The man smiled. “Sorry, but I’m heading to the lab. You must have been told during orientation that the laboratory is out of bounds.”
“We were. Sorry for wasting your time,” replied Mitchell.
“It’s all right. If you turn around, head back down the corridor and take the first left, you’ll be heading in the right direction.”
“Sorry, but we don’t have time for that right now,” said Mitchell, pulling his pistol from his coveralls. “Be a good man and lead us to the lab. My friend and I are dying to see what you’ve been up to.”
Dumbfounded, the man stood there staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at his head.
Mitchell didn’t have time to waste. He grabbed the man by his collar and spun him around until he was facing down the corridor. With his pistol jammed hard into the man’s back, Mitchell said, “Walk, or so help me I’ll shoot you in the back.”
The man reluctantly began to walk.
“Pick up the pace,” snarled Mitchell.
The terrified lab technician shook his head and began to walk faster.
Just before they turned a sharp corner, Mitchell heaved on the technician’s collar, pulling him back. “When we arrive at the lab, I don’t care what you tell the guards, but my friend and I are coming inside with you.”
“That’s impossible,” stammered the man. “No one but authorized personnel can enter the lab.”
“I don’t care,” replied Mitchell bluntly. “Get us in there or my partner will gut you like a fish.”
The technician almost jumped out of his skin when Grace smiled demonically back at him and pulled out a knife from her pocket. The man crossed himself. The instant he walked around the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks. Two stone-faced guards with their weapons hung over their shoulders turned to look at him.
“Can I help you?” asked the closest guard.
“I have been asked to escort these two workers inside the lab to fix a broken fan,” replied the technician.
The guard looked over Mitchell and Grace and said, “Where are their passes?”
“They are new here and haven’t had the chance to get them yet.”
“Sir, you know the protocols; no one can enter the lab without proper identification.”
Mitchell’s pistol dug into his back
Instantly, the technician changed his tone. “Look here, I don’t have time for this. If they don’t fix the fan, it could endanger the air quality inside the laboratory. I’m sure you don’t want to be known as the man who lost his job because he failed to listen to reason. Now, my good man, we can stand here all morning debating this, or you can let us inside.”
The guard wasn’t sure what to do. He looked over at his partner, who disinterestedly shrugged his shoulders. The guard let out a deep sigh and stepped aside.
“Thank you,” said the technician, still playing the part. He entered his passcode. With a whoosh, the door slid open. With Mitchell and Grace trailing close behind, the man led them into the sterilization chamber.
“Take a deep breath and close your eyes,” said the technician a split second before the fluorescent lights switched off.
A few seconds passed. Mitchell heard another door slide open. He opened his eyes and saw an empty room. He let out his breath and pushed the scared technician inside. Mitchell brought his pistol up expecting trouble; instead, the room was quiet and deserted.
“Where’s the probe?” Grace asked the technician.
“In there,” replied the man, pointing at the glass window.
Grace walked over, looked inside, and saw the Luna 15 probe sitting on a table. The surgical-like cuts from a laser on the metal coating of the probe told Grace that she was too late. Whatever her employer was after was gone.
“What were they doing in here?” asked Mitchell.
Fear filled the technician’s eyes.
Mitchell brought up his pistol up to the man’s head and repeated his question.
“Please, if I say anything, they’ll kill me,” pleaded the man.
“So will I, if you don’t answer my question.”
The hard look in Mitchell’s eyes told the technician that he wasn’t bluffing. “We were hired to remove the sample from the probe and to synthesize what we found in there.”
“What have you done with the samples?” demanded Grace.
Like a light being thrown on in a darkened room, the helicopter sitting on the landing pad suddenly flashed into Mitchell’s mind.
“Damn it, I’m losing it. They’re going to fly the sample out on that military chopper,” said Mitchell to Grace.
Grace dragged the technician back towards the sterilization chamber. “Press whatever buttons you have to, but get us the hell out here.”
Outside of the lab, the two guards heard the sealed door behind them slide open. Before either of them could turn their heads to see who was coming out, both were knocked to the ground, unconscious.
Mitchell and Grace took off running through the metal passageways in a race to get to the helicopter before it took off.
“Jesus, did you see that?” said one of the control room operators, pointing up at the screen.
“I sure did,” replied his partner, looking at the bodies of the two guards lying unconscious on the floor outside of the lab. He reached over and slammed his hand onto a large red button on his console. Instantly, a klaxon alarm sounded throughout the oil rig.
The other operator picked up a phone. His voice boomed over dozens of loudspeakers spread all over the platform. “Attention, we have intruders on the platform. I say again, we have intruders on the platform. All security personnel are to report to their duty stations immediately.”
23
The Oil Rig
“This is why you don’t let officers go off by themselves,” said Jackson to himself as the ear-piercing alarms sprang to life above him. He switched on the outboard motor and brought the Zodiac out from under the cover of darkness. He positioned it directly below the ladder that Mitchell and Grace had used to climb up onto the platform.
