A Tower Below The Sea E-Book

Karsten Krepinsky

• Herausgeber: via tolino media
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Six people, all up for a good party. They work for Global Companion, a multi-national corporation, and are now airlifted to a yacht anchored in the Atlantic. A one-week luxury vacation is awaiting the winners of the company sweepstakes. However, they are in for a tragic disappointment. A heavy storm forces the chopper’s pilot to risk an emergency landing on a darkened offshore oil rig, whose crew seems to have gone AWOL. Pools of blood strongly point to gruesome happenings on board. Soon, the first brutal murder occurs. Who is behind it? And who will be slaughtered next? The only answer seems to be death, an evil force which shrouds this island made of steel like a blood-red veil …

Leseprobe

KARSTEN KREPINSKY

A Tower Below The Sea

Translated from the German by

KARIN DUFNER

Imprint/Impressum

Copyright (c) 2019 by Karsten Krepinsky

English translation in 2020 by Karin Dufner

www.karindufner.de

First published with the title Blutroter Schleier in 2019 by Karsten Krepinsky/Neuwelt Verlag.

Cover design by Ingo Krepinsky, Die TYPONAUTEN

www.typonauten.de/eng

Published by Karsten Krepinsky, Berlin, April 2021

All rights reserved.

No part of this e-book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author.

www.theworldbehindthewindow.com

About the Book

An offshore oil rig. And a sinister secret.

Six people, all up for a good party. They work for Global Companion, a multi-national corporation, and are now airlifted to a yacht anchored in the Atlantic. A one-week luxury vacation is awaiting the winners of the company sweepstakes. However, they are in for a tragic disappointment. A heavy storm forces the chopper’s pilot to risk an emergency landing on a darkened offshore oil rig, whose crew seems to have gone AWOL. Pools of blood strongly point to gruesome happenings on board. Soon, the first brutal murder occurs. Who is behind it? And who will be slaughtered next? The only answer seems to be death, an evil force which shrouds this island made of steel like a blood-red veil …

A dystopian thriller by Karsten Krepinsky

For all those who love the unexpected …

“If you cannot have something, destroy it.” Lex Lovenberg

Prologue

My hands! Oh, my beautiful hands! My white cotton gloves have turned red. They’ll be saturated with my blood soon! I’ve been having this dream quite often recently, but it has never felt so real.

What’s different this time?

He’s here, the old man.

What is he doing?

The old man grabs me by the hands and drags me from my bed. I’m feeling very safe in my bed, you know. It’s so cozy under the blanket. But the old man has shattered this safety. He’s taking everything away from me.

What, do you think, might be the meaning of all this?

I don’t know. I’ve never dreamed of this old man before. He’s wearing a long overcoat and a hat. You know, I don’t get afraid easily. I’d have to reach way back into my past to come up with something scary. When I was a child, I was worried about what was going on under my bed. You must have heard of these stories about monsters lurking in the closet. They’re rather common, don’t you think so? For me, it was my bed. Or better, what was happening underneath.

Did it cause you nightmares?

Yes, it used to. Frequently.

What about recently?

Never. I’m traveling a lot, my job makes me get around. Sometimes I go to sleep by myself, sometimes there is a man sharing my bed. This time I have my bed all to my little lonesome. I’m feeling safe under the blanket. It’s raining outside, you know. There’s this storm. I think it’s the worst storm I’ve ever experienced. I crashed with a plane. Or was it a chopper? I’m not sure. Everything feels so weird and distant. Be it as it may, I’m stranded on an island. Well, it’s not really an island. It’s not made of rocks and sand but … kind of … well … metallic. Yes, metallic, that’s the word! This island has obviously been built by humans.

And now the old man’s coming closer?

It’s so very cozy under the blanket.

What’s the old man doing to you?

Horrible things. He yanks me from my bed. I scream and try to hit him as hard as I can, but the old man is strong. Why is he so strong? Hell, he’s just an old geezer. And I’m a woman who knows how to defend herself. But he tosses me to the ground like a bundle of rags. How can this be possible? How can an old man like this be so incredibly strong?

What do you feel?

I feel cold.

You’re not feeling any pain?

Maybe I did in the beginning. It really must have … hurt like hell, considering all the blood. But now the pain is gone. The old man actually does look rather kind. He has a beard and he’s smiling. But there’s something wrong with his face. It’s weirding me out. His skin. It keeps on changing. Black patches pop up and go away again. Like dark shadows, sort of.

