EMP Sabotage, page 18
“So we’re both a disappointment to the people we want to impress the most,” Stella said, shoving the mechanical parts deep down into the backpack. The pocket was getting pretty full.
“Yep, that’s about the size of it,” Curtis said, shutting the hatch on the lift motor. “I helped my dad rebuild this boat. I thought it would show him that I’m capable. Not just capable, but willing. I’m not one of those kids who resents having to take over the family business. I want to do it, and I can do it.”
“Well, the boat seems like it’s in good shape,” Stella said, looking around. “You guys did a good job on it.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t have an anchor anymore, and it’s not going to be hauling any large nets of fish without its arm here. But as a vessel that floats? Yeah, it’ll do. How’s your backpack? Is it getting too heavy?”
She showed him the bulging pocket.
“Do you want me to carry that?” he asked.
Stella shook her head. “Nah, I like to carry it. It’s sort of comforting.”
“I understand.” He took the baseball cap off his head and held it up. “That’s pretty much the same reason I wear this thing all the time, even when I’m indoors. Anyway, I think we’ve got about as much as we can carry. Shall we head back up?”
“Sure,” she said.
As he rose, he gave her a brief, awkward smile. “Hey, this was fun, don’t you think?” He had a nice smile. It made his eyes squinch up ever so slightly.
“It was fun,” Stella replied.
“Okay, before we head up, I think there’s one more thing we should do. Something that will ensure our boat doesn’t drift away.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’ll show you.”
He led her to the front of the boat, where a loose length of anchor chain was coiled on the deck. They took a moment to wrap the anchor chain through a gap in the support post. They tied it off as best they could, hoping it would keep the boat securely in place. Then they shoved a couple of boat bumpers between the hull and the post to prevent further damage to the hull.
“At least we know we have an escape option, if we need one,” Stella said.
“Yep, I just wish there was some way to rebuild an engine for the boat, since the EMP fried the last one,” Curtis said, adjusting his hat and stepping back to admire their handiwork.
“Maybe there is,” Stella said. “If we put our minds together.”
“Maybe so,” he said. “Come on.”
And with that he headed to the lift. Stella was so invigorated by their secret adventure that she dared to keep her eyes open on the way back up. Somehow, it wasn’t as intimidating as she’d thought it would be. She saw ocean stretching out forever around them and felt a surge of excitement rather than fear.
This was a little like going on a date, she thought. I wonder if he realizes that.
Curtis was busy focusing on winding the pulley, so she dared to give him a lingering look. She found herself daydreaming about sailing off to a tropical island with beautiful beaches and plenty of fresh fruit, a place where an EMP didn’t matter, with Curtis at her side.
But then they reached the platform, and the adventure was over for now. She stepped over the handrail, waited for Curtis, then headed for the ramp.
“You know, if we go back inside and they see us, we might get assigned some drudgery,” she said. “And if my grandmother finds out we went onto the boat, she’ll surely put us to work. She seems to think I’m going to wander off like a kid.”
“Yeah, my dad’s the same,” he said. “There are other ways into the building, aren’t there? I’m pretty sure I spotted more exterior doors, including a door around the back that leads to the living quarters. If we go in that way, they might not spot us, and if they don’t spot us, they can’t give us another assignment.”
“Okay. Let’s go for it.”
He gave her a big, handsome smile and headed toward the building at the top of the ramp, rounding a corner away from the main door. They walked around the building, picking their way between the painted metal supports, and rounded the next corner as well. Finally, they came in sight of a back door. However, from this side of the building, she could see the narrow bridge that stretched over a gap toward the second building on the other side of the oil platform.
“This is our secret entrance,” Curtis said, pulling the back door open and holding it for her.
She stepped through the door and found herself at the end of the hallway where the crew quarters were located. Curtis followed, then eased the door so it shut without making any noise. Stella had a small flashlight, but it was in the backpack beneath all of the scavenged parts, so they found themselves in darkness.
“Honestly, I forgot for a second that we don’t have any lights in here,” Curtis said in a whisper.
“I have one of the smaller flashlights in my backpack,” Stella replied. “Let me get it.”
But before she could reach for the backpack, she heard the creak of a door somewhere down the hallway. Dim light shone out of an open door near the far corner of the hallway, and a shadowy figure stepped through. Stella knew that shape all too well. The short, stocky form of Kay. She was alone and stepping lightly. Her buddy, Parker, did not follow her through the door. As the door swung shut, she braced it with her arm, just like Curtis had done, so it would close without making any noise. Then she started away, moving in a slight crouch with her head down and her arms pulled in against her body. It looked truly bizarre.
Why does she look like she sneaking around? Stella wondered. What’s she up to?
Kay turned to her left and headed away from them, rounding the corner with scarcely a sound and disappearing. A few seconds passed before Curtis leaned in close and whispered to Stella.
