Offshore (16 page)

“
Talk me through it, Matt. What tripped the alarm?” he
said.

Shaw
pointed to one particular status panel, flickering a gentle shade
of green.

“
When I got here, the inclinometer alert was flashing red
and beeping fit to bust,” he explained. “It showed the rig listing
at 10 degrees to starboard, which is a fair old slope and would
mean that at least two of the anchors had come adrift. I knew it
couldn’t be right because I would have been walking uphill all the
way.”

Eddie
took a second to appreciate his surroundings, trusting his
instinct. Everything was as it should be; as level as it could be
under the circumstances.

“
Go on,” he said.

“
I asked the computer to recheck. It had a little think and
then came back with normal across the board. Green lights
everywhere. All anchors are in place. All movement within accepted
tolerance. We’re as steady as a rock … well, as good
as.”

“
Aye, a rock made of jelly. Thanks Matt. Good job.” Eddie
then scrubbed at his cheeks and blew out a breath.

A
frowning Shaw picked up on his boss’s frustration. “Wassup skip?
Crisis is over … unless there’s some other problem?”

“
Oh, there’s a problem alright.” Eddie put out a hand at
approximately Lydia’s height. “It’s about yay big, and gobby with
it.” Sigh. “You can stand down now, Matt. Get some sleep. Busy day
tomorrow.”

“
Don’t think I could sleep,” said Shaw, unzipping his suit.
“I feel like I’ve just had ten thousand volts up my arse. I haven’t
felt this wired since–” Cough. “Well … you know?”

Since what? Sex? Drugs? Rock and roll?

Eddie
let it hang unexplained. “Me too,” he said, and made to leave.
“'Night, Matt. Don’t forget to put the lights out. Save the
leccy.”

“
Will do. ‘Night boss. Oh, boss.”

Eddie
turned back. “Yeah?”

“
You wouldn’t have gone without me … would you?”

“
You know the drill, Matt,” said Eddie, deadpan. “Fifteen
minutes flat. No exceptions.”

Shaw’s
face folded with disappointment, unfolding again when Eddie winked
and grinned at him. Eddie would never leave a man
behind.

Chapter 18

Cameron
exited the lifeboat first to return to the locker room and get out
of his restrictive orange suit, to let fresh air circulate around
his sweating nervous limbs, and also clear away the residual odour
of his flatulent outbreak. The rest followed, Euterich/Reynolds
outwardly giving the impression of being as relieved at the next
man at not having been pitched into the sea, yet inwardly cursing
his continued incarceration.

Oh how
he would have welcomed the chance to get away from here, no matter
how it was achieved. He couldn’t bear to spend another day in this
body, with this mind, having to behave the way he did in the
company of these fools.

He
needed to get off - with Lydia. If he could get away from here his
chances of having her all to himself without having to leapfrog
through the others would be so much better.

Where
was she now? Still in the boat?

He stole
back to the hatch and peered in, to see Brewer leaning over her,
stroking her hair and speaking gently to her. What the hell was he
doing to her? Touching her up?

No. He
looked worried. Was there something wrong with her? “Can I have a
little help in here please?” Brewer called, confirming
it.

Euterich
poked his head through the hatch. “What’s up?”

“
It’s Lydia, Miss Ellis … she’s spark out. I think she
banged her head when Mr Capstan tossed her in here. We need to get
her to sickbay. Help me get her out of here will you.”

Euterich clambered back down into the boat to see for
himself what had happened to
his
woman. If Capstan was responsible, he was going to
pay for it.

Hampered
by their suits, it took both men to manoeuvre the insensate Lydia
out of the hatch and up the ramp. However, once in the more
spacious corridor, Euterich took control, carrying her with ease
the rest of the way to Sickbay.

Brewer
trailed along behind, unable to see the expression of pure delight
on the younger man’s face as he held Lydia close, her face nestled
against his neck, her warm breath on his skin, his heightened sense
of smell picking up every kind of conflicting aroma from her,
creating in his mind an image constructed of scent.

In the
medical bay Euterich laid his charge tenderly on the examination
bed, but did not wholly relinquish contact with her, keeping a firm
hold of a cold hand while Brewer worked quickly and efficiently,
using his first aid training to check her breathing and pulse -
both strong and regular. Already a large purple bruise was
beginning to bloom on the right side of her forehead.

“
Taken quite a knock,” Brewer observed.

As well
as a powerful whistle and locator strobe lights, every suit also
had a waterproof torch the size and shape of a pen attached to it,
and Brewer used his to shine a narrow bright beam into Lydia’s
eyes.

“
Pupils are reacting quickly and evenly, as they should,” he
said.

When he
unzipped her suit to check for other injuries, Euterich could
hardly suppress a gasp of pleasure. He had expected to see skin
tight navy blue thermal undergarments, not naked flesh.

Brewer
claimed he could see no other bumps or bruises, while Euterich took
in a long look at the glorious pale orbs of her breasts, forbidden
fruits encased in pure white lace. Brewer declared himself
satisfied that no major harm had been done to her and zipped up her
suit again, to maintain her dignity if nothing else. Euterich could
barely disguise his disappointment.

Lydia
moaned and swallowed, and her hand went to the bruise on her head,
testing it gingerly with a fingertip. She moaned again, opened her
eyes to look at the ceiling, and after a few rapid blinks swivelled
them to focus on Brewer and Euterich looking down on her with
expressions of intense concern; one real, one manufactured to hide
another of pure animal lust.

“
Take it easy,” said Brewer. “You’ve had a nasty bump to
your head.”

“
Yeah, you were out cold,” chipped in Euterich.

She
tried to sit up. “I can’t move. Why can’t I move?”

