Corruption in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  I forced my knees between us and kicked him away from me. Rising to my feet, I caught my breath for a split second, then reached down and wrapped my hands around the axe’s handle. The thug was still struggling wildly. His hands were pressed to his face and he stumbled around the deck, unable to see and enraged from the intense pain. Giving him a taste of his own medicine, I lifted the axe overhead like I was about to chop wood and put him out of his misery. The axe head split open his skull and disfigured the top of his head. Blood splashed out and I let go of the handle, leaving it stuck in his head as he collapsed to the deck.

  I grabbed my Sig and spun to my left, but Ange already had her opponent under control. They were both on their back and Ange was choking him from behind, wringing the last few seconds of consciousness out of him. His body was limp before I’d made it to her. I offered her a hand and lifted her up onto her feet.

  I was still catching my breath and shaking the dizziness from the incident. Right then, my biggest concern was Scott and that he was alright. We leaned over the railing and focused our eyes down toward the water’s surface below. We couldn’t see anything, no sign of Scott or his gear.

  “Scott?” I said, choosing my tone carefully.

  But there was no reply. I knew that he was probably fine. Even if he’d been at the top when the rope snapped, that would mean that he fell sixty feet, which wouldn’t be life-threatening, especially for an experienced man of action like him.

  Just as I was about to turn away, I saw faint movement in the water. I focused on his dark figure for a moment and nodded as I saw him wave what looked like a thumbs-up. I gave a sigh of relief. Had it been just about any other situation, I’d have jumped over the edge and made sure that he was alright. But Ange and I had work to do.

  Suddenly, I heard voices coming from over near the helipad and moved away from the railing to get a better look. The guy’s screams had apparently been heard by the group of six guys over near the helicopter that I’d spotted while soaring in. They were far off but moved swiftly toward our position. I gripped my Sig with two hands and motioned toward the center of the rig.

  “We need to get to the drill shack,” I said.

  Just as the word “shack” came out of my mouth, a loud alarm sounded across the rig, along with a scatter of brilliant red rotating lights.

  “Yeah, no kidding,” Ange said, and we took off across the rig.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The sounds of the alarms blared around us as we moved toward the drill floor. We threw stealth to the wind, sprinting as fast as we could while keeping our weapons raised and our eyes peeled for more Darkwater thugs. I thought about Scott and wished that we could have him at our side. But I knew that we had a short window to make our move, and that window was closing with each passing second.

  At that moment we knew that our presence was being circulated among the rig. The good thing was, thanks to the jammer, their communications would be down and news would travel slower than usual. Regardless, the alarm quickly alerted everyone on board that something was wrong.

  The drill floor was right at the base of the derrick, and we caught our first glimpse of it and the nearby drill shack as we navigated around what looked like a massive pump. Our destination was still a good distance away from us when we spotted three Darkwater guys moving just around the corner from us.

  Ange froze, then cut a hard left to flank them. I continued forward, grabbing my dive knife with my left hand while still holding my Sig with my right. When the first guy came around the corner, I popped out of the darkness and stabbed my knife into the base of his neck. Using his body as cover, I ripped my knife free, then rolled around his left side, aiming my Sig through his left armpit.

  As the first guy struggled for life, I put two quick rounds into the second guy. The first struck the top part of his Kevlar vest, knocking his body back. The second gouged through the side of his face, sending his body to the deck in the blink of an eye.

  The final guy in the group aimed and held the trigger of his AR-15, sending a succession of automatic bullets my direction. I stayed behind the first guy, using his body and more importantly his Kevlar vest as a shield, as I moved out of the line of fire. He continued to fire and took two steps toward me before Ange took him down from behind. The guy didn’t even know what hit him as Ange’s rounds struck through his collarbone and the back of his skull.

