Corruption in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  They stowed the shoes they’d been wearing inside a drybag along with the ascender. They clasped the hardcase shut with the jammer inside, then covered it with a large drybag as well just in case. Scott also had an inflatable buoy he’d bring to ensure the jammer stayed afloat on the surface of the water.

  Once strapped into their rebreathers, Jack powered them both on and they headed out to the stern. Jack handed them their masks and fins, and as they were being donned, he carried out both Aquanaut Pro sea scooters.

  “Fully charged and ready to roll,” Jack said. “You’ve got an hour’s worth of juice at full speed.”

  Once he had his fins and mask in place, Scott grabbed the bagged hardcase and strapped it to his waist with two carabiners. Ange took care of the other drybag. It wasn’t going to be easy to hold on to the sea scooter and manage the gear at the same time, but they’d have to make do. The important thing was that by strapping the cargo down, they wouldn’t have to worry about losing it.

  Before jumping off the stern, Jack handed each of them a high-powered dive flashlight as well as a compass. They Velcroed the flashlights to their wrists along with the compasses. They each checked and marked the direction of the rig using the compass. It wouldn’t be difficult to see it in the darkness, but it was a good diving practice to follow regardless.

  Once ready to go, Jack handed each of them their sea scooters and helped them to the edge. The winds caused a few whitecaps to form over the surface, and the rollers caused the stern to rise up and down. Like most trawlers, it didn’t have a swim platform, so they had to jump over the transom roughly six feet up.

  When they were both ready, they turned back and each gave Jack a nod before stepping out and splashing into the warm, dark water below. Jack leaned over the side, watching them to make sure they didn’t have any issues. Their flashlights shone bright through the clear water, allowing him to observe them easily.

  So far so good, he thought, as it looked like all of their gear was functioning properly.

  Down below, Ange and Scott descended thirty feet into the darkness, then streamlined their bodies. They gave each other the universal okay signal, then gripped tightly to their sea scooters and fired up the propellers. The bright beams of their flashlights cut pillars of light ahead of them, illuminating the way as they accelerated forward. As they motored closer and closer to the rig, they were able to shut off their flashlights to avoid the offhand possibility of being spotted beneath the waves.

  Twenty-five minutes after starting up their sea scooters, they’d traversed the two miles from the trawler to the bottom of the rig. In the dark shadows beneath the underbelly of the massive machine, they ascended and broke through the surface. They each removed their masks and switched off their rebreathers.

  “Alright,” Scott said, wiping the salt water from his eyes. “We need to do a real dive to make up for that boring trip.”

  Ange laughed quietly. “What? You didn’t see that Hammerhead?”

  Scott’s eyes widened. “You saw a Hammerhead?”

  “Just kidding,” she said with a smile.

  He smiled and shook his head.

  “But I did see that ROV,” he said. “You see that?”

  “It was pretty deep, but its bright lights were tough to miss,” she replied. “Heading down to inspect the equipment. Professor Tran said they’re commonly used in offshore oil operations.”

  Scott nodded. “At least we weren’t a few minutes earlier. We would’ve been spotted for sure.”

  “That would’ve been some kind of bad luck.”

  Scott unclipped the case with the jammer inside and brought it to the surface. Ange brought the drybag up as well and, after opening it, grabbed hold of the sat phone.

  “One last call before we go dark,” she said.

  She hit redial and hovered the phone over her ear. The phone rang four times before going dead. She tried a second time and got no answer again.

  “What is it?” Scott asked.

  Ange’s mouth dropped open and she shook her head.

  “Nothing,” she said. “He’s not answering.”

  Scott had already manually inflated the small buoy and secured the jammer inside of it. The plan was to turn it on, then secure it to the rig’s port pontoon using a suction cup so it wouldn’t drift away.

  “Let’s give it a few minutes, then try again,” Scott said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

  Ange turned her gaze up toward the bottom of the rig.

