SEALs of Honor: Troy

by Dale Mayer

  Troy turned to look at Berkley.

  She shook her head. “I’ll run my tablet and track anything you find,” she said calmly. “Don’t even think about sending me back to my room.”

  He planted his hands on his hips and glared at her.

  She planted her hands on her hips, shoved her chin toward him, clearly mimicking his actions.

  He raised both hands in mock surrender and muttered something about women.

  “You love us,” she shot back.

  He glared at her. “Maybe,” he said, “but there are times and places.”

  “Both times and places are right now,” she said. “Remember that dating thing? Deal with it now, or forget it.”

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t deal with it,” he groused. “And you’re the one who brought up the dating thing.”

  “Sure, after we already agreed.”

  When somebody cleared their throat, she turned to find Axel standing there, a huge grin on his face.

  Her frown deepened. “Don’t you start,” she warned.

  “I wouldn’t start anything, Axel,” Mason said with a laugh. “But, while our secret team works in the darkness, it doesn’t appear like anybody from our skeleton crew gives a shit about coming down here—which I don’t understand. So I suggest we do a full sweep, and let’s get at it right now.”

  With that, they organized into two teams—Mason and Axel as one team, starting at the south end, with Berkley and Troy and Nelson starting on the north end, both teams checking steel girders and such, doors, walls, and corners. They searched all the way back to the blast area. There they found the rest of the crew, including Denny, frozen in place and staring in horror.

  When they joined them, Denny turned to look at him. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Searching for more C-4,” Mason said grimly. “You don’t happen to know where any is, do you?” His flashlight swept across all the faces in front of them.

  Chucky stared at them all. “C-4? I thought this was an accident.”

  “Nope,” Troy said. “This was C-4.” He held up the one that he had in his hand. “We found this one.”

  At that, several of the men stepped back.

  “Holy shit,” one said. “Who’s trying to kill us?”

  “I don’t know,” Troy said, “and maybe it’s not even a case of who, but maybe it should be a question of why. In the meantime, we need to keep searching for C-4, so either move out of our way or join us.”

  Chucky and Winslow immediately joined them, as the others just stood off to the side and watched, as the search parties went step by step, slowly girder by girder, by each steel railing and ramp, and finally across to the opposite side.

  When they got there, Troy said, “We’re clear on this side.”

  Axel stepped toward him. “We’re clear on this side too.” Slowly they moved back down along the center, checking inside the doors, checking the walls, checking as much as they could. When they returned to the blast site again, all the crewmen remained there, waiting for them.

  “Did you see anything?” Jonesy asked curiously.

  Berkley couldn’t tell if anything other than curiosity was in his tone.

  Troy shook his head. “No, I don’t believe any explosive is here, at the moment. But we need to check the next level up.”

  “That’ll take forever,” Jonesy said. “There are so many rooms, and lots of the guys’ personal belongings are there. You can’t just go through the place.”

  At that, Gregor, Gregor, stepped forward from the group. “Hell yes, they can. Do you have any idea what kind of money is involved here?”

  “Shutting down this rig is probably costing billions.” Now Jonesy’s voice sounded positively cheerful.

  Berkley tucked away that little tidbit of information in the back of her mind. It didn’t make any sense to her though, because it affected his paycheck too. What she really needed to know was whether there was any connection between these men, the women, and Jude and his brother. And maybe not even so much a connection to Jude and his brother. Maybe somebody thought these crewmen had participated in the rapes. But, if that were the case, she figured they’d end up in the morgue too.

  Slowly they disbanded into groups and went upstairs to conduct the next searches. Gregor ran the group going through all the personal rooms.

  By the time all those rooms had been searched, except for the rooms housing the current crew, Mason spoke up. “Now we’ll go search your rooms,” he said to the group, his hard tone, daring somebody to argue.

  They all looked at each other. Chucky and Winslow broke the silence as they both spoke up, with an invitation to start with theirs. They opened the doors, and Troy and Axel, along with Mason and Nelson, went through their rooms, checking for anything potentially lethal or incriminating. But found nothing.

  The four went through each room set aside for the remaining crewmen, and still nothing was found. When it came to her turn, Berkley just shrugged. “Come on in.” She walked down to her room and opened it up. Her bed was still disheveled the way it had been, her pajama bottoms thrown off to the side. The four men she trusted above all others here went through her belongings and, of course, didn’t find anything.

  When they stepped back out, they looked at each other. Wondering what to do next.

  Gregor asked, “What are the chances all the C-4 this saboteur has on hand has been used up now?”

  “It’s possible,” Troy said. “I took pictures of it and sent it out for some extra information to be tracked on it.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “It still had its packaging, with barcodes,” he said, “so we’ll track where it was shipped from.”

  “Good,” Gregor said, “because this is bullshit.”

  They moved up one level to the kitchen, dining area, and management rooms, and carefully went through everything.