“What the heck was she doing creeping around in the darkness down here?” he asked. “She’s supposed to be working on the inventory, isn’t she? And where’s Parker? He’s supposed to be her buddy.”
“I don’t know,” Stella said. “We need to tell someone.”
“Yeah, but maybe we should check that room first,” Curtis replied. “Maybe we’ll be able to figure out what she was up to.”
Stella felt a little stab of fear at the thought. But maybe he was right. If they took a quick look, they might be able to figure out what she was doing in there, and then they’d have something more to report.
“Okay, but we have to do this really fast,” she whispered. “We don’t want her to find us in there.”
“Yeah, really fast,” he agreed.
He headed off down the hallway, little more than a shadow in front of her. Stella followed, her arms stretched out to either side to feel her way along, dread filling her chest.
You’re getting worked up over nothing, she told herself. Kay might have just been creeped out by the darkness.
They reached the door, and Curtis slowly turned the handle. As he eased the door open, Stella saw that it didn’t lead to a bedroom. Rather, the door opened on a dusty, narrow hallway that stretched off into the gloom. She could see a massive air duct coming out of the wall, hooking a left, and running along the ceiling, as if this hallway were some kind of access to the ductwork.
“What in the world is this place?” she wondered aloud. “They didn’t show us this hallway during the tour.”
“I’m guessing an oil rig like this had a lot of back rooms and corridors,” Curtis said. “Let’s go.”
He started down the hallway, and Stella followed, shutting the door behind them. A faint, shifting light came from somewhere ahead of them, illuminating featureless walls and a bare floor, the silvery curve of the air duct. They passed a few hatches and shut doors along the way, but the light was coming from an open door near the end of the hall. When they reached it, Stella realized it gave access to the morgue behind the clinic. The door was in the back corner near a large file cabinet. As she followed Curtis through the door, she saw one of Clark’s candles flickering on a small table near a metal bed. Vanilla cookie, she noted. Stella took a quick look down the dark hall before stepping fully into the room.
“She left a candle burning in here,” Stella whispered.
Curtis eased the door shut behind them. She turned to look at the body on the morgue table. They were, for the moment, alone.
“The blanket looks like it’s been moved,” she noted.
A corner of the blanket was folded back, as if someone had lifted it to look at Dennis. The side of his body closest to the back door was now exposed.
“Why would Kay come down here to look at a corpse?” Curtis said. “That doesn’t make any sense to me. He’s dead. What else is there to see? And why would she take some weird back hallway to get here when she can just go through the clinic?”
“I don’t know,” Stella said, “but I don’t like seeing him partially uncovered like that.”
She approached the table. As she did, Curtis grabbed something off the table near the candle. There was a click, and a big flashlight beam shone across the body.
“Someone left this here,” he said.
Stella lifted the blanket, intending to pull it back into place. As she did, she uncovered the face and shoulders of the dead worker. His flesh was a yellow-gray color, his eyes partially open, lips pulled back slightly to reveal his teeth.
“Whoa, what’s that?” Curtis said, aiming the flashlight at his neck.
It took Stella a second to see what he was referring to. Distinctive marks on his throat. Dark red and black stripes ran across his Adam’s apple and around both sides. Stella had read enough true crime blogs and seen enough documentaries on streaming to know what she was looking at.
“Ligature marks,” she said. “He was strangled.”
“But…” The flashlight beam wobbled. “How did nobody notice them before? We carried his dead body all the way here from the rec room, laid him on this table, and nobody saw the marks on his neck?”
“Maybe they were covered by his jacket. Or maybe they hadn’t shown up yet. From what I’ve read, marks like these can take a while to appear on a body,” Stella said. “But I’m no expert.” Shaking with fear, she looked at Curtis.
He leaned in closer to the body, to the neck, examining the marks. “So what does this mean?”
“I guess it means Dennis didn’t die from electrocution,” Stella said. “I know he had burns on his fingertips, but that’s not what killed him. He was strangled to death. Someone murdered him.”
22
Ruth tried to help, but there just wasn’t enough room in front of the generator for two people to reach inside. Ultimately, she stood back and watched John do most of the work. He’d removed the fuel line and was working with small tools to clean out whatever gunk had been stuffed in there. It took a while.
“It’s like crude oil mixed with dirt into a thick paste,” John said, scraping some of the gunk off the tip of a screwdriver into a small plastic container. “I wonder if the saboteur scraped this gunk out of the drill? That would be my guess.”
“What can I do to help?” Ruth asked.
“I think I’ve got this,” John said. “It’s dirty work, but I’ll get the generator running again. Why don’t you take it easy for a while? You’ve had a lot to deal with lately.”
“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” Ruth finally walked over to one of the control room’s padded chairs and sat down. She was finding it hard to concentrate on anything but the current chain of events. How in the world were they supposed to root out the terrorist in their midst without potentially inducing some desperate, violent response? And on top of that, what were they supposed to do about the world burning down around them?
