by Radclyffe
For an instant, she wished she’d told her about meeting Austin, but then what would she say? I met a woman who made me feel things I didn’t know I wanted to feel and who made me behave in ways I barely recognize, and I loved every minute of it?
No, she wouldn’t be able to explain that to her sister any more than she could explain it to herself.
❖
Austin peered over Claudia’s shoulder at the satellite readouts streaming across the two large monitors connected to Claudia’s mega-souped-up laptop. She could read the storm patterns well enough to know they indicated trouble. “Looks like it’s picking up speed.”
“Mmm, and size.” Claudia skimmed the pointer to a dense area behind the swirling configuration that represented the growing tropical storm. “Those vertical updrafts are feeding it.”
“So you’re saying it’s going to be big?”
“Along with the El Niño effect on the ocean temps, this has the makings of a monster.” Claudia swiveled in her chair and looked up at Austin. Her eyes weren’t really black, but a deep, deep brown, so dense they almost appeared to have no color. Austin didn’t think she’d ever seen eyes quite so mesmerizing. “I’m afraid we’re going to get thrashed. And we’re sitting out here like a rubber duck.”
“Not quite that bad. This rig is designed to withstand storms of that magnitude, and with a good coxswain to hold the trim and keep it on balance, it shouldn’t be that big a deal.”
“Trust me. If things go as I expect, this storm will be a very big deal. We’ll be in for a very rough ride.”
“Then with what’s going on deep underwater, that breach is likely to get a whole lot worse,” Austin muttered.
“I’d say so.”
“Are you willing to put that in writing?”
Claudia smiled wryly. “Not right at this moment. I don’t like to stake my reputation on a gut feeling, although I’m usually right. Give me ten hours and I will sign my name to a prediction, one way or the other.”
“Eloise will want an answer before that.”
“She’ll have to wait.”
Claudia’s tone was friendly, but Austin detected steel beneath the easy manner. “Maybe by then Reddy and his team will have the well locked down.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Nine times out of ten, maybe ninety-nine times out of a hundred, these kind of things are contained without any substantial spill.”
“If we weren’t looking at a perfect storm of conditions here,” Claudia said, “I wouldn’t be as worried. But given what the situation is on land—well…”
“Yeah, I know. Recipe for a nightmare.”
“So what is it,” Claudia asked, indicating the control room and the computer monitors and the communications center that right now went unmanned but continued to emit bits of chatter between Reddy and Tatum and the teams working on the well platform, “that you do about all of this?”
“If and when we go public,” Austin said, “I’ll be the face of the company on-site for the press. All communication will go through me.”
“You mean you can actually keep Tatum quiet?” Claudia laughed. “This is the first time I’ve worked with him, but I’d heard his reputation before. He certainly lives up to it.”
“He’s really good at what he does, and he’s not a bad guy.”
“You mean for a chauvinist?”
“I’ve seen him with female OTLs, not that there’s many, and he doesn’t even seem to notice they’re women.”
“That’s because they’re wearing hard hats, work boots, and coveralls.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Austin laughed. “And yes, keeping Tatum and any other unauthorized individuals from making statements to the press is my job.”
“Including me?” Claudia asked, a teasing glint in her eye.
“Especially you.”
Claudia made a humming sound that might have been the equivalent of you hope. “Can’t they just do all that spinning from headquarters?”
“Oh, somebody above my pay grade will release the sanitized and politically correct statements that will get picked up by the national media, but what’s really happening right here on the ground is what we need to control. There’ll be reporters everywhere, talking to anyone they can talk to, and GOP wants a technical expert—not a media spokesperson—to direct the message that goes out.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun.”
“That’s the easy part.”
“Really? I’m not sure I want to know the bad part.”
“That would be dealing with all of the agencies involved in containment if the oil gets away from us. U.S. Fish and Wildlife are the first responders and will be in charge of the operation, but lots of other agencies and even independent organizations get involved. Considering where we are? We’ll have a regular circus.”
“Couldn’t be a worse place or a worse time,” Claudia said.
“No,” Austin said, thinking of Gem and the sanctuary, “it couldn’t be.”
“So what now?”
“We wait,” Austin said, “until the leak stops, the well blows, or you tell us the storm is going to tear the rig out of the water.”
“Lovely,” Claudia muttered.
Austin’s cell rang and she checked it. “And now I do the other part of my job.” She answered Eloise’s call. “Good morning.”
“Is it? What have you got for me?”
“Nothing new. They haven’t stopped the leak, but they slowed it. They’re still working on it, and we’ll know more by nightfall.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
“I know,” Austin said, “but that’s what we’ve got.”
“No, what we’ve got is a big-ass storm headed right for you and a gathering of some of the nation’s premier wildlife scientists fifty miles away on shore.”
“Really? I didn’t realize—”
“Apparently, your passenger didn’t explain to you exactly what a big deal this project is. It’s federally funded at a very high level and has every tree hugger and green agency supporting it. Add to that the recent outbreak of avian flu in the Midwest and the concern for human crossover, and even the damn CDC is involved.”
