The man snorted. “Not at my level, they don’t. Come on, we’re close to the medical room. I’ll get you some painkillers. You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own. Big rig can be a dangerous place if you don’t know your way around. You could walk right off an open-ended platform and fall into the sea. It’s happened before. My name’s Craig, by the way. I’m in charge when they close down for a storm.”
Garrett followed him out and down the hall. “How many are still on board?” he asked.
“Just three. You met the other two. Keeps us pretty busy making sure everything’s battened down during high winds. Shouldn’t bloody be here at all. Too dangerous, but the storm track veered from projections.”
“What happens if the main brunt of it strikes you directly?”
“You don’t want to know. More than one rig has toppled off its piers in a blow like this.”
Like the other two men, Craig wore blue coveralls and a hard hat. He stopped at a cabinet long enough to pull out another helmet and hand it to Garrett.
“Keep this on whenever you’re outside. Things fall from great heights around here even on completely still days.”
“Thanks.”
Next stop was a room that held a small operating table with what looked to Garrett like state-of-the-art equipment.
“Pretty impressive,” he commented.
Craig shrugged. He was a big, muscular fellow, maybe thirty-five years old, not your typical donut-eating security guard, Garrett thought. “We’re only forty minutes by chopper from the hospital in Sherbrooke, but the chopper can’t come in high winds. We have to be ready to treat injuries on our own, everything from acute appendicitis to amputations, if necessary.”
Garrett whistled. “That ever happened?”
“Not on this rig. We’re still pretty new, but I’ve been on other rigs where it has.”
Craig rummaged through a cabinet and came out with a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol. “Here you go,” he said. “Now I’ll take you back to your room.”
Though Craig was friendly, even affable, Garrett got the distinct impression the man didn’t want him wandering around on his own. For his own safety? Perhaps. But it felt like something more than that.
24
T
HE TYLENOL HELPED WITH HIS
leg pain and he fell into a fitful sleep. It was still dark when he woke for the second time. He lay listening to the wind howl through the rig’s superstructure. The platform was alive with sounds, the banshee wail of the wind, creaking and swaying metal parts, periodic banging sounds as though loosened panels or walkways were being whipped about and slammed into the steel frame.
It was all disconcerting, yet Garrett felt nothing but relief that he was no longer out in that awful maelstrom in a plastic boat. He got up and strapped his foot on. It seemed to be working more or less normally. The hours in front of a heater had helped dry it out. It was a resilient bit of technology.
He headed out the door to his room, then stopped and went back for his helmet. Craig was right about that. It sounded like parts were falling from great heights all over the rig.
Out in the open, the wind seemed to be decreasing. He made his way to the more luxurious part of the rig that he’d stumbled upon earlier. He’d been unable to reconcile the room he’d seen. It was simply not the sort of thing any oil rig might have. It intrigued him. He wondered how many such rooms there were.
When he reached the higher-class accommodations, he moved along the plushly carpeted halls, looking into one room after another. There were at least a dozen rooms all more or less like the first one he’d seen. It was astonishing. Then he found himself in a large lounge area with thick leather couches, a bar along one wall, and a pool table. Double doors led to a dining room that looked like a miniature version of something out of the
Titanic
, with a large crystal chandelier and tables set with white linen.
What on earth was going on here? No oil corporation was going to treat their roughnecks to such accommodations. Could it be some sort of show rig, designed to fete high-level oil executives who wanted to tour their facilities?
The first streaks of daylight appeared on the horizon.
He looked at his watch, but it still wasn’t working. The salt water had probably done it in for good. It had to be nearing six in the morning. The storm clouds must be diminishing to allow light to come through.
He didn’t want to annoy his saviors any more than necessary. They’d been good to him. He made his way back to his own room and had been there just a few minutes before there was a rap on the door. He opened it to find one of the first two men he had encountered.
“Breakfast—if you’re interested,” he said.
Garrett followed the man to a small dining room off an even smaller galley. There was no crystal chandelier and no linen. Instead, Craig and the other man sat at a wooden table eating bacon and eggs. Craig got up when he saw them and went into the galley and came back almost immediately with a plate for Garrett. It contained hash browns and a muffin along with the eggs and bacon. He put the plate on the table and nodded at a coffee pot.
