by Chris Angus
Finally, Sarah thought she heard something. It was the faint but unmistakable sound of heavy breathing. The exertion of climbing the ladder combined with their pursuers’ undoubted nervous anxiety had given them away. She gripped the wrench tightly. Kitty stuck one hand over the top rung of the ladder and left it there. She couldn’t see a thing, but the man’s head would touch her hand when he reached the top and give her a moment’s warning and a target to shoot at.
Sarah couldn’t see what Kitty was doing and neither of them dared to speak. From the breathing, they knew at least one man was close. Then Sarah felt a sudden rush of movement next to her. The man had reached Kitty’s hand and a moment later a gunshot split the darkness, the sound so loud that Sarah cried out. An instant later, they heard the body hit the deck below. Another man had been just behind his friend; he went down the ladder as though doing a fire drill. They heard him grunt when he hit the bottom and run for cover.
Then, silence reigned. After several minutes, a voice called out from below.
“Listen, ladies,” a man said. “This has gotten out of hand. There’s no need for any more killing. We want no part of this.”
Kitty called out, “You didn’t mind being a part of it, as long as we were helpless. Well, we aren’t helpless any more, and I’m personally going to kill as many of you sick bastards as I can. So come on. Send someone else up. Please.”
There was a pause. Then the voice said, “Okay. Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t trust anyone if I were you either. But the point is, what do you think you’re going to do? Stay up there till you bake in the sun like a couple of herring filets? You have no way to escape. You’re going to get awfully hungry and thirsty after a couple of days up there. We can just wait you out.”
“And I suggest you use the time,” Sarah yelled, “to figure out how you’re going to explain all the men who have been killed out here. You think you’re safe because you’re in international waters? Think again. The police already have an idea what’s going on here. It’s only a matter of time. Every one of you is going to spend the rest of his life in prison.”
Sarah didn’t know what effect her words had. There was no more communication. Maybe she’d struck a nerve with at least some of those below. They were facing a reality every bit as stark as she and Kitty. They could be shot if they made more attempts to capture the women, or they were going to face almost certain imprisonment. No way could they explain away the deaths of five men, some from gunshot or blunt trauma, as normal oil rig accidents.
The men went back inside and the rig grew silent again. The tension they were under was exhausting. They decided finally to take turns trying to sleep and so passed the night fitfully. Near dawn, they roused themselves and watched as the first rays of morning light made a dent in the total darkness brought on by the rig’s electricity being shut down.
“What next?” Sarah asked.
“Guess we see who has the greater stomach for waiting,” Kitty replied.
By six o’clock, the sun was over the horizon, though they couldn’t see it. The light was heavy, diffused through thick clouds moving in from the south. The man who had spoken to them was right. They had no protection from the sun, and it would have been a blistering day if not for the growing cloud cover. Kitty rummaged in their bag and emerged with a package of cookies. She handed two to Sarah and offered her a sip from their gallon of water.
They ate while watching the haze that obscured the sun grow heavier. The wind also began to pick up.
“Can’t say I like the looks of that,” said Sarah. “There’s another hurricane moving north. I watched a weather report on it just before I was taken.”
“Damn maritime weather!” said Kitty. “If it hits, no one will be able to come after us by boat or helicopter. We’ll be lucky to hold on and not be blown away.”
Then, suddenly, they heard activity below. They peered over to see what was going on. Several men were making their way up a catwalk opposite them.
“What are they doing?” Sarah said.
“Beats me. That catwalk won’t get them high enough to fire down on us.”
But then the men entered an enclosed space and a moment later they heard machinery start up. An enormous crane rose above the enclosure. They hadn’t associated it with the enclosure because the crane itself was cantilevered in the opposite direction. But now the crane began to lift more upright and to swivel toward their platform. They watched in dumb fascination as it turned toward them, then stopped and began to lower a large hook. The hook went all the way to the platform floor, where two more men attached something to it.