  The gunfire went silent in an instant as he fell to his knees, then face-planted onto a small section of metal stairs. I threw the guy in my grasp aside as Ange bent down and grabbed an M4 from one of the dead guy’s bodies. Rising beside me, we continued toward the derrick, knowing that the party was just getting started. I’d seen three other Darkwater guys on the helipad when I’d dropped down, and handfuls more spread out around the edges of the rig.

  We navigated our way into the center of the rig and managed to avoid further confrontation before reaching the drill floor. I’d never been on an oil rig before and the entire operation was an impressive sight. A long metal pipe stuck straight up out of the deck just a few hundred feet ahead of us, held steady by massive metal clasps. The drill floor was littered with advanced machinery that worked together to allow drilling to depths over thirty thousand feet beneath the seafloor.

  We spotted five workers near the center of the floor, each wearing the same red coveralls and matching hardhats. The alarm was still blaring, but they all wore earplugs, so the sound didn’t seem to bother them. They looked more confused than anything else as they stood, looked around, and talked amongst themselves. I imagined that the rig didn’t run very many drills for intruders aboard, that most of their drills revolved around kicks, blowouts, and toxic gas.

  Ange and I tried to make it across the floor unnoticed by sticking to the shadows, but we were in those roughnecks’ house. They knew every inch of the operation, and they knew when something or someone looked out of place. When we were halfway to the drill shack, one of them called out and pointed a gloved hand at us.

  We were close. The drill shack was right there. We could see its massive glass windows that looked out over the drill floor. It was bright inside the shack, bright enough for us to see the guys seated and standing inside.

  Ange and I continued to move forward, even as a few of the roughnecks yelled at us. None of them were armed, of course. But that wouldn’t stop them from taking action to protect their rig. These were tough guys. Guys who were used to working unnaturally long hours and lifting heavy parts and machinery. They also had a zero-tolerance policy for bullshit and weren’t about to let somebody come in there and try and take down their operation.

  The biggest guy in the group, a massive hulk of a man who looked like he could have a nice career as a professional wrestler, grabbed hold of the biggest wrench I’d ever seen in my life and strode toward us.

  “Stop right there!” he yelled, his voice booming over the machines surrounding us.

  We didn’t have time for this. We had to get into the drill shack and shut it down. And we had to do it now.

  I spotted a commotion to my right, snapped my head sideways, and saw a handful of Darkwater closing in on us.

  “Ange, come on!” I said, motioning toward the drill shack.

  Without a word, she lunged toward the big roughneck and hit him square in his massive chest with a powerful front kick. Her attack had been so fast and strong that even with his massive frame, the force caused his body to lurch backward, and he slammed hard onto the deck with a loud thump. Ange gripped the rifle strapped around her body with two hands and spun around to face the approaching Darkwater thugs.

  “You get in there!” she said. “I’ll hold them off.”

  What the hell was she thinking? If anyone was going to hold them off, it was going to be me. I wasn’t about to let her take on a handful of trained mercenaries on her own.

  “Ange, you ca—”

  “This isn’t a debate, Dodge!” she said, cutting me off.

  She pressed the trigge
r of the M4, sending a stream of bullets toward the approaching bad guys and forcing them to take cover.

  Turning around, Ange shoved me toward the drill shack.

  “Get in there and shut it down!” she yelled.

  I had to do as she said. Her eyes burned with intense ferocity, and I knew that I couldn’t change her mind. In order to shut down the rig, I’d have to leave her.

  I gritted my teeth, raised my Sig, and sent a repetitive cycle of 9mm rounds toward our Darkwater assailants. Crouching down, I gave Ange a nod, then turned around and sprinted as fast as I could toward the shack. My heart pumped ferociously. I could feel a surge of adrenaline course through my body as I pumped my arms and legs, knowing that the faster I reached the shack, the sooner we could get the hell off that rig.

