“We’ll be lucky to get even a few hours’ burn with the weather we’ve got. You’ve done all you can do. You need to evac.”

Claudia looked over her shoulder, an annoyed crease between her brows. “Really? Aren’t you being just a little bit chauvinistic here? Reddy and Tatum aren’t going anywhere.”

“You can track the situation from land,” Austin said, smothering a grin. Claudia was probably a little bit right, but she was a desk jockey, not a roughneck. “Whatever happened to ‘I’ll be the first one off’?”

“I’m still going to be the first one off. And if you’d be quiet and let me work, I’ll be off a lot sooner.”

“As soon as you send your projections, pack up your gear. The birds are getting ready to leave. Everybody’s going with them.”

Claudia finally turned to face her. “All of us?”

Austin lifted a shoulder. “Everyone except Tatum, Reddy, and me. We’ll deploy to the ships as soon as the evac here is complete.”

“And how exactly are you going to do that?”

“We’ll take the shuttle launch.”

“On this sea?”

Austin waved a hand. “We’ll be fine. Would you please get ready to go.”

“All right, all right. I’m packing.” Claudia finished typing a message and began shutting down her computer with one hand while gathering papers from the counter with the other.

Satisfied, Austin said, “You should make it off the island in plenty of time.”

“Where are you going to be?” Claudia pushed folders and a pile of papers into her briefcase.

“I’ll stay ashore so we can get back out here ASAP when the storm passes.”

“Then I’m staying too. Where can I get a room?”

“Don’t you already have one?”

Claudia winced. “Unfortunately, yes, I do, it’s in container number thirty-nine on the far end of the platform. However, that’s not going to work out any longer.”

Austin squeezed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Jeez. I can’t believe you’ve been bunking out here with Tatum and Reddy and that crew for the last—”

“Far too many days,” Claudia said with a wry grin. “Is there any chance I can find someplace ashore?”

“I doubt it. If the locals are leaving, they’ll be closing up their businesses. If they’re staying, they’re probably full. Either way, you don’t have much time to find out one way or the other.” She fished in her pants pocket and pulled out her room key. “Here, take this. It’s the Gulls Inn on the east end, room number five at the back. You can use my room.”

“Oh, that’s okay, I don’t want to put you out.”

“I won’t be using it very much anyhow. You might as well have a place to keep warm and dry, but it’s close to the beach, so keep an eye on the weather.”

Claudia cocked a hip and smirked. “You didn’t really just say that to me, did you?”

Austin grinned. “Yeah, I did. Now would you please hustle out to the bird and get out of here.”

Claudia shrugged into her raincoat and picked up her briefcase and laptop case. As she passed Austin, she slowed. “Be careful, will you? Saving the company a few million dollars isn’t worth getting hurt for.”

“I don’t think you want Eloise to hear you say that.”

“Oh, Eloise…she’s not that hard to handle.”

Austin stared after her, trying to imagine anyone handling Eloise. Maybe Claudia Spencer was just the person.

❖

“Well,” Eloise said with a resigned sigh, “we pretty much always knew this was coming.”

“Did you get the permits to burn?” Austin asked, walking around the control center and shutting down equipment as she talked.

“Yes, when I advised the various agencies, I put the paperwork through just in case. Do you have any idea yet how big it’s going to be?”

“So far the surface accumulations are pretty small, but they’re steady. We’re set to corral them with the booms and start the burn. I’ll give you an update when we do.”

“How long do you think you’ll be able to keep it going?”

“You know the stats. Once the wind gets over twenty to twenty-five knots or the waves hit five feet, we’re not going to be able to contain the oil. We’ll try skimming and whatever else we can as long as we can.”

“We need Tatum’s crews to get that external shaft in place,” Eloise said. “No leak, no spill, no burn. Make that happen.”

“Hurricane, Eloise. There’s a hurricane coming. I’m evacuating the rig.”

“You might have discussed it with me.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. You know the projections as well as I do. Time’s up.”

“Damn it,” Eloise said quietly. “All right, just keep a lid on things.”

Austin thought of NBC News camped out on the shore. At least they were fifty miles away. “Right, I’m on that.”

After a last look around, she picked up a two-way radio from the console on the counter, shut off the lights, and locked the door behind her. Time for the endgame. She flicked open the channel to Tatum. “Ray, it’s Austin. Are your crews away?”

“The last bird just left. It’s only us fucking pigeons left behind.”

