A Soul Redeemed

by Dakota Black

  “Oh shit. He may have internal bleeding. Help me get him into surgery. We’re not losing him!” Veronica directed as Roger’s body slumped. “No. No!”

  “He’s not breathing.”

  “Roger. Stay with me. Stay the fuck with me!” The young man was not going to die on her watch.

  “I know that look on your face,” Mitchell said as he walked into the room.

  Camden sat back, twirling his pen in his hand. “What look is that?” He’d been poring over the books for Rig 14 as well as others for two days, finding nothing that indicated there was anything sinister going on. However, his gut instinct remained on high alert. The recent fires, the reports seemed off. Maybe planned? Hell, what did he know?

  “The ‘I know something is wrong’ look. Talk to me.” He sat down in the chair opposite and remained quiet.

  “Damn it. I had several emails from employees who refused to identify themselves providing some dicey suggestions.”

  “Go on.”

  “That there are other reasons than just shoddy equipment and unsafe practices killing that rig.” Camden tossed the pen and rubbed his eyes.

  Mitchell exhaled. “Okay. What are these accusations?”

  “I didn’t say they were accusations.”

  “But that’s what they are. Camden, employees can hate their supervisor. We see it all the time and from what I’ve learned, Franklin Parker was a jackass, but to suggest anything otherwise means they have evidence. Did you ask them?”

  “Of course, I did. I’m not a fool.”

  “And?”

  Laughing, Camden stood up and walked toward the window. “The email addresses have suddenly disappeared.”

  “As in they aren’t answering or that the addresses no longer exist?”

  “They jump back immediately, unknown.” He heard Mitchell’s scattered breath sounds. “What if someone is trying to ruin Rush?”

  “You’re thinking one of our competitors?” Mitchell asked, the tone pensive.

  “Maybe. Yes. Hell, I don’t know what to think.”

  “Did you check Mr. Parker’s background?”

  “Everything that I could find. There are no connections to any other oil company or any other major corporation for that matter.”

  Mitchell rose to his feet. “When was he hired?”

  “Two years ago.”

  “And when did the troubles begin with the rig?”

  Camden looked in his direction. “Eighteen months, but at first, nothing to draw any real attention. Minor issues.”

  “Where was he before working for us?”

  “A place called Canterfield Industries and before you ask, I checked them out, at least what I could find.” Camden hissed. “They are an international company selling machinery parts. No red flags that I could find, although information on the principals of the corporation is veiled.”

  “Veiled. Interesting.” Mitchell eased against the window. “Many Fortune 500 companies do that, but there’s always a way of finding out. American company?’

  “Nope. German.”

  “Hmmm… Well, if you’re serious in your thinking, I’d find out every scrap of information on Mr. Parker all the way back to his childhood. It’s possible that he was a plant.”

  “But for what reason?” Camden had thought of nothing but the concept, in truth, for a full month, terrified to mention the possibilities to Mitchell. Now, a man was dead, two critically injured and all on his watch.

  “If they are an international company, getting their hands on Rush could mean millions of dollars.”

  Camden snorted. “By sabotaging an older off shore rig? That sounds far-fetched even for you.”

  “You know what we had to deal with before. Even the Steele plant issue. The stock, the fact we have new Board members, the way the industry is going. Ripe for a takeover.”

  “The issue with the Steele site was for love. Remember?” The entire company remained stinging from the former office manager’s attempt at extortion and all because she’d remained in love with Mitchell. They’d lost credibility as well as stock value. Even their Board of Directors had been overhauled. Everything remained in a state of flux. One thing was for certain, they couldn’t afford another scandal.

  Mitchell rolled his eyes. “Okay, you can pull out the dagger now.”

  Chuckling, Camden remained quiet, his thoughts drifting. There had to be someone else within the company providing information. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Every muscle in his body remained tense. He mulled over the various employees, the ones with direct access to classified information and froze. “What if the person creating the issues isn’t Parker?”

  “Who else? One of the engineers?”

  “Brian Williams.” Camden waited to see if the information registered.

  “Tank. I was shocked to see him there. Not going to lie to you. I was also surprised you didn’t confront him.”

  “What was the point? He has a legitimate job. I checked.”

  “Yeah, he was hired under our noses. You have to wonder why he’d come back.”

  Nodding, Camden shrugged his shoulders. They’d worked with the man for years, even considering him as a third in the company. Then Tank’s personality had changed, along with his drinking habits. “I know. I don’t want to think the worst either, but he has significant clearance, maybe too much so.”

  “Hmmm…” Mitchell shoved his hands into his pockets. “Tank has been angry for several years, even blaming both of us for not including him in the merger.”

  “The man wasn’t suited for the corporate environment. He even said so himself.”

  “I’m talking about the money.”

  Camden groaned. “True enough. He’s certainly not making what he could have if we’d brought him here.”

  “We had to make tough decisions. You know that.” When Camden didn’t answer, Mitchell turned in Camden’s direction. “Have you talked to Zach about any of this?”

  Camden hadn’t wanted to bring in the corporation’s attorney, but at this point, being cautious was necessary. “Yeah, some. He’s on the way. I want him to do a check on the remaining members of the crew, see what he can find.”