  I ran around the back side of the shack and, seeing that there was nobody in sight, grabbed hold of the metal door handle. With all my strength, I pushed down, then pulled the heavy door open. I was surprised that it had been unlocked but didn’t have time to think about why as I entered the small room filled with monitors, chairs, and charts. There were four workers in the room, three wearing the same red coveralls and one wearing khaki pants and a tucked-in button-up shirt. Two of the workers were seated, while the other two stood. There had been mass commotion inside, but the small shack fell silent and all eyes darted to look at me as I stormed through the door.

  “Shut the pipe rams!” I ordered, my eyes scanning to each of the guys around the room. “Seal this well, now!”

  Most of the workers looked at me like I was crazy. I knew that it made no sense to them why a guy would sneak his way onto an offshore oil platform just to stop the drilling. It was completely ludicrous. But one of the guys just looked angry. It was the one not wearing coveralls. He looked like some kind of third-party observer. Maybe a representative from whoever was funding the operation.

  The other guy on his feet and wearing red coveralls was the oldest guy of the group, and I immediately realized that he was the tool pusher. The guy in charge of the drilling. He had gray hair and looked to be in his mid-fifties.

  “I’m not gonna ask again,” I said, stepping toward the tool pusher and aiming my Sig straight at his head.

  I didn’t have time to deal with his crap. I could hear the gunfire going off like fireworks out on the floor, could see dark shadowy figures approaching through the glass.

  “What the hell’s going on?” one of the seated workers asked.

  He had a row of monitors and various controls in front of him.

  “They’re trying to intentionally cause a massive oil spill,” I declared. “And if you don’t shut those rams in two seconds, I’m going to start shooting.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” the guy wearing regular clothes said. “He’s lying.”

  His voice was cocky and high-pitched. He spoke like a guy who was used to getting his way.

  I turned toward him and, without hesitation, put a bullet straight into his left kneecap. His knee exploded as the report boomed and rattled the small room. He yelled in pain and crunched over, his body curling up and sprawling on the deck as his hands grabbed what remained of his bleeding knee.

  “Now!” I said, narrowing my gaze on the tool pusher.

  He threw his hands in the air and ordered the man seated in front of him to shut the rams. The guy pressed a few buttons, and I watched as pressure indications on the screen changed.

  “The rams are shut,” the guy in the chair said, breathing heavily and wiping sweat from his brow.

  Now the EDS, I thought.

  I shifted my gaze across the room, spotted the bright red button with the words “Emergency Disconnect” above it. It had a plastic case covering it to prevent accidental activation. The professor had informed me that this wasn’t a button pressed very often. Only as a last resort.

  With the rams shut, I knew that the well was temporarily sealed. But I needed to finish the job. Scanning my eyes back and forth between every guy in the room to make sure no one made a move on me, I kept my Sig raised and moved rapidly across the room toward the EDS. Just as I was about to open the plastic and press the button, a door opened to my right. I’d barely noticed the door when I’d entered. It was a normal door, not heavy metal like the one I’d entered through. In the brief moment it flew open, I cursed myself for not bothering to lock it or prop one of the cabinets against it.

  In a flash, a massive black guy came barreling through the slammed-open door and charged straight for me. I didn’t even have time to turn before he tackled into me like an angry bull, slamming me off my feet and crashing me against a counter of monitors and controls. My back screamed in pain and my Sig fell to the deck as the big Darkwater thug threw his fists at my face in violent, rapid succession. I managed to block and avoid a few, but it only took one well-landed punch from a guy that size to snap my head sideways and cause me to see stars.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this, Dodge!” the guy barked, gritting his teeth.

  His massive left hand wrapped tight around my neck as he reached with his right for a Ka-Bar knife strapped to his leg. He snarled and his eyes stared intensely into mine. Veins stuck out from the top of his head. My vision blurred as I felt my consciousness begin to fade. I had to do something, but he was much bigger and stronger than me, and he had me pinned.

