by Tim Ellis
‘Mean! Me? You’re confusing me with someone who gives a shit. Look, if I wasn’t the way I was what would happen?’
‘People would think there was something wrong with you?’
‘Exactly. So I have to be mean. I have no choice. People expect it of me. Not only that, think how good they feel when I leave them alone.’
‘There is that.’
***
‘Name?’ Parish said to the unshaven man sitting across the table from him.
‘Albie Stevens. I’m one of three well controllers on the rig.’
Parish wrote the man’s name and job title in his notebook. ‘And you were on shift the night of Frank Cabot’s accident?’
‘Yes, but I don’t know how much help I can be. Have you got a copy of my original statement there?’
Parish pulled Stevens’ statement out of the file that he had on the table in front of him.
‘Would you mind if I took a look at it to refresh my memory?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ He passed Stevens the statement the man had previously signed and waited while he read it.
‘Yeah, that’s about what happened.’
‘About?’
‘Well, yeah. I remember . . . Do you know what a well controller does?’
‘No idea. Is it relevant?’
‘Well, it’ll put my statement into context, so to speak.’
‘Okay.’
‘The well controller is responsible for making sure that no crude oil escapes onto the surface equipment, into the atmosphere, or contaminates the wellbore during drilling.’
‘What would happen if it did?’
‘Serious equipment damage, blowouts and possibly fire, injury and loss of life.’
‘Okay.’
‘And I haven’t mentioned the possibility of environmental disasters, the cost of which is usually calculated in millions of pounds, and the loss of valuable natural resources.’
‘You have a fairly important job then?’
‘My point exactly. I’ve got my eyes on the pumps, fluid levels and pressure gauges . . . You see, well control is all about pressure – hydrostatic pressure, fracture pressure, pump pressure, shut-in drill pipe pressure, bottom-hole pressure . . . to name a few of the pressures I’m under . . .’ He sniggered. ‘Yeah, that was a joke by the way.’
‘Really? So, when you’re controlling the well you’re under a lot of pressure – is that what you’re saying?’
‘That’s right. I wasn’t looking up to see what Frank was doing on that gantry. All I knew was that the pressure had dropped all of a sudden. I thought, What the . . . ? And then there was an explosion. Shit! I didn’t have time to piss myself, and I definitely wanted to for sure. If something goes wrong with the pressure . . . Well, I naturally think it’s something I’ve done. Anyway, I’m trying to isolate the kick – that’s what we call the escape of crude oil into the wellbore drilling operations, and to stop it becoming a blowout. I knew that if I didn’t get that sucker under control then a lot of people were going to die and it’d be down to me.’
‘You obviously managed to get it under control?’
‘That’s what I’m paid for, but I could have gone from hero to zero in the blink of an eye. So anyway, I’m pressing buttons, turning levers and generally saving my ass when the charred remains of Frank lands on the grate not five yards away from me . . . Of course, I didn’t know it was Frank at the time because I was up to my eyeballs in pressure, but I heard afterwards.’
‘What happened next?’
‘Well, you understand that I couldn’t just switch everything off and close down drilling operations to see to Frank – it don’t work like that. Time is money, so they say. The drilling continued, and I had to keep monitoring the pumps, fluid levels and the pressure – always the pressure. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the medic Bruce Hogan, and I remember wondering how he’d got there so quick.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He was on shift all right – used to be an Army Medic – served in the Falklands War in ’82 and the Gulf War in ’90, so he told us. Anyway, he was on shift in the Medical Room when the accident happened. Now, I don’t exactly know how long it takes to get from the Medical Room to the lower gantry, but I was just a bit surprised that Bruce had got there so fast. Now, it might just be me. I mean, it’s possible that Bruce happened to be getting some fresh air around about then, but I know what I know. And what I know is that Frank’s body was still smoking and sizzling when Bruce arrived.’
‘Did you ask Bruce about his quick arrival afterwards?’
‘Can’t say I did. In fact, I don’t think I even put that fact down in my original statement – it just occurred to me now while we’ve been talking about it.’
‘Okay. Is there anything else that you’d like to tell me?’
‘I don’t think so. Next time I turned round they’d taken Frank away.’
‘They?’
‘Well, I assumed it was Bruce and whoever. I didn’t see them take him away, but he was a pretty gruesome sight all right, so he needed either to be covered up or taken away that’s for sure.’
‘What about the three men who were blown off the rig in the explosion – what can you tell me about them?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t see or hear anything.’
‘Wouldn’t that be unusual if you were on the lower gantry?’
‘There’s no “if” about it fella. If it hadn’t been for me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.’
‘That’s not what I meant . . .’
‘Yeah well!’
‘Were you surprised you didn’t see or hear anything?’
‘I’ll say. But hey! I was busy, as I’ve explained. I saw the pressure go haywire and I heard the explosion, so my eyes and ears were elsewhere, and my heart was filling up my mouth and trying to stop me from breathing. So you can imagine that noticing three men flying through the air like human cannonballs and belly-flopping into the sea wasn’t my highest priority.’
