Corruption in the Keys

by Matthew Rief

  “Get back inside, now!” Scott said, raising his voice.

  He turned around and they both stumbled into the small cab. In the center of the tiny space was a black cushioned chair that faced massive glass windows. Just in front of the right armrest was a control station that contained a few joysticks and various buttons.

  “Sit down and start it up, now!” Scott said, practically forcing the big guy into the chair.

  He did as he was told.

  After adjusting a few levers, he inserted a key from his pocket and held down a black start button. Moments later, the massive engine rumbled to life. With the crane up and running, he ordered the guy to lower the boom and spin them around. This was where the guy drew the line.

  In a quick movement, the guy spun around and tried to rip the Glock out of Scott’s hands. Scott had better positioning and was able to use his full body weight to pull free of the guy’s grasp. Before the worker could come to his feet, Scott knocked off his hardhat and slammed the grip of his Glock into his right temple, knocking him unconscious.

  Scott grabbed under the guy’s shoulders and pulled him out of the chair.

  “Sorry, big guy,” he said.

  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt an innocent bystander, but right now he had no choice. The guy would wake up with a bad headache, but he’d be just fine.

  With the seat empty, Scott plopped down and peered out through the glass. Carson and her Darkwater thugs had already reached the stairs that lead up to the helipad. He looked at the controls that were completely foreign to him. He’d never operated a crane before, but if he was going to stop Carson, he’d have to figure it out really quick.

  He reached for the two joysticks and tested each of them lightly just to see what happened. The one on the left rotated the cab side to side and adjusted the trolley’s position. The one on the right controlled the boom, which was pointed up at a sixty-degree angle with the deck.

  With slow and controlled movements, Scott rotated the cab around to the left. Once clear of the derrick, he began lowering the boom, extending its reach far out over the rig. Through the glass, he could see Carson and her men climb aboard the chopper, entering through the side door. He watched with focused eyes as the door slammed shut and the main rotor picked up speed, lifting the aircraft off the helipad.

  Seeing that the clock was about to run out, Scott forced the joysticks as far as they could go, causing the cab to rotate faster and the boom to drop down toward the rig. It was just starting to fly out over the ocean when the far end of the jib crashed against the tail rotor, causing the chopper to break in two and spin out of control.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Ange and I stood against the metal railing and watched as Scott rotated the massive crane and extended its long boom. The helicopter’s engine roared louder, spinning the rotors faster, and causing the landing gear to lift up off the helipad. The chopper rose quickly, and we could only watch as the long reach of the crane rotated toward it, its engine groaning and metal components grinding.

  Just as the helicopter angled forward to propel itself out over the water, the far end of the boom crashed against its tail rotor. The sound of screeching metal echoed across the rig as the tail section broke off and crashed down onto the deck, causing the helicopter to spin out of control. The cockpit angled downward and nose-dived into the edge of the helipad. Glass shattered and the rotors slammed against the metal edge of the helipad, shooting up sparks.

  In the blink of an eye, what remained of the helicopter crashed into the edge of the helipad and was quickly engulfed by an explosion. Fire shot out from the fuel tanks. The chopper blew to pieces, sending metal fragments spitting out in all directions. The fiery wreckage tumbled over the edge and out of view. All I could see was the intense glow of the flames as the chopper plummeted through the air and splashed into the ocean far below.

  I blinked and took in a deep breath. My heart was pounding in my chest. The entire incident had lasted just a few seconds from the moment Scott had pummeled them with the crane. My mind raced as I took in the situation. Not only had Scott managed to reach the top of the rig, but he’d stopped Carson and her remaining thugs from escaping. And, in doing so, prevented her from remotely blowing out the well. There was no way she could’ve detonated the explosives so quickly after the crane struck its blow. Our operation had ended in an explosion and a ball of fire. Carson Richmond was no more.