  I reached back behind my head and searched for anything within reach. My hands grabbed hold of the edges of a monitor, and as the big guy stabbed his Ka-Bar toward me, I ripped it free and smashed it into his face. The screen cracked to pieces and the plastic frame snapped down the middle. He yelled in pain as the fragile bones in his nose crunched up like a stomped soda can. Blood rushed out from his nostrils as I let go of the monitor, letting it crash to the ground.

  He gave me an inch, a moment of loosened tension on his hold of me, and I took advantage of it. Forcing his body away from me, I punched him hard in the throat, then pulled my legs up and kicked him with all of my strength, launching his massive frame across the room. He tumbled to the deck right beside the guy whose knee I’d blown to pieces moments earlier. He was still rolling back and forth in shock, his hands wrapped around his leg.

  I staggered off the panels and switches, slid off my backpack, then planted my boots onto the deck and reached for my Sig. Gripping it tight, I raised it at the big guy as he struggled to his feet and came after me for round two. I managed to pull the trigger, sending one round exploding into his abdomen before he knocked it from my hand. If the bullet had done any damage, he didn’t show it. With blood gushing down his face and chest, his forehead furrowed, and his eyes bulging from his head, he swung at me left and right like a rabid animal.

  He still held his Ka-Bar and sliced a gash in my left shoulder with the sharpened blade. I winced and growled as I blocked a successive blow, then snatched my dive knife. As the blade drove toward me, I weaved to the left, kicked him hard in the shin, then stabbed my knife into his chest as his body lurched forward. Using his momentum against him, I was able to dig the blade deep into his flesh.

  His body shook as I ripped the blade free, spun around, and stabbed him two more times in the side. The insanely tough thug finally showed signs of mortality as his legs buckled and he collapsed to the floor. He spun around, trying to fight the pain and retaliate, but it was no use. He was done.

  I kicked the Ka-Bar from his hands, grabbed my Sig from the deck, and put two bullets through his skull. My throat still throbbed, and my face and shoulder hurt like hell. I stood motionless for a second to catch my breath, my heart pounding in my chest. With my Sig still clutched in my right hand, I stepped toward the EDS button. Without hesitating, I planted my left leg and snapped my right heel into the plastic casing, shattering it to pieces. Then I took a step closer and shoved my right palm forward, pressing the button and initiating the disconnect.

  I glanced around at a room that was full of rig workers staring in awe of what they’d just witnessed. I knew that, even if any of th
em were in on the plan, none of them would dare try anything on me. Not after the brutal struggle to the death that they’d just seen.

  I directed my gaze to the indications on the panels that hadn’t been smashed or used as a weapon to break the big guy’s nose. I heard beeping and saw flashing lights.

  “Did it work?” I said, raising my eyebrows.

  A few of the guys hesitated, but one turned and looked at the monitors.

  “EDS initiated,” he said hesitantly. “We have separation from the well.”

  I let out a sigh of relief, thinking that it was over. We’d done it. There would be no oil spill—not tonight, anyway. But I still had to find Ange, find Scott, get the hell off that rig, then disable the jammer and call in Jack for pickup. We weren’t nearly out of the thick of it yet.

  As if my thoughts had summoned reality to life, the massive metal door squeaked open. I raised my Sig, ready to blow somebody to pieces at a moment’s notice, but it wasn’t Darkwater. Ange appeared and fell through the door, clutching her hands over her side as blood seeped through her fingers.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  I lowered my Sig, strode across the shack, and wrapped an arm around Ange. Her head was raised and her eyes quickly scanned over the room, focusing on each of the workers before settling on me. The sight of her clutching the wound in her side caused my heart to sink. I cursed myself for leaving her, cursed myself for listening to her and letting her take on a group of highly trained killers all by herself.

  “Ange, are you alright?” I asked.

  “It’s okay,” she said calmly. She forced her body upright, standing tall beside me. “I’m fine. It’s just a flesh wound. Barely made it through the vest.” She looked around the shack again and added, “You did it?”