Do you have any idea what could be the meaning of this?

No, I’m totally lost here.

Have you ever met this old man before?

I don’t know.

Think.

I might have.

When did you meet him?

In Berlin. Somewhere in Berlin. I don’t really remember.

Try harder.

Why is it so important?

Everything is important.

Stop tormenting me. I really want to be left alone now.

It’s not my job to torment you.

Of course not, you’re my shrink.

What makes you think I’m your shrink?

Who else should you be?

I’m not your shrink.

Of course not. Not really. It’s a dream. You’re the shrink my subconscious has made up.

What gives you this idea?

I once read an article about it.

It’s not a dream.

Not a dream? No? You’re joking! What else is this supposed to be?

Your pain is too strong. All these injuries you suffered.

I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.

I’ll explain. Just think of a wildebeest when it’s slain by a lion.

I’m not an animal.

I’m aware of this. It’s just an example to help you understand what’s happening to you.

Okay.

In the beginning, the wildebeest fights back with all it has, not wanting to accept that it will be eaten. But eventually the will to live wanes and the wildebeest gives up the fight. The body produces endorphins to dull the pain. The animal will just stare into space. During these last moments of its life its mind has actually shut off and left its tortured body.

So? What does this have to do with me?

You can stop fighting now.

I can stop fighting?

Yes.

Why the hell do you say something stupid like this?

To make it easier for you.

To make what easier?

Dying.

1

North Atlantic, 70 miles off the Scottish coast …

The black bank of clouds had balled up threateningly on the horizon. The waves churned up by an angry sea were several feet high. A deluge of rain was pelting the windows of CH 53 Sea Stallion. The pilot maneuvered the cargo helicopter right into the heart of the storm. The passengers in the CH 53’s luxury cabin weren’t really aware of the destructive forces of nature at play outside. At the moment a promotion video of Global Companion was flickering across the flatscreen monitors. Images of smiling people, strolling across a green lawn. Happily and without a care in the world, the perfectly styled models were posing for the camera. The message of the commercial was that GC took good care of every aspect of people’s lives. Customers had no reason to worry, because the worldwide corporation thrived on the philosophy of offering support to everyone. It was a friend to those in need, no matter what happened. During the last decade the influential conglomerate had swallowed thousands of other industrial corporations, thus securing itself monopolies in many countries around the globe. Beer cans, tubes of toothpaste, coffee tins, cell phones, refrigerators, computers, and pill bottles were emblazoned with the company’s logo. Global Companion also was a provider of utilities, insurance, and electric cars. It built houses and supplied security staff for major events. When you ended up in the hospital, the odds were that you came to in a bed manufactured by GC, the intravenous drip in your arm being a product of one of its affiliated companies. The brand Global Companion literally accompanied people from the cradle to the grave.

Six employees of said corporation were now reclining in the overstuffed leather seats that furnished the GC-helicopter’s passenger cabin. They were all wearing name tags. As GC had a first-name policy the tags showed Christian names only. They neither gave any indication of a person’s job within the corporation nor of their rank. Three men and three women were the winners of the GC sweepstakes. The annual lottery was open to everyone, from checkout clerk in a GC-supermarket to CEO of one of GC’s investment banks. When the names were pulled from a digital raffle drum, it was the same odds for all. First prize was a one-week luxury vacation aboard the yacht Love One, anchored before the Scottish coast.