  Ange wrapped an arm around me and waved toward Scott. He’d risen from the chair and was leaning forward, peering straight at us through the glass. I waved as well and he gave us a thumbs-up.

  “I gotta hand it to him,” I said. “I’ve never seen that one before.”

  She gave a soft laugh.

  “A fitting end for her,” she said, drawing her gaze down toward the water.

  I couldn’t agree more. After sparing her life last month, hoping that the legal system would take care of her, I was glad to be rid of her once and for all.

  Suddenly, Ange lurched over and pressed her hands to her side. I bent down and took a look at the wound.

  “Are you alright?” I said.

  She waved me off.

  “I’m fine, really,” she insisted. “Just barely scratched the surface.”

  I pulled off my backpack, unzipped the main pocket, and grabbed my small first aid kit. Grabbing the gauze, I wrapped it around the wound to stop the bleeding. Thanks to the pressure of her vest, there wasn’t a lot coming out.

  “Let’s go meet up with Scott,” she said. “I’m fine for the time being.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. She was the strongest person I’d ever met.

  We made our way across the rig, sticking to the shadows and doing our best to avoid any of the workers. We met Scott over at the base of the crane, just as he was climbing down the final portion of the ladder.

  His face was covered in black paint and he was wearing booties over his feet.

  “Quite the entrance, Scottie,” I said as his feet planted on the deck. “I didn’t know you knew how to drive a crane. You’re just full of surprises.”

  He patted both of us on the back and shrugged. “I just pressed a bunch of random buttons.”

  Ange chuckled and said, “How was the fall?”

  “Quite the rush. I’ll add it to my resume.”

  “Probably best that no one ever knows you were here, Senator,” I said.

  “Right,” he said. “So, time to get off this hunk of metal or what?” Ange stepped into the glow of one of the emergency lights, and he realized that she was bandaged up for the first time. “Wow, Ange, are you alright?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine,” she said. “Really. It just grazed me, and the vest did its job well enough.”

  “But we need to get you care as soon as possible,” I said. I glanced over at the helipad and added, “Now that the pad’s clear, we should call in a Coast Guard bird and have you airlifted out of here.”

  “No need to call them,” a voice said from behind us.

  The three of us spun around quickly and focused our eyes toward the source of the sounds. Three guys wearing red coveralls were walking toward us from just a short ways off. Somehow, none of us had heard their footsteps.

  Instinctively, all three of us reached for our weapons.

  “Freeze, right there,” I said.

  “Wow, easy,” the guy in the middle said as the three of them stepped into the light. He raised his hands and stopped in place. “I’m Keith Decker. I’m the rig foreman.” He took a step toward us and added, “We’re not here to fight you.”

  He spoke with a calm but authoritative tone. He looked to be in his fifties, but it was hard to tell from the dim light, the hardhat covering most of his head, and the safety glasses.

  “Look, I heard your conversation with Mrs. Richmond,” he said. “Truth be told, we certainly had our suspicions after so many guys with guns showed up. It’s not exactly typical for offshore drilling. In fact, it’s the first time I’d
seen it in thirty years. But we informed the guys at Zhao and they told us there had been threats of terrorist attacks against the rigs.”

  He took another step, and the three of us slowly lowered our weapons. But we still kept a sharp eye on him, knowing that there was a good chance that he was lying.

  “Anyway,” he said, “we spoke to one of the representatives from the Wake Corporation. The guy whose knee you shot to pieces. He told us everything when we confronted him.” He looked each of us over and added, “I don’t know who you guys are, but by the looks of things, you just saved us a whole lot of trouble.”

  “How can we know that you weren’t in on it?” Ange said.

  He shrugged. “I guess you can’t for sure. Not at the moment, anyway. But I can give you my word, before God, that I wasn’t.”

  “The ROV,” I said. “Carson said that it’d been rigged with explosives.”

  “My guys are bringing it up now,” he said, pointing across the rig. “We didn’t even know those guys had put one of their own in the water.”

