priority had been to make sure he didn’t pass on his information to anyone else. Watson had been a faithful member of the church, but he hadn’t been in Garrett’s innermost circle, the only ones who knew the entire plan. He must have grown suspicious about the true nature of his work and broke into some key files that contained details of the operation. Security discovered the leak, but Watson fled. He didn’t escape with any hard evidence, but he knew enough to be a danger. Since his work was essentially finished, Garrett had no more use for him and ordered his termination.
Before Garrett’s security team could carry out the order, Watson phoned someone. What was said, they didn’t know, but Garrett was sure it wasn’t the police, or Watson would have been in their custody within hours. Still, he could have mentioned something critical. They couldn’t take him out until they knew who he had spoken to, so they kept him under surveillance and waited until the meeting.
Watson’s assassination went off as planned, but he managed to convey something to the woman, Dilara Kenner, who had escaped after she narrowly avoided being killed by the SUV. They lost her trail until a search of airline databases showed her reservation with Wolverine Helicopters in St. John’s, Newfoundland. At first, her trip to an oil platform in the middle of the Atlantic was puzzling. Searching the names of the people on the rig registered with the Canadian Coast Guard, they discovered who was on board that she might be meeting with. Tyler Locke, a one-time contract employee of Garrett’s who had been more trouble than his reputation had been worth.
Once Garrett knew Locke was involved, it made sense. They had to stop her before she could talk to him. Killing her outright would have raised too many questions, especially by Locke, so they’d had to make it look like an accident.
“She’s not dead?” Garrett asked.
Cutter shook his head.
“What happened?”
“The explosive on the chopper wasn’t powerful enough. My men on the yacht set it off, but it only damaged the engine. The passengers got out before it sank. The standby ship was gone, but according to radio broadcasts we intercepted, Tyler Locke used one of the freefall lifeboats to save them. No way they would have survived until a Coast Guard chopper made it out there.”
“Tyler Locke. Still can’t keep himself out of trouble. Well, now we have a much bigger problem. We have to assume she’s told him what she knows. Is the yacht still in place?”
“They’re waiting for my orders.”
“What are our options?” Cutter always had a backup plan, and he didn’t disappoint.
“We already have a plan in place. My men are prepared to take out the entire rig.”
“It has to look like an accident,” Garrett said. “Locke’s murder would open up even more questions.”
“It’ll look like negligence on the part of the oil company. With over 200 deaths, a billion dollar oil platform destroyed, and oil flowing into the north Atlantic, they’ll have their hands full. A full-scale investigation will take weeks.”
Garrett smiled and looked out at the smog that would soon be a distant memory.
“Excellent,” he said. “By the time they find out what really happened, it will be far too late to stop us.”
TEN
While they waited for their food, Locke listened intently to Dilara’s story about Sam Watson’s death and her subsequent car crash, only stopping her to clarify. She wasn’t lying, that much he was sure of. Which left him with what? That either she was the victim of a bizarre set of coincidences or that he was somehow connected to some vast conspiracy bent on killing this lone woman. Neither option seemed likely, so he withheld his opinion.
The cheeseburgers arrived still steaming hot from the mess grill. Dilara and Locke interrupted their discussion to dig into them.
“This is amazing,” Dilara said after one bite. “Am I delusional from the cold, or is this the best burger I’ve ever had?”
“Gotta keep the workers out here happy, so the ingredients are top-notch. They’re out here three weeks at a time. The company would have a riot on their hands if they served crummy food.”
Dilara chewed in silence. The food and coffee brought a brightness back to her eyes.
“You didn’t take the bait about me being delusional,” she said. “You think I am, don’t you?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think” Locke said. “You don’t seem delusional to me, but then again, I haven’t known you that long.”
“Are you going to help me?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking me to do.”
“I’m not either, but I know people are trying to kill me and that the secret to this whole thing will be revealed if we can find Noah’s Ark. You’re involved somehow. Sam was sure of it.”
Locke put up his right hand. “I swear I don’t know where Noah’s Ark is. Scout’s honor.” He couldn’t help but be slightly sarcastic. Or maybe excessively sarcastic. He wasn’t a good judge of his own level of sarcasm.
“Believe me, I get that. But whoever tried to kill me doesn’t want me to talk to you. There must be a reason.”
Locke sighed. She wouldn’t give up until he gave her something. “I’ll have my guys look into Coleman Consulting, but I have a job to finish here, and then I have to be in Europe in two days for another job.”
“You have to cancel it.”
“Listen, I’d like to help you…”
“What about the helicopter? You said yourself that the crash seemed odd.”
Locke shrugged. “It could have been some kind of explosive device, but it also could have been a fractured turbine blade or some other mechanical problem. The water here is over 1000 feet deep. It’ll take weeks, if not months, to recover the helicopter.”
“We don’t have that kind of time! It’s already Saturday night. Whatever is going to kill billions will be set in motion this coming Friday.”
“Look, you’re welcome to stay on board as long as you need. I’ve already okayed it with the rig manager. But if there’s no connection with Coleman, there’s nothing else I can do. You’ll have to take it up with the police.”
For this first time, discouragement crept into Dilara’s voice. “I already tried that in LA. They said Sam died of a heart attack, and they said the SUV that slammed into me was probably just a drunk driver.”
“Maybe he was.”
It was her turn to be sarcastic. About medium level. “So I see a man die in front of me, I get into a car accident that could have killed me, and then I barely escape a helicopter crash with my life, all in the span of three days? Come on. I can see you don’t believe that.”
Locke had to admit: this woman was tenacious. “I’ve never been a fan of coincidences, but I’ve seen them before. Still, that’s a nasty run of bad luck.”
“I’m not planning to play blackjack any time soon. I just need some help.”
Locke popped the last bite of his burger into his mouth and waited to speak until he finished it.
“Okay, I’ll check it out myself, but I can’t promise anything,” he said. “I’ll talk to John Coleman myself tomorrow. Maybe he knows something about this.”
“Thank you,” Dilara said, obviously relieved to have someone else on her side. Locke was interested to hear what Coleman had to say, but he didn’t expect much. His guess was that Sam Watson had been wrong about Locke. Perhaps it was John Coleman that was involved in all of this.
Dilara finished her burger, and the fatigue finally overtook her. Locke escorted her back to her cabin and told her he’d let her know the minute he heard anything, but since it was a Saturday, he didn’t expect any information until at least the next morning. Then he retired to his own cabin. Locke wanted to get some information about Coleman before he contacted him, so he sent an email back to Aiden MacKenna at Gordian’s Seattle headquarters, which was four and a half hours behind Newfoundland Time. After it went out over the rig’s wi-fi system, Locke passed out on his bunk, exhausted from the day’s events.
At 1:15 in the morning, a chime from his laptop woke him. Feeling rested from a few hours of sleep, he turned the computer towards him and saw that he had an instant message. It was from Aiden, Gordian’s top expert
