The Rig 3: Eye of the Hurricane by Steve Rollins Page A

the meteorologist.
    “How long do your models think this damned storm will last?” Lovell wasted no time with pleasantries.
    “And good evening to you, Commander.”
    “Lieutenant Roberts.” Commander Lovell acknowledged him.
    “Why the question?”
    “Because I want to be out there again as soon as possible.” Lovell smiled brightly. “But as it is, I don't want to risk my cutter out there.”
    “You'll be staying put at least another day, as far as I can see.” Roberts answered him without even looking at the screens on his desk.
    “You sure?”
    “Roberts nodded.
    “Don't have to see any models for that. Just watched the radar feed a moment ago. This storm will get more intense in a few hours and it won't stop until sometime late tomorrow.”
    Commander Lovell just swore and walked out the door. He might not trust Lieutenant Roberts and his models, but there would be little discussion possible in dispute of the weather radar.
    Lovell walked back along the quay of the San Clemente station harbor, his head low and his collar turned up. The thought crossed his mind that he must look like an old fisherman or whaler, one of those guys of the old world that was long and gone who walked along the quays in their oilskins and sou'westers. He walked along the gangway onto the USCGC Hurricane and went straight below, not bothering to check in on the bridge. There was little they could do wrong there as long as they were docked. He tramped into his cabin and slammed the door shut behind him. He stripped off his raincoat and threw it at the hook on the door, kicked off his boots and dropped himself onto his bunk. He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, then closed his eyes and thought. He thought about the people who would still be trapped on that rig and about how he could make the DHS orders go away.
    He found it preposterous that he would be disallowed from helping people. It was the one part of his job that he always found the most worthwhile. He thought about his niece, Elly, again, thinking how she had always found herself obsessed with finding the truth. It seemed she had more recently let go of her obsession. It seemed as though being a journalist now was more important than finding the truth.
    He reached for his mobile phone and called her. No answer to his phone call. He sank back onto the bed and then sat up again to text her. He asked her what she was doing, that he hoped she was okay in this storm and said that he wanted to talk to her.
     
    ***
     
    Elly looked at her phone under the table and read Dan Lovell's message, but did not answer it. She did not dare raise the impression that she was distracted from the awesomeness of the senator. She needed him to be completely enthralled and not have the least impression of her attention being divided.
    She suppressed a yawn as the senator explained the inner workings of the senate again, using a comity on climate change as an example. She smiled and nodded politely as she heard the climate change argumentation again. The smile was genuine as she realized she was more prone to disbelief of climate change even as he tried to convince her. His arguments were completely idiotic and the way he put the argument together was rattling on all sides.
    It must be quite funny to work in DC, she reflected. If all the men were this incompetent and insane, the place must be quite comical if considered with an open mind.
    “So you see, we have decided that climate change is a real and potent threat and one that must be dealt with,” the senator concluded.
    Elly smiled and curled a strand of hair around her index finger.
    “Oh yes, indeed so.”
    She leaned forward, her arms pressed slightly inwards so her cleavage was even more pronounced in the tight confines of her dress.
    “Tell me, are there more senators as sexy as you?”
    It conjured a huge smile from Senator Jacobs. He leaned forward and took her hand in his.
    “Say, do you maybe want to skip dessert here and