“Help yourself,” he said. “Sleep all right?”
Garrett sat gratefully and dug into the eggs. “Like a baby once I had the painkiller. Thanks. Though I guess I woke up a couple of times. There was a lot of noise.”
“You got that right. We’ve been tying things down all night. You’d think they made this bloody rig with parts from Costco.”
“Some of the rooms I saw hardly came from Costco,” Garrett said. “Hilton Hotels maybe.”
The men looked away.
Craig said, “This rig is state of the art. Whole new concept, really. They bring the chief executives here to show it off. I hear the company has received orders for four similar platforms. Two of them are in Colombia.”
Garrett nodded. It was just barely plausible, but he wasn’t buying it. Still, if they wanted to stick to the company line, he wasn’t going to argue.
“Any luck with your communications yet?” he asked.
“Yes,” Craig replied. “I managed to contact the Coast Guard and they’re sending a boat to pick you up. They were pretty excited to hear you were all right.”
“Did they say anything about the man who was with me?”
“Yes, I spoke to him. Name of Tom Whitman. He was pretty relieved.”
As if to affirm the words, they heard the piercing wail of a boat horn.
Craig looked at his watch. “Made good time. Wind must be dying down.”
Garrett followed Craig down a warren of levels and walkways all the way to the ladder leading down to the platform where he had landed. He watched the Coast Guard cutter pull up and tie off. Tom jumped onto the deck, looked up and waved. Garrett saw Sarah holding onto the boat railing and she waved also.
He went down the ladder quickly, leaving Craig to follow. As soon as Garrett reached the bottom he turned and said in a low voice, “No need to mention I’m RCMP, Tom.” His look took in Sarah and the other boatman, both of whom heard him as well. Tom gave the slightest nod of his head, and then Craig was standing beside them.
“I’ll give you a hand with that,” he said, reaching down and untying the kayak. They passed it onto the boat, where Sarah secured it to the railing.
“Well,” Garrett said, putting out his hand. “Thanks hardly seems adequate. I’d be halfway to Ireland by now … or halfway to Davy Jones’s locker if not for you. Either way, I’m in your debt.”
Craig shook hands and gave him a little salute. “Glad to be of assistance, mate,” he said. “Might check the weather report next time you go for a joy ride.”
“I’ll do that,” said Garrett.
Ten minutes later they were a hundred yards off the rig and Garrett sat on a bench holding Sarah’s hand.
“Hope I didn’t give you too big a scare,” he said.
She squeezed his hand tightly. “I had you in your grave, Garrett. Damned fool thing to do, going out in that storm.” He could see her eyes well up. He leaned in and kissed her. “I know,” he said softly. “We didn’t expect it. The one thing that kept me going when I was exhausted was the thought I’d never see you again.” To Tom he said, “Why don’t you take a GPS reading on the rig?”
Tom took out his device. “You planning a return visit? I’d say you already used up at least eight of your nine lives last night.”
Garrett glanced at Sarah. “I just think it would be nice to put that thing on the charts for the next idiot who comes along.” But he gave Tom a look that suggested a greater explanation was to come.
25
A
S THEY APPROACHED THE WHARF,
Garrett saw Roland’s scallop boat getting ready to go out. When Roland saw them, he throttled the engine down and retied the boat up against the dock.
“Jest headin’ out to look fer ya,” he said. “Heard ya got yeself in a fix.”
Garrett nodded. “Appreciate it, Roland. I really do.”
For all his bombast and complaining, Roland was a man of the sea and would go out for any man who was lost. Garrett knew this and it was one thing about his old nemesis that he admired. That and maybe his carpentry skills.
They left Roland and Tom talking on the wharf and Garrett and Sarah walked to Sarah’s house. When they arrived, Lonnie emerged from a car sitting in the driveway.
“Any luck with the girls?” Sarah asked.
He nodded. “Found them at Big Margaret’s. You were right about that, Garrett.” He stared at his cousin. “You look like something a rat dragged in. What the hell happened?”
“Long story,” Garrett said. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. Where are the girls now?”
