without knocking the insulation tiles out.
Looking down through the opening in the tiles, he could see
Kirkpatrick’s anxious face, looking up at him from the top of the
ladder. Like Margolis, he was clad in dungarees. On the tile deck
below, a mop and a large bucket filled with dirty water rested by the
lockers and benches outside the showers.
Margolis and Kirkpatrick were supposed to be in here on a cleaning
detail–the only possible excuse for their presence in a head reserved
for officers–but they had something more in mind just now than
shipboard routine.
“Okay,” Margolis called down. “Gimme the stuff.”
Kirkpatrick handed him a canvas bag, and Margolis hauled it up. He’d
have to work fast to assemble the gear.
“Psst! Hurry it, you guys!” That was Hernandez, standing watch at the
shower head’s entrance. He was scared about their being caught. It
wasn’t likely anyone would be coming in here for a while, though. A
fair number of the aviators were still at the strictly unofficial and
unauthorized Blue Nose initiations aft; those who weren’t were on duty
or were scheduled to fly tonight and were asleep now.
“Stay frosty, man,” Kirkpatrick called back to Hernandez. “We’re almost
there.” He raised the ceiling tile they’d removed, fitting it carefully
back into place. Margolis helped guide it home.
“Everything look okay from out there?” Margolis asked.
“Yeah.” Kirkpatrick’s voice was muffled. “Just like new.”
“No bits of insulation or shit on the desk?”
“All clear.”
“Here goes, then.”
They’d already used an awl to pierce the soft, white material of the
insulation panel, cutting a small, sharply angled hole. Now Margolis
took a pencil-thick, silver tube with a complex-looking attachment at
one end from the canvas bag, carefully fitted the small end of the tube
into the hole, then used duct tape to secure the tube in place. Next,
he removed a Nikon 35mm SLR camera from the bag, unfastened and
carefully stowed its lens, and attached the body of the camera to the
attachment end of the tube. Squinting through the SLR’s viewfinder, he
found he now had an excellent, camera’s-eye view of the inside of the
head. He could clearly see Kirkpatrick folding up the stepladder and
checking again to make sure that no sign of their activities was left
lying on the deck.
“Hey, Kirkpatrick!” he called. “See anything unusual up here?”
Kirkpatrick’s face turned up, facing him. “Nah. I can just see the tip
of that fancy lens of yours, man, but I wouldn’t notice it unless I was
lookin’ for it. Hey, it’s almost time. I’m outa here.”
“Okay. You guys promise to come back for me now, y’hear me?”
“Don’t you worry, Marge,” Kirkpatrick said with a laugh. “We’ll be
back!
Shit, we’re gonna want to see what you get!”
“Well, this’ll prove what I said, man,” he said, instantly ashamed of
the whine he heard in his own voice. “I ain’t no fag!”
“Hey, I never said you was, man! Some of the guys, they just get
carried away, y’know? They don’t mean nothin’ by it.”
“Ha! Just you wait till you get an eyeful of what I’m going to be
lookin’ at!” Margolis said. “Pussy, man! Miles and miles of soft,
sweet pussy!”
“My mouth’s watering, my man. See you in a couple hours!” Gathering the
ladder under one arm, and wheeling the mop and bucket with the other, he
left the field of Margolis’s view. The bucket’s wheels gave a mournful
squeak-squeak-squeak on the deck tiles. Then he heard the head’s door
slam and he was alone.
The air was dusty up here, and he rubbed a tickle in his nose that might
have led to a sneeze. Rocking the camera back and forth slightly, he
felt his heart hammering in his chest. He had a real good view of the
lockers and benches, right there on the fifty-yard line. Should he have
set up facing the other way, looking toward the showers? he wondered.
No, from this high up, at this angle, he wouldn’t have been able to see
that much. This was a lot better. He pulled his face back from the
camera and checked his watch. It was pitch dark in the crawl space, but