‘I can understand that. Were you surprised to have not seen them?’
‘For sure. I mean, they told me afterwards that Vic, Jimmy and Kevin had gone missing . . . Well, I was gobsmacked to say the least. That’s like missing the end of world, or some such.’
‘Thanks very much for your time, Mr Stevens . . .’
‘Albie – only the bank manager calls me Mr Stevens, and that’s because he wants me to pay off some of my overdraft.’
After Albie Stevens had left he looked over at Richards. She had already interviewed Ian McDuff the Engine Room Supervisor, and had started on the engineer – Stuart Price.
He grabbed a coffee and called over the medic – Bruce Hogan.
‘Hi, Chief Inspector.’
‘No, just Detective Inspector.’
‘A pleb then.’
‘Definitely.’
‘So, you want to talk about the accident?’
‘Yes. Can you tell me in your own words what happened?’
‘Sure. I was on shift . . .’
‘I think we’ve established that.’
‘I suppose so, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Well, I was meant to be in the Medical Room, but that can get a bit boring . . .’
‘You’re not just there for emergencies then?’
‘No . . . People come in all the time. You’d be surprised what they come in for as well. This one guy, I won’t give you his name to protect the guilty, but . . .’
‘Can we stay on track, Mr Hogan?’
‘Sorry. Yeah, I expect you’re eager to wrap this up and fly back to dry land. Although, Aberdeen isn’t so dry at this time of year, is it? Have you found out anything new during your visit?’
Richards slid onto the bench next to him with a bottle of water.
‘Okay?’
‘Uh huh!’
‘. . . You were meant to be in the Medical Room, Mr Hogan?’
‘Oh yeah. Well, things were quiet, so I decided to str
etch my legs and get some fresh air. I’m on a radio, so if anyone needs me I can be contacted.’
‘Okay. Carry on.’
‘Well, that’s it really. I’d just come out onto the upper gantry and saw the safety barrier give way as Frank leaned on it . . .’
‘You saw Frank?’
‘Yeah, it was Frank all right. Sometimes we used to play cards together with some of the other lads. Anyway, it was like watching a slow-motion film. I suppose you know I was a medic during the Falklands and Gulf Wars?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, it was like that on the battlefield. The brain seems to slow everything down. Don’t ask me how or why, but I watched him fall, hit the pipe . . . and that pipe didn’t snap off straight away. There was a leak of oil all right, but it was like Frank was suspended in mid-air on that pipe. If it hadn’t been for the explosion and the fire engulfing him, he might have survived, but that explosion burnt him to a crisp. No one could’ve survived that. So, the pipe eventually snapped and he continued to fall, but it was like an obstacle course on the way down – he bounced off a few things before he landed on the grate. Of course, I rushed right on down there to see what I could do, but he was just charred remains. I couldn’t do anything for him.’
‘And it was definitely Frank Cabot you saw fall?’
‘Definitely.’
‘What would you say if I told you that we exhumed Frank Cabot’s body and ran his DNA?’
Hogan’s face drained of blood. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Have a guess what we found.’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh, I think you do.’
Hogan didn’t respond.
‘We discovered that the body in the coffin wasn’t Frank Cabot at all. I’m sure you can imagine how his wife must have felt.’
‘That’s all they said for me to do. I’d get ten grand if I swore it was Frank Cabot.’
‘They! Who?’
‘Frank and . . . Do you know about the others?’
‘The three that were blown overboard?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yes, we know about them.’
‘Well, that’s all I had to do. I gave my version of events and signed a statement to that effect. In return I got ten grand, which lasted less than a month . . . I’m a gambler, that’s why they asked me in the first place. One time, when we were playing poker, I let slip that I was a regular at the casinos. The next thing I know I’m telling them that I was in debt to the tune of five grand. So, you can imagine, ten grand was a life-saver. I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?’
‘I’d say so, Mr Hogan. Why did the four of them have to disappear?’
‘No idea. They said the less I knew about it the better. All I had to do was what I was paid to do, and then keep my mouth shut.’
‘Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?’
‘You know about Doctor Harden?’
‘What do we know?’
‘Well, they had to get him on board to sign Frank’s Death Certificate.’
‘And how did they do that?’
‘He’s a kiddie-fiddler. They said that unless he falsified Frank’s Death Certificate they’d publish the pictures they had of him with young boys on the internet. What choice did he have?’
‘What choice indeed?’
Jill Butler agreed to take charge of Bruce Hogan and speak to her boss about initiating an investigation into what exactly happened on the Echo74 platform.
He tried calling Anne Pollard, but there was no satellite signal again. Also, Colm Rains appeared and warned them that there was a weather front coming in fast and that if they waited until one-thirty it was likely they’d be stuck there for anywhere up to a week.
‘Are you ready, Richards?’
‘I don’t want to stay here for a week.’
‘Let’s go then. Tell Jill Butler what we’re doing and grab your life jacket.’
‘Are we going to plummet to a watery grave?’
‘You’re a right drama queen.’
‘Huh!’