Austin chuckled. “Are the ships ready?”

“Under way.”

“I guess it’s time for us to rendezvous.”

“The launch is ready to go.”

“On my way.” Austin clipped the two-way to her belt, zipped her jacket, and grabbed a fire emergency pack from the on-deck emergency bin. Slinging it over her shoulder, she jogged across the rig, slowing at the sound of a helicopter circling overhead. She shaded her eyes against the glare of the floodlights on the upper sections of the platform, wondering why Benny or Rio had returned. They had no reason—

“Damn it,” she muttered. The colorful news logo flashed on the side of the helicopter, its spotlights scanning over the surface of the rig. Even from a distance, she could see it buffeted in the wind. The news pilot was probably experienced, but she doubted he had much practice being this far out to sea with the kind of unpredictable tailwinds they were looking at over the next few hours.

A cone of light raced across the rig and focused on her. She made a go back motion with her arm, but the helicopter continued to hover. Shaking her head, she joined Tatum and Reddy at the top of the lift.

“Who the hell is that?” Reddy asked.

“That would be the news,” Austin said.

Tatum muttered, “Well, fuck me.”

“Yeah.” Austin had to agree—an audience was not what they needed right now. Eloise was so not going to be happy.

Ignoring the hovering craft, Austin climbed into the lift bucket and held on as the cage descended to the platform. The thirty-foot launch was moored to the side, and Reddy took the wheel while she and Tatum cast off.

“Hold on,” he shouted, “it’s gonna be a rough ride.”

The launch arrowed across the chop toward one of the big containment ships, and Austin sheltered behind the cockpit as much as she could. Icy water whipped across the deck, drenching her all the same. The news copter followed them, undoubtedly filming all the way. Two ships circled slowly several hundred yards apart, the booms strung between them, enclosing the area Claudia had mapped out as the locus of the surface oil accumulation. Once they started the burn, the ships would close the loop and slowly drag the confined puddle of burning oil away from the rig. All that remained was for Austin to give the final word to start the burn.

When they reached the ship, an elevator descended along with lines to secure the launch. The captain and Phil Renuto, the burn chief, were waiting for them on deck.

Austin shook hands with the captain and Phil. “All set?”

“Ready to go. You want to take a look?”

“Yeah,” Austin said.

Renuto glanced overhead. “I guess we’ll have company for the whole thing.”

“It looks that way.”

He grunted. “I wonder if they know they’ll be breathing smoke up there in a few minutes.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.” When she’d finished reviewing the protocol with Renuto and was satisfied with the boom placement and the direction the ships would drag the burning oil, she climbed back down to the launch. As Reddy steered them toward the spill, she gave Phil the go-ahead.

Austin braced both arms on the rail, the helicopter trailing them, as they set the sea afire.

❖

Gem poured coffee, her tenth cup of the endless evening. At just after midnight, her body felt as if she’d been shoveling for a year. Her arms ached, her back ached, even her ass ached, but she reminded herself she ought to be grateful. They still had another twelve hours to reinforce their barricades, at least if the present predictions held. She closed her eyes, leaned against the counter, and sipped, not even caring about the taste. Hot was good enough. She hadn’t heard from Austin, and even though she hadn’t really expected to in the midst of everything going on, the silence was unsettling. The disconnection, not knowing where she was, set her adrift and an uneasy tension simmered in her middle.

Emily and Joe came in, trailing a few FEMA guys, comparing notes as to what was done and what needed to be done, and Gem opened her eyes. Austin was a pro, she’d be fine. Too bad her stomach didn’t quite believe it.

“Hey,” Emily said, heading straight for the hot chocolate.

“Hi,” Gem said.

Joe flicked on the news on the small television.

As he walked over to get coffee, Gem glanced at the screen. Her heart jumped. “Wait! Can you turn that up? Hurry.”

Joe spun around, grabbed the remote, and jacked up the volume.

Linda Kane’s image, a still photo, appeared beside video of two ships and a column of blazing orange against a midnight sky. Kane’s voice-over exclaimed with a trill of excitement, “This is Linda Kane, reporting live from over the Atlantic. GOP, one of the world’s largest oil companies, has just commenced an open ocean burn to contain an oil spill from Rig 86, an offshore drilling platform just miles off the coast of Maryland. As you can see, we are presently circling above the containment ships, and the oil leaking from the drill shaft continues to explode to the surface.”