“What are they up to?” Sarah asked again.
It was immediately evident. The men had attached a large weight to the hook, almost like a heavy plumb bob. It was about six feet high and obviously weighed a lot. The crane began to lift the weight up into the air.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Kitty.
Once the weight was roughly the same height as their platform, the crane began to move toward them, the weight swinging back and forth. Then it zeroed in on the platform and the man operating the crane let the cable out suddenly. The weight slammed into their platform with a crash that reverberated through their bodies.
Sarah and Kitty cringed back as far as they could from the edge and watched as the big weight came around again, smashing into the platform. Then the man began to get a rhythm, swinging the weight back and forth. Several times it swept across the surface of the platform like a bowling ball.
“Can’t you shoot them?” Sarah cried.
Kitty looked over the edge in between sweeps of the weight but she had no view of the man operating the crane. He was clearly skilled at what he was doing, raising and lowering the boom and causing it to sweep over their platform again and again.
Then it stopped. The weight swung silently in the air. The same voice from before called up. “That was just a sample, ladies. Harry’s an artist with the crane. You have nowhere to go. He’ll sweep you right off your little perch or else smash you where you lie. The choice is yours. Give up, throw the pistol over the side, and come down, or we’ll finish the job.”
As it sank in that they had no clear way out of their predicament, Sarah watched a strange transformation come over Kitty. It was as if she’d lost her will, reverted back to that sense of helplessness she’d so hated when she was at the mercy of Lloyd and DeMaio.
Kitty looked bleakly at Sarah. “I’m not going to be abused by them again,” she said. “I’m going to jump.”
Sarah cried, “No, Kitty! As long as we’re alive, there’s a chance. We have to submit to them. Every minute we stay alive is another minute that Garrett has to find us. I know you’ve been through far worse than I have. You know what to expect. Maybe I don’t. But I don’t want to lose my new friend after just one day. We’ll face them together, okay?”
Kitty looked completely drained. She knew what was coming all right, and the thought of more submission and sexual abuse was almost too much to bear. But she also realized she couldn’t leave Sarah to face that awful fate alone. One didn’t do that to a friend. Her shoulders slumped.
“All right,” she said, her voice empty of emotion. She threw the pistol over the side and for a moment the two women hugged each other. Then they turned and began the climb down.
53
ROLAND STOOD ON ONE SIDE of the boat with an oar and Garrett on the other. As silently as possible, they paddled in to the docking platform. It was slow going, moving the big boat with two oars. The wind had picked up and there was a good swell, which only made things more difficult.
“We’re goin’ ta bounce off that steel platform hard,” Roland grunted. Paddling the big boat was more exercise than he’d had in years.
“We can’t hit the thing,” said Garrett. “It will make too much noise. Maybe they won’t hear it up above, but we can’t take that chance.”
As they closed to within a few feet, Garrett shipped his oar. The bo
at was rising a dozen feet with every swell. In a harsh whisper, he said, “I’m jumping off, Roland.”
“Ya’ll end up in the drink,” Roland wheezed, but he leaned against his oar, trying to counterbalance the boat.
Garrett stood on the open rear deck where there was no railing, designed to allow lobstermen to pull the heavy traps aboard. He tensed, trying to time the swells. Marcia had said his new foot was the best ever at anticipating his movements. He wasn’t so sure this applied to leaps from the deck of a rolling boat. They wanted their contraption field-tested? This probably qualified.
Over his shoulder, he said, “You drift off a few hundred yards and make like you’re fishing. I’ll signal you with a light. Two quick flashes followed by a long one.”
“See that sky?” Roland waved a hand. “It’s a hurricane sure as I’m standin’ here makin’ a fool of myself. No one’s goin’ ta believe a fisherman would be out here in that.” As far as he was concerned, Garrett was mad, trying to take on an entire rig full of men. Courage was not a big part of Roland’s makeup. It was why he folded whenever confronted directly, especially by the authorities. Still, Garrett was his new friend, and he was going to help him save his girlfriend if he could.
