Offshore

by Lucy Pepperdine

  A puff of air and a well aimed metal spike embedded itself in the lens, shattering the glass, penetrating the electronics behind, shorting them out. The red light winked out.

  “What they can’t see…”

  Ever vigilant for another glowing dot, he trod carefully along the corridor. There it was, at the junction. If he pressed himself close to the wall, he would be in its blind spot.

  And so he progressed, camera by camera, until he reached the staircase to the control room, scooting up them two steps at a time. If there was anyone in there monitoring the cameras, by the time they saw him it would be too late.

  He sneaked up to the door, gun in hand, and bobbed his head to glance through the narrow glass strip in the door. The lights were on, but there was nobody home, no audience to watch the screens. Time to get busy.

  Less than five minutes later he left, humming ‘Three Blind Mice’ quietly to himself. Round one to him.

  All he had to do now was wait.

  Chapter 44

  Shaw and Cameron’s paths crossed in the corridor outside one of the many utility closets.

  “Hey, Matt! Anything?”

  Shaw shrugged. “Nope, and I can’t think of anywhere we haven’t covered.”

  “It’s unnatural innit,” said Cameron. “The way an old man like Brewer can creep around this place like some kind of ghost without us seeing or hearing him?”

  “Don’t joke about it, mate.” Shaw’s eyes looked past Cameron’s shoulder. “It’s doing my head in. I’m so terrified I’ve started seeing things that aren’t even there. Every corner, every shadow, every…” He affected a shudder.

  “I know what you mean. I looked out at the flare boom and thought I could see him perched out there on it, like some kind of vulture ready to swoop down on us, waiting to pick our bones.”

  “But a vulture with baggage,” said Shaw. “He’s got Miss Ellis in tow, remember.”

  “How can I forget? Poor Lydia. She must be out of her skin with fear.”

  Shaw looked at him askance. “Have you got a fancy for her?”

  Cameron feigned innocence. “Who me? Nah. Forbidden territory. She’s the boss’s girl, or haven’t you noticed?”

  Shaw tried the door to the utility closet. Locked tight. “Oh, I’ve noticed alright,” he said. “I’ve noticed the way you’ve been looking at her while pretending not to. They way you’ve been holding her chair for her while she sits down, and opening doors for her. All the little things, ya know? So … was she worth the lay?”

  Cameron seized him by the arm. “Who told you?”

  Shaw grinned and winked. “You just did.” He nudged Cameron. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” He tapped the side of his nose with a slender finger. “For a price.”

  He commenced walking. Cameron grabbed him again. “What price?”

  “I’ll think of something, don’t you worry, but it won’t come cheap.”

  They came to a crossroads of corridors.

  “This is like looking for a needle in the proverbial,” said Cameron. “We should split up again. We can cover more ground that way.”

  “Okay. Which way you want to go?”

  Shaw considered the options. “Left,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  Neither of them moved.

  “On your way then,” said Shaw.

  “No. You go first. Age before beauty.”

  “Pearls before swine.”

  Silence.

  “We’ll stick together then?”

  “Yeah.”

  A few paces down the left hand corridor Shaw brought Cameron to a halt. “Here’s a thought,” he said. “Do you think the boss radioed in? Called for help?”

  “How? The satellite dishes were buggered in the storm. Remember the big bang and all that sparking and fizzing and hair standing on end. Since then I don’t see when he’s had the chance to. He was pretty badly beaten up.”

  “Yeah,” Shaw agreed. “There must be a short wave radio somewhere surely. For emergencies?”

  “I bloody well hope so. If there isn’t–”

  “We’re completely cut off from the outside world.”

  “Lifeboat!” said Cameron. “There should be one in the lifeboat.”

  “Unless they were stripped out too.”

  “Nah. They wouldn’t do that, although … if there’s one in the control room, it would save us the trip.”

  Shaw nodded. “Worth a look. It’s a fair slog to the lifeboat station for nothing. Next stop control room then. It’s only a few minutes away and it’s not like Brewer’s going anywhere is it? He’s trapped here just like us. And before you get all gooey eyed over Miss Ellis again, I get the feeling he won’t harm her. She’ll be alright … for now.”

