Offshore (15 page)

Only
Reynolds/Euterich seemed unfazed by the furore.

“
Everyone got their passports and wallets on them?” said
Eddie, his raised voice clamouring for a moment of their
attention.

There
would be no levity, argument or dissension here, and without
interruption to the flow of activity everyone looked to the
presence of the clear plastic waterproof document package they
carried around their necks at all times.

Up rose
a unified cry. “Yes sir!” Except a small light voice, one made
conspicuous by its absence, one whose owner should have been
filling the small suit still hanging limp on its hangar.

“
Where’s Miss Ellis! Has anyone seen Lydia Ellis?” called
Eddie.

The men
paused momentarily, looked at each other and then at Eddie, their
blank expressions and shaking heads making it obvious none of them
had.

“
Shit!” The recording called out its instruction once more,
as if anyone needed reminding. “Yes okay, I heard you the first
time,” Eddie yelled at it.

He grabbed Shaw by the arm and put his mouth close to the
man’s ear, having to shout to make himself heard over the constant
nerve jangling
awoooogah
of the klaxon.

“
Matt, get up to the control room and see what the hell the
alarm is all about. None of us did anything, so it needs checking
out. It might be genuine, it might be a glitch. If it’s for real,
take ten seconds to make sure the automated distress signal has
been activated, and then get yourself to number one Duck pronto.
Don’t stop for anyone or anything on the way, got it?”

“
Got it. And if it’s just a glitch?”

“
Then I trust you’ll let me
know
before
Jock pulls the lever.”

“
Yes sir. Stupid question. Sorry sir.”

“
No matter. On your way mate. The clock is
ticking.”

“
Yes sir.”

When
Shaw had gone, Eddie turned to McAllister, their appointed
coxswain. “You up to this, Jock?”

“
You can count on me boss.”

“
Good man. You’re in charge of the Duck until I get there.
Make sure everyone is properly strapped in, fire her up and keep
your hand on that launch lever ready to go. If I’m not there in ten
minutes flat, you go without me.”

“
I’ll wait for you, don’t worry, boss.”

“
The hell you will! Ten minutes, you go, that’s an order.
Got it?”

McAllister nodded reluctantly. “Yes sir. Where are you going
to be?”

“
I’m going to find that bloody woman! We’ve lost one crew
member already, no way am I going to lose anyone else, especially a
female.” He clapped a friendly reassuring hand on Jock’s shoulder,
hoping it wouldn’t turn into a farewell, turned and ran along the
corridor as fast as his heavy rubber boots would carry him, each
step taking him further from the lifeboat and safety.

As he
ran, he felt for the on/off switch on his radio, and nudged it into
place. Shaw would be almost at the control room by now and he
should hear from him soon, one way or the other. His imperative now
was to find the errant medic and haul her sorry arse to the
lifeboat, whether she wanted to go or not.

He
reached sickbay and burst through the door, the calling of her name
drowned by the alert repeating itself. “Lydia!” He could not see
her in the main room. “Lydia!” He headed for the office. “Lydia
Ellis! You in here?”

“
Here I am, Eddie.”

Thank
God!

He
followed the voice to the couch behind the modesty screen where
Lydia Ellis lay stretched out full length, wearing nothing but the
tiniest plain white panties and matching bra, one arm tucked behind
her head, the other lying against the flat of her stomach, chestnut
hair loose over her shoulders as if she were posing for a portrait.
She tented one leg and smiled demurely. “Hello Eddie.”

Eddie
gaped at her. “What … what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he
squeaked, his voice falsetto with disbelief and anger.

“
What do you mean?”

He
jabbed a finger toward the klaxon blaring in the corridor outside.
“That noise … those lights … we have to abandon the rig …
NOW!”

“
Is that what it means,” she said, her calmness the polar
opposite to his agitation. “It is very loud. I can feel the
vibrations in my tummy. It tickles.” She snatched at his hand and
pressed it to her belly. “Can you feel it?”

Eddie
yanked his hand free. “What? No! Hell’s teeth woman, stop buggering
about and get dressed. We have exactly …” He glanced at his watch,
“Seven minutes before Jock pulls the lever and launches the
lifeboat. After that, we’re screwed. If the rig is going down,
we’re going down with it.”

“
I don’t want to go,” she said. “I want to stay here. It’s
comfy.”

Sighing
deeply, she smiled seductively as she moved her fingertips slowly
over her right breast, over skin glistening with cold perspiration,
eyes like shiny black buttons glittering from a face which was both
pale yet flushed.

Eddie’s
eyes followed the hand’s progress across the swell of pale flesh
and the small mouse’s nose of a nipple pressing against the crisp
white cotton of her brassiere. He unconsciously licked his suddenly
dry lips.

“
Like what you see, Teddy Edward?” she said. “Do you want
it?”

The
uncomfortable rushing sound in his ears and the tingling in his
groin answered for him - the initial rush of adrenaline combined
with a quick silver flood of testosterone equalled a double whammy
of unwelcome effects – an uncomfortably hammering heart rate and a
rush of blood to his nether regions.

Five
minutes.

“
Sod this for a game of soldiers,” he said, regaining
control of his reason and wrestling his long neglected libido into
submission. He grabbed her arm, recoiling against the wet seaweed
clamminess of her skin, tugging her to her bare feet. “Get yourself
down to the locker room, get into your suit and get into the
fucking lifeboat!”

“
No!” She dug in her heels and stood her ground, and so
began a fruitless tug of war. “I want to have sex,” she said.
“Right here, right now.”

“
What?!”

“
And you do too. I can tell.” She thrust her hand into his
crotch to feel how much he wanted it. “Yes you do.”