Kay’s at the top of my suspect list, she thought, but she’s been so hostile and difficult lately. Would our resident saboteur really be so obvious, especially if she were trying to hide her identity?
“Somehow, I need to goad our saboteur into revealing him or herself,” she said.
“Well, I can think of one good way to provoke a response,” John replied.
“How’s that?”
The generator suddenly roared to life. It sounded stronger now, louder. Ruth waited a few seconds, but it didn’t sputter out and die this time. John had fixed it. Ruth was so excited that she rose from the chair and went to John, patting him vigorously on the back. He, in turn, gave her a big, proud smile. And was the man blushing just a little bit? Ruth thought so.
“Boy, I’m glad you showed up,” Ruth said. “What would I do without you?”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” he said, tipping the brim of his cap at her. “I’m just here to help.”
“I’m not sure it’s safe to keep this thing running in here, “Ruth said. “The control room runs hot, so it’s well-ventilated, but with the power off, air isn’t being circulated. We wouldn’t want to run it very long with the door closed. Also, we need to save fuel, so let’s shut it off for now.”
John flicked the power switch to shut off the generator. It wound down with a throaty growl.
“If our saboteur learns we have restored power, even if it’s just a single generator, don’t you think that might entice them to act?” he said.
“Quite possibly,” Ruth said. “Of course, it doesn’t help us get the new tech working unless we can replace the cut wire.”
John rose, massaging his back, and turned from the generator. “Actually, I was thinking about that a little bit. We might be able to open up the older computer system and find a compatible part that would enable us to bypass the missing plug. There’s a soldering iron in the toolbox that might come in handy. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a reasonable idea,” she said. “Let me get the console open for the old system.”
The old system was on the other side of the room, which was now filled to the ceiling with their bags and boxes of supplies. Still, with the newer console moved away from the wall, she found she could squeeze in behind it. Ruth grabbed a screwdriver off the table and worked her way in behind the old console. Then she began pushing it, inch by inch, away from the wall. She found the access panel for the old system on the back of the console, and she gradually managed to wedge herself into the gap.
“Do you need help?” John asked.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” she replied. However, she could see that the screws in the corners of the panel were stripped badly. She tried to unscrew them anyway, but it was hopeless. She only made them worse. Still, now that she’d refused John’s help, she was embarrassed to turn around and take it back. She tried prying the panel open with the screwdriver, but she just couldn’t get enough leverage.
“Okay, okay,” she said, leaning back against the wall. When she looked up, she saw John standing nearby, ready to help. Ruth took a deep breath. “Yeah, I could use some help. I can’t get this panel open. It’s old, and the screws are stripped.”
John smiled brightly at this. Clearly, it meant a lot to him to help. Ruth was comfortable being self-reliant, but had to admit there was value in accepting that she needed others. Despite all of their troubles, she seemed to have made John’s day just by letting him open a panel.
She worked her way out from behind the old console and squeezed past John, handing him the screwdriver.
“I’ll see what I can do,” John said.
To be fair, John was quite a bit stronger than her. The man had impressive arms. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled back, and he had well-defined muscles in his forearms. He sat down behind the console and examined the old panel as Ruth watched him.
“I wonder if these screws were stripped on purpose,” he said. “They might just be old. I don’t know. Hard to tell.”
“I think there’s a crowbar in the toolbox,” Ruth said.
“This screwdriver should work. Just needs a bit of leverage.”
He worked the end of the screwdriver under the edge of the panel and began levering it back and forth. The panel creaked and bent. And then one of the screws gave a loud crack and popped loose. Then a second screw popped loose. From there, John was able to grab the panel with both hands and pull the whole thing off. He set it aside.
“There you go,” he said. “It’s wide open now. You can handle it from here.”
And with that, he rose, handed her the screwdriver, and returned to the generator. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t take over for her completely, and he was careful not to step on her toes. He’d only offered to help with the one task when she was clearly struggling, and then he quickly got out of the way.
Ruth had spent years in academia dealing with smart and capable men who frequently talked over her, offered explanations that weren’t needed, insisted on helping when no help was requested, and generally treated her like she was incompetent despite her experience and education. Usually, when one of her male colleagues offered to help with a single task, she had to brace herself not to have the entire project wrested away from her.
But John wasn’t like that. He went right back to the generator and sat down.
“Thanks, John,” she said, stepping behind the console. “I appreciate it.” He probably assumed she was talking about removing the panel, but she meant so much more than that.
“Any time.”
Ruth pulled the flashlight from her jacket pocket and shone it inside the old console. She saw a tangle of wires and electronic boards, but everything in there was coated with a choking amount of dust. It was a mess, and she knew rooting around inside for replacement parts was going to be sneeze-inducing.
“They could clean in here from time to time,” she said. “I think it’s safe to say our saboteur hasn’t opened this panel.”