Austin tried to adjust the picture she’d had of Gem’s role at the sanctuary, remembering Gem had told her she was a virologist studying the association between wild bird flu and domestic flocks. “I guess I didn’t realize—”
“What’s your passenger’s name?”
“Gem…Gillian Martin. She’s a—”
“PhD virologist from Yale. That’s wonderful.” Eloise sounded as if she was chewing bits of broken glass. “She’s the lead researcher and her work is funded by the CDC and the NIH and half a dozen other places with acronyms I could give you, but that wouldn’t mean anything. We’re talking international reputation here. Could you have possibly picked up anyone more likely to shoot us down in flames?”
Eloise’s researchers had been busy. “I really didn’t have any way of knowing that, and besides—”
“Well, now that you do”—Eloise actually paused for breath—“you can put that knowledge to good use.”
“I don’t think I follow.”
“You have a direct pipeline inside the sanctuary. Make contact, find out what the status is there after yesterday’s storm. If the conditions are already compromised, we can’t be blamed as much for anything that happens if we have problems with the rig. Just take a look around. Test the waters.”
Austin unclenched her jaw. “You mean spy?”
“No,” Eloise said coolly, “I mean gather information. Information is essential where communication management is concerned, and you are the communications specialist. It’s all in a day’s work.”
“I don’t see how anything we learn now would really be of benefit,” Austin said. Communication management was Eloise-speak for keeping a lid on bad press, which Austin would do, up to a point. The point being lying—or spying. No way was she going to pum
p Gem for information, not after what they’d shared. Gem wasn’t a source—she was…well, that was kind of ill-defined, but she was special, and that’s all that mattered.
“At least get boots on the ground and take a look at what the situation requires if we have to institute protective measures. Advance knowledge will allow us to plan and deploy more efficiently.”
Eloise was an expert at manipulation, and Austin knew it. But she couldn’t argue when she made sense. The more Austin and the company knew about the exact nature of the sanctuary, the better they could design the protocols they would need to protect it.
“I’ll see what I can find out, but I’m not going to lie about who I am.”
“Of course not,” Eloise said, “but there’s no need to advertise it until necessary, is there?”
Austin sighed. Rock and hard place. She could keep on protesting, but part of her job was to assess the logistics and personalities she might have to work with, and beyond that, she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t want to see Gem again.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexis scanned the water ahead of the cutter, checking for smaller vessels, solitary sea forms, and other flotsam and jetsam that didn’t show on sonar or radar. Air temps were warmer than usual for this time of year, and she wore only a light flight jacket, cap, and gloves. On the one hand, it was nice to be able to stand on deck while patrolling without being lacerated by frigid winds, but the high temperatures were a deceptive gift whose price was steep. The unseasonably warm Gulf winds were harbingers of virulent and unpredictable storms that were forecast to be more plentiful and extend later into the fall than during other years.
Tropical storm Norma was thundering down upon them now, big, fast, and threatening major damage, and Alexis couldn’t do anything but wait while trying to secure the sea, shores, and inhabitants before it arrived. Seafaring traffic was down, but not absent. After the high winds and heavy rains of the previous day and a half, commercial fishing boats had started to put out to sea in hopes of making up for their lost catches, and despite the maritime weather warnings, she’d spotted a few intrepid pleasure sailors and touring boats as well. The onboard radar screen at her console beeped rhythmically, and she scanned it reflexively every few minutes. On the last sweep, she picked up four new blips just emerging on the upper left-hand corner of her field, about twenty nautical miles northeast. She didn’t have to check the map to know that put the ships in the waters off the oil rig, nothing unusual in and of itself, but the timing was strange given the storm warnings. The oil rig was a common destination for tankers offloading oil from the rig, transport ships delivering equipment, and other vessels. Ordinarily, she didn’t pay much attention to the traffic, as their patrol range was considerably closer to shore. This morning, though, any activity on the seas caught her notice.
She would have expected the rig to ramp down production until the weather cleared. The oil platform sat out in the ocean like an apple in a barrel. Considerably more stable, but all the same, a speck compared to the vastness of the sea. A speck that housed dozens of vulnerable human beings as well as an underwater threat to the entire coastline.
She calculated the directional adjustment and thumbed her radio to contact the helmsman. “Lieutenant, course change. Let’s go see what’s going on out at the rig.”
“Aye, aye, Commander.”
She gave him the coordinates, and the patrol boat made a sweeping curve and headed farther out to sea. Thirty minutes later, they came in visual range of Rig 86 and the four big ships riding the waves in a semicircle a half mile away. She switched to an open channel and hailed the rig.
“This is Coast Guard Cutter Hayes Adams, hailing Rig 86. Come in.”
A moment later, a female voice, deep and steady, replied, “Coast Guard Cutter Hayes Adams, this is Rig 86. Morning to you. Over.”
“Permission to come aboard, over,” Alexis said, although she didn’t really need permission. As federal law enforcement agents, coastguardsmen could board any oceangoing vessel in territorial waters, and the rig was technically a ship since the platform was anchored to a stationary underwater hull. All the same, she was making a routine check and extended the courtesy of a request.
“Permission granted. Use the south side dock.”
“Affirmed, Rig 86.”
