Prologue
After two weeks in Greenland along with Colton, Troy Landry had finished up the training they had been trying to get done. Once the weather had cleared, their progress had improved rapidly, and now he was on his way back home again. First to Coronado base and then onto a US destroyer. And he was okay with that. He liked to spend as much time out on the water as he could. It was very different being a Navy SEAL on shore versus out on one of the big destroyers. He wasn’t sure what the mission was this time, but he was happy to be a part of it, no matter what was happening. He liked excitement; he liked the action. But some downtime would be nice too.
If any was coming his way.
Back in Coronado, he unpacked, then repacked his gear to be ready when the call came. Just as he moved his bag to the front door before heading to the pier, he got a phone call.
“Change of orders,” Mason said in a clipped tone.
“Okay,” Troy said, quite used to having his schedule spin on a dime. “What are we doing instead?”
“Heading up to the coast of Alaska. An oil rig’s in trouble. Quite a few workers being rescued right now. A programmer called in with an SOS on a suspected sabotage,” he said. “She’s still on board, as are a few others. Bad storms are coming in.”
“So, why are we still talking?” Troy said. “I figured you’d be out front already.”
“I am,” Mason said, his laugh dark. “I was hoping you’re on your way to the pier.”
With the phone still in his hand, Troy took one last look around, shut off the lights, grabbed his bag, and opened his front door. Locking it, he said, “I’m coming down the hallway toward you.”
“Good thing,” Mason said. “This one looks bad.”
“How many teams?”
“One six-man team,” Mason said.
Before they were done talking, Troy was out front, storing his duffel bag into the rear of the navy jeep, before taking the last vacant spot in the back seat. Lots of faces he knew, and a couple he didn’t. He just smiled and said, “Good to go.” He slammed the door shut even as Mason pulled away from the curb. “Are we going incognito, or is this with full military backing?”
“Always military backing,” Axel said from the front of the vehicle. “Just, in this case, we’re also talking a little bit of stealth.”
“Great,” Troy said. “And what’s our cover?”
“Two of us are part of the oil company, heading onto the rig itself,” Mason said, “and two will be on a nearby destroyer and will secretly come in from the ocean. We’ll let them onto the rig, and they will be our eyes and ears in the shadows.”
“Oh, now that’s an interesting way to handle it,” Troy said. “And the other two?”
Mason shot him a look through the rearview mirror. “You and Axel will go on as deckhands.”
“Why are we new deckhands, if they’re getting everybody off because the oil rig is in danger?”
“Because they still need somebody to stay on board and hopefully stabilize it.”
“Surely they’re not taking off the entire crew, are they?”
“They’re trying to,” Mason said. “Nelson here and I will go in as part of the company. Unfortunately one of the actual company board members is coming with us.”
“Unfortunately?”
“It’s never a good idea to have civilians involved,” he said.
Troy sat back and nodded, agreeing fully. This started to sound like an interesting mission. “Loss of life?”
“They’re still checking. Four people are missing.”
“But not confirmed dead?”
Axel shook his head, as he twisted around to look at him. “No, none confirmed yet. Several were fished out of the arctic water already.”
“What’s it take? About twelve minutes for hypothermia up there?”
“If you’re lucky,” he said. “An arctic front is heading down, so the weather’ll get vicious.”
“My favorite kind of mission then,” Troy said with a laugh. “Maximum danger, potential for betrayal, chances of not coming home—all good.” He grinned, and the others laughed. Because, just like him, they’d all been there before. And, just like him, so far they’d been lucky and made it home. But, just like him, they all knew many who hadn’t. Being part of the oil rig crew suited Troy just fine. He’d done a stint up on the oil rigs himself when he was eighteen, which may be why he’d been tagged for this. He looked at Axel. “You ever been on a rig before?”
“Yeah,” Axel said. “A couple times.”
Troy wasn’t at all surprised at that. The men on this team had a wide and varied set of experiences. When they pulled into the base airport, without talking they headed for the plane that was already refueling.
One of the pilots stood there, glaring at them. “You’re late,” he said.
Troy lifted an eyebrow.
By the time they made the switch to a connecting flight to head to Alaska and then eventually landed on the destroyer, Troy would be tired and ready for either action or a break. This hurry-up-and-wait scenario was driving him crazy. They’d done as much research as they could, but, so far, it looked like it could be an accident, sabotage, or somebody making it look like sabotage to hide something else. He’d seen way too much betrayal in his life to not consider that as an option.
After several hours on the destroyer, they were called up on deck to climb into the helicopter heading to the oil rig platform. He and Axel were in oil-rig uniforms but were fully armed inside their coveralls and heavy jackets. Mason was there in a heavy parka, but he wore a suit, as was the stranger standing with them, looking uncomfortable. Presumably the board member.
Mason introduced them. “This is Gregor Stanovich, one of the board members, and the one who looks after this particular rig.” Mason motioned everybody toward the chopper.
Troy studied Gregor carefully and concluded he definitely looked like the paper-pushing kind. But Troy had been deceived before. He glanced at Axel to see him eyeing the stranger with the same harsh eye.
Not everybody was as quick to do this kind of work as they were. And Gregor shouldn’t be doing this. Everybody had a place in this world to do their own thing, but it was also important to know what capabilities somebody had.
By insisting on going into this nightmare, Gregor was putting himself in the line of fire. And that just meant Troy and his team would have to keep an eye on Gregor, in case things went south.
Civilians tended not to listen; they tended to underestimate the danger, and they just didn’t see the traps as they headed toward them. Troy could only hope this was a case of a simple oil rig accident, but there was a reason his team had been called in. And it was rarely for a simple accident. Too often a “simple accident” ended up being something far worse.
From the helicopter, Troy watched the ocean dance below them. There was no sign of the oil rig in the distance. Which meant they still had quite a distance to go. He looked at Axel. “I wonder how close the destroyer is planning on getting.”
Axel nodded. “Nobody can handle the frigid water, no matter what kind of protective gear they’ve got.”