  By the time they were done, Denny was beside himself. “Did you really think I’ve got C-4 in my kitchen?” His tone was incredulous.

  “Do you really think that you will be spared from another blast like that last one?” Mason asked quietly. “Somebody hates you. Somebody hates everybody here. Did you ever consider that?”

  Immediately Denny fell silent.

  She knew about his record. He probably didn’t want anybody else to know though.

  *

  Now gathered in the dining area, she looked at the clock. “It’s five a.m.”

  “Well, I’m not going back to sleep,” Denny muttered, returning to his kitchen, where he started banging around his pots and pans.

  “What will you do?” Berkley asked him, interested in his reaction.

  “When I’m upset,” he said, “I bake. I’ll make breakfast.”

  “Isn’t it a little early for food?”

  “Food-food, yes,” he said, “but I just said, I would bake.”

  Troy listened to the cook’s tone, and Denny really was upset, but Troy didn’t necessarily understand what his reason was. Granted, there were lots of reasons to be upset right now. Troy walked over and, on the quiet, asked, “Denny, did you know the three women who had trouble here?”

  Denny looked at him with a hard gaze. “Is there a reason you’re asking me?”

  “Yes,” he said, “because we found some very disturbing photos on one of the managers’ phones.”

  Denny’s eyebrows popped up. “Disturbing, how?”

  “Let’s just say, disturbing sexual-exploitation photos.”

  Denny winced. “That no-good son of a bitch,” he said. “That man has been trouble the whole time. And not just with girls.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, ask Daniel about his brother. If anybody did deserve to die, it’s that no-good doctor.”

  “Did you know him any other place than here?”

  “No, but people talk,” Denny said. “That guy was a rat, and I’m glad he’s dead. If I’d known he had something to do with hurting those poor girls, I would have
poisoned him myself.” At that, he started sifting flour and sugar.

  Troy looked over and caught Berkley yawning. He walked toward her. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed,” he said. “No reason you can’t sleep for a couple hours.”

  She looked up at him, valiant, yet her eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted.

  “Come on,” he said, gently grabbing her arms. “Let’s go.”

  And, with that, he led her back to her room. She stared at her door and groaned.

  “Feels like I’m quitting,” she said.

  “There’s nothing to quit,” he said. “We need some equipment to check for other devices around the rig, and we need everybody in one area. At least if something else goes wrong, we’ll have a better idea of who it isn’t.”

  She walked in, kicked off her shoes, and collapsed full length on her bed. “I’m exhausted,” she murmured.

  “Will you be able to sleep?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It doesn’t feel safe anymore.”

  He hesitated at the doorway.

  She waved him off. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  He looked around the small space. “I could grab my laptop and work in here, if you want.”

  She looked at him gratefully. “Would you mind?”

  “Hang on,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” With that, he turned and disappeared. While he was gone, she got up, went to the bathroom, came back, and put on her pajamas again. If she could sleep, she wanted to sleep comfortably. She tucked in under the blankets, and, a few minutes later, the door opened, and he stepped inside.

  He shut the door behind him, locking it this time, and walked over to the table and set up his laptop. “Go to sleep,” he whispered. “It’ll be over soon.”

  “Yeah, maybe for you,” she said. “Honestly I would like to catch that helicopter out of here.”

  “I’m sure everybody feels the same way,” he said. “I’m not sure what the capacity is on that one.”

  “Right.” She closed her eyes, yawned again, and started to drift off. But every time she went to sleep, she was jolted awake, hearing a repeat of those large blasts ripping through her dreams, along with the screams and the panic, over and over again.

  Finally he got up. “Slide over,” he said. “I’ll get in with you. That might help.”

  “You shouldn’t have to do this,” she murmured, as she scooted over.

  “Somebody has blasted holes into this rig, twice so far,” he said, against her ear. “You’re allowed to be jumpy. But you need to get some sleep,” he said, “and this is the best way for you to get it.” And he wrapped an arm around her and tucked her up against him.

  She took in a deep breath and let it go. Immediately she could feel herself drifting deeper and deeper. As she was just about to go under, she asked, “Do you really think those managers were murdered because of the rapes?”

  “I think it’s all too possible, yes,” he said. “Sleep, remember?”

  “So then what’s the deal with Lionel?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I really don’t.”

  An ugly thought was starting to form in Berkley’s mind. “I know you said he was dead, but, what if he took something, so he wasn’t dead, but he was just in a really deep coma.”

  “It’s possible,” he said. “We haven’t found him.”

  “That’s why I was thinking someone might be helping him,” she said.

  “Who did he have for friends?”

  “One of the dead guys.”

  “Right, but anyone else?”

  “I think he knew all the guys, but I don’t know if he was especially close to anyone. Other than his brother, of course.”

  “Sleep,” he said. “We’ll figure it out later.”

  She smiled and whispered, “You’re a nice man.”

  “Oh, there’s an ego booster,” he said with mild affront. “I’m not sure any man likes to be called nice.”