Kim crossed her legs and turned around to face Rick. He was in his mid-twenties and quite an attractive man with chiseled features, sparkling blueish-grey eyes, dark hair, and wide shoulders. Kim sighed to herself. Sadly, Rick was a little short for her five-eleven. Also about ten years too young. As opposed to the chopper’s pilot, whom she had chatted up a little on the tarmac in Glasgow. He was tall and maybe in his late thirties, same as she was. Hair flecked with grey, Mike resembled George Clooney in his salad days: mature, masculine, but still exuding a mischievous playfulness, signaling that he hadn’t lost his youthful charm. A shame that Mike and Rick, as well as the other two men aboard, were wearing beards. Kim cursed this deplorable hipster fashion that, spreading like an epidemic, forced her to put up with men whose faces sprouted shaggy shrubbery. Kim preferred her men cleanly shaven, meaning all over their bodies, their skulls being the only exception, because baldies like Jason Stratham weren’t really her thing either. As Mike was momentarily sitting out of sight in the CH53’s cockpit, Rick made the top of Kim’s list—for the time of the flight, at least. Ed and Claas in the seats opposite were absolutely unsexy specimens as far as Kim was concerned. Claas was a tall and lanky guy with red hair, an androgynous face, and a remote and almost asexual air. The perfect metrosexual contrast to powerful Mike, the pilot. Ed, mid forties, with a deeply wrinkled forehead and a permanent frown, in Kim’s view was the most unattractive of the three. She arched her back and lasciviously shifted in her leather seat until the seat belt hoisted up her breasts like a push-up bra. Rick noticed. What a cute smile he had, Kim thought happily. If he only hadn’t been too short for her, she fretted, biting her lower lip. But when Kim was honest with herself, she wasn’t perfect either. While her body was a drop-dead success with the guys passing her on the street, her face didn’t seem to warrant a second look. Many times Kim had felt the looks of admirers on her back and enjoyed them ogling her slender body in a mini skirt. But more often than not their eyes dulled with disappointment as soon as she turned around to face them. It was as if she had violated some erotic fantasy, destroying it with a slap that was mirrored in the men’s faces. While no one would have called Kim ugly, her features just lacked the kind of delicate beauty that made men salivate. Her face was a study in nondescript blandness, as if the divine stone mason simply had gotten bored upon reaching the place where the neck meets the face. But it was useless to argue with fate. Kim scored big when she had the chance to show off her wares in skimpy bikinis. At the pool-sides or on beaches when men’s eyes rarely strayed beyond her well-formed breasts. Her body was Kim’s ace in the sleeve. However, it was her perfectly proportioned hands that put bread on her table. Kim took off her cotton gloves to view her fingers with a critical eye. Her skin had absorbed the moisturizing lotion by now. Currently, Kim was working as a hand model for GC Fashion. Therefore, she took very good care of her hands and protected them from harm of all kinds. She always wore thin gloves when on vacation, lest her skin might be damaged by ultraviolet rays. Her fingers were elf-like and slender. When hands with a caucasian coloring were featured in an advertising booklet, those hands most likely belonged to Kim.

“Man, how much longer do they want to make me endure this commercial shit?” Ed groaned. “Up to now I’ve really believed that we’d hit the jackpot. One week aboard a luxury yacht. And now they force us to stare at flat-chested models with goofy grins.”

Next to Ed, Liv ran her hand over her bun. “Just think of the heli-transfer as foreplay. Once we’re aboard the fun can begin.”

“If this is meant to be foreplay,” Ed grumbled, “I’d rather do without the actual act.”

A gust of wind shook the helicopter, jolting the passengers like on a roller-coaster ride.

Liv was leaning over to Ed. “Love One is absolutely legendary. I’m sure that we’ll have an adventure we’ll never forget.”

Kim narrowed her eyes at her competitor. Was Liv going to upstage her once they were aboard? Liv was half Asian and middle-aged. Even though her skin looked smooth and youthful, over forty years of life had left their marks in her face. Her eyes, that were now scanning her environment, showed intelligence and awareness. Liv clearly attracted another type of man than she did, Kim told herself. Intellectuals and thinkers. Well, she was welcome to Ed, the grouch. Now Kim only had to dispose of one more rival aboard the chopper—and this girl had class. Joy was a strawberry blonde and in her mid-twenties with the complexion of a China doll and a body that seemed to be made for the catwalk. Kim’s guess was that she worked as a model. Her hair was caught up with pins and she looked a bit underweight and anemic. Like most girls did in the modeling business. Kim hoped that Joy, also like many models, suffered from bulimia, as constant trips to the bathroom would definitely throw a spanner into her dating routine. She tried to sneak a peek at Joy’s teeth, but her perfectly shaped lips did not allow her to inspect her incisors, thus making it impossible to find out whether her tooth enamel had already been corroded by stomach acids.

“It’s plain stupid,” Joy complained. She was watching the churning water outside the helicopter’s side window. “Yesterday the weather was fabulous, and we had to stay in the hotel. And today? Well, just look for yourselves.”

“The company knows exactly what it’s doing,” was Rick’s calm reply. “Maybe they think it adds to the thrill.”

“Thrill,” Joy scoffed. “I could do very well without it.”

“Don’t get yourself worked up.” Rick smiled at Joy. “They won’t take this delay off our week on the yacht. It’s one more day of paid leave.”

“Doesn’t make a difference, if we’ll spend the whole time barfing our souls out.”

