be on the platform and if he knew them. His thoughts went to Stratton, not just because of the discussion with Deacon. Bumping into him at the airport the other day had been a strange coincidence and he wondered what the chances were of him being in the first wave. He dismissed the idea as quickly as he had thought of it. If Stratton was involved in any way it would be leading one of the assault teams, not the recce. He felt grateful for it.
‘This way,’ Deacon shouted, walking past Jordan, his hood pulled over his head.
Jordan followed. Deacon deliberately walked too quickly. He paused at the top of a flight of riveted metal steps to wait for the former SBS operative, a mean glare in his eyes that Jordan would never be able to see in the darkness and inside his hood.
They descended to the low-blocked accommodation deck and walked across an open space in front of the cabins to another flight of stairs going down. They followed these to the lower deck and on down a set of narrower, steeper steps to the machine deck, the lowest operating deck before the spiders. There was a mixture of machine equipment, storage containers and piping of every description stacked everywhere. The thunderous boom of the powerful swell pounding against the rig’s legs grew louder with each step down. The black-painted metal railings were wet and slippery.
They halted beside one of the four massive legs. A wide ladder leading down was welded to its side. Here the wind was even more turbulent, its pressure dropping and increasing alternately as it pushed between the supports.
Deacon’s pace slowed and became more cautious as his concentration focused ahead. Partway around the curved surface of the huge leg he stopped and pressed himself against it. He removed his hood and slowly leaned over a rail in order to look below.
Jordan gradually closed on him.
Deacon had to search for a while before he eventually spotted the Pirate squatting on a cross-brace some twenty feet below. Only when the jet-black Somali looked up and revealed the whites of his eyes could Deacon make out which part of the dark bundle was the man’s head. The Pirate pointed down and diagonally opposite.
Deacon could see nothing except shadows and shimmers of light absorbed by the white water breaking around the rig’s legs. He looked around at Jordan. ‘I’ll bring the team in. We can ambush them as they come up.’
Deacon brought his radio to his lips but Jordan stayed his hand. ‘They won’t be coming up.’
‘Then we’ll go down and get them.’
‘Bring your man up in case he’s seen,’ Jordan ordered.
Deacon looked at him as he yanked his hand free. ‘Why?’
‘Because we don’t want to start a war with special forces. You know them as well as I do. If we kill just one of them they’ll want revenge. Remember, there’s no law out here to govern us. There’s little to govern them, either. We’ve been there, right?’ Jordan added by way of subtle manipulation.
It made sense but only to someone who didn’t like confrontation. Deacon was convinced that Jordan was weak, and usurping him became suddenly a very serious consideration. The one thing stopping him from doing it, for the moment at least, was that Jordan still held a significant ace up his sleeve. ‘When are you going to tell me what this is all about?’
‘You’ll find out in good time.’
‘This is your moment of power, isn’t it?’
‘Don’t be so bloody childish. Now bring your man up.’
Deacon took his time going back to the rail. When the Pirate looked up, Deacon gestured for him to join them. The Somali moved slowly back along the strut to the leg and began to climb the ladder.
Jordan turned to go but Deacon grabbed his arm. ‘At least tell me what our next move is.’
Jordan was beginning to get some pleasure out of squeezing the little shit. He was prepared to kill the fool if he showed serious signs of becoming a threat but he expected the man ultimately to control himself. ‘They’ve come to do a job down there. When they’re finished they’ll go and I suspect it will take them minutes rather than hours. Then, if things have gone to plan, we may be able to leave too.’
‘You’re serious? We could be gone in hours?’
Jordan yanked his arm free and shuffled back along the gangway.
Deacon watched him go, feeling quite pleased. The prospect of getting off the platform lessened