Alexis directed the helmsman to the south side of the platform, where he brought it smoothly in to the ocean-level dock and idled as the crew threw down for temporary anchor. Alexis climbed down the ladder, crossed the dock, and rode up in the crane-operated lift to the rig platform two stories above the water. A woman with short dark hair, average height, early thirties, in the usual uniform of windbreaker, boots, and serviceable pants awaited her with a friendly smile. Alexis didn’t recognize her, and she thought she’d met most of the crew leaders at one time or another. She held out her hand. “Commander Alexis Martin. Good to meet you.”
Alexis thought she saw a flicker of surprise in the woman’s eyes, but the smile didn’t falter, and the hand that closed around hers was firm. “Austin Germaine. Welcome aboard, Commander.”
❖
Austin led the Coast Guard officer through the warren of containers and equipment to the command center, mentally evaluating. Martin. Had to be a coincidence the officer shared Gem’s last name. Her luck couldn’t possibly be that bad. She searched for some physical resemblance to Gem and tried to tell herself the shape of the officer’s sea-green eyes, the particular golden hue of her hair, and the subtle squareness to her chin weren’t really similar to Gem’s remarkable features. Her artist’s eye disagreed, however. The likeness was subtle, but it was there. God damn it.
As she opened the door to the command center, Austin said, “Come on in and make yourself at home. We’ve got some decent coffee. The OTL is out with the drill crew, but I can get him up here if you need him. I’m acting sub right now.”
“Thanks,” Alexis said, unzipping her jacket and stowing her gloves in the pockets, “but I’m just doing a drop-by to check on storm preparedness. No need to call the OTL. I’m good without coffee, but appreciate it.” She glanced around the room. The usually crowded command center was oddly empty. The only other occupant was a woman who sat at a nearby workstation in front of two huge computer monitors showing satellite graphics and a variety of charts.
“Dr. Claudia Spencer is our oceanographer and meteorologist,” Austin said, apparently following Alexis’s gaze.
Claudia glanced over her shoulder and smiled in Alexis’s direction.
Alexis straightened. Claudia Spencer was gorgeous. Ordinarily, the sight of a beautiful woman didn’t give her a little charge, but this one did. Her hair and eyes were the color of a starless sky, deep black and endless; her elegant features and pale skin as flawless as polished ivory; her sensuous mouth wide and full, and at the moment, lifting in a deliberate smile. Alexis cleared her throat. “Ma’am.”
The stunning brunette laughed. “Hardly. Commander, is it?”
“Yes, ma’am, Alexis Martin.”
“Very nice to meet you, Commander.” Claudia’s voice was throaty and warm, as rich as dark honey. She held Alexis’s gaze for another few seconds and then turned back to her computer screen.
Alexis dragged her attention back to Austin. “How’s the rig riding out the weather?”
“So far so good. As you can see,” Austin indicated Claudia’s screens, “we’re keeping an eye on what’s coming, but as I’m sure you know, these semisubmersibles have incredible stability, even in big storms.”
“I know, but we don’t want a replay of what happened with the Petrobras.”
Austin winced. Petrobras 36 was the world’s biggest semisubmersible rig until it exploded and sank in bad weather off the coast of Brazil. “Believe me, neither do we.”
“I noticed you’ve got a convoy out there. Transport?”
“Potentially. We’re keeping our nonessentials off the rig,” Austin said, carefully keeping to the truth. She wasn’t abo
ut to lie to anyone, but particularly not to a Coast Guard officer whose duty it was to protect all of them.
“Good idea,” Alexis said. “How’s your storage level on the rig?”
“We’ve offloaded most of our fuel already,” Austin said, again sticking to the facts.
“You have everything at the ready to evacuate the rig if there are problems?”
“We have protocols in place. Ray Tatum will contact the company to make the call if the situation changes.” Austin indicated Claudia with a tilt of her head. “Dr. Spencer’s keeping a close eye on the storm as well as evaluating the stability of the rig. We won’t take any chances.”
“I doubted you would.” Alexis glanced toward Claudia Spencer again. The brunette didn’t turn around, and Alexis hid her disappointment. Everything sounded in order, and she had no reason to stay. She pulled her gloves from her pocket and slapped them against her thigh. “Good enough. I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Austin said.
Claudia turned and caught Alexis’s eyes. “Safe seas, Commander.”
Alexis nodded. “And to you, Doctor.”
Alexis walked with Austin to the far side of the deck and swung her leg over the side of the railing into the cage. “Make sure you institute those protocols with plenty of time. This one is going to be tough to call.” The wind whipped her hair, the sting bringing tears to the corners of her eyes. “No matter how good your meteorologist might be.”
“You’ve got my word on that, Commander.”
Alexis nodded and disappeared as the cage rapidly descended to the dock below.
Austin gripped the rail and watched the cutter glide away in a rapid curve, headed toward the convoy riding easily on the horizon at the moment. The last thing she wanted was to put anyone in danger, and if they didn’t make the right call at the right time, it wasn’t just their crew they’d put at risk. Claudia wanted ten hours to make a firm prediction. They had six left, and every one hung over her head like the sword of Damocles.
