Free The Rig 2: Storm Warning by Steve Rollins

asked the man.
    He realized instantly his voice was slurred. That is never a good thing when you are at a function with the president.
    “Yes,” the man answered. “I heard. Nasty business that. We do have to keep a look out for these nut-job terrorists.”
    “Yes,” Portis answered. “Yes, we really do have to keep a look out for them.” He noticed the grin from the director. “It’s terrible.”
    The director nodded. “Yes, it is. Got a situation report on ‘The City’?”
    “Still on fire, but it’s probably going to be gone soon.”
    “Good.” The director smirked. “You were going to have your guys go over our new system as well right?”
    “Yeah, I’m going to send Ben over to address your system problems.”
    “Excellent.”
    The conversation with the director was dull. He never liked the man and they hardly ever had a thing to talk about. So he was happy to see Senator Jacobs show up at the table. He rose to his feet and noticed his balance was not great. He had had more champagne than he thought he’d had.
    “How are you, Senator Jacobs?”
    He offered his hand.
    The senator took his hand. His handshake was weak. Portis thought that was one bad thing about the man. Jacobs was weak. He was also an incorrigible letch, but he was a lot more fun to talk to than the dull crowd of bureaucrats.
    “Good to see you, Portis,” the senator began. “You know my favorite scientist was on your damned rig?”
    “Was she?” Portis asked him. “Which one is that?”
    “The blonde meteorologist with the hot tits, sexy ass and great legs.”
    Portis blinked. That was crude, even for the senator.
    “Who is that again?”
    “Sheila Briggs. The tornado chick.”
    The senator sat down and Portis noticed he touched his crotch under the table.
    “She is hot,” Portis sat down again. His wife coughed. “Not as hot as you, honey,” he said on auto pilot. “How did she get on board?”
    “By helicopter,” the senator answered.
    Portis smiled, “I mean, why is she there?”
    “They expected a big storm system of sorts. They needed her to help analyze it.”
    Portis frowned, trying to work out what the hell Jacobs was talking about.
    “Listen, Portis. I’ll be needing your help. Why I sent her over in the first place.”
    “What do you need me for?”
    “Elections are coming up next year and I need another five million dollars for my campaign. Is there anything I can help you with?”
    Portis sighed and looked around the room. He saw his golf partner speaking to the president. It was a heated discussion there. He laid his hand on his wife’s knee and slowly moved it up her thigh. She slapped his hand away. He sighed again. What was it the French said again? Wives are for making families, mistresses are for making love? He would have to do something about that.
    His drunk mind was wandering. He could not think of anything sensible to demand from Jacobs.
    “Come on, Portis. Give me the five million and I’ll set about your business; you know how that works.”
    “Yeah, sure,” Portis answered. “Look, if this thing with ‘The City’ is sorted, we can have a word about my Education Reform Program. You know the one where we get more kids involved in tech?”
    “You mean the one where you don’t teach them anything else and just get them ready for a job at one of your factories or labs?” Senator Jacobs said it very drily. He knew the program and had argued against it for a long time now. “I can change my opinion, but then you have to make sure there is a bit of PR goodness for me to work with as well.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like getting me involved in dealing with ‘The City’. Could be some extra work created there and if there is an environmental disaster now, I want a part in the solution.”
    Portis blinked. It was an idiotic proposal, he thought, but then again, it was politics, not business. He understood programming and marketing, but he never did get what drove men like Jacobs, or