Free Offshore by Lucy Pepperdine Page A

goodly crop of dirty magazines.
    He also
had it in mind to systematically trawl every room he could,
whenever he had the chance, for anything he could purloin, to fence
when back onshore. Lonny Dick was nothing more than a dirty minded,
not so little, thief.
    Last
night he had sneaked down here to indulge in a little secret
drinking and smoking, and have a furtive wank over naked airbrushed
females with plastic tits and shaved pussies. Crafty
bastard.
    But why
here in the cold and dark of an equipment store? Why not in his
nice warm bunk? Because although it was a might uncomfortable, it
was safe, that’s why. In his cabin, jacking off was expected,
encouraged even, but drinking alcohol and smoking dope - two of the
most illegal substances likely to incite the wrath of both the
company and the law - would soon be sussed out, and if he got
caught it would be considered not far short of a hanging offence,
especially if he didn’t share.
    A whiff
of his breath and a look in his eyes, bloodshot with pupils the
size of doorknobs, and Eddie ‘Up Your Arse’ Capstan would anoint
himself judge, jury and executioner. This new occupant of Lonny’s
body would have to be careful if he was to enjoy his recreations in
peace.
     
     
    After using the lavatory for the purpose for which it was
intended, Euterich was now wearing Lonny’s skin and looking through
Lonny’s eyes, yet thinking with his own refreshed brain, stood
naked before the mirror over the basin in the washroom examining
his new features – he hadn’t had blue eyes for a while.
    This
pair was set in a heavy uneven face, with a broad nose which looked
as if it might have been broken more than once. With full lips and
hooded lids he was far from handsome, but his well mauled
appearance gave him a distinct ‘don’t mess with me’
character.
    He
turned his head from side to side to see all aspects and check his
profile, exaggerating a grin which would frighten a cougar. It
showed all his teeth. Not the dangerous needle-like dentition of
his natural form, or the gnawing blades of the rat, but small even
pegs. He moved his tongue over them, measuring out their
length.
    They
would not be particularly efficient when it came to tearing through
flesh and bone, but they would suffice for tackling soft, bland,
human food.
    The tip
of his tongue met roughness behind his left canine - a cavity, and
tasted the tang of metal - fillings.
    “ Not your best choice,” he said, addressing the reflection.
“But beggars can’t be choosers.”
    He put
on the big man’s clothes and boots, retrieved his gas detector and
ID lanyard, washed and dried his hands, ran his large fingers
through his close cropped blond hair, and headed back to the main
workshop.
    Still
one last job to do before he could join the others and take Lonny’s
place among them. He dragged the plastic sheet containing Lonny’s
leftovers across the floor to the escape hatch, turned the handle
and heaved open the cover, easy now with these new strong muscles,
revealing the long drop to the pounding ocean below.
    Fighting
off a wave of vertigo at the shifting mass tempting him to plummet
into it, he kicked the plastic wrapped bundle through the hole and
watched it drop into the water below.
    Weighed
down with the metal tool, it should have sunk without a trace.
Instead, air caught in the folds of the tarpaulin formed it into a
bubble, keeping the package afloat to bob around like a bright
green man o’war, until a wave snatched it up and mashed it against
the support gantry.
    Caught
in the current, time and again it crashed against the metal
skeleton until the lashing worked free and the contents spilled.
Freed from its load, the empty plastic sheet flattened out and
continued to ride the surface, each wave taking it further and
further away from the platform.
    Euterich
had no worries. In as little as half an hour it would be out of
sight completely, and one more piece of plastic flotsam floating
around the world’s