Operation: Beach Angel

by Margaret Kay

  “Zero eight hundred at our HQ,” Garcia’s voice replied.

  Golf

  Lambchop slept like the dead and was woken from a deep sleep when the alarm he set on his watch woke him at zero seven fifteen. Mother’s bed was empty and made. He hadn’t heard him leave the room. He quickly showered, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, and then went through a drive through to get coffee and breakfast on his way to the proctology office.

  Sloan and Sherman reported a quiet night. No one’s cars left their residences. Ruth Arnold’s didn’t leave the Carstairs parking lot. Mother was already outside of Ruth Arnold’s house, watching to see how she’d get back to her car at the office. No one was surprised when Mother reported that she got into an Uber.

  “Shepherd will notify us when they get the report back from the FBI on the voice samples we sent. That’s expected sometime later today,” Cooper added.

  “So today, we set up separate meetings with Napolitano, Paulo, and Arnold. We’ll review our preliminary findings and we see if anyone jumps on the narrative we laid out yesterday of communications going to the wrong audience or those it does go to not having any direct authority for the content,” Madison said. “That should help lead us to who planted the mic in our conference room.”

  “I’ll also press Paulo in that meeting about her prior rig job and her lateral move transfer to her current position,” Garcia said. “Mother is going to track her ex-husband down this morning, so he already should have had a conversation with him and a report to us before we meet with Paulo.” He focused his gaze on Lambchop. “Since we know Ruth Arnold has issues with me, you and I will play good cop, bad cop with her. You stand up for her and try to win her over when we meet. I’ll be unduly harsh.”

  Lambchop chuckled. “I don’t know about the unduly part. Seems to me any harshness is warranted, but I will be her best buddy. Hell, maybe I can even get her to go grab a drink with me after work. Oh, and I’ve made nice with the building receptionist just in case we need an in there.”

  Garcia smirked. “You did? That chica wanted nothing to do with me. I tried.”

  “You must be losing your touch,” Jackson joked.

  “But you have Iris eating out of your hand,” Madison said. “That in itself is incredible.”

  “Denise Paulo didn’t seem immune to your charms either,” Cooper reminded him.

  Garcia turned to Jackson. “See, losing nothing.”

  “Okay, we have our plan. The four of us will get onsite and get our meetings scheduled. Mother will meet with Paulo’s ex-husband first, but we need to keep someone on Dalton,” Cooper said.

  “I’m heading to his ex’s trailer now,” Jackson said.

  “We’ll be back on at twenty-three hundred,” Sloan said.

  The onsite team received pushback from the Carstairs management regarding their meeting schedule just minutes after Madison sent it. Dennis Napolitano came to the conference room they’d been given. “Look, I’ve been patient and I’ve been cooperative. But we have a business to run here. If you want to meet with the three of us, come to my ten o’clock staff meeting and talk with all of us at the same time. We really can’t spare an hour for each person separately.”

  Lambchop found that statement interesting. He had not been copied on the meeting invitations to Paulo or Arnold. So instead of sending a reply to the meeting invitations, the two women contacted him about it. That was telling.

  “Well, Dennis,” Madison began, “I’m sorry this is an inconvenience. I think the whole explosion and death thing has been a bit more of an inconvenience for the families whose husbands, sons, and fathers died on rig C-Three. And that is why we are here; in case you have forgotten.”

  Lambchop watched as the determination across Napolitano’s face drained.

  “You know I have nothing but sympathy for those families. It was an accident associated with an earthquake. There was no conspiracy. There has been no coverup. I truly believe that, and I am confident your investigation will conclude that, too.”

  “Then stay out of our way and let our investigation play out,” Garcia said, getting in his face. Napolitano took a step back. Garcia took a step forward. “You seem to be free right now, let’s go over some information we have reviewed. We do have a few questions for you.”

  “Um, yes, I can be available in about fifteen minutes. I will check with Denise. I think that you have been given the small conference room by my office for your meetings today. I still don’t understand why you can’t just conduct your meetings in this room.” He glanced at the blank white board in the corner of the room. “It’s not like you’ve got any notes written out you wouldn’t want anyone to see.”

  “This is how we operate,” Garcia sneered. “And we are usually granted as much space as we need by companies wishing to cooperate. That’s what Carstairs wishes, isn’t it? To cooperate?”

  “Yes, we have nothing to hide,” Napolitano drawled.

  “I’ll go with you to talk with Denise.” He glanced back at the others. “I’ll text which room they have booked for us today.”

  Lambchop watched Garcia follow Napolitano out of the room. Whew! That exchange had been intense. His cell phone chimed a new text message. He retrieved it to find a text from Cooper. Cooper’s phone was still in his hands. “As soon as we know the room, we sweep it for bugs before N comes in.”