“Don’t you worry. Minor turbulences like this won’t bother a Sea Stallion. They used them in Afghanistan and even in Vietnam during the seventies. One of these birds was hit by two RPGs once, which didn’t stop it from flying on.”

Ed frowned. “RPGs?”

“Rocket-propelled grenades,” Rick explained, smiling.

Ed knocked on the back of this seat three times. “Well, I assume we won’t be meeting any Taliban before the Scottish coast. I’m not so sure about Vietcong, however.”

“I just hope that there are sick bags in case of emergency,” Joy said, digging in the pocket of her armrest. “My stomach tends to rebel in situations like this.”

Kim silently hooted. Joy was just a fragile China doll, after all. Thinking of her own athletic and robust constitution made her feel superior. In fifteen years Kim hadn’t been forced to cancel even one photo-shooting due to illness. And her nerves were made of steel. Two years ago she had soldiered through the New York marathon in spite of a torn hamstring.

“Why don’t you use the ice bucket?” Ed suggested. “This way your barf will be kept cool.”

“Gross!” Joy was clearly repulsed.

Ed laughed. To him it was incomprehensible that Joy didn’t see the humor in his sarcastic jokes. Although she seemed to be an intelligent woman. He, for his part, simply enjoyed to derail people with his comments.

With a shudder Joy took a pill package out of her bag and popped a ginger pill out of the blister foil. “I knew it was a mistake to go on this trip,” she said, tossing the pill into her mouth. “I should have never left my lab. It forced me to interrupt an important experiment. Now I’ll have to start a new culture of algae.” Joy washed down the pill with tomato juice.

“Algae?” Rick repeated. “What do you have to do with algae?”

“They’re my little green darlings.”

“Darlings?”

“I work for a start-up. We do research on how to produce biofuel from algae.”

“Wow!” Rick was impressed. “That means you actually went to university. I’ve taken you for a model or something.”

“Not looking bad doesn’t automatically make you a model,” Joy replied pointedly.

Rick’s smile was all innocence. “Well, I’m a barista.”

“A scientist with GC?” Ed asked, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll have to call you doctor, then.”

Joy nodded, turning away.

“Goodness, we have a doctor aboard,” Ed kept on milking the subject. “Aren’t you a bit young?”

Joy defensively crossed her arms. “Twenty-six. Plenty of time to study.”

“You’re a real doctor?” Rick was awed. “You’ll be able to treat us if one of us gets sick.”

“I don’t believe it!” Ed cleared his throat. “Do you seriously think that every doctor practices medicine? Man, you’re not the brightest candle on the cake, are you?”

Rick only grinned. “The candle which doesn’t burn so bright, makes up for it by burning longer.” Rick had learned not to mind these personal jibes. It had never bothered him that already his teachers in high school had doubted his academic talents. The more abuse was heaped on him, the more popular it made him with his class-mates. The girls in particular hadn’t been able to resist the good-looking rebel, with the result that he’d captured their hearts in droves.

“Makes sense.“ Ed realized that it wasn’t easy to unnerve a happy camper like Rick. He filled two glasses with champagne, passed one to Rick, and raised his own in a toast. “Well, then let’s have fun together.”

Rick drained his glass in one gulp. “Whatever happens aboard won’t leave the Love One. That’s rule number one during our vacation. My friends, a chance like this presents itself only once in a lifetime.”

Kim closed her eyes. Her thoughts only circled around Joy. How to dispose of this China-doll, who didn’t only have fabulous looks but also was a goddamn genius, trying to save the world? But maybe Joy’s bitchiness would make her vulnerable. In Kim’s view a definite plus in the upcoming confrontation. And what about Liv, the half-Asian woman? Rival number two didn’t seem to be interested in the men aboard. Or had she already homed in on Rick and was now taking it easy? Kim didn’t plan to give up Mike without a fight, neither to Liv nor to Joy. Because who would be left in this case? The mere idea of having to flirt with one of the other men sent Kim’s mood into a downward slide. Ed, the grouchy intellectual. Rick, who served coffee to hipsters, attractive, yes, but too low down in the food-chain for her. As far as stoic Claas was concerned, his red hair was a real turnoff. Kim fervently hoped that there would be a dishy personal trainer aboard the yacht. However, that wasn’t anything she could rely on.

“Here’s Mike from the cockpit,” the pilot’s voice came over the speaker. “There’s a storm-front coming up straight ahead. We have to expect heavy turbulences. Please, keep your seat-belts fastened and refrain from using the bathroom. In a few minutes we’ll reach the Love One.”