At the top of a large swell, Garrett held his breath and launched himself. His timing was off. One knee hit the side of the steel platform and he cried out, scrabbling for something to hold onto. He grabbed a steel railing, his feet dangling over the water for a moment before he finally pulled himself firmly onto the surface. He turned and waved to Roland, who had already shipped his oar and was back sitting in the pilot’s enclosure as the boat drifted away into the rising wind. Garrett wondered how long he would wait if the weather got much worse.
He began to climb the long ladder to the main platform, trying to get his bearings and remember how the rig was set up. Kitty and Sarah were probably locked in one of the fancy staterooms he’d seen on his last visit. But it was hard to get oriented. There were no lights on at this lower level, and the early morning rays from a sun still below the horizon were dim at best beneath the thick clouds.
Where the ladder emerged onto another platform, Garrett stood for a moment, flexing his foot. He was totally disoriented. There’d been lights when he reached this point the last time. Where were the damn lights?
But then that particular problem went away.
He was bathed in a sudden wash of bright light. Half a dozen men stood all around him, several holding guns. One looked familiar. It was Craig, the man who’d given him Tylenol and a hard hat. He didn’t look anywhere near as welcoming this time around.
“You lost again?” Craig asked.
Garrett stared at him. “I think you know why I’m here.”
“More the worse for you, mate.” He signaled to the men with guns. “Take him below, lock him in one of the staterooms.”
“There’s only three staterooms with locks and no windows,” said another man. “We put the girls in separate rooms. The third was busted when we had to break it in.”
Craig hesitated a moment. “All right. Put him in with one of the girls for now, till we get things sorted out. His roommate won’t be there for long anyway. She’s got a date.” He laughed.
As the men led him away, Garrett cursed his incompetence. He’d been aboard all of two minutes before being captured. Some rescuer he was. He stared out at a sea that was growing more turbulent by the moment. He could just make out Roland’s boat in the gloom, several hundred yards off, fishing lines ostentatiously out. But he couldn’t expect any help from that quarter.
They moved inside and down the familiar corridor, then stopped in front of a door. One of the men took out a key and opened it. “You got company, lady. Take my advice and don’t waste your energy on him. The line forms after breakfast.” He shoved Garrett in and slammed the door.
Sarah stared in disbelief, then fell into Garrett’s arms. “Oh my God, Garrett. I thought I’d never see you again. But I told Kitty you would come. I knew you’d come.”
He held her tightly, pressing his face against her hair, inhaling the presence of her. “Yeah,” he said tightly, “RCMP Special Constable Barkhouse to the rescue. Only trouble is I’m as much a prisoner as you are. I’m sorry, Sarah. It was like they knew I was coming.”
He pulled her down onto the bed and sat beside her, one hand on hers, the other stroking her hair. “Did they hurt you?” He had difficulty getting the words out for fear of her answer. The thought of her being abused made his blood boil.
But she shook her head. “Not yet, though it’s clear enough what they have in store for me … for us.”
“Have you seen Kitty then? Is she here?”
“Yes, and I’m so scared for her, Garrett. The men were very angry at her. She killed five of them. You should have seen her. She was fighting back until they forced us to give up. She was completely drained by being back under their control. Her will just seeped away. She’s already been raped by one of those bastards. The one named DeMaio. I don’t know if she’ll be able to survive going through that again. I pleaded with the men to put us in together but they wouldn’t. We’ve got to help her, Gar.”
Garrett could hardly get his head around what Sarah was telling him. “Kitty killed five of them? I can’t believe it.” He felt his estimation of the willful reporter turning on its head.
Sarah proceeded to fill him in on how Kitty had escaped, helped free her, their ordeal on the platform, and how they were finally forced to surrender.
He shook his head and stared at her in dumb admiration. “Don’t know how the hell you ever got designated as ‘the weaker sex.’”