  Lambchop locked eyes with him and nodded.

  Cooper carried his backpack with him to conference room E-247. The room number with the E indicated it was within the executive area. It was the small room a few doors down from Napolitano’s office. Cooper and Madison swept the room while Lambchop stood guard outside.

  Cooper reopened the room door and motioned him in. “It’s clear. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why they bugged one room, but not this one.”

  “Unless they don’t need to because they’re all comparing notes after interviews,” Lambchop suggested. “From what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t doubt if they were all in on it.”

  Shortly after, Garcia and Napolitano joined them. Madison scrolled through a few pages on her tablet. “We’ve reviewed several things, as you know. The first we would like to discuss is that your drug testing policy is far too lax.”

  “It’s within government guidelines for our industry,” Napolitano replied.

  “It should exceed government guidelines,” Cooper countered. “I’ve audited the medical records of every person assigned to rig C-Three. Do you realize that fifteen of them hadn’t been tested in over two years?”

  “It’s random testing. I’m sure there are a few who have been tested multiple times.”

  “I also don’t see proof of your alcohol abuse education program. We all know men that work on rigs are eight times more likely to drink to excess during their weeks off the platform, and they are resourceful in smuggling alcohol as well as other drugs onto the rigs. Your assistant platform manager, Aaron Pence, who died in a DUI crash the day after the rig exploded, was never tested, never attended an education program, had never even been asked to blow when reporting for work,” Madison added.

  “And the legality of alcohol screenings is tenuous at best. We don’t routinely screen to see if workers are sober when they report. We will if there is cause, like if someone suspects they’re drunk.”

  “Your company records indicated that there were seventy employees companywide who popped for some type of drug in your screenings over the past two years. Five of them were assigned to rig C-Three. I don’t see any follow up after their counseling and aversion programs,” Madison said.

  Napolitano looked confused. “That can’t be. We have a program that tracks them for three years to ensure they don’t resort back to drugs. Uppers are common to keep them awake during long shifts. Those and painkillers are the two top drugs our employees abuse. We are diligent to ensure that whatever issues drove them to use in the first place are resolved.”

  “Who is diligent? Your company records list you as the pers
on responsible for oversite,” Madison pointed out.

  “As you know, executives are overburdened with too many responsibilities and we delegate much to our lower-level managers. I have my assistant, Denise, overseeing this program with the ultimate responsibility falling on each region’s operations manager.”

  “So, Charles Devlin would have ultimately been responsible for following up on this for the workers on that rig and Denise should have stayed on top of Devlin to ensure that he was. He would have had to submit detailed information on each man in the program to her?” Madison recapped.

  “I will have to check on the reporting that is required for follow up. I’m not sure what Denise would have been expecting to receive back,” Napolitano stated. “And now that I think about it, I have to wonder if Devlin was included in the distribution of emails regarding those in the program to keep tabs on in his region. I’m not sure if he did indeed receive the names, and if he hadn’t, how could he have provided the necessary follow up?”

  Madison made a note with stars to track the fact that Napolitano had just used one of their fake narratives. She also made a note to talk with Denise about it during her interview that day.

  “Even so, shouldn’t Denise have followed back up with him?” Cooper asked.

  “Hum,” Napolitano looked thoughtful. “She may have assumed he was communicating right back to me on it. I guess this is one area that should be tightened up.”

  “We’ll talk with Denise and make recommendations,” Madison said. “Next item, we do believe that status update emails regarding the leak were either not sent or they were deleted from your system.” She knew that both had been the case.

  Napolitano shrugged. “Look, small leaks are common so there would have been no reason to cover it up. I know there were some happenings that appeared less than kosher in the Cook Inlet area, but I have no knowledge of any of them.”

  “By less than kosher, are you referring to a researcher at the Anchor Point Research Center purposefully disabling seismic monitoring equipment, the kidnapping of research personnel, and the submitting of falsified reports at gunpoint to diminish the pollutant levels near your drilling equipment which very well could have led to the explosion?” Lambchop demanded.

  Napolitano looked nervous. “Do I need an attorney? Do you think I was responsible for any of that? Are badge carrying federal agents going to come in here and arrest me?”

  “No, Dennis, we’re merely having a conversation,” Garcia said, his steely gaze focused on him.

  “I don’t know anything about any of that. I don’t know anything about status emails being deleted. I certainly never ordered it if that’s what you’re getting at. Ruth is responsible for the network. As far as I’m concerned, she’s the only one who can answer that.”

  Madison tapped out a few notes on what he’d said during the exchange. “Last item…we noticed some odd personnel assignments in your employee records.”

  “I don’t know what you mean by that?” Napolitano said.