  Mitchell walked closer. “I don’t want to think we have any issues, but if Tank is involved, he won’t like the way Nash handles business. You and I both know that.”

  “It’s what I’m counting on. We can see what he’s made of, or if he holds a grudge.” Palming the glass, he knew Rush remained under a microscope given the Steele issue. Their stock remained iffy at best. Another hit and the stocks would tumble, forcing them to consider lay-offs.

  “Zach also knows Tank pretty damn well.”

  “Better than we do,” Camden offered. He continued to shake his head. Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be the new leader of Rush Enterprises. Zach had warned them about Tank years before. Then the man fell off the radar. Why now? No, he wasn’t going to buy coincidences.

  “You know our buddy and tenuous attorney. Zach will dig to find out the truth. Stop worrying.”

  “Isn’t that what you did as CEO? Worry constantly?” Camden asked, grinning.

  “You got me.”

  Hearing a knock on the door, Camden sighed. “Come in.”

  Zach entered, a pensive look on his face, a briefcase in his hand. “I know why you pay me damn good money. Well, I may need a raise.”

  “Very funny. What do you know?”

  Easing the briefcase down on Camden’s desk, he looked from one to the other. “I think I found something. If I’m right, we could be in trouble.”

  Nash stormed through the rig, checking and re-checking the various apparatuses. Almost a full day had passed since his arrival and the warning. No one was acting strangely, not a single crew member. The records were sketchy, but he garnered enough to prove the men were overworked and underpaid. Parker had been in way over his head.

  He’d found a list of equipment that was questionable as far as condition and at
least two major parts that should have been replaced months before. However, none of them were the reasons for the explosions. He had to be missing a vital piece. Disgusted, he headed for the conference room and his meeting with Tank and two other members of the team. The earlier meeting had proven to be a testing ground and nothing more. Unproductive, he’d insisted Tank find two other more qualified individuals to answer his questions.

  Every man he’d met with had been courteous but quiet, only answering the most basic questions. The crew remained on edge, apprehensive of change as well as a new leader. While he didn’t blame them for their cautious reactions, he sensed several wanted to talk. Either they knew what was going on and remained terrified or they had no clue. As a betting man, he’d already formed his own opinions. They’d been forced to remain silent, but at what level of threat? He had his own list of direct questions that would be answered soon enough – one way or the other. He thought of the two emails he’d read, supplied by Camden Dane. There was nothing concrete, but the innuendoes were ugly. The rig was being used as a catalyst.

  When he walked into the conference room, he was shocked to find Tank with the two other crew members already waiting. Closing the door, he moved to the head of the small table but remained standing. “Gentlemen. I need to hear status reports. Tank, introductions.”

  Tank kept his back against the wall, his face expressionless. “Michael Breen, the best driller in the business.”

  “Call me Scarface,” Michael said as he nodded toward Nash.

  “Johnny ‘JJ’ James. He’s been by my side for years. Brought him to this rig,” Tank shook his head. “Beginning to wonder why. I placed his as well as all the other crew’s lives in danger. There’s no money to be made on this rig.”

  JJ snorted and looked Nash up and down. “Did you know we were once the highest producing offshore rig for Rush Industries?”

  “So, I’ve read. What changed?” Nash asked, homing in on the body language as much as the conversation.

  “Various reasons,” Scarface said after a moment’s hesitation.

  “All right. Let’s talk about those reasons. You’ve been here, working on this ship during the difficulties. Theories as to what is going on?” Nash eased his notes down on the table.

  “Difficulties? The explosions were…” JJ’s words trailed off as soon as Tank shot him a nasty snarl.

  “You’ve already heard this from everyone. Shoddy equipment,” Scarface half snorted.

  “The crap got one of our own killed,” JJ added.

  Nash looked directly at Tank. “And we all know that’s a load of shit. In case you don’t know my background, I’ve been doing this for over twenty years. The equipment needs refurbishment at minimum, but that’s not what we’re talking about. Anyone ready to tell the truth?” He looked from one to the other. There was no indication that the men were lying; however, Tank’s silence was an interesting indicator.

  A smile curled on Tank’s lips and he clapped several times. “Good to know you ain’t just a pretty face.”

  “Cut the bullshit, Tank. I completely understand you don’t like me. Well, guess what? I don’t particularly give a shit whether you’re on this earth either. What I do understand is that production on this rig is down by thirty percent from this time last year, less if you consider the oil lost in the sea. We’re just lucky we don’t have a contamination crew all over our asses. There is nothing stopping this rig from actively pumping oil. Nothing.” Pitching the papers across the table, he huffed and began to pace the room.

  The looks shared between the men continued to be telling. They were hiding a corruptive secret.

  “The equipment needs to be replaced,” JJ insisted. “The shaft sensors and the drilling components you can’t see in your exploration of the ship. Trust me, I’ve worked with them since I got here. They are dangerous.”

  “Fine. Then we’ll get the parts flown in this week. What else?” Nash insisted.

  Scarface shifted from foot to foot, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his face. “Excuse me, but we don’t know you.”

