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Lola climbed down to the oil rig’s helideck. The broad white circle and large H in the center shone bright under the remaining floodlights. Most lights flickered or were gone, but a few remained here and there about the rig, outlining it in the middle of the night darkness. Oil rigs, at least when they weren’t shot up and on fire, smelled mostly of the ocean. People expected the stench of heavy crude, but rigs were designed to be very clean. The last thing anyone wanted was oil dripping into the water below.
She watched Major Beale’s knees let go, and only her husband’s assistance kept her from collapsing completely. Though she did bat at Henderson’s hands as he checked her over for wounds one more time.
The Delta operator from the Viper sat on the deck beside the downed bird. His le