Mumbling to himself that there was no point in hiding anymore, Jackson picked up a silenced MP-5 submachine gun from the bottom of the boat and began to shoot out every camera and light he could see.
Jackson looked up at the platform. “Come on Ryan, pick up the pace. I don’t want to end up in some squalid South American prison for the rest of my life.”
McMasters slid to a halt and looked back over his shoulder. With the shrieking alarms echoing throughout the rig, he half-expected to see a horde of commandos rappelling down from helicopters. Instead, all he saw were confused oil workers scurrying for cover. A second later, he saw a handful of security personnel, still pulling on their clothes, run towards him.
“Sir, what are your orders?” asked one of the security personnel as he struggled to catch his breath.
“Take two men and escort the package to the helicopter,” replied McMasters, pointing over at the sealed box carried by two scientists in protective clothing. “I’ll take the rest back with me and see what the hell is going on.”
“Si, señor,” replied the guard, who quickly barked out the orders to his men.
McMasters pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and pulled back on the slide, loading a round into the chamber. “Okay, follow me,” he said to the four men still with him.
The alarm system turned off, plunging the platform back into silence.
“What?” snarled McMasters into his Motorola.
“Sir, someone attacked the guards at the lab,” replied one of the control operators.
“Did you see who it was?”
“No, sir; if the intruders are still on the platform, they are undoubtedly dressed as workers,” said the operator as he frantically switched between dozens of cameras located all over the platform, trying to spot the trespassers. “Sir, you should also know that all of the cameras above leg number four have ceased to work.”
“Send some men to check it
out,” ordered McMasters, knowing that it couldn’t be a coincidence.
As he walked off the helipad, McMasters heard the loud whine of the Venezuelan military helicopter as its engine warmed up. He was almost at the stairs when he heard the sound of people running up. He stepped back slightly to let them pass and then swore loudly when he recognized Mitchell barreling up the stairs towards him. He swiftly brought his pistol up to take a shot.
“Look out!” yelled Grace, as she pulled Mitchell back by the collar of his coveralls.
A split-second later a shot rang out, striking the metal right beside Mitchell’s head.
With his heart in his throat, Mitchell almost fell straight back into Grace’s arms.
Grace aimed her pistol up the stairs and fired off two quick shots, trying to throw off their attacker’s aim.
“Thanks, I could have been killed.”
Before Grace could reply, a flurry of shots flew down from above, hitting the stairs where Mitchell had been seconds before.
“The way up is blocked. We’re too late to stop the helicopter,” said Grace bitterly.
“Looks that way,” replied Mitchell as he looked back over his shoulder to see if the path behind was clear. “Come on, we’ve overstayed our welcome. It’s time for us to go.”
They ran as fast as they could for the lower levels and their only way out. From above they could hear the sound of people coming after them. As they turned a sharp corner, Mitchell almost ran into a surprised security guard. Both men went to raise their weapons. Unlike the poorly trained guard, Mitchell was an expert. He quickly fired off a shot into the man’s right shoulder, making him drop his weapon. In a flash, Mitchell ran forward and hit the man square in his chest, bowling him over. He kicked the guard’s pistol over the side of the platform and then turned to look at Grace, who had an incredulous look on her face. “He didn’t deserve to die,” was all Mitchell said before taking off again.
Grace swore, turned around, and fired off a couple of shots up the stairs so slow their pursuers before sprinting after Mitchell.
McMasters heard the shots. On the level below him, a man cried out in pain. McMasters’ blood was up. With the sample safely away, all he could think of was killing Mitchell. The man had become a major pain in the ass.
McMasters brought his Motorola to his lips. “Control room, this is McMasters, the intruders are armed and highly dangerous. Send everyone you have to support number four immediately.”
Angrily, he pushed past a guard who had stopped to help his injured friend. He called on the two remaining men with him to keep up as he sprinted down the metal stairs. When they arrived on the lowest level, McMasters, expecting an ambush, warily stepped out with his pistol held out in front of him. When he saw the guard Mitchell had shot rolling around on the floor, moaning in pain, McMasters screamed Mitchell’s name at the top of his lungs. If was the last thing he ever did; McMasters swore that he was going to kill Mitchell.
The two guards with him stopped in their tracks, looked down at their wounded comrade and over at McMasters.
He could see the fear in their eyes. They were finished.
McMasters had not time to waste on them. He tossed his Motorola to the closest guard and told him to call for more backup. McMasters took up the pursuit by himself.
Mitchell came to a sliding halt. He was relieved to see that they were on the narrow walkway that arched around the support leg. They had to go down one more level before they could begin to climb down the support.
“Hurry up,” said Grace as she pushed Mitchell towards the nearby flight of stairs.
His instincts told him to be careful.
Suddenly, a shot rang out from below, barely missing Grace as she pushed her way past Mitchell in her hurry to escape.