  “There was an ROV rigged with explosives?” Scott asked.

  I nodded.

  “It’s my ROV,” I said. “The one that was stolen back at the marina. Carson was planning to pin the whole thing on me.”

  “Shit,” Scott said, shaking his head. “You guys able to seal the well anyway?”

  “The EDS was activated,” Keith said. “This is going to be some mess to explain to the head honchos at Zhao, but at least the well is secured.”

  “What did you mean when you said there was no need to call the Coast Guard?” Ange asked.

  “We’ve got an infirmary on board,” he said. Motioning toward her wound, he added, “I’d like to get you down there and taken care of right away. As far as the Coast Guard, we’ve been unable to get ahold of them, what with the signals all being down.”

  “I can take care of that,” Scott said. “You go with Ange,” he added, motioning to me. “I’ll shut off the jammer and contact Jack.”

  I went with Keith toward the center of the rig and down into the infirmary to see their onboard doctor. I kept a sharp eye, just in case Keith wasn’t to be trusted. He seemed like a decent guy and that he was telling the truth, but over the years I’d learned that you can’t be too cautious upon first meeting someone.

  The doctor was top-notch. He had the bullet removed, the wound disinfected, and the skin stitched up in less than ten minutes.

  “You’ll have a scar,” the doctor said, “but it should fade to almost nothing over time.”

  Just as we thanked him, the radio in Ange’s backpack crackled to life. Scott was on the other end, and he informed us that the jammer was secured and that Jack was on his way with the trawler. Hearing the news, Keith told one of his guys to call in to the Coast Guard and Naval Station Key West to make them aware of the situation.

  As we walked back up toward the main deck, the generator came back on, lighting up the entire place. Keith walked with us until we reached the outer door.

  “So, are you guys some kind of government agents or something?” he asked.

  Ange and I exchanged glances, then shook our heads.

  “No,” I said.

  “Just a couple of ordinary citizens who saw a wrong and did our best to right it,” Ange added to my answer.

  “A couple of ordinary citizens, huh?” Keith said, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t buy the ordinary part for a minute. I don’t know anybody who could sneak aboard something like this, especially with a team of armed gunmen patrolling it.” He continued to walk with us, and when we didn’t reply, he added, “I’m sure this will make quite the story. Once all the dust settles, of course. You three will be heroes after this.”

  Ange and I both stopped, then took Keith aside.

  “Look,” I said. “We didn’t do it for any kind of recognition. We did it because it was right. We were just living our lives in the Keys when evil came knocking at our door. It was a normal reaction for us to do what we could to help.” I paused a moment, let out a sigh and added, “With that being said, we would really appreciate your discretion. We’d prefer that nobody on this rig know our names, and that no one know we were involved in this at all.”

  “There’s also powerful people involved in this,” Ange added. “If they learn we were responsible for stopping their plans, they’ll come after us. You understand?”

  Keith went silent for a moment, mulling over our words. It was a lot to take in, but after a few seconds, he gave a slight nod.

  “I never saw you guys,” he said. “As far as me and my team are concerned, we never got a good look at the guys who took down Carson. I’ll do everything I can to keep you three under wraps.”

  “Thanks,” I said, as we continued walking toward the edge of the rig.

  “No,” he said. “Thank you, guys.”

  We continued along the deck and reached the starboard edge after a few minutes.

  “That sounded like a speech a superhero would make,” Ange said. “We do good because it’s right, not for any recognition,” she added in her best attempt at mimicking my voice.

  “Ha, ha,” I said, giving her my best sarcastic laugh.

  “No, I’m serious. And, it kinda turned me on, Dodge.”

  I smiled and looked out over the water below. We could hear the trawler’s engine as it roared full speed into the faint glow from the rig. Down in the water, we could see Scott treading water and holding on to armfuls of gear.

  “Alright,” I said, motioning toward the first section of ladder heading down. “Let’s get down there and help them load up.”