Kim silently sighed. What a deep masculine voice. She simply needed to get closer acquainted with Mike.

“Well, our George Clooney is really a sharp tack,” Ed was doing derisive. “It surely needs an avionics specialist to tell us that we’re having a storm.”

A bright flash of lightning shot past the right window.

“Wow, what was this?” Liv asked. She cast a worried look around. In the first moment she had feared that the chopper might go up in flames.

“Lightning struck,” Claas answered in a pedantic voice. “But don’t be afraid. We’re safe here. The helicopter works like a Faraday cage.”

Everyone turned to face Claas who so far hadn’t uttered a sound during the entire flight. His sudden burst of speech seemed to surprise them more than the angry elements unleashed by the storm. The helicopter was tossed about like a toy. The cabin’s insulation groaned as if the fuselage was going to crack open any moment.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Rick tried to make light of it. “It’s not a big thing for a Sea Stallion.”

Ed pensively gazed out of the window. For the first time the cynical smile was wiped off his face. The nonchalant distant air usually reserved for those around him had vanished into thin air. Panic took hold of him when he put down his glass without having finished his champagne. The cabin lights started to flicker and then went out. The emergency lights leading the way to the two exits bathed the passengers’ faces in a greenish hue.

Claas gave Rick an amazed look. “You don’t seem to be scared at all!”

“The company always has a plan,” Rick replied. “The whole thing could be just a test.”

“A test?” Claas raised his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“GC might be using this trip as a kind of assessment center to check out our potential.”

Ed’s complexion turned ashen. “Oh, great.”

When Joy offered him one of her pills against motion sickness, he chewed and then dry-swallowed it. “No foreplay, but a flaming assessment center.”

“This is Mike from the cockpit again. Please put on your life jackets. You’ll find them under your seats. This is only a precaution.”

“Now, I’m definitely starting to feel uncomfortable,” Liv admitted. “Life jackets? I’ve been a frequent flyer for decades without ever having to wear one of those.”

“Shit!” Claas took a look out of the window. “We’re going down! But there is no goddamn yacht in sight anywhere.”

“Do we have a co-pilot, by the way?” Rick remembered to ask.

“Where do you think he might be coming from?” Ed grumbled. “Did you see anyone getting on during the flight? They don’t have flight attendants either. Talking about the company taking care of everything. My ass!”

“Look!” Rick called out, pressing his face against the glass. “Down there … I saw something blinking!”

“This is Mike speaking,” a sonorous voice reverberated through the cabin. “We’re going down. Prepare for a rough landing!”

“Is this guy joking?” Joy bitched. “This wasn’t part of the deal.” She dug her cell from her bag. “Hell … I have to … I can … it’s … This thing can’t be dying on me … Not right now. Who will take care of my algae?”

“Hold on everybody!” yelled Claas. He had pulled his life jacket from its shelf, his sweaty hands clutching the orange safety device. Adrenalin made his body rigid. One gust of wind after the other attacked the copter. The noise of the rotors intensified, just to turn silent a moment later. A deathly quiet settled around the cabin.

“Prepare for impact!” the voice from the cockpit announced. “Hold on, everybody!”

“Oh, my God,” Ed whispered.

Kim crossed herself, even though she hadn’t set foot inside a church in years.

“This is a controlled crash!” Rick declared. His eyes shone with excitement. He seemed to see their situation as the chance of his lifetime to be a hero in the face of death. “As soon as the chopper hits water, I’ll yank open the doors. Don’t you worry, I’ll get you all out of here.”

“What’s the water temperature of the Atlantic at this time of the year?” Kim muttered. “47 degrees?” It was impossible to survive such a cold for longer than ten minutes. Even for her, a woman who had finished the New York marathon in spite of a torn hamstring.

“I can see a light down there! Something’s blinking!” Ed’s throat closed up. For a second he believed that he had made out an island crowned by a high tower that was jutting out of the churning sea. Was it real or was he hallucinating because the end was near? Ed dragged the life jacket over his head, slung the strap around his hips and let the clasp catch. He already had experienced a close brush with death thirty years ago. Living on borrowed time, he suspected. Death was knocking on his door once again. Ed stuck the emergency whistle attached to the life jacket between his lips. He could vividly picture what his end would be like. Maybe they had a guy with his kind of humor on the rescue team. He’d surely find a frozen floater with a whistle clamped between his teeth pretty hilarious. No matter what, the last laugh would definitely be on him.