With skills honed in combat, Mitchell fired off a shot. From below, he heard the sound of a man yelp in pain. Mitchell dashed down the stairs with his weapon held out in front of him, ready to engage in a moment’s notice. He swore when he saw Grace’s contact lying facedown on the metal floor with a pool of blood underneath her. In the corner, a wounded guard sat there with both hands on his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.
A loud shot cut through the air.
Mitchell looked over at Grace as she fired once more, killing the guard. He wanted to say something, but knew that now wasn’t the time. He grabbed Grace by the arm, pointed at the ladder leading below and said, “You first.”
Grace hesitated, her eyes still fixed on the man who had killed her contact.
“Now!” hollered Mitchell, loudly.
Grace nodded her head and began to climb down the exposed outside of the platform support.
With his pistol aimed back up to the next floor, Mitchell waited until Grace had vanished from sight before deciding that it was time for him to go. He was about to head for the ladder when he heard the sound of feet running on the metal floor above him. Mitchell edged back towards the ladder and fired off a couple of shots to keep whoever was there away from the stairs.
McMasters called out, “Give it up Mitchell, I know it’s you down there. You can’t get away.”
“Well, well, if it isn’t the man I’d love to feed to the sharks,” replied Mitchell.
“I take it Jackson is somewhere below waiting for you.”
“How astute of you,” said Mitchell as he looked around for something to help him get away. He knew the instant he began to climb down the ladder that McMasters would jump down and pick him off long before he reached the waiting Zodiac.
“Mitchell, I’ll give you to the count of ten to give yourself up,” yelled McMasters. “After that, I’m going to come down there and put a bullet between your eyes.”
Mitchell moved over to a closed metal locker and opened it up. He smiled when he saw fuel tanks for an acetylene torch stored inside. He quickly opened the valves on the tanks, stepped back, pulled off his coveralls, and bunched them up.
He could hear McMasters cheerfully counting down as if were all some big game.
Mitchell moved back towards the opening leading down to the ladder. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a cheap disposable lighter. He flicked the lighter with his thumb and swore when it didn’t light. Desperately flicking the lighter several more times, Mitchell almost jumped for joy when a flame shot out. Right away, he brought his coveralls over the flame. With his burning coveralls in his right hand, he climbed out onto the ladder and looked over at the fuel tanks spewing their explosive gasses.
“One!” yelled out McMasters. “You’re out of time Mitchell.”
“Come and get me you bastard!” retorted Mitchell as he threw his coveralls at the fuel tanks. Letting go of the ladder, Mitchell plummeted down feetfirst towards the dark waters below the platform.
Jackson had just helped Grace into the Zodiac when he looked up and saw Mitchell fall. His heart began to race. The drop was more than twenty meters. If Mitchell didn’t land right, he would seriously injure himself.
A bright fireball exploded on the platform, sending flames high up into the night sky.
Below, Jackson could feel the searing heat on his skin.
Less than a second later, Mitchell hit the water right beside the Zodiac.
Jackson turned, dropped to his knees, and looked into the black water. He was desperate to see his friend.
The pain was unbelievable. McMasters rolled on the hard metal floor as he tried to extinguish his burning clothing. Caught unaware when the gas exploded, McMasters was thrown back by the force of the blast and had cracked a couple of ribs. He was lucky to be alive.
A sudden burst of chemicals from a fire extinguisher instantly doused the flames. A pair of hands grabbed him by the collar and dragged him away from the fire still raging up through the deck.
“Are you all right?” asked a disembodied voice.
McMasters blinked his eyes a couple of times. The face of a man came into focus.
“Yes, I’m all right,” replied McMasters. “Th
anks for saving me.”
The man, an off-duty cook, helped McMasters to his feet. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” lied McMasters. “Hurry and tell the control room to send the firefighting team here before this fire gets out of hand.”
The man nodded his head and ran for the nearest telephone.
Although in agony, McMasters moved to the edge of the narrow walkway and looked over the side. Lit up on the black water below the platform was Jackson’s Zodiac.
There was still time to stop them.
Cool darkness embraced Mitchell’s body. The impact had been harder on him than he had anticipated. An accomplished parachutist, he had practiced water landings numerous times when he was still in the army. He knew to detach himself from his harness at the last second; however, it had never been from such a height. His lungs ached for oxygen. He turned his head and looked up. Silhouetted by the burning oil rig, he could see a dark shape floating directly above him. He kicked the shoes from his feet, reached up with his hands and began to claw his way back towards the surface. A couple of moments later, Mitchell breached the surface. He instantly took in a deep breath of fresh air.
A pair of powerful hands reached out and took hold of Mitchell hauling him inside the Zodiac.
Mitchell grinned when he saw a less-than-impressed look on Jackson’s face.
“Permission to come aboard, sir,” was all he could think to say.
“I should toss you back in the water for that one,” said Jackson.
Mitchell got up on his knees and looked up at the burning platform. The fire had spread from the area near the support leg and was edging its way towards the crew quarters. He knew that every ship for kilometers would be speeding towards the oil rig to help put out the flames and to help with the evacuation of any casualties. They had to leave now.
Hellfire Page 18