  “We could climb,” Ange said. “Or we could take the faster way down.”

  She stopped me in my tracks after taking one step toward the ladder. Turning back to her, I saw her step toward the railing, then look over at me with a grin.

  “Ange, are you crazy?” I said. “Babe, you just got shot and now you want to—”

  “It sounds a hell of a lot better than climbing down a million ladder rungs,” she said, making a decent point. “Plus, I’m hot and want to cool off.”

  I stepped toward her and thought it over for a few seconds. The breeze off the ocean felt good, but all of the action had caused us both to sweat quite a bit beneath our black long sleeves and pants.

  I glanced over the railing at the water below, making sure that it was clear of debris. Most of the wreckage from the helicopter had sunk, but what little had stayed afloat was near the other side of the rig and was drifting away from us. I looked back up at Ange. Her smile broadened and she batted her eyes.

  “Alright,” I said, raising my hands, “you win.”

  I helped her up over the railing, then climbed over myself and stood beside her. We both had our backs to the railing and were holding on with our hands extended behind us.

  “One…” she said eagerly. “Two… Three!”

  We both let go simultaneously and jumped off into the night air. My stomach shot up into my chest as I accelerated into a free fall for the second time that night. Moments later, we both splashed feetfirst into the dark water below, sinking deep beneath the waves.

  We surfaced side by side and took in a deep lungful of air. The rush was exhilarating, I had to admit, and the water did feel good. She was right—it had been much easier than the long way down.

  “You alright?” I asked, swimming toward her.

  “All good,” she replied.

  We swam over to Scott just as Jack was slowing the trawler right up to him. Bringing the stern around, we loaded up all of the gear, then toweled off as Jack hit the throttles. Within minutes, the massive rig became nothing more than a large, bright beacon on the horizon at our backs. Soon, we heard the familiar sound of a Coast Guard Jayhawk flying overhead, heading toward the rig.

  THIRTY

  The days following the incident on the Pericles oil rig were a blur, and a mixed bag of emotions. My priority, after a long night’s sleep to shed the exhaustive toll m
y body had undergone, was to care for Ange. Though the doctor aboard the rig had done a good job, I still urged her to see Dr. Patel for checkups, and thankfully she obliged. He verified that the wound wasn’t severe and that she would be just fine.

  Scott stayed with us for a day, then headed back up to D.C. Prior to his leaving, we’d had a long conversation regarding Carson, Darkwater, and the Wake Corporation. We’d successfully prevented a major oil spill and had taken down an evil and corrupt woman, but that didn’t mean that the fight was over. If I’d learned anything about powerful, evil guys over the course of my life, it was that they tended not to take bad news very well. I was confident that Wake would try and rectify the situation somehow. To try and settle the score.

  Such thoughts were quelled when CIA Deputy Director Wilson flew down and met with all of us at my house for a few hours. He informed us that Carson, being proud and wanting to take care of the situation herself, apparently hadn’t informed Wake of our involvement. I found it hard to believe, but he said that there was no evidence to suggest that Wake had any idea what really happened. It made me feel slightly better, but I wasn’t about to rule out him figuring it out and coming after us down the road.

  Carson’s death hit the news a few days after the incident. The article simply stated that she’d been involved in a helicopter accident while flying over the Gulf of Mexico, which wasn’t exactly a lie. We returned the trawler back to Queen Anne’s Salvage, where it had been temporarily stored for the past month. It was a great boat and had served its purpose well. I made sure to ask Scott to do his best to keep it from being sold off, at least for the time being.

  “Grown attached to it, huh?” Scott said as I was driving him and Wilson to the airport. “It’s yours if you want it.”

  I raised my eyebrows, unsure that I’d heard him correctly.

  “Call it a thank-you gift for all that you did the past few days,” he added.

  I accepted, though I wasn’t exactly sure what practical use I’d have for it on a consistent basis. But I was confident that it would come in handy from time to time.