Free The Rig 1: Rough Seas by Steve Rollins Page B

shirts.
    “Sorry but you won’t be reporting on that rig fire just yet.”
    “Says who?”
    The pilot demanded, putting his hand on the throttle.
    “Says us.”
    One of the men put his hand into his jacket and pulled out what looked like a small black leather wallet. he flicked it open and showed them the badge and ID it contained.
    “FBI. We won't let you report on that just yet. Not until we have the facts and know it's safe.”
     
    ***
     
    Senator Jacobs' PA trotted through the corridors of the Capitol on her high heels. She wore a skirt that barely covered her ass and so tight around the hips that it limited her movement to small steps. She wore towering heels, a tight blouse and a bra that pushed her breasts up and gave her a massive cleavage, which was always on show. She hated dressing in this super sexy, provocative way. After six years in college, she found it degrading to have to present herself as little more than a sex object. But even if she hated the sort of clothes the senator made her wear and the man himself made her want to vomit, she was glad she had a job. And he paid her well, though she suspected the pay was more for her assets than for her skills.
    She waited outside the room she suspected the senator was in. He was supposed to attend four hearings and meetings at once, but she guessed he would be in the one on climate change now. That was his big passion. Several other PA's were standing outside the room. There was one mousy-looking woman and the rest were men. A few of them looked very young. They were probably interns. She felt uncomfortable under the stares of the men and looked down. She began to play with her long brown locks as she waited.
    After a good five minutes Senator Jacobs came out. He had just finished his speech and was running out to get to another meeting. He would not even bother to hear the response to his statements by the scientist they were talking to. He had his reply for the end of the meeting ready and that would suffice for the PR and the media. Nobody wanted to hear what some boring scientist has to say, he figured.
    “Sir,” the secretary said, touching his arm as he passed her.
    He turned and looked at her. He did not bother to look into her eyes, instead he kept his gaze fixed on her bosom.
    “Tell me while we walk.”
    He set off at a fast pace and his secretary tottered after him. It was almost impossible for her to keep up and she again cursed the clothes she had been made to wear.
    “Sir.”
    She felt it was a miracle she could talk with the effort it took to keep up and to stay on her feet.
    “Sir, we just got a call from California. There’s been an explosion at ‘The City.’ It caused an oil spill. A second explosion set the oil on fire.”
    To her relief the senator stopped.
    “What? How?” he bellowed. “Come on, answer me, you stupid bitch!”
    The secretary felt her lip quiver. She held back the tears she could feel welling up. This sort of abuse was hard to take. She would never get used to it and she wondered then how much more she could take before quitting a job she needed so desperately.
    “Well?” the senator demanded again.
    “It... it seems there was a terrorist attack, sir,” she said, as soon as she could control her voice.
    “God damn it!” the senator roared and rushed off to his next meeting. It was one on security.
    Then halfway down the corridor he turned.
    “Get on the phone to Portis! If there's a spill, my head is on the line!”
     
    ***
     
    Portis was playing golf with a previous president when his phone rang. He answered and was slightly annoyed to hear the voice of Jacobs' secretary. He did not talk to secretaries. He wanted to hang up, but the first phrase she uttered was, “There's been an attack on ‘The City.’”
    “Really?” he asked, almost casually. “Oh God...”
    His tone was very calm and he smiled as he heard the news.
    “Yes, si r . Senator Jacobs asked me to call you as it seems they struck oil