“
You’re still in your immersion suit. It’s awkward. Let me
help you.” Brewer offered her a hand and eased her into a sitting
position. She gripped the edge of the mattress to steady herself.
“Dizzy?” he asked, concerned it might be a symptom she had a
concussion.

“
No,” she said. “I’m okay. What happened? There was a lot of
noise and flashing lights–”

“
That would be the abandon ship alarm. We were scrambling
for the lifeboats, but when Mr Capstan noticed you weren’t with us,
he came back to find you, in case you got lost. He got you to the
Duck and put you in –”

“
Duck?”

“
A silly nickname for a lifeboat,” said Euterich, keen to
impress her.

“
Actually, he wanted you to stay where you were after we
stood down,” said Brewer. “I think he wanted to speak to you. I
don’t think he realised you’d hit your head.”

She
looked down at herself, her suit creased around her like a deflated
orange Michelin man.

“
So I can take this off then?” she said, reaching for the
zipper.

“
Yes. The emergency is over. We’ll leave you to it.” He put
his hand to Euterich’s back. “Come along, Mr Reynolds. Let’s give
the lady some privacy.”

They
reached the door just as Lydia’s zipper reached her navel. An
unexpectedly cold draught wafted over the bare skin of her stomach
and she yelped and shot the zipper back up to her throat at double
speed.

The
noise of both squeal and zip turned the men’s heads, and the
exchange of glances spoke for all of them. All three of them knew
she was all but naked underneath the suit. Silent accusations
flew.

How much
had they seen? How far had they gone? Had they taken advantage of
her insensibility to have a quick grope? The Prof? Never. He was a
gentleman. What about Reynolds? She couldn’t trust him as far as
she could spit him.

A flush
of embarrassment crept up Brewer’s neck, becoming more evident by
the second.

“
I … tried not to look … too much, but I couldn’t really
help it,” he admitted. “I had to make sure you weren’t injured …
elsewhere.”

“
Am I?”

Cough.
“No.”

She
turned to Euterich. “What about you? Did you get an eyeful
too?”

He dragged his licentious eyes away from her chest and onto
her face, opening his mouth to voice his appreciation, when the
sickbay door whooshed open to the limit of its hinges, its handle
knocking a metal dish off the worktop and onto the floor with an
ear ringing
clang.

Angry
boots stamped across the linoleum to the trio, carrying in them a
furious Eddie Capstan, face the colour of freshly fired
brick.

“
You two. Out!” He jabbed a finger at Lydia. “You! I told
you to stay where you were!”

“
If I can explain, Mr Capstan,” Brewer interjected. “It was
a medical–”

“
I don’t want to know!”

Eddie
dipped his head toward the door, giving the men their silent
instruction. They were to leave, now, and stay not on their going.
Explanations would have to wait. Brewer did not hesitate. Euterich
took too long in moving.

“
GET OUT!” Eddie yelled, all the while glaring at Lydia,
fury in his eyes, his mouth purse-lipped above a tensely jutted
jaw.

The door
swished shut behind them.

“
Care to explain yourself?” he growled through clenched
teeth.

She said
nothing in the face of his fury, merely looked at him with an air
of calmness that only served to inflame his anger.

“
What the hell were you playing at, you stupid woman? You
could have had us both killed!”

She
touched the bump rising on her forehead, and winced. “Yet I’m the
one who seems to be hurt.”

Until
then, Eddie hadn’t noticed the injury. Had he done that when he
pushed her in the hatch? A momentary twinge of guilt stabbed him,
and then vanished.

“
I–! You–!” He threw up his arms in despair. “What in God’s
name were you thinking?” He doinked his fingers off the side of his
head. “What was going on in that tiny little pea brain of yours
that made you think you could ignore an abandon ship
alarm?”

“
I didn’t ig–”

“
Were you drunk?”

“
What? Of course not–”

“
You looked drunk, you sounded drunk - slurring your words
and reeling all over the place.”

“
I was
not
drunk.”

“
If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck–”

“
I was NOT drunk!”

“
Then what the hell were you, because you were NOT in your
right mind?”

“
If you’d let me get a word in edgewise–”

“
Drugs! That’s it! You were high on something. Jesus Christ!
What was it? What did you take? Smack? E? Meth? Helped yourself to
something from the cabinet, did you?”

“
Will you stop it!”

He
pushed his face close to hers. “Not until you tell me what you
took?”

She folded her arms and narrowed her eyes. “As you’ve
already gone off in half cocked hysteria and leapt to your own
conclusions, why don’t
you
tell
me
.” She leaned forward. “Enlighten me, do, with your own
inestimable wisdom.”

Eddie
backed off, eyes glistening with righteous indignation, jaw pulsing
with agitation.

Silence.

“
I thought so,” she said, and climbed off the medical table.
“Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to get out of this suit and slip
into something a little more comfortable.”

She
slopped silently around the room in search of her clothes, finding
her trainers on the floor in the office, her overalls draped over
the back of a chair, one sock in the waste bin, another in the sink
and her T shirt slung carelessly on top of the filing cabinet. She
collected them together in a bundle and dumped them on the couch
behind the modesty screen.

“
Help me off with this will you,” she said, unzipping the
suit to her crotch and turning her back.

Eddie
held the suit steady by its shoulders while she wriggled her arms
and torso free. When he let go, the suit dropped down her legs and
she stepped out of it like a butterfly from its chrysalis, her pale
skin cold and lumpy, like a freshly plucked chicken.

He made
a deliberate show of averting his eyes while she gathered up the
suit and dumped it in a heap on the examination table, risking only
a quick glimpse before she slipped behind the screen to
dress.