Free Assignment Black Gold by Edward S. Aarons

and came to Brady
Cotton’s establishment. All the windows were dark. There was a cord attached to
a bell above the shaded shop door, and he tugged it gently. then again,
listening to the dim tinkling inside. The lane was dark and shadowed, but no
one loitered nearby. He heard a hooting from the
whistle of one of the freighters moored in the river mouth. A rooster began to
crow. To the west, the Atlantic brooded in sullen darkness under fading stars.
    On the third ring, he heard movement beyond the door. Kitty
Cotton appeared, wearing an ultra-short nightie that did nothing to make her
look less desirable. Her eyes were sleepy.
    “Cajun? Come in.” She undid the chain and the lock and
stepped aside for him to enter. “Where’ve you been?”
    “Down at the docks. In jail.“
    “Jail? Oh, Lord.”
    “Colonel Lepaka knows all about me. He’s known about Brady’s
cover tor some time, it seems."
    “Damn it. I told Brady he wasn't being too smart about
things. Come in, Sam. I’ll make some coffee. Isn’t that jail a hellhole?"
    “I didn‘t see too much of it. Lepaka says I have a
choice—spend the rest of my life there, or help him with a private job he wants
done. He‘s given me this day to find Brady."
    “Nuts. Where can you look?”
    “On the Lady, I thought.”
    “You can‘t get out there. Nobody can.”
    “Matty might help me.”
    “Matt takes orders from Hobe Tallman, and Hobe says no one,
but no one, goes out to the rig. He’s worried about sabotage, I guess.”
    “Would you come with me?” Durell asked.
    Her eyes were suddenly less sleepy. “Why me?”
    “Brady’s your husband, isn’t he?”
    “Not much of one,” she said.
    He followed her up the stairs. The short nightie was a
marvelous temptation. He kept his hands to himself.
    “Let me put the coffee on and get dressed,” she said.
    “How do you expect to get out to the Lady?”
    “Doesn't Brady own a boat?”
    She turned and looked at him. “Oh. I see what you mean.
Matter of fact, I reckon he does. I’m not particularly fond of boats anymore.
Are you?”
    “I sail a little.”
    “This is a power boat. I don’t think Brady's ever taken it
out to sea that far. It’s almost twenty miles to the rig, you know.”
    “What’s its speed?”
    “Oh, fifteen knots, maybe. Make it two hours to get
out there—as long as the ocean is reasonably calm.”
    “Fine,” he said. “Get dressed."
    She was quick and efficient in everything she did. He noted
that she did not ask specifically what Lepaka had demanded of him. She
vanished into the bedroom while he sipped the hot chicory-flavored
coffee, and when she came out, she was wearing dark dungarees and a blue polo
shirt that let him see the contours of her fine breasts. She had tied her
hair into long braids and pinned them on top of her proud head. He thought
again that Brady Cotton had been a fool to lose her. Her back and shoulders
were very straight.
    “Have you got a gun?” she asked.
    “Do you think we’ll need one?”
    ‘“I’m not sure. It’s because of what the children that I
teach have been saying.”
    “And what’s that?”
    She shrugged. “The rig is haunted. A sea devil lives out
there. That sort of thing. Native superstition.”
    “Do you think a sea devil is out there?”
    She looked at him seriously. “I honestly don’t know. I just
thought a gun might be handy.”
    “Not against ghostly spirits.”
    “All right. I’m just a bit jumpy, I reckon. With Brady
missing, and the sabotage and accidents, and you showing up, and all. You
bother me, do you know that?”
    “How do I bother you?” Durell asked.
    She kept her gaze level. “It’s just that you seem to be all
the things I wish Brady might be. In some ways, I don’t like you. You scare me
a little. Don’t forget, I was brought up on Cape Ann, and I’m part Portuguese fisherman,
too. Lots of superstitions there, you see. About the ocean. I’ve never been out
to the Lady, you know.”
    “Let’s