The Rig 1: Rough Seas by Steve Rollins

screen.
    “Oh my God! Gentlemen!” The controller said. “And lady,” he quickly added. “We have just struck oil!”
     
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
    Akhmed rolled the last crate into the cargo lift on the helipad. Unloading had been hard work and he was freezing. It was a warm day by any measure, but the way the wind swept across the helipad would make anyone feel the chill in his bones. He walked down the stairs himself and took the crate from the cargo lift.
    It had taken him an hour to move all the crates from the helicopter to the deck below the helipad. The pilot had not helped him this time; he had been called to the offices immediately to file the paperwork. Now he had to move all the crates down to the Central Plaza and begin to set everything up on the stage. It was a lot of work, but in the end it would be worth it, he figured.
    He could fit two crates into the elevator and then clamber on top of the crates himself and so ride down to the deck he needed to be at. He jumped down when the doors opened and began to roll the crates out. He set the first crate down by the side of the elevator and rolled the second one to the stage. Then he moved the first crate and rode the lift back up to collect more.
    When he was done he saw the clock in the Central Plaza read one thirty and he knew he did not have long to set everything up before DJ Medina arrived. But he was beginning to feel light headed and he knew he needed to take a lunch break. He ran into a bakery on the square and got some pastries and coffee and sat down on the edge of the stage. People were passing him without even looking at him. It felt like any city in the world really. Nobody cared about what anybody else was doing in the public spaces. He would not be surprised if they all cared deeply about what their neighbors did in private ones though.
    Having satisfied his hunger and thirst, Akhmed began unpacking the crates. There were a large number of speakers, mixing boards, turntables and records. He had a check list and began setting everything up as he had been told. It took him ages to set it up and to plug the cables in. He checked his list again and then looked for the box of records Fatíma wanted him to open. He opened it and then went to set up the cables for the laptop she would be using.
    “Hard work?” asked someone in front of him.
    Akhmed looked up, shocked that someone was actually talking to him. It was a pretty young woman.
    “Yeah...” he answered tentatively. “Yeah, very hard work. Sorry.”
    He excused himself and ducked under the table to fit another cable. When he came up again she had walked away. He could see her entering the bakery where he had bought his pastries earlier.
    “Excited about tonight's show?” the baker asked her.
    “Oh yeah. Looks like a lot to set up.”
    “Yeah, glad I don't have to do it.”
    “Weird guy though. Looks a bit nervous.”
    The baker looked out and saw Akhmed look around the square. “He does look a bit nervous.”
     
     
    Chapter Thirteen
     
    Stryker was not picking up his phone when Reg called him from the control room. So Reg had gone up to the manager's office, with Dave and Joy on his heels. He was not there. Reg stopped into his own office and began filling in forms on his computer, leaving Joy and Dave alone in the corridor. They walked around there for a while, waiting to see whether Reg would come out again, but he seemed very busy now. So they just kept walking around. Dave began whistling a tune, until Joy shot him a look which told him to shut up. Eventually they leaned into the wall, still waiting for Reg.
    “Wish I knew what Stryker is up to,” Joy said, as she slumped down against the wall.
    Dave sat down next to her, leaning back into the door to Stryker's office. And he fell over as the door opened.
    “Fuck!” he swore and looked behind him. “Doesn't the bastard lock his door?”
    Joy smiled.
    “How dare you, you complete vandal!” she grinned at him. “How dare