salad with French bread and a good Pinot Grigio. Afterwards she left them alone, seated across a cocktail table from each other looking at the information and photos Rencke had sent to McGarvey’s sat phone.
Had the information come to them from anyone other than Otto, McGarvey would have questioned the validity of the material. And as it was, Otto had sent the list of names to Eric Yablonski who’d independently come up with the same background information and the same photos
“Only two real possibilities,” Gail said. “The French guy from
“That could be fixed,” McGarvey said distantly. Even if their contractor had managed to place one or more of his operators aboard Vanessa he’d still want to take a look for himself. At the very least his ego would demand it. He was a man who paid attention to details, which was why he’d never been caught. And the more McGarvey thought about him, the more respect he had.
Gail looked up from the images on the sat phone screen. “What?”
“He’s coming.”
“Are you sure?”
McGarvey nodded. “Yeah, one way or the other he’ll be in this group. Or maybe as a last-minute addition. But he’ll need to see the rig with his own eyes.”
“He could have people aboard,” Gail suggested. It was a technique he’d drummed into the heads of everyone he’d trained for NNSA fieldwork. Anytime an idea was floated it was the duty of everyone to try to shoot it down. Find the weak points, find the flaws, find the improbables, come up with what in the aircraft design and construction industry had always been called the
McGarvey picked up the intercom phone and called the flight deck. “I need to make a sat phone call.”
“Go right ahead, Mr. Director,” the pilot told him.
Otto answered on the first ring. “I was just about to send you tomorrow’s schedule.”
“Will they be taken on a guided tour of the rig?” McGarvey asked.
“Yup, just like you suspected, right after Eve Larsen briefs them on her project these guys will get to see everything.”
“What else?” McGarvy asked. He was looking for something, an opening that he could use to get close to the media people. The point at which they would have gotten what they’d come for and would be the most relaxed.
“A champagne reception on the main deck for everyone, scientists and crew,” Rencke said. “Sort of a send- off party. All the media should be gone no later than four, and the rig under tow first thing in the morning.”
“Anything from Schalgel and his people?”
“I was going to call you about that, too. He’ll be on
“Good. As long as he stays out in the open we don’t have to worry about him,” McGarvey said.
“Wrong answer, Mac. He’ll be making his speech live from Biloxi.”
“Is he going to try to get aboard?” McGarvey demanded.
“He hasn’t said. But I did some checking on marinas from New Orleans to Panama City, and just about anything that floats and is capable to crossing the Gulf has been chartered, starting tomorrow morning.”
“Under the name of his church?”
“Individuals, some of them local charter boat and shrimp skippers. You’ll have company.”
It was about what McGarvey had expected. “It’ll just be background noise. They can’t stop the rig.”
“What if our contractor and maybe some of his operators are aboard one of the boats?”
“He wouldn’t risk making an attack out in the open among all those witnesses. He still has to get aboard the rig. And when he does we’ll have him.”
“Alive if possible, kemo sabe,” Rencke said. “We need to know who hired him.”
“We know who hired him,” McGarvey said. “We just need the proof.”
One of Defloria’s crew met them with hard hats at the helicopter and brought them across to the main living quarters, which were on the opposite corner of the platform from where Eve had set up her lab and monitoring station. Rising five levels above the main deck the superstructure looked more like an afterthought than a planned part of the overall structure, more like a series of Lego models stacked in an array that staggered outward over the edge with iron balconies, catwalks, and stairs. The wind wasn’t as strong today, and much of the main deck had been cleared of its oil exploration equipment and workmen, but any offshore oil platform was an inherently dangerous environment. Accidents could and did happen nearly every day, and deaths were not unkown.
They’d been given separate but connecting suites each large enough to accommodate a queen-sized bed, a sitting area with a small couch, a pair of chairs and a coffee table, plus a desk with a computer connection routed to a satellite dish. The view from their large windows was out across the Gulf, dozens of oil platforms dotting the horizon. Each of them had their own tiny bathroom, fully equipped with soaps, shampoos, shaving gear, towels, even a hair dryer and toothpaste and toothbrush.
Three pairs of white coveralls had been laid out along with a pair of sneakers and a pair of steel-toed work shoes, all in the correct sizes.
When they’d stowed their gear, Gail knocked on the connecting door and McGarvey let her in. She’d found a generalized floor plan of the entire platform, and she spread it out on the coffee table. “This place is a nightmare,” she said. “Hundreds of places to hide in ambush to pick us off one by one.”
McGarvey had seen it the other day when he’d come aboard for the first time. But they only had to concentrate on the four legs, somewhere just beneath the lowest work deck and the waterline. And no matter what happened they had to remain alive and uncaptured. “Works both ways,” he said.
And she glanced again at the floor plan and nodded. “I see your point, but there’s only two of us, and no way of predicting how many they’ll be.”
“Maybe a half dozen. A couple to take care of the communications equipment, or at least the satelite dishes. A couple to kill or round up the crew and Eve’s people, and a couple more to set the explosives on two of the legs.”
“What about the tug?”
“I think that once he has everything in hand here, he’ll send a boat across and kill the crew. When the rig capsizes and goes down, it might take the tug with it.”
“Will he spread himself that thin?” Gail asked. “The man is a pro.”
“Just him and one other at Hutchinson Island,” McGarvey said.
“The bastard has a plan which he thinks is foolproof,” Gail said bitterly. She still felt responsible for the attack.
“Indeed he does,” McGarvey said.
Someone knocked at McGarvey’s door, and it was Defloria. “I was told that you were aboard,” he said, eyeing the several aluminum cases stacked by the closet door. It was the CIA equipment, weapons, and ammunition from the Farm. “I brought you the personnel list and files you asked for. Three new ones came aboard this morning. Company hires.”
McGarvey took the file, and introduced Gail. “Additional crew or replacements?”
Defloria seemed uncomfortable. “Replacements, actually. Three of my people supposedly got into it with a couple of the scientists yesterday, over what I don’t know, but my guys denied getting into any trouble. Didn’t matter, this is Dr. Larsen’s rig. I’m just the OIM and I do whatever the company tells me to do.”
“What about their employment histories?” Gail asked.
“Solid.”
“Who did they have trouble with?”
“I’m not sure,” Defloria said. “But from the way I get it, they apparently screwed up something with a pair of sensors that Dr. Price had been working on.” He shrugged. “That doesn’t matter either. We have three new people, and it’s going to be up to me and Al to keep the peace around here.”
“I know Don Price, and I’ll see what I can do,” McGarvey promised. “Are we listed on the rig’s complement?”
