Slimer

‘What?’ asked Mark.

‘Genetic engineering. That’s what they’ve been doing here. And I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.’

Linda frowned. ‘I don’t get it. What would a genetic engineering lab be doing on an oil rig?’

‘Exactly,’ said Chris. ‘What are they trying to hide?’

Three

As they continued along the corridor Linda pointed out something they hadn’t noticed before. Suspended from the ceiling at regular intervals were more television cameras.

‘Whatever they were doing here they certainly had tight security,’ said Paul.

‘Maybe they’ve still got it,’ said Mark. ‘Maybe there’s someone at the end of those cameras. / feel like I’m being watched.’

‘Then why don’t they show themselves?’ asked Linda.

‘That’s the 64,000 dollar question,’ said Paul.

They checked the next room. It was another laboratory almost identical to the first. It was also empty. But, to their growing puzzlement, they did find more articles of discarded clothing. They were in three separate heaps — all male garments this time — and like before the underwear had been carefully placed inside the outer clothes. Even the socks were inside the shoes.

Paul felt baffled as he prodded through the clothes with a plastic ruler. ‘This is crazy…’ he muttered.

‘Weirdos. We’re dealing with weirdos here,’ said Alex.

‘It’s creepy,’ said Chris. She kept glancing nervously around, as if she expected something to jump out at them even though there was nowhere in the lab for anyone to hide.

Paul gave up his examination of the clothes. ‘This is getting us nowhere. Let’s move on.’

‘Wouldn’t it be better if we split up?’ said Alex.

‘No. I don’t think it’s a good idea,’

‘What’s the matter?’ sneered Alex. ‘Scared?’

Keeping control of his temper with an effort Paul said, ‘No. I just think we should all stick together until we know what the situation is here.’

Alex suddenly reached inside his shirt. There was a click and Paul found himself looking at a six inch switch-blade being held directly under his nose. ‘See, Mr Boss-Man, no need to worry. We run into anyone who tries to mess with us and I’ll take care of them with this.’

Paul couldn’t conceal his surprise. He had no idea that Alex was carrying the weapon. He’d never even seen it before. Would he have been so eager to pick arguments with Alex if he’d known, he wondered. One thing was certain — Alex was more than capable of using it on someone.

As calmly as he could he said, ‘Very impressive, Alex, but put it away before you hurt yourself. I’m sure you’re not going to need it.’

Alex’s eyes went hard. ‘You want to bet on that, Boss-Man?’

His meaning was obvious. It was a direct challenge but one that Paul had no choice but to ignore. Deliberately turning his back on Alex he headed for the door. ‘Let’s go,’ he said casually.

But despite this display of bravado the muscles in his back tightened with fear. He knew he was going to feel like this from now on whenever Alex was behind him.

There were another six laboratories on the top floor, all of them deserted. Five were similar to the first two but one of them — the largest — was full of sophisticated computer equipment and other elaborate-looking electronic devices. ‘There must be at least a hundred thousand pounds worth of gear in this lab alone,’ said Paul in wonder.

‘Yeah?’ said Alex, looking around with new interest.

‘Forget it, Alex. You wouldn’t be able to carry it very far anyway.’

Apart from the labs there were also a number of store rooms containing various scientific and medical supplies, and also a miniature power station housing two compact, diesel-powered generators. It, too, was deserted.

Finally they came to a communications room and it was here they received the first of a series of nasty surprises.

It had been completely wrecked. The expensive-looking transmitters had been smashed to pieces and the floor was littered with broken equipment. It was as if a bomb had gone off.

‘I guess we won’t be making any phone calls home,’ said Paul, surveying the grim scene.

‘Someone sure got pissed off in here,’ said Alex, ‘I wonder why.’

‘Hey, look at this!’ Rochelle was bending down and pulling something out from under a pile of debris. It was an automatic rifle.

Alex immediately rushed over and snatched it out of her hands. ‘Wow, it’s an M16!’ he cried excitedly. He began to examine its mechanism with practised hands, treating it like an old friend. But then it probably was, Paul realised. He remembered that Alex had spent some time in the US Army before being dishonourably discharged for dealing in drugs.

‘Is it in working order?’ Paul asked him, trying to hide his alarm.

‘Sure is.’ Alex pulled out the magazine. ‘And loaded too.’

‘It looks pretty light,’ said Paul, keeping his tone relaxed.

‘The stock and grip are made of hollow fibre glass. It don’t weigh much more than a.22,’ said Alex, pleased to show off his knowledge. ‘But it packs a hell of a bigger punch than a.22. It takes 5.63 ammo and you can fire it like an ordinary rifle, one round at a time, or you can put the selector on “Auto” like this…’ He demonstrated the selector on the side of the weapon, ‘. And fire off eighteen rounds in the blink of an eye. But that’s not wise ’cause the magazine only holds eighteen rounds. Best just to touch the trigger when it’s on “auto”, that way you get off a burst of about three bullets…’ He cocked the gun and then said, ‘Right, now it’s got one up the spout and is all ready and rarin’ to go.’

‘Fine,’ said Paul calmly. He held out his hand. ‘Now hand it over.’

Alex’s eyebrows shot upwards in surprise. ‘Are you kidding?’

‘No. I want that gun.’

Alex’s mouth took on an ugly line. ‘Tough shit.’ He swung the barrel around until it was pointing at Paul’s stomach. The atmosphere in the room became electric.

Then Mark cried, ‘Hey, I’ve found another one!’

Paul turned to see Mark pulling a second M16 from under an overturned chair. He reached out for it. Mark was about to hand it over to him when Alex rasped, ‘Don’t give it to him!’

Mark froze.

‘Ignore him,’ said Paul with the same calm voice. ‘Give me the gun, Mark.’ Inside he was a turmoil of nerves. His body tensed, waiting for the crash of Alex’s M16 and the mule-kick of the bullet. Mark slowly extended the gun to him. Paul took hold ofit.

There was no gun shot.

Paul checked to see if his weapon was loaded, studiously ignoring Alex. When he saw it was loaded he looked at Alex and smiled at him. ‘Well?’

With a scowl Alex lowered his M16. Paul felt a great wave of relief wash over him. A crisis had been averted — for the time being.

Chris gave a nervous laugh, ‘Oh good. Now both the big men have a toy each and we can all relax.’

. ‘Shut your dumb mouth, you stupid cow,’ snarled Alex.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, why can’t we stop all this fighting among ourselves and concentrate on finding out what happened here,’ said Linda angrily. ‘For a start I’d like to know what weapons like those are doing on an oil rig.’

‘Well, we already know it’s no ordinary oil rig,’ said Paul, thankful for Linda’s contribution.

‘Hey, you guys. More clothes!’ It was Rochelle, holding up what appeared to be the jacket of some sort of uniform. It was dark blue but covered with several rust-like stains.