  Cameron nodded pensively. “Okay. Let’s find a radio and get somebody out here, and get us off this sodding boat.”

  They jogged their way along the corridor, up the stairs to the control room, pushed open the door - and stopped in their tracks. The place looked like a whirlwind had been through it.

  Every monitor screen was smashed, wires and cables yanked from their sockets, some sliced through, their ends sparking and fizzing. Keyboards and control panels lay in ruins, and the floor was strewn with paper. The air carried the acrid odour of electrical arcing and burning insulation.

  They edged their way into the room, keeping clear of the potentially deadly live cables, glass crunching under their boots.

  “What the fuck!” exclaimed Shaw, looking around the devastated room, taking it all in. “You think Brewer did it?”

  “Who else?”

  The boss needs to know about this.” He reached for his radio and pressed the transmit button. “Guv? You there? This is Shaw. Over.”

  Nothing. Not even static.

  “Guv?”

  Cameron tapped him on the arm. “Matt?”

  “Guv? You there?”

  “Matt!”

  “What!”

  Cameron pointed to a black box with its front staved in, its multi coloured wire innards visible. “I don’t think he can hear you. Isn’t that the radio control?”

  Shaw raked his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Argh! Shit! What purpose would it serve to smash up the place, smash up the radio?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? To cut us off, not only from the outside, but from each other,” said Cameron. “To keep us isolated. Divide and conquer. He’s turned the tables on us now, Matt. He’s got us right where he wants us. He’s the hunter and we’re the prey.” They looked at each other in silence, contemplating the epiphany.

  Shaw chewed on his lip as he took a closer look at the shattered radio equipment. “Okay, tell you what we’ll do,” he said. “You go find the boss and tell him what’s happened. I’ll stay here and see what I can do about getting this fixed.” He ran a finger around the cracked casing. “It’s taken a whack, but it’s a tough piece of kit. The internal damage might not be as bad as it first looks. I used to help a mate build radio controlled planes. I’ll have a tinker.”

  Cameron turned to leave. “By the way, what happened to the fire axe?”

  Shaw shrugged again. “Dunno. Must have left it in the bog when I went for a slash. I’ll go find it when I’ve done this. Off you go.”

  Cameron left Shaw alone with the black box.

  “Right then, you bugger,” he said. “Let’s have a proper look at you.” After a quick assessment of the damage he started a hunt of his own, drawer by drawer, cupboard by cupboard, looking for something which might be useful: a penknife, a pair of pliers, a paperclip - anything he could use.

  The last drawer brought him the rewards he sought, a roll of black insulation tape and a set of miniature screwdrivers in a clear plastic case, and a spectacle repair kit someone had left behind.

  He kissed the case and praised the heavens. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  Off came the front of the black box, and in went Shaw’s nim
ble fingers; a tap here, a screw there, a loose connection reconnected. The power light flickered green, went out, received a severe cursing, flickered again, and stayed on.

  Shaw depressed the transmit button on the microphone attached to the black box.

  “Testing one, two, three. Eeny, meeny, miney, mo.”

  His voice echoed back at him through his own handset. Success. Time to let the others know they were back in contact.

  “Boss, can you hear me?”

  Static. He gave the box a swift slam with the flat of his hand and tried again.

  “Boss, you there?”

  Eddie’s voice came back to him. “That you Matt?”

  “Yeah. Seems to be working okay now, but I don’t know how long for. Cam with you?”

  Cameron broke through. “Here, Matt.”

  “Great. He tell you what’s gone on up here? You gotta see it. It’s a fucking mess. It looks like–”

  Euterich had seen them arrive from his hiding place on the landing above, sneaked down the stairs, and watched them through the glass panel in the doorway as they picked their way gingerly over the wreckage.

  He heard their conversation, their radio chatter and a felt a cold hand wring at his innards. Guv? Boss? Could Capstan have survived his beating, be still alive?

