Great,” Troy said. “And what’s our cover?”
“Two of us are part of the oil company, heading onto the rig itself,” Mason said, “and two will be on a nearby destroyer and will secretly come in from the ocean. We’ll let them onto the rig, and they will be our eyes and ears in the shadows.”
“Oh, now that’s an interesting way to handle it,” Troy said. “And the other two?”
Mason shot him a look through the rearview mirror. “You and Axel will go on as deckhands.”
“Why are we new deckhands, if they’re getting everybody off because the oil rig is in danger?”
“Because they still need somebody to stay on board and hopefully stabilize it.”
“Surely they’re not taking off the entire crew, are they?”
“They’re trying to,” Mason said. “Nelson here and I will go in as part of the company. Unfortunately one of the actual company board members is coming with us.”
“Unfortunately?”
“It’s never a good idea to have civilians involved,” he said.
Troy sat back and nodded, agreeing fully. This started to sound like an interesting mission. “Loss of life?”
“They’re still checking. Four people are missing.”
“But not confirmed dead?”
Axel shook his head, as he twisted around to look at him. “No, none confirmed yet. Several were fished out of the arctic water already.”
“What’s it take? About twelve minutes for hypothermia up there?”
“If you’re lucky,” he said. “An arctic front is heading down, so the weather’ll get vicious.”
“My favorite kind of mission then,” Troy said with a laugh. “Maximum danger, potential for betrayal, chances of not coming home—all good.” He grinned, and the others laughed. Because, just like him, they’d all been there before. And, just like him, so far they’d been lucky and made it home. But, just like him, they all knew many who hadn’t. Being part of the oil rig crew suited Troy just fine. He’d done a stint up on the oil rigs himself when he was eighteen, which may be why he’d been tagged for this. He looked at Axel. “You ever been on a rig before?”
“Yeah,” Axel said. “A couple times.”
Troy wasn’t at all surprised at that. The men on this team had a wide and varied set of experiences. When they pulled into the base airport, without talking they headed for the plane that was already refueling.
One of the pilots stood there, glaring at them. “You’re late,” he said.
Troy lifted an eyebrow.
By the time they made the switch to a connecting flight to head to Alaska and then eventually landed on the destroyer, Troy would be tired and ready for either action or a break. This hurry-up-and-wait scenario was driving him crazy. They’d done as much research as they could, but, so far, it looked like it could be an accident, sabotage, or somebody making it look like sabotage to hide something else. He’d seen way too much betrayal in his life to not consider that as an option.
After several hours on the destroyer, they were called up on deck to climb into the helicopter heading to the oil rig platform. He and Axel were in oil-rig uniforms but were fully armed inside their coveralls and heavy jackets. Mason was there in a heavy parka, but he wore a suit, as was the stranger standing with them, looking uncomfortable. Presumably the board member.
Mason introduced them. “This is Gregor Stanovich, one of the board members, and the one who looks after this particular rig.” Mason motioned everybody toward the chopper.
Troy studied Gregor carefully and concluded he definitely looked like the paper-pushing
kind. But Troy had been deceived before. He glanced at Axel to see him eyeing the stranger with the same harsh eye.
Not everybody was as quick to do this kind of work as they were. And Gregor shouldn’t be doing this. Everybody had a place in this world to do their own thing, but it was also important to know what capabilities somebody had.
By insisting on going into this nightmare, Gregor was putting himself in the line of fire. And that just meant Troy and his team would have to keep an eye on Gregor, in case things went south.
Civilians tended not to listen; they tended to underestimate the danger, and they just didn’t see the traps as they headed toward them. Troy could only hope this was a case of a simple oil rig accident, but there was a reason his team had been called in. And it was rarely for a simple accident. Too often a “simple accident” ended up being something far worse.
From the helicopter, Troy watched the ocean dance below them. There was no sign of the oil rig in the distance. Which meant they still had quite a distance to go. He looked at Axel. “I wonder how close the destroyer is planning on getting.”