  Where are you, Dodge?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  My fingers screamed as they dug into the corner of the metal deck above me. My body ached from slamming into the grate and metal brace as I dangled a hundred feet above the maze of machinery below. With a low grunt, I pulled myself up, grabbing hold of the handrail and contorting my body to get my right boot up onto the edge of the deck. I lifted myself up the rest of the way, slid over the railing, and quickly got my bearings.

  The rig was loud, much louder than I’d expected it to be. There was no sign of my chute, as it had been quickly swept up by the winds and blown far out over the water someplace. It looked like no one had noticed my rough landing version of a James Bond entrance. As I’d hoped, the members of Darkwater that I could see near the edges of the rig were more concerned with the open ocean, and I could only see a few workers in hard hats far down below me.

  The lighting up near the top of the derrick was sporadic and not as bright as below, allowing me to keep to the shadows as I surveyed the rig. I freed myself from the harness, unstrapping it and stowing it in the darkness. Removing my bag, I spun it around and tightened it onto my back. I did a quick pat down of my body, making sure that my Sig, dive knife, and throwing knife hadn’t fallen off during my landing.

  Once finished, I moved toward the back side of the derrick, keeping a sharp eye out for any movement. Quietly, I hit a few levels of rough treaded staircases, then looked out toward the back of the rig. There were a few bad guys standing idly along a yellow railing, but the back portion of the main deck was mostly devoid of people. Far to my right was the helipad, directly below me was the drill shack, and to my left was the bridge.

  I headed down a few more flights of stairs and reached the main deck. Before taking two strides on the flat surface, I heard loud voices and footsteps moving in my direction. I glanced around me, then lunged behind a long row of stacked pipes for cover.

  Three workers wearing dirty red coveralls, safety glasses, and hard hats walked into view. They were talking amongst themselves, speaking with raised voices in order to hear each other through the earplugs they were wearing. One of them mentioned something about concrete, but they disappeared through a nearby door before he could finish his sentence.

  I glanced down at my dive watch and saw that it was 0119. I knew it was unlikely that Carson would cause the spill before the unveiling in South Korea—Wake would want to capitalize on the increased stock value as much as he could before jumping ship. But I also knew that they’d try and rush the spill if they sensed trouble.

  I moved in a crouch in between two rows of stacked pipes, heading toward the back of the rig. I weaved around a few big machines I didn’t recognize, then spotted the orange emergency boats latched to the edge ahead of me.

  Suddenly, in the corner of my eye, I spotted a figure and froze. My head snapped to the right and I focused on a guy standing only about thirty feet away from me. He was decked out in black tactical gear, had a rifle slung across his chest, and had his head bent down. He had a cigarette in his mouth and was using one hand to block the wind while the other flicked a lighter.

  As quickly and as quietly as I could, I retraced my steps backward and disappeared from his line of sight just as he lifted his head. I knelt down and pressed myself against the corner of a metal panel, listening carefully as he walked in my direction. I wasn’t sure if he’d seen me or if he was just a patrol. Either way, he was going down. I only wanted to put down rig workers if it was necessary, but I�
�d happily take out each and every one of the Darkwater guys.

  He strolled into view right beside me and I kept still in the shadows. He breathed in deeply, turning the tip of his cigarette bright red, then exhaled a small cloud of smoke that quickly vanished in the wind. I waited for him to walk on by and show his back to me.

  In a flash of movement, I sprang from my hiding place, forced my right arm under his neck, and put him in a sleeper hold. He gagged for air, his cigarette falling from his lips and landing at our feet as I jerked his body backward into the darkness. I squeezed as tight as I could, crunching his trachea and causing his body to go motionless after just a few seconds of struggling.

  With his body limp in my arms, I took a look around, then dragged him over to a dark out-of-the-way corner and dropped him. I grabbed the radio clipped to his chest, turned it off, then rose to my feet and headed back toward the edge of the rig. I knew that Ange and Scott should be popping up out of the water at any second, and I wanted to be ready to bring them up as quickly as possible. Passing by where the thug had been seconds earlier, I pressed the sole of my right boot onto his cigarette and twisted a few times, extinguishing the red ember.