  He ducked back into the shadow as Cameron left the room to relay his message to his chief, whom Euterich dearly hoped was lying helplessly crippled somewhere, leaving Shaw alone to try and fix the radio. Time for a little fun and games.

  He could almost see Shaw’s guard go down as he searched through the cupboards and drawers and gather his bits and pieces with which to tinker with the radio box. A few minutes later he had the radio in his hand and was calling for his skipper.

  Euterich gripped the handle of the fire axe he had sneaked away from Shaw when he visited the head.

  There couldn’t be a more perfect moment.

  With no more than a soft swish, Euterich swung the axe in a wide arc, the blade catching Shaw in just the right place, halfway between the base of his skull and the nape of his skinny neck.

  His head parted company with his body right along the broken tattooed line and its instruction – CUT HERE, and sailed through the air like a penalty kicked football, striking the wall, rebounding onto the desk, rolling off and coming to rest in time for his sightless eyes to appear to watch his body fold in half at the knees and pitch forward, severed arteries spraying an arc of scarlet, splattering everything within reach, purple red fluid leaking quietly from his veins to form a dark puddle.

  Euterich waited for the pulsating spray to stop before he approached the body. “Let’s have a little joke on your pal Cameron, shall we?”

  He stood the high backed operator’s chair on its feet and positioned it in front of where the CCTV monitors used to be.

  Tucking his arms under Shaw’s armpits, he hauled the headless body into the chair, seating it upright, rearranging it and balancing it so that it would not slide out again. He laid the arms along the rests, hands loose.

  He then took Shaw’s head and placed it on the corpse’s lap, eyes facing forward. He patted its spiky hair. “You sit there and give your mate a surprise when he gets back,” he said, and turned the chair to face the desk.

  He leaned the fire axe against the table leg, put off the lights, and ambled from the room.

  One down.

  Chapter 45

  “Hey, boss! Wait up!” Cameron trotted to catch up with Eddie. “Been looking high and low for you.”

  “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you searching for Brewer and Lydia?”

  “I am…we are, but something else…came up.”

  “Something more important than finding our medic? And what’s so important you couldn’t use the radio?”

  “They’re not … working,” he panted.

  “What?”

  “That’s what I was … trying to tell you.”

  “Take your time. Catch your breath.”

  Cameron took a few deep breaths, steadying himself.

  “Okay. We - Matt and I - assumed you - because you’d had a bit of a - pasting –” He took in another breath. “We assumed you hadn’t - managed to call for help and so - so we went to the control room to - to find a short wave and do it ourselves.”

  “Good thinking. Did you find it?”

  “No. Didn’t get the chance. You should see the place, Guv; it’s a helluva mess. Brewer trashed it. Everything’s smashed up, portable radio control’s busted. Matt’s working on fixing it now. I think Brewer–” At that moment, Eddie’s handset crackled into life.

  “Boss you there? Can you hear me?”

  Eddie snatched at the radio. “Yeah! Go ahead Matt. Over.”

  Shaw confirmed Cameron’s story, the control room was wrecked and he should come and see it. The call then cut off without warning.

  “Gone off again,” said Eddie, giving the handset a little shake. “Let’s go and see what’s what.”

  They approached the darkened room with caution.

  “Why’d he put the lights off?” said Cameron, pushing open the door. “Matt,” he hissed.

  No answer.

  “Matt!”

  He spotted the bloodied axe leaning against the table. “That wasn’t here when I left,” he said. “He said he’d left it in the loo.”

  Eddie eased his hand through the door, felt for and flicked the light switch. Banks of fluorescent lights flared into life. He stepped into the room, Cameron following close behind. Too close.

  “Back up a bit, mate,” he said, elbowing him away.

  “Sorry.”

  The room appeared to be empty.

  “He’s not here,” said Eddie. “What the fuck is he playing at?” He shouted into the room. “Matt Shaw! Stop fucking about and show yourself. This is no time for playing bloody hide and seek.”

  Silence.