Axel nodded. “Nobody can handle the frigid water, no matter what kind of protective gear they’ve got.”
“Do we have a submersible down there?”
Axel shot him half a glance and said, “What do you think?”
The two spent the rest of the flight watching for the oil rig to come into view, while surreptitiously eyeing Gregor.
“Do we know if it’s safe to land?” They both kept their voices low, looking out the window at the oil rig. There might have been an accident, but Troy wasn’t seeing anything to indicate just what that had been. “They said something about an explosion, some part of the rig collapsing, and a fire.” He motioned down below. “I’m not seeing evidence of that.”
“It was inside, I believe,” Axel said, but his look was hard as he studied the rig they approached. “Stay alive,” he muttered.
Troy’s reaction was instinctive. “Always.”
Chapter 1
Stay alive was a twist on stay alert, and both meant the same thing. Watch out for the knife in your back in order to make it home again. Something Troy always kept in mind.
They landed easily, the pilot having done the trip many times. The weather was just starting to brew outside. It promised to be a full-blown gale soon. Perfect. A damaged rig out in the middle of the Arctic nowhere with a storm coming on. Sounded like his kind of deal.
He hopped off with Axel, grabbed his bag, the same kit that anybody else on board would have, only his was fully loaded with weapons. They headed into the main part of the rig. One man stood, waiting for them. He looked at the two deckhand guys in surprise.
“What the hell? No crew is supposed to be arriving. We’re a skeleton crew as it is.”
“Beats me. We were told to get on board,” Axel said easily. “If it wasn’t for the board member on the flight with us, we probably would have begged off, but he said that we were needed.” Axel shrugged.
The guy looked over the two men. “We just busted our humps to get everybody off this place,” he complained. Then he turned and saw the board member walking toward him and frowned. “Of course the suits are here.”
“Right,” Troy said in agreement. He leaned forward slightly. “A real namby-pamby sort.”
“Aren’t they all?” he said. “Well, you’re here now. I’ll talk to this guy, and maybe you can leave with him too.”
“Appreciate it,” Axel said cheerfully. “I’m Axel. This is Troy.”
The guy nodded, then shook his head and said, “I can’t say I know you two.”
“We transferred in from another rig,” Troy said smoothly. “Again, board members are moving people around.”
“They should stick to what they do and leave us alone,” the guy ahead of him snapped. The ID tag on his overalls read Daniel.
“I agree,” Axel said. “Instead of moving people, they should stick to moving paper.”
At that, the three of them sniggered, a bond already forming. It was always that way in the world. Nobody liked the brass; nobody liked the board members; nobody liked anybody moving in and stepping on their toes. Daniel was obviously of a position here where he felt quite comfortable being the last one on board, then giving new crew shit for showing up. But he wasn’t so high up that he didn’t immediately smile and have a complete change of attitude when the board members arrived.
Mason, true to form, stared at him with a haughty look on his face. “Daniel,” he said, by way of acknowledgment.
Daniel stumbled a bit, then immediately put out a hand and said, “Glad to have you here.” He looked down at his clipboard. “I was only expecting one of you though, and I wasn’t expecting new crew at all.”
“Change of plans,” Mason said casually. He looked around. “I do want a full report though, as of five minutes ago.”
“It was sent around,” Daniel said apologetically, “but I guess our internet facilities took a hit.” He looked at the two new crewmen, Troy and Axel. “Head down the hall, take the first left, then follow the signs to your bunks. Grab any that are free. The place is empty. But don’t get comfortable.” His tone turned icy. “You’ll be leaving on the helicopter with these guys.”
“Will they?” Mason asked, one eyebrow raised. “My understanding was that you needed crew here.”
“Hell no,” Daniel’s words slammed out. “We’re trying to get everybody off. It’s not safe anymore.”
“Well, who’ll do the repairs if you don’t have any crew?” Nelson asked.
Daniel stared at him in frustration.