2

A helipad somewhere in the North Atlantic …

“Where are we?” Joy was dragging herself across the ground, trying to get her bearings. The smoke filling the Sea Stallion’s passenger cabin was choking her. When she yanked at the rope of her life jacket, it self-inflated at once. “Let’s get out of here! Out!” she heard someone call. Like an ant following the scent trail of its siblings, she moved along the illuminated green line on the floor in the direction of the exit.

“What’s taking you so long?” Rick grabbed Joy by the arm and pulled her from the chopper. His leather jacket was soaked, long strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “What have you been doing all this time?”

Joy glanced back into the smoke-filled cabin. “My bag … I needed my keys … and my talisman.”

“Are you okay?”

Stunned, Joy touched a hand to her forehead. She had a salty taste on her tongue. “Where … where is the water?”

“The water? Below us, I guess.”

“Below us?” Joy repeated like in a trance without knowing what she was saying.

Rick studied Joy with a worried expression. “I think you’re in shock.”

Blood trickled from Joy’s mouth, blended with the raindrops, and streamed down her chin. “My lips … I guess I’ve bit my lips.”

“Can you move?”

Joy nodded.

“Then let’s go!”

“Just a moment.” Joy took off her high-heeled shoes, holding them in her hand. “It’s easier like this.”

“Hurry up now. The chopper could tumble off the platform any moment.”

“How … ? What is this place?”

“Never mind. It’s solid ground under our feet, don’t worry about anything else.”

The storm drove sheets of rain across a brightly lit landing platform. The sky was pitch-black, even though the sun couldn’t have gone down yet. The Sea Stallion had left deep gouges on the steel slabs. The hard impact had blown its tires. The chopper had careened for about a hundred feet, before it had been stopped by the ropes of a safety net. Even though Joy couldn’t see the ocean, she felt its presence. A dull roar surrounded her, filling her ears and drowning out all other sounds. A wild unleashed deluge battered the platform like it were an insignificant object, meant to be devoured.

“Over here! Come along!” Claas stood at the other end of the platform, frantically waving his arms. Arms linked, Joy and Rick battled against the violent wind.

“You’ve almost made it!” Claas pointed at a staircase leading to the lower level. “There are bunkers down here.”

“The storm’s getting worse and worse!” Rick wiped a strand of hair from his face to clear his sight.

“The others are already there!” Claas called out. “Where’s Mike? Where’s our pilot?”

Rick indicated the Sea Stallion. “He’s still in the cockpit. He told me he’d try to radio SOS.”

“Say again?” yelled Claas.

“SOS! He’ll radio SOS!” Rick roared over the noise.

“Let’s go down quick! Or else this friggin’ storm’ll blow us into the water!”

“Where are we?” asked Joy, still clinging on to Rick. The landing platform was a deserted rectangle of light, surrounded by a dark void.

“We’re alive. That’s all that counts at the moment.”

3

Inside a staff lounge …

“This place seems to be an offshore rig.” Mike’s hand held his helmet. Raindrops dripped from his soaked overalls, landing on the carpet.

“Offshore rig?” Claas wondered aloud. “Does your map really say so?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Mike replied.

“How can you tell that it’s an offshore rig, then?”

“We almost smashed into a drill derrick. It was a close call. I veered at the last moment.”

Kim wrapped a strand of hair around her index finger, dreamily gazing at Mike. Great, her nipples were showing through her wet blouse like in the night of the wet-t-shirt contest back then in Miami. “Thank you for getting us down in one piece,” she simpered.

Ed sat at the bar, sipping the long-drink he had just mixed from whisky and cola. “Yes, Mike, you really did great. Do you expect standing ovations for your fantastic performance?”

“I don’t expect anything,” Mike retorted. “I’m just glad that all of us have made it.”

“No, no, credit when credit is due.“ Ed smiled dismissively. “Thanks for flying us into the middle of a storm and making us crash. This surely was an aviatory masterpiece, you’re a wizard at the controls, I must say.”

“Why’re you giving me a hard time?” Disgusted, Mike flung down his helmet. “Spare me! I’ve met plenty of assholes like you. You know what I mean? All talk, nothing behind it. Always a pearl of wisdom on the tip of their tongues. But when the going gets tough, the likes of you run for cover with their tails between their legs.”

Ed turned around on his stool. He studied Mike, trying to look bored. “I, at least, don’t make it a habit to fly innocent people into storms of biblical proportions. How can anyone be so stupid?”

Claas waved his hands in a calming gesture.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---