  “Boss? Is that…?”

  Cameron’s hushed urgent tone made Eddie turn to see a pale scared face, wide eyes staring at the ceiling and its dull red spatter pattern. His gaze followed Cameron’s. A large ruby droplet detached itself from the grotesque graffiti and fell onto the desk with a wet put.

  Eddie stepped back, knocking his hip against the operator’s chair and setting it into an idle spin.

  A half revolution, and it revealed to him its awful passenger, a human shape in navy coveralls with a maroon cape of blood, a ragged mass where its head should be, and in its lap, the slack mouthed spiky haired turnip lantern that was Matt Shaw’s brain pan.

  Cameron staggered, veins shot through with ice. His throat spasmed, compressing his flow of air into a small tight squeak of pure terror.

  The last of the colour washed from his face and he turned on his heels and bolted from the room with the pace of an Olympic sprinter.

  Eddie, rooted to the spot, could only swear. Oh, how he swore.

  Finally able to tear his eyes from the repulsion in the chair, he realised he was alone. Cameron was long gone.

  “Cam?” He ran to the door and bellowed down the stairwell. “CAM!”

  He returned to the control room and dashed to the window in time to see a figure sprinting over the deck below. How had he managed to get down there so quickly? He hammered on the toughened glass pane.

  “CAM! Get back here!”

  A waste of effort. The double glazed windows were all but soundproof. The figure vanished from view, consumed by shadows. Eddie depressed the transmit button on his radio.

  “Get back here, Cam, you hear me? I can’t do this on my own. CAM!” Only static replied. “Cameron, I’m ordering you–”

  “To do what? You have no authority here any more.” Shaw’s voice rang as clear as a bell inside his head. He risked the briefest glance towards the operator’s chair. Its grisly passenger stared back at him, a half smile on its blue lips.

  “You’re done here, Capstan.”

  At that, Eddie, too, fled.

  Half a dozen strid
es out into the corridor and his feet turned to lead. He stumbled, fell against the wall and slid down onto his haunches; frightened, alone, weighed down by an almost unbearable despondency.

  After a full five minutes sobbing out hot bitter tears of self reproach, of fear, and of pure and utter uselessness, he wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffed wetly and hauled himself to his feet.

  “Pull yourself together you fucking coward,” he chided as he smoothed the creases out of the front of his overalls with slow deliberate strokes. “Cameron might have scuttled off to hide his useless carcass but Lydia is still out there somewhere, defenceless and scared. She needs you. She’s depending on you. So shift yer stumps and go find her.”

  Chapter 46

  “He cut his head off! He cut Matt’s head off. Jesus Christ All-fucking-mighty! And now he’s going to get me.”

  Cameron burst through the bulkhead door and out onto the deck, the wind filled with shards of half frozen rain lashing at his exposed skin, stinging like a whole nest of wasps. He looked around, eyes like dinner plates, swimming with tears of fear, gasping breaths burning his lungs and throat, not knowing which way to go. He felt a sick detached dizziness as his mind raced.

  “He’s going to kill me! He’s going to cut my head off. Oh Jesus and Mary help me - got to get away - got to. I don’t want to die–”

  He stumbled blindly about, seeking some form of escape, somewhere to hide, until he found himself in the middle of the deck, eyes filling with ice water as he looked up the empty skeleton of the moveable derrick, chocked in place over the blocked off mouse hole, disappearing into the night like an arrow.

  With its top drive and 30 foot pipe stacks removed, he could clearly make out the wooden box of the crow’s nest 140 feet above him. It was as high as he could go. Beyond that, clouds the colour of doom raced by at a dizzying rate.

  “Up! I’ll go up! Get to the crow’s nest and hide. He won’t find me up there.”

  He grabbed hold of the icy rungs of the derrick ladder and began to climb. It was hard work. He couldn’t get the rhythm. The rails were wet and slippery and he kept losing his grip.

  Pffft!

  A small explosion sounded below him and something metallic pinged by his right hip, a bright spark flaring on the upright of the ladder.