The Rig 1: Rough Seas Read Online Free PDF Page B

not particularly famous. She wanted to get onto the rig for a gig and then set up her protest.
    As she explained that, Smith and Garcia had come in and greeted him. They were quick in coming to the point. They would take care of the helicopter and the gear in the morning, and then they would help set up the protest. All Akhmed would have to do was set up the gear and begin the first record. After ten minutes Fatíma, or DJ Medina, would enter and begin her set. The second part of the set would then be their protest.
    Fatíma had explained to him she had already broken glass with her sound system, and she had found a way to set up a resonance pattern which could make metal vibrate. She could not break anything, but she could make the situation seriously unpleasant, without it seeming like sabotage. And she would be doing exactly that. She was set to play in the Central, the big plaza in the very center of ‘The City’. If she played the right sequence, there would be major damage in the center of the rig and there was a good chance ‘The City’ would be evacuated due to the vibrations induced in the metal.
    Akhmed understood the physics immediately and was impressed by the idea. It struck him as an easy and safe way to put an end to the whole thing. Some people might be hurt from the breaking glass, but there would be no casualties. And if nobody was allowed to protest against the rig, then someone would have to make sure the politicians and the owners and developers of ‘The City’ listened to reason. It was the only way. And this seemed perfect. No casualties, no danger.
    He turned the key in his door and went in to his own apartment. There was nothing to do now, apart from rest and wait for the morning. Tomorrow he would pick up the van with DJ Medina's gear and drive it to the heliport. He would load the gear and then go to ‘The City,’ set up and wait. And then finally the world would be able to deal with this thing.
    Normally he would go straight to his laptop to check his Facebook page, but this evening he went straight to bed. He felt he would need all the energy he could get for the morning.
     
    ***
     
    A man with a camera stepped out of a black car. A man in a suit was waiting for him in the dark hallway of an office block in the center of San Diego.
    “Got something for me?” he greeted the man from the car.
    “Yeah, got some nice pictures of the guy with the Muslim chick. And then I got some nice ones of him looking paranoid.”
    He handed the camera over to the other man.
    The man in the suit turned the camera on and began looking through the photographs. “Perfect. Well done.”
    He sniffed and looked around, checking whether there was anyone else around. When there did not seem to be anyone, he pulled a small bag of powder out of his jacket's inside pocket. With a small scoop he took some powder and brought it to his nose.
    “Cheers,” the other man said as the suit snorted the powder. “Your health.”
    “Fuck you,” was the reply. “You know what to do tomorrow?”
    “Yes”
    “Repeat it to me.”
    “Tomorrow I go to his apartment, crack his laptop and upload the file you gave me. I then use his YouTube account to upload the video. I place the recipes for anti-depressants and anti-psychotics in his living room. Meds bottles you gave me in the bathroom.”
    The man droned the list. It was clearly a set list he had used before.
    “Good.”
    The man in the suit nodded and offered his hand.
    “Then we will make magic happen tomorrow, you and me.”
    “Always a pleasure working with you, sir.”
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    Wes was in the lock already, changing into his wetsuit. He looked at the clock and tutted. Joy was never late. So why was she late this morning? He picked up his mask and used it to call Dave.
    “Dave, can you hear me?”
    “Loud and clear, mon ami.”
    “Where the fuck is she?”
    “Not sure.” Dave looked at the clock as well. “She should be here. Want me to