Nelson returned the stare. “I do know how to handle myself on a rig,” he said. “And the longer we stand here, the longer it’ll take. But, if you need a repair crew, why aren’t they here?”
“I have a six-man repair crew on board, plus my cook and an IT contractor,” he said. “I don’t need these two. Particularly when they’re new.”
“What difference does that make?” the real board member asked.
“You’re Gregor, aren’t you?” Daniel asked.
Gregor nodded slowly. “I am, indeed. How is it you don’t know Mason and Nelson here?” he asked with that air of arrogance that always made others uncomfortable.
“I heard some shuffling was happening at the top end,” Daniel said. “Sorry, we don’t always get the memos out here.” His tone was just barely above polite, and it was obvious that Mason in his role recognized the slight.
“Then I suggest you stop wasting everybody’s time and lead the way.” Mason turned to look back at the helicopter and raised his hand. The pilot lifted his hand and settled down to wait. With any luck, they would all be leaving within a few hours.
It was up to Axel and Troy to get the other two crew members on board without anybody seeing them. And then it would be a clear-cut case of finding out what the heck was going on.
But, for the moment, they needed to separate themselves from Mason and the others. Troy picked up his duffel bag, and, with a nod to Axel, the two of them walked down the hall, following the instructions they’d been given.
As soon as they were out of sight, Troy pulled out his sat phone, which was needed out here with the wet and cold weather and the lack of usual internet connections, and brought up a map of the oil rig. “I figure we should probably grab our bunks, nice and central,” he said, as he tapped one of the rooms that appeared to be midway in the rig. “It’s got two sets of stairs, so we’ve got easy access from both sides of the rig.”
“Good enough,” Axel said, but his jaw was clenched with tension. He glanced around. “Definitely something fishy here.”
“I smell it too,” he said. “A six-man repair crew, huh?”
Axel gave him a sideways glance. “Is that not enough?”
“Absolutely, depending on who and what,” he said. “But you and I both know, if you get the right guy, they can do the business of five or six other men. You get the wrong one, and you’ll
still need a dozen, because all of them are too damn stupid to do anything.”
“Nobody stupid should be hired on these rigs,” Axel said.
“True, but look at how we got on,” he muttered.
At that, Axel gave a clipped nod and led the way to the bunks.
As soon as they got into the room, Troy tapped the wall behind the bunks gently. Satisfied, he nodded and said, “On the other side of this,” he said, “is one of the big storage units.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning,” Troy said, “I think we should stash some of our weapons.”
“And how do you want to get in and out of there?”
From his duffel bag, Troy pulled out a small saw. “Something along this line,” he said.
Axel’s eyebrows shot up. “And you’ll hide that new opening how?”
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “I brought some duct tape. If nothing else, we can close it up that way and just hang a blanket on the downward side.”
Axel studied it for a moment, then nodded. “That just might work,” he said. “But how will you check the studs for a space you can get into?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Troy said. He gently tapped at the far corner. Nodding, he picked up the saw and cut through the wall, noting that it was not drywall but more like fiberglass. He quickly slid the saw all the way down and cut the top and the bottom. Then he pried it apart so he could look behind it. “A decent space is back here,” he said. “Let’s hide some of the weapons now.”
They stashed several of their machine guns, some of the ammo, a bunch of C-4, and a spare set of handguns. With that done, he grabbed one of the blankets off the top bunk and arranged it so it, more or less, hid the cuts in the walls.
“You know something? That’s actually a damn good job,” Axel said, studying it. “A damn good job.”
“I don’t like to be without weapons,” Troy said, “and, if we’re ever caught with any, you know they’ll start looking for more.”
“That’s the truth,” Axel agreed. He grabbed a couple pillows, threw them at the far end by the cuts in the wall, covering up one of the cut corners still visible. He said, “The cut edge is even the same color as the damn wall.” And, with that done, they threw their duffel bags onto their bunks and headed out.