Chapter Twenty-One
‘I said I would arrange your passage home, Raymond my friend. You did not have to set the British Navy on me.’
‘British Navy! I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nils.’
‘Come and look.’
He was pointing through the bridge window. A British warship was coming straight at them.
‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
A voice came over the radio loudspeaker. ‘This is Captain Renshaw-Smythe of the Royal Naval Frigate HMS Westminster. I believe you have something that belongs to us.’
‘This is Captain Nils Juul of the container ship Marguerite. We have nothing of yours, Captain,’ he said into the microphone.
‘My understanding is that you have a DCI Raymond Kowalski, his wife, some other people and a dead body?’
‘Ah! Yes, we have all of them.’
‘We’re coming alongside. Are you ready to transfer your guests?’
‘We are ready.’
They all said goodbye to Nils and his crew, and made the perilous journey from the Marguerite to HMS Westminster two at a time via a yellow passenger transfer device suspended from an onboard crane.
Soon, they were on the British vessel waving goodbye to the Marguerite, and the dead body had been put into the doctor’s freezer for safe-keeping.
Captain Renshaw-Smythe arrived to welcome them. ‘You and your wife must have lunch with me in the wardroom, Chief Inspector.’
‘We’d be pleased to, wouldn’t we Jerry?’
‘Of course. What about . . . ?’
‘Don’t worry about your friends, they’ll be well looked after by my second-in-command. He’ll show them where to go before he joins us.’
‘How long will . . . ?’
‘I’d say about three hours. We’re on our way through the Thames Barrier to India Docks on Canary Wharf to show the public how their money is spent, and with the firepower we possess they can sleep safe and sound in their beds at night.’
‘And you’ll drop us off at Tilbury Docks.’
‘We’ll get the Merlin helicopter out of the hangar and give it a run out. So – Kowalski. That sounds Polish to me.’
‘Third generation.’
‘Connected to royalty?’
‘Yes and no. Somewhere in the distant past there was an illegitimate son of Augustus II the Strong with Ursula Katharina of Altenbockum who became Governor of Dresden.’
‘Fascinating. I look forward to hearing all about it.’
As they were escorted to the wardroom Jerry said, ‘You never told me you were the illegitimate ancestor of a Polish king. If I’d known, I never would have married you.’
‘Apart from the fact that it’s all made up, what’s wrong with Polish royalty?’
‘Nothing, but illegitimacy has a certain stigma attached to it.’
‘You’re as bad as the Captain.’
‘But prettier.’
‘Definitely.’
Lunch in the wardroom with the Captain and ship’s officers was a welcome diversion. It stopped him thinking about the mess he was in. He was certainly grateful for the free ride back to Tilbury, that was for sure. A slow boat from Albania would have been the final ignominy.
At last, they boarded the Merlin helicopter and headed over the Thames to Tilbury. Bronwyn and the two toy boys seemed suitably impressed. The body was strapped into a stretcher slung underneath the chopper by wires.
‘You look flushed,’ Jerry said to Bronwyn. ‘Are you all right?’
Bronwyn stared out of the window. ‘More than all right, thanks.’
‘She went missing,’ Joe said. ‘We thought she’d fallen overboard, didn’t we Shakin’?’
‘Sure did. Thought about raising the alarm, but then she came back red-faced and out of breath and we realised where she’d been.’
Jerry raised a plucked eyebrow. ‘Oh! Where was that?’
‘The gym �
�� she’d obviously been working out.’
Shakin’ and Joe laughed.
‘Some people want to mind their own business,’ Bronwyn said. ‘Especially ugly people with spots, long noses and little fucking prawns.’
‘I didn’t know they had a gymnasium on a battleship,’ Jerry said.
An ambulance was waiting to transport the body back to the mortuary at King George Hospital.
Before one of the two squad cars conveyed Bronwyn, Shakin’ and Joe home, Kowalski took Bronwyn to one side. ‘You know what to do?’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll do it.’
‘Good. Look after yourself. And stay away from plastic surgery clinics.’
‘You can be fucking sure of that.’
A second squad car took him and Jerry home. The uniformed officer passed Kowalski an envelope. Inside was a note from the Chief Constable. It was short and sweet:
Ray
Come and see me at ten tomorrow morning.
Bring your letter of resignation with you.
Bill
***
Slinky arrived by helicopter in Barclay Park at ten o’clock as she said she would. Stick had to organise half-a-dozen uniformed officers to set up a cordon and make sure the landing site was clear of civilians before the helicopter landed and decapitated them.
As soon as Slinky exited the chopper with her bodyguards, it didn’t take the public longer than it would to slurp down a McDonald’s milk shake, to realise that there was something going on. And even though Slinky was wearing a hood and a disguise, as Stick had asked her to do, the keen-eyed among them soon worked out who it was.
Then, like locusts at a feast, the media descended on Hoddesdon.
By the time they returned to the station, it was surrounded by crowds of Slinky fans, television news crews, reporters and a whole host of other undesirables.
‘This is getting out of hand,’ Xena said.
‘What can we do?’
‘I have an idea.’ She went outside and announced a press briefing.