  Moving toward the edge, I spotted the same two guys I’d seen earlier. They were still leaning up against the railing and looking out over the water while shooting the shit. Like the guy I’d just taken out, they were both dressed in black with rifles across their chests, handguns strapped to their hips, and helmets tightened to their heads. One of them had a pair of binoculars hanging around his neck, though I got the feeling he hadn’t looked through them in a while.

  As I moved in close, the guy with the binos grabbed his radio and held it up to his ear while pressing down the talk button. I could hear the static from there as it usurped the frequency and made it impossible for him to communicate with anyone.

  “What the hell is going on?” he said, lowering it, then trying one more time.

  Again, he got nothing but static.

  “It’s these piece-of-crap radios,” the other guy said. “It’s a wonder they ever work at all. Try your cellphone.”

  He dug into his front pocket and pulled out a black flip phone, but I knew that it wouldn’t work either. It was evident that Scott and Ange had turned on the jammer and were ready for me to lower the rope.

  As the guy tried his phone, I pulled my dive knife from its sheath and lurked through the shadows, closing the gap between us. When I was just a few strides away from them, the guy lowered his phone and spat over the side.

  “What the hell’s going on?” he barked. “That’s the first time I haven’t had a signal all trip.”

  The other guy looked at him, surprised, then reached to check his phone as well. As he grabbed it and glanced at the screen, I moved in behind him, wrapping my left arm around his face and stabbing my knife sideways into his neck. The sharpened titanium cut his flesh with ease, stabbing all the way through and causing blood to gush out. He groaned helplessly as his life quickly faded.

  As I forced his dying body aside and dislodged my knife, the second thug cursed and reached for the handgun on his hip. Before he could level it at me, I slammed my boot into his hand, causing the weapon to jerk free of his grasp and rattle to the metal deck. I lunged after him with my bloodied blade, but he managed to avoid my blow at the last second. He weaved sideways and slammed a clenched fist against the side of my head. I lost my footing and my body jolted sideways from his strike.

  I fell onto my chest, catching myself as best I could. With his pistol out of sight, the thug grabbed hold of his rifle. Spinning my body around, I slammed my right leg into his shins, causing his legs to sweep out from under him and his upper body to crash hard onto the deck.

  Just as he landed, I raised my knife into the air and stabbed it down right through the center of his chest. The blade tore through his Kevlar, my downward momentum forcing it deep into his flesh. He tried to scream, tried to warn the others that there was an intruder on the rig, but I kept him silent by forcing my left arm over his mouth.

  Grabbing hold of the binoculars still around his neck, I pulled back with my right hand, causing the cord to dig deep into his throat. He shook and tried to scramble free, but I held him down, choking him out while covering his mouth with my left arm. After a few seconds, his body went lifeless in my arms.

  I pushed him off me, ripped my knife free, and wiped the bloody blade on his shirt. Grabbing them one at a time, I dragged their bodies out of sight, then took a quick look around before loosening the straps of my backpack and sliding it off my shoulders. I unzipped the main pocket, then reached inside and grabbed my sat phone, or what remained of it at least. Apparently, it had had an even worse landing than me. Its plastic frame was cracked to pieces and it was only being held together by loose wires.

  Explains why Ange didn’t call me.

  Dropping the broken phone back into my bag, I pulled out the coil of rope and tied off one end to the railing. After making sure one more time that there was no one else nearby, I hurled the rope over the edge and watched as it straightened out, the other end splashing into the water sixty feet below.

  I watched the rope and the dark surface of the water for a few moments, taking intermittent glances at the rig around me and making sure that I was alone. I knew that it was only a matter of time before somebody realized that those three guys I’d taken out weren’t at their posts. We needed to act quickly if we were going to seal the well before Carson and the rest of the Darkwater guys knew what was happening.