“I dropped Ayesha at her family’s store. Her father didn’t say a word to me, just pulled the poor girl inside. I wasn’t happy leaving her there, I can tell you. Lila’s inside, probably asleep.”
“Did they say why they did it?” Sarah asked.
He shrugged. “I think Lila was showing off to her new friend. You know, showing her the big city and all. Someone from Sweet Angels apparently saw them and before they knew it they were hustled off to Big Margaret’s. God knows what would have happened if I hadn’t shown up when I did. Big Margaret was glad to let them go when I said I worked for you, Garrett. Seems you put the fear of God into her on your last visit. She didn’t want anything to do with you … not for a couple of girls she can probably replace in a Halifax minute.”
Garrett knew it wasn’t any fear he had put into Big Margaret but rather the appearance of Lonnie on her doorstep that explained the girls’ release. The sight of Lonnie was usually enough to give anyone religion. “Good work, Lon. Thanks.”
Lonnie nodded, then yawned. “I’m as beat as you look, chasing two wayward teens across half the province. I’m going to bed. Let me know if you hear anything about how Ayesha is doing.”
Inside, they found a sheepish-looking Lila sitting at the table sipping from a stoneware mug. Before Garrett could say a word, she said, “I’m soooo stupid! I don’t know what got into me. I’ve been locked up at Lloyd’s stupid au naturel preserve for so long I was desperate to get back to the city. It was stupid and stupider to take Ayesha. Her father’s going to kill her.”
Sarah filled two more mugs and they sat down with her.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said, taking the girl’s hand. “And I’m glad you weren’t heading straight for Big Margaret’s on your own.”
“God, no!” Lila said. “I didn’t think I’d have any trouble keeping away from there. It’s a freaking city, you know? But one of Big Margaret’s girls happened to see us on the waterfront and before I knew it, we were thrown into a car and taken back to Sweet Angels.”
She started to shake, and Garrett realized she was crying, her tough facade crumbling. “I … I was never so scared. I thought they might kill us. I think it’s the first time I realized I didn’t want to go back to that life. And instead, I’d delivered Ayesha right to them. Big Margaret examined Ayesha all over. Made her strip down and everything. The poor kid was terrified. She would have been put in conditioning that very night if your cousin hadn’t shown up.”
“All right,” Sarah said, stroking the girl’s hair. “You’re safe now.” She looked at Garrett. “Can’t you do something to put that awful woman out of business?”
“I can, and I will,” Garrett said. “But it’s important now to try to tie all these elements together. Maybe we can bring down more than just Big Margaret. Lloyd’s in this somehow and Madame Liu and who knows who else.” He looked at Lila. “Did you get a sense whether Ayesha was being abused at home?”
“It’s abuse in my book,” said Lila. “She’s nothing but a slave. They don’t let her have friends or go to school. The only reason she got to come here was ’cause her dad thought she could make some money.”
Garrett looked troubled. “Anything … more direct?”
“You mean sex?” said Lila. “No. Her father isn’t sexually molesting her. I think when Big Margaret stripped her down it was the first time Ayesha had ever been naked in front of anyone. She was so mortified.”
“What difference does that make, Garrett?” Sarah said. “Lila told you how that poor girl is treated at home.”
He shook his head. “It’s a cultural question. I’ve talked to the woman in charge of many of these cases in Halifax. Absent direct sexual abuse, there’s nothing I can do. Muslim girls are raised differently and the courts have held that the government can’t get involved. Keeping Ayesha home for home schooling, making her conform to her family’s religious beliefs, and having her work in a family-owned business is just not something open to legal redress.”
Lila stared at him. “It’s legalized slavery,” she said. “That totally sucks!”
“I know. Life isn’t fair. That’s not something I have to tell you, Lila.”
“No way her father’s going to let her come back here to work,” Lila said. “No matter how much you pay her. Not after what happened.” She stared at Garrett with those big brown eyes. He could see the hurt in them for her new friend, but also for herself. “I suppose this means I have to go back to Lloyd’s, right?” She shivered at the thought.
Sarah looked at Garrett with indignation on her face. He held up a hand to forestall her.