  “Enough!” Tank threw his arm out and walked closer to the table. “We’ve heard the same line of garbage before. Parker acted like he cared then he sold out.”

  “To whom?” Nash curtailed his increasing rage. The men remained quiet. He slammed his hand on top of the table. “Who the hell did he sell out to?”

  “We don’t know,” Scarface mumbled.

  “But you suspect. So, spit it out!” Nash growled. He was getting nowhere fast. “Fine. I asked for reports. I want status reports on every operation on this ship by nine am tomorrow as well as a full list of recommendations. If our issues have nothing to do with ineffective equipment, by God, we’ll have that fixed by the end of the week. If there is something else going on, gentlemen, I assure you, I will find out.”

  All three men bristled.

  “Also, the hours are being changed. Beginning in forty-eight hours, we’re going back to twenty days on, ten off. Tank, make the adjustments in the schedule starting with the men who’ve been injured or working the longest shifts. Get them off this ship.”

  “With all due respect, we’re down several men,” JJ said, no conviction in his voice.

  “I assure you, there will be a fresh crew coming on board. Get this done. And Mr. Breen, I expect a complete ready list of exactly how we’re going to be back in full production in five days.” Nash gathered the papers together.

  “Are you out of your mind?” Tank asked between clenched teeth. “We have a burned-out hull of a ship and you expect full production?”

  “Was anything lost in the last two fires?” Nash snapped and looked directly at the driller.

  Scarface shook his head. “We can be fully operational within days with the right adjustments, new equipment. I’ll work with the engineering team.”

  “You do that.” Nash would flush out the information by becoming a working rig again. The shit always floated to the surface.

  “You don’t know what we’ve been up against,” Tank added, every word practiced.

  “Then enlighten me or get out. I have other work to do.”

  Tank looked at the other two men and nodded toward the door.

  Without saying another word, both JJ and Scarface walked out, slamming the door behind them.

  “What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Tank asked, his expression one of anger.

  “Trying to fix this rig.” Nash huffed as he moved around the table, closing the distance. “Every step of the way, I’m finding a roadblock. I’m a smart enough man to realize there’s more hiding under the dark crevices of this ship. Equipment, I’ll fix. Espionage is another aspect altogether.”

  “Espionage? Where in the hell did you get that idea?”

  He’d thrown out the concept for no other reason than to garner a reaction. He got one. Bitter anger. Inhaling, he took a long stride forward until they were only six inches apart. “The explosions were purposely set. Weren’t they?”

  Tank’s eyes opened wide but instead of acknowledging, he shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I don’t? Let’s try again. Did Mr. Parker have anything to do with this?”

  “I’m not saying anything. I don’t trust you.”

  There was no reason for Tank to trust him, or the other men for that matter. He was getting nowhere fast, but now, he had a general idea of what had been going on. The why was an entirely different story. “Whatever is going on is killing this rig. Whether for money, power or a forced takeover, I will find out. You don’t know anything about me, but I assure you, I will dig until I find the truth. Dismissed.”

  Tank curled his lip and clenched a single fist.

  Nash folded his arms, refusing to blink. Let the man throw a punch.

  After a few seconds he huffed and sidestepped Nash, heading for the door, stopping before turning the handle. “The deeper you dig, the worse this is going to get for every man
here. Something to keep in mind. There is more at stake than you could possibly understand. No one can protect us. No one.”

  The words echoed in his ears as Tank closed the door. Nash leaned over the table, closing his eyes. What in the hell had he gotten himself into?

  Veronica rubbed sweat off her brow with her arm and exhaled as she walked out of the makeshift operating room. Hours had passed. She leaned over the stainless-steel table, dropping her head, thinking about the surgery. Roger was finally stable. Exhausted, she rubbed her eyes, longing for a good night’s sleep. She heard the sound of Sam’s footsteps as he entered the room.

  “You did good in there today,” Sam offered, his words full of appreciation. “I know it was tough, but Roger’s a tough kid. He’ll make it.”

  “Yeah? I sure as hell hope so. That shouldn’t have happened. He didn’t need to lose that much blood.”

  “I’m sorry, doctor. I had no way of knowing metal had punctured his lung.”

  “You should have!” she snapped, then slapped her hand on the table. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh on you. You’ve had a hell of a lot to deal with and mostly by yourself.” She leaned back, running her hand through her sweaty strands of hair. Everything about Roger’s injuries remained in the ‘out of the norm’ status in her mind. Yes, flying shrapnel could be the cause for the injury, but his vital signs suggested there’d been a chemical induction, spiking his fever as well as creating additional system failures. At this point, she wasn’t ready to discuss her theories with anyone.

  Sam lowered his voice to a whisper. “Yes, I should have. I know better. I just… Everything was chaotic. Over my head.”

  “I understand. He’s stable and we need to make certain he stays that way. I’m putting in the call to bring in additional help. We can’t do this on our own.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  Hearing the contrite tone of his voice, she tilted her head in his direction. “You don’t agree?”

  Sam swallowed hard and looked at the main door before moving closer. “Look, there are things going on here that you don’t understand.”