  “For starters, Denise Paulo. Her service record is clean. No disciplinary mentions. She is clearly overqualified to be an administrative assistant, and her salary is pathetically low compared to your other direct reports. She was a senior control room operator on a rig for years and accepted a lateral move to be your assistant. What’s that about?” Garcia asked.

  “Denise is a highly valued member of the team. No, there was never a disciplinary issue with her. The two weeks on, two weeks off the rig rotation was wreaking havoc in her personal life. Her husband was a jealous SOB who thought she was banging half the men on the rig. She came to me and asked for a position that would keep her in Midland. My administrative assistant was getting ready to retire and with Denise’s experience I thought this would be the perfect fit. She’s been an effective partner for me in this role and has taken on far more than any other administrative assistant ever has. It didn’t help with the home life, though. She ended up divorcing the jerk.”

  “So why is her pay so low? She should be a manager level with her experience,” Lambchop said.

  “I agree. She had to stay in her position for a year per company rules before any sort of promotion could be processed. I wrote it up and submitted it on her anniversary date. It’s been approved and is just waiting for the funding to be approved.”

  “What’s her new title?” Lambchop asked.

  “Special Assistant Manager to the Global Operations Manager. I got her an unheard-of eighteen percent raise, just needs to be rubber stamped at our board meeting next month. She doesn’t know it yet. I want to surprise her with it. She’s earned every penny of it.”

  “How come there is no record of the pending promotion?” Madison asked.

  “Because we don’t keep those kinds of records. All that matters is when it’s approved and the date the new salary is effective, not that it is pending.”

  Madison glanced between the others. “Any other questions?” No one had any. “Okay, thank you Dennis.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re expecting Denise in a few minutes.” Her tone was dismissive.

  Napolitano rose and stepped to the door. He turned back and glanced over the four of them. “I still don’t understand how any of this is possibly related to the explosion on rig C-Three. Maybe our drug and alcohol testing programs need to be stronger, but I don’t think that had anything to do with the explosion, nor does Denise’s title. There was a sizeable earthquake that caused it.” He shook his head.

  Lambchop saw sadness in his eyes. He believed this man did feel bad for the loss of life on the rig. By all accounts, Napolitano cared about the workers and their safety. Despite the expensive suit and house, despite the fact that he had made a couple hard passes at Madison, Lambchop judged him to be genuine in his concern for his people. Even though he had used the false narrative that the team had put out there, he didn’t think Napolitano was guilty of concealing the leak or any of the illegal activities associated with it in the Cook Inlet. It was just a gut feeling.

  They received Mother’s text. He spoke with Denise Paulo’s ex. He was an angry man who blamed her job and Dennis Napolitano for the end of their marriage. He referred to her as a whore who fucked every man on the platform she worked on and Napolitano too. On the surface, he seemed to back up Napolitano’s opinion of her ex-husband and the demise of her marriage. They’d look a little further into it, just to be sure.

  Denise Paulo came in next, looking annoyed that she had to be there. She checked her watch immediately. “Our staff meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

  “Dennis knows you may be a few minutes late,” Garcia said.

  “Denise, we have a few questions regarding the deleted emails,” Madison said.

  “The alleged deleted emails,” she interrupted.

  “Did you see any emails, or hear anyone talking about status update emails regarding the leak on the platform?” Madison asked.

  “No. As far as I know there were no status update emails.”

  “I saw proof of them, and Mikey O’Conner confirmed they existed while I was on the platform before the explosion,” Lambchop told her.

  “Show me your proof,” she said. Her demeanor was argumentative.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Lambchop saw Cooper’s jaw set tight. “You’ve worked in the control room on a rig, Denise. Is it or is it not protocol to send status emails for everything under the sun? And record the statuses in the logbook that is kept in the control room?” Lambchop asked, ignoring her demand to see his proof.

  Paulo looked pissed. “Yes, I did work in the control room. And yes, there is a logbook to communicate statuses between the platform management staff. But the status emails get sent by each platform manager and those emails can’t just disappear.”

  “They can, and they did,” Garcia replied. “But you did know about the leak, right?”

  Lambchop watched her roll the question around in her thoughts. She took too long to answer and everyone in the room knew it, even h
er.

  “Come on, Denise, of course you knew about the leak. There is no way in hell you didn’t,” Lambchop pressed.

  “Small leaks are very common. I’m sure I did know, but I didn’t think much of it.”

  “What can you tell us about the new site survey that was applied for and approved?” Lambchop asked.

  “That the approval was retracted,” she argued.

  “Yes, but before it was retracted,” Cooper prompted.

  “What about it?” She asked.

  “How big of a deal was the leak while applying for the site survey?” Cooper asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s not my area of expertise, dealing with regulatory agencies. That was one of Charles Devlin’s jobs up there, knowing about that stuff. Have you been in communication with him?”