  She chuckled. “Maybe not,” she said. “But it’s true. You’re just like Mason and Axel.”

  “Okay,” he said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “And I meant it that way,” she said. “Besides, that’s the kind of guy I’d want to date.”

  “Why them?” he asked curiously.

  She smiled. “Because they’re men of honor. And that’s missing in so many of the guys I meet.”

  “I hear you,” he said gently.

  The last thing she remembered was him leaning over and his lips brushing her temple. She smiled. “That was nice.”

  “Then go to sleep, before I’m tempted to do a whole lot more.”

  She smiled. “Well, you wouldn’t, because it’s not who you are to take advantage.” And, with that, she let out a deep sigh.

  *

  When he thought she was truly asleep, he gently disengaged himself and struggled off the bed. He sat down at the little table with his laptop and started to research. First, he wanted to know what drug would allow somebody to look as if he were dead. And when he reviewed the findings, Troy quickly realized there were several good candidates for that.

  He then checked to see if the doc had ordered any. What if that’s what the doc was doing with the women? Particularly the two they had found photos of. Troy wondered what had happened to the third rape victim. And what if it was just a case of using the date-rape drug? That’s why he wanted Lionel’s body to go back with him, but, after they’d moved it, somebody else had moved it again. Or did Lionel have a friend working with him, and they were in cahoots over something?

  Troy liked the idea of another person hiding on the rig somewhere. He really liked that idea. When a knock came on Berkley’s door, he froze. The knock came again, harder. He walked toward her and gently tucked the blanket up over her ears, so that she could sleep a little longer. If this had been Axel or Mason, they would have used a particular knock, so he knew it wasn’t them.

  “Stupid bitch!”

  When he heard that, he immediately dove for the door and stepped out. Standing there, sure enough, was Jonesy, who looked at him, looked at her bedroom door, and sneered.

  “Like I said, she’d spread her legs for anybody.”

  He didn’t get another word out before Troy’s fist connected with Jonesy’s jaw. His head snapped back, and he hit the hallway wall and slid down into a puddle on the ground.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, standing beside him.

  He looked at her and groaned. “Dang it. I wanted to let you sleep.”

  “I’m glad you caught him,” she said, “because that’s exactly what happened the last time.”

  He nodded, tucked her close to him. “Is this the kind of abuse you’ve been getting?”

  “It didn’t used to be like this,” she said softly. “But, after the women were raped, yes. They should do DNA testing for everybody who works here,” she said.

  “And yet they won’t because most of the men will protest that it’s against their rights.”

  “So, is that his blood on your fist?”

  “It is,” he said, with interest. “Do you want to keep some?”

  “I so want to keep it.” She walked back inside, grabbed a washcloth, and quickly wiped the blood off his knuckles. Then she bagged it. “I’ll send this to the DNA lab, where I sent everything else. Of course it takes weeks to get answers.”

  “Interesting that you’re paying for it.”

  “It’s international waters, so the company won’t cover it,” she said. “And I think that’s just wrong too.”

  “It’s very wrong,” he said.

  She looked again at Jonesy as she walked back into her room. “Do we just leave him out there?”

  “I would,” he said, “unless you know which room was his.”

  “It’s down about six doors,” she said. She thought about it and then said, “Let me get dressed real quick.”

  He turned around and gathered up his laptop, then put it all away. By th
e time he was done, she was dressed. They stepped out and found Jonesy still collapsed on the ground. Troy walked over, checked for a pulse, and picked him up. “Which room is his?”

  She led him down the hallway and opened it up, and Troy walked in and dumped Jonesy unceremoniously onto the bunk.

  When they headed back out, he said, “I need to wash up though.”

  She stepped into the bathroom, showed him where he could wash up, and waited for him. Then together, they headed back to the dining area.

  “I hope you’re not coming back to this place,” he said, his tone dark.

  She looked at him and smiled. “Quite protective, aren’t you?”

  “Obviously, under the circumstances, but I also care,” he said. “The environment here is not healthy for any woman, much less one I’m starting to really care about.”

  She reached over, slipped her fingers in his, and said, “Thank you. That’s one of the nicest things anybody has said to me in a long time.”

  He chuckled and said, “Well, from what I’ve seen around here, the bar hasn’t been very high.”

  She giggled and punched him in the arm.

  Just as they walked into the dining area, something delicious smelling came from the oven. She walked over to the counter to see what Denny had made. It looked like bear claws.

  “Yum. Those look lovely, Denny,” she said warmly.

  He smiled. “When I’m stressed, upset, depressed, or whatever, I find baking soothes my soul.”

  “Well, I hate to say it,” she said, “but I really hope you’re upset a little more often.”

  He stopped for a moment, then realized what she meant and burst out laughing.

  As she walked over to get some coffee, she noted the rest of the dining area was empty. Pouring two coffees, and taking the treats Denny offered, she walked to the small table by the window, where she and Troy sat down.