“It wasn’t me, Gar. It was all Kitty. I was scared to death.”
“You were the one holding that wrench, weren’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if I could have really used it. Thank God Kitty had that gun, and she helped me get away, probably minutes before they were going to come for me. Now, they’re poised to use Kitty again. And me. We have to do something, Gar.”
He got up and surveyed their room. No windows. The walls were so solid he suspected they had steel studs. They were in a luxuriously furnished prison. The door was thick and firm. Outside, they could hear the wind picking up to yet another level. The platform vibrated as the gale whistled through and around the superstructure.
“I picked the lock the first time,” Sarah said. “But they placed a guard outside and warned me not to try anything like that again. There’s probably someone outside right now.”
Their position seemed hopeless. And Kitty was probably suffering God only knew what sort of abuse.
Garrett finally sat down on the bed again. “Nothing we can do till they decide to let us out. Then we’ll see. But I won’t kid you. It doesn’t look good.”
Her face was bleak. “Doesn’t anyone know you’re here?”
“By now, Tom and Tuttle should know. I had no time to arrange backup myself once I realized where you probably were. I don’t know what Alton will do. Aside from the fact he has no jurisdiction out here, the last time I tried an assault on this rig, he thought I was brain-damaged.”
“How did you get here?”
“Roland. I commandeered his boat. He’s still out there, floating a ways off, pretending to fish. But he won’t stay long in this weather.”
“Maybe it’s best if he leaves. He’ll call someone when he gets back to land, won’t he? Hell, he’s got a radio on the boat.”
Garrett shrugged. “Hard to say what Roland will do. He’s not real big in the initiative department. But …”
“What?”
“There’s always Lonnie.”
54
KITTY SAT ON THE SOFA in her stateroom, legs pulled up, arms tightly clasped around them. She’d been sitting that way for over an hour. Every time there was the slightest sound from the hallway outside, she shook.
She was ashamed for acting this way but utterly incapable of controlling her fear. After her brief sojourn as an
escapee with a gun and an anger that seethed at what had been happening to her, it was all the more humiliating to be thrust back into abject terror. She never would have thought she was capable of killing someone. But something had snapped in her when DeMaio’s underling tried to take advantage of her. Once she’d killed the first time, she felt strangely liberated and powerful. Each subsequent killing had been easier. There was no question in her mind that she was justified in what she’d done.
Once she’d been captured, however, the sense of helplessness reasserted itself. She stared at the door. Whatever came through it next was going to be extremely unpleasant. And the men would be taking no chances this time. After the deaths of their comrades, she had little doubt she would be accosted by several men at once, with some ready to hold her down if necessary.
There was a sudden click in the lock. She froze, her fingers white against her knees. They were here.
Three men came into the room and closed the door. She’d seen two more outside, waiting their turns, no doubt. The man named Craig stared at her. “Two of those you killed were good friends of mine,” he said. “I’ve spoken to Mr. DeMaio about you and what’s to be done. He said to teach you a lesson. Little bonus for us. We don’t normally get the cream of the crop, if you know what I mean. I’m going to enjoy this.”
He began to take his clothes off. He didn’t bother to tell her to remove her own garments, just nodded at the others, who moved forward and lifted her off the couch. She hung in their arms, totally defeated and limp. One of the men grinned and began to unbutton her blouse.
Kitty felt her mind start to go away. She wanted no memory of what was about to happen. Complete amnesia would suit her fine. Her earlier decision that she would fight tooth and nail if ever caught again had evaporated. Try as she might, there was no blocking out the man in front of her, who now stood naked, waiting for the other men to undress her.
Then there was a funny sound from outside the door, almost like eggshells cracking, followed immediately by the door opening. Lonnie stood in the entrance. He held a pistol lightly in one hand as he stepped over the two men in the hall, whose bodies lay tangled and unconscious at his feet.