Читать книгу The Devil's Whelp - Vin Hammond Jackson - Страница 30

One of the newcomers on board who didn't mind the night was the police photographer. Even though he had to admit that the rig had taken on a rather eerie quality once the sun had gone down, it was, nevertheless, exactly what he wanted. At least, it would be if he could capture it on film.

The Inspector had left him with a list of subjects to photograph. Mostly it was routine - boring, boring, boring. When you'd seen one corpse, you'd seen them all. His friends used to rib him about the female ones. It was peculiar, but he didn't think of them as women any more, not once they were dead. They just became angles and apertures. It wasn't even art, merely visual documentation.

Since first arriving on board Olympian, he'd managed to get most of the basic stuff out of the way. Now he was up to the interesting part and was taking shots of those locations which may have featured in the crime or could possibly be pertinent to the investigation at a later date. Here there was room for artistic licence when he didn't just have to 'get it all in', but could consider composition and the effectiveness of playing around with depth of field.

Not all of these shots would appear in the files, of course, but he wasn't being exactly underhand about it either. They would be available to anyone who happened to visit Peter's apartment, or the particular gallery which had agreed to exhibit them.

He had just finished with the room they used for communicating with the divers and was now on his way to the moon pool. He'd been there earlier to photograph the hand-line attached to the steps and the peculiar deposits of evil-smelling slime, but that had been in daylight. Not that much of it had reached below decks, but there had been enough to destroy the intense atmosphere he was certain would exist at night. If not, he could always create his own by falling back on his professional expertise and the right filter.

He used up the last exposures in his number two camera on the rig floor. This area, he decided as he left, did have something going for it and would be worthy of a return visit. He found the ladder which he had been told would take him down to the moon pool and paused to change the film.