Yes he
did.

He
removed her hand. “Another time, maybe, when we’re not staring
Death in the face. Now move.”

“
Is that a promise?” She tilted her chin. “I shan’t go
unless you promise–”

Eddie
gritted his teeth. “For the love of Christ woman, I won’t tell you
again, move-your-arse, or I’ll–”

“
You’ll what? Move it for me?”

“
Don’t make me–”

“
You wouldn’t dare–”

“
Wouldn’t I just?”

“
No!”

“
Right! You asked for it!”

He
yanked the half naked woman to him, tossed her over his shoulder in
a classic fireman’s lift, turned and stamped his way at a brisk
pace through the swing doors, down the corridor to the
stairwell.

She
battered her small hands against his back. “Put me down right now
Eddie Capstan or I’ll have you for kidnap and sexual assault.
I’ll–!”

“
Shut yer yap!” She writhed and fidgeted, her damp flesh
slippery against his suit. He held on tighter. “Keep still you
stupid woman or I’ll drop you.”

She wriggled ferociously. “Then put me
down
!”

A full
handed slap against the round of her buttock made her squeal and
stilled the frenetic squirming. There then followed every variation
of foul mouthed promise of how she was going to separate him from
his wedding tackle with a rusty blade, most of which, thankfully,
were drowned out by the continuing klaxon blare.

Four
minutes.

The
steep stairs presented a problem.

Eddie could not hold onto Lydia
and
the rail, and if her sweaty fidgety state
unbalanced him, both of them would end up at the bottom with broken
necks. Reluctantly he set her on her feet, grabbed her by her wrist
and half dragged her, resisting all the way, down the steps and the
rest of the way to the locker room.

Three
minutes remaining and still no word from Shaw. No matter. He knew
the drill, he had his instructions; he would have to take care of
himself.

They
reached the locker room. Not stopping to catch his breath Eddie
seized Lydia’s suit off the hanger, practically lifted her into it
and zipped it up to her throat. No time to spare to fit her
thermals.

Threats
of violence and retaliation continued to rattle from her like a
verbal Gatling gun, and he’d had enough of the ranting.

“
Sit
down
and shut yer
gob
!” he ordered, and pushed her down onto the slatted
bench.

“
Don’t shout at me you horrible man,” she said, bobbing back
to her feet. “I’m going to report you for manhandling me and for
swearing at me. You, sir, have a dirty fucking mouth–”

“
SIT!” He pressed her shoulders, forcing her back down.
There she sat in furious silence, her face contorted into the
frowning cat’s bum pout of a petulant child as he fastened her into
her boots. “Come on,” he said, jerking her to her feet
again.

She
swayed slightly, her ghostly white face carrying high spots of
colour on her cheeks, and an expression of utter contempt. “I’m
going to file a complaint to your superiors,” she slurred. “You’ll
be lucky not to end up in jail–”

“
Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Eddie grabbed her by the hand.
“Shift yer carcass. We’ve got about a minute left.” Once more they
were on the move and this time, thankfully, without her
babbling.

One
minute to take two flights of stairs to the lifeboat deck, and
sprint the fifty yards of gangway and down the ramp before Jock
McAllister sealed the hatch and released the boat from its moorings
to free-fall sixty metres nose first into the sea.

They
weren’t going to make it.

He ran,
towing the stumbling orange form behind him. When she fell over her
own boots, he hardly paused in his stride, hauling her to her feet
and dragging her along.

“
Come ON!”

And
there it was - the hatch, and safety. His radio crackled at his
shoulder.

“
Guv! You there? You haven’t gone yet have you?”

“
Get in!”

He
pushed Lydia through the rear door of the lifeboat and she
disappeared into it like a rabbit down a hole. He then took up his
radio, yelling into it over the continuing cacophony. “Where the
hell are you, Matt? What’s going on? Over.”

In
answer to his question the red lights stopped turning in their
upended glass bells and the klaxon fell silent, although it
continued to echo in his ears until his brain registered it had
stopped.

“
It’s okay, Guv. It’s a false
alarm,”
said Shaw.
“There’s nothing wrong. Don’t launch the boat.”

“
You need to be absolutely sure, Matt. Over.” Eddie realised
his voice had a fraught edge to it and made a conscious effort to
calm it down.

“
I’m sure,”
said Shaw.
“We don’t need to abandon ship.
Everything’s okay. Stop the launch!”

He had
to trust Matt’s judgement and started yelling at McAllister before
his head poked through the hatch. “Jock! Stop the launch. I repeat
NO LAUNCH!”

McAllister, right hand on the steering wheel, left hand
hovering over the launch handle, looked for confirmation of the
order, as did the rest of the crew, all strapped snugly into their
rear facing seats by five point harnesses, all except a startlingly
pale Lydia, still fumbling with hers.

“
Shut down the Duck and secure her, Jock,” Eddie said
calmly. “We’re not going anywhere. It was a false alarm. I’m going
up to the control room to see for myself, but you can all stand
down.” He pointed sharply at a glassy eyed Lydia. “Except you,
madam. You stay right where you are.”

As per
drill regulations, the crew had to wait until McAllister shut down
the motor and deluge pump, and depressurised the vessel.

With
everything secure, he gave them the nod to free themselves from
their restraints. The sense of relief was palpable, and smellable
when Cameron let rip a fart so loud and noxious, even his suit
could not contain it.

“
What?” he said, innocently. “None of youse ever had nervous
gas?”

The
tension shattered, harnesses were released and hands were waved in
front of faces to disperse an appalling smell of part digested
onions and cheese that wasn’t far short of being
weaponised.

In the
control room, Eddie found Shaw writing up the event in the
daybook.