  Out of the dark, thrashing water below, I spotted a solid black figure swim into view, followed right after by another. My lips contorted into a smile. I watched as their shadowy figures went to work, removing their gear and hooking up the ascender. After less than a minute, the nylon rope went taut and I heard the faint humming of the ascender as it lifted one of the figures out of the water.

  Once halfway up to the rig, I saw that it was Ange and that she was looking up at me with confident, focused eyes. Her face was wet and her tied-back hair was soaked, but the rest of her body was covered by her dark dry suit. The motor assembly in the ascender got louder and louder as she rose, but it was drowned out by the rig’s blend of various mechanical sounds.

  When she reached the top, she handed me her bag, then held out a gloved hand. I grabbed her tight and helped stabilize her as she climbed over the railing. We looked into each other’s eyes for a brief moment, then I kissed her on the forehead and handed her bag back to her.

  “Glad to see you made it,” I said. “How was the swim?”

  “Just beautiful,” she said. “You didn’t answer my call. Let me guess, another woman?”

  I shook my head and laughed softly as she turned and switched on the ascender’s auto-descent mode, causing the small black machine to motor back down the rope toward the water.

  I’ve gotta get myself one of those, I thought.

  “No, as a matter of fact,” I said, opening my bag and showing her what remained of my sat phone.

  “So, the landing went well, then?” she said sarcastically.

  I shrugged. “I’ve had better.”

  She unzipped her drysuit, let it crumple down, and pulled it off her body, revealing her dry clothes underneath. In the drybag she’d brought, she pulled out her boots and quickly laced them up. Rolling up her drysuit, she shoved it into a dark corner, then looked around the rig. I leaned over the railing just as the ascender reached the water and Scott grabbed hold of it. I gave him a thumbs-up through the darkness as he grabbed the handhold, clipped it onto his harness, and began to rise up out of the water.

  Suddenly, I heard a man shout behind me.

  “Intruder!” he yelled.

  I whirled around just in time to see Ange grab a throwing knife from her hip and throw a frozen rope into the darkness. I saw the dark outline of the guy who’d shouted and watched as his body collapsed. His bloody face was the only thing visible in a glow of light. Ange’s knife stuck ou
t from his forehead and he wasn’t moving, killed almost instantly from the blow.

  “Logan!” Ange said, pointing to our right.

  A second thug appeared in the darkness, less than ten feet away from where I was standing. I lunged at him before he could level his weapon, tackling him into the metal wall of a shack behind him. The glass covering an emergency axe shattered as the guy’s back smashed into it. He yelled in pain and struck me repeatedly in the chest as I forced myself on top of him and tried to finish him off.

  He managed to slide his feet in between our bodies and pressed his legs forward with a loud and violent grunt. The air burst out from my lungs as my body flew backward, hitting the deck and tumbling twice before I was able to regain control. I was slightly dazed as the thug screamed and sprinted toward me. He’d grabbed hold of the axe and was holding it tightly with one hand. To my left, I saw that Ange had trouble of her own in the form of a third guy who’d appeared from behind the stack of pipes closest to us.

  I reached for my Sig, but before I could pull it free, the thug with the axe had already closed in and was swinging it straight for me. I barely managed to step back as the axe head whooshed by just a few inches in front of my face. The guy had swung it hard, and the blade continued its arc through the air, colliding right into the tensioned rope and snapping it before sparking against the metal railing with a loud ting.

  The frayed end of rope vanished in an instant, disappearing over the edge. My eyes grew wide at the sight of the snapped rope that was followed right after by a splash far down below. With my attention drawn away for a split second, the thug stepped closer, lifted the axe over his head, and slammed it down toward me. I rolled to the side as it sparked into the deck, then gritted my teeth as I kicked the wooden handle out of his hands. Without skipping a beat, he body-slammed his hulking frame on top of me and wrapped his hands around my neck. I dug my chin into my chest as he tried to crunch my throat. With my adrenaline spiking, I jammed my thumbs deep into his eyes, causing him to yell frantically in pain and loosen his grip on my body.