Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13) (10 page)

“And this
other ship?”

“That
hasn’t been proven. There were reports of another ship nearby that definitely
wasn’t the Californian or the Carpathia. People reported seeing it nearby,
close enough that some lifeboats tried rowing toward it, but they reported that
they seemed to never get closer. This has never been proven, but the witnesses
when interviewed were adamant there was another ship.”

“Who
could it have been?” asked Judy. “Wouldn’t they know what ships were in the
area at the time?”

Acton
nodded. “Yes, they would. All civilian ships reported their intended courses
and radioed updates if things changed. The wireless operators were in constant
contact with each other relaying updates including weather and sea conditions.
The problem with the witness testimony is that there was no other ship in the
area, so their statements were dismissed.”

Steve
was pinching his chin, staring at the floor. “You said
civilian
ships
reported their courses. What about military?”

Acton’s
breath caught for a moment. “You said your grandfather was a Navy captain?”

Steve
nodded, his face clouding over. “Yes.”

Acton
looked at Laura then Milton. “Then I think we might have just found our mystery
ship.”

North Atlantic Ocean
RMS Titanic
April 15
^th
, 1912

Brett Jones spotted his target helping a young woman into one of the
lifeboats, impeccably dressed as expected in a blue serge suit with a crisp
blue handkerchief sporting the initials A.V. His polished brown boots matched
his flannel shirt. He held the woman’s hand, her tear stained cheeks and
trembling lip suggesting this was his wife.

“Might I
join my wife? She’s in a delicate condition.”

Delicate.

He knew
from his briefing that she was pregnant, the reason for their return. She
wanted the child to be born in America, and if it weren’t for that reason, they
would never have boarded the ill-fated Titanic.

“I’m
sorry sir, no man is allowed on this boat or any of the boats until the women
and children are off.”

Astor
nodded. If he were upset, he was hiding it like any good gentleman would.
“Well, tell me what is the number of this boat so I may find her afterward.”

“Number
four, sir.”

Astor
gave his wife’s hand one last squeeze then stepped back as the crew began to
lower the boat to the freezing ocean below. He calmly lit a cigarette then
stepped forward, tossing his gloves down to his wife, before stepping back and
out of the way of the busy crew. When his wife was out of sight, a much younger
man joined him, then after a few words, walked away in a hurry.

He
approached Astor from the side, jamming his finger in the man’s back. “Mr.
Astor, come with me.” Astor froze for a moment, then nodded, stepping away from
the wall. “Let’s go to your room, shall we?”

Astor
again said nothing and they walked in silence as the chaos continued around them.
Astor’s suite, C-62, was impressively massive, one of the finest available and
unthinkably expensive, Jones was certain.

A touch
of envy took hold.

“Do you
have the papers you stole?”

Astor
took a drag of his cigarette. “Surely you don’t expect me to cooperate.”

Jones
smiled. “Of course I don’t, but I have to ask.”

Astor
stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray probably worth more than the average
annual wage of one of the men who toiled to build the doomed vessel. “I can
assure you, my good sir, that I do not have any papers on me.”

“The
chief purser’s safe then.”

Astor
smiled. “If you already know, then why ask?”

“Again,
I have to.”

Astor
motioned to the wall safe. “Would you like me to open it?”

“Please.”

Astor
complied then stood back. Inside were several stacks of notes in various
currencies, along with a few items of jewelry. Jones stuffed the cash in his
pocket, clasping a fist around the jewelry.

“Real?”

Astor
raised his eyebrows slightly, as if the question were ridiculous.

Of
course it is.

He shoved
the jewels in his pocket.

“Is that
why you’re here, to rob me?”

Jones
smiled. “No. I’m here to deliver a message.”

Astor
pursed his lips.

Jones
raised his weapon.

“And
what exactly is this message?”

“My
employers wanted you to know that you should never have betrayed them.”

A foot
scraped behind him and he spun toward the noise to find the young man from
earlier rushing at him. Jones sidestepped the charge, shoving the man off
balance with his free hand, sending him tumbling into a table, it shattering
from the impact. Astor moved to help the man when Jones wagged his gun back and
forth.

“Un-uh.
Get back.”

Astor
frowned but complied as the young man struggled to his feet, his face flush, a
small gash on his upper cheek sending a trickle of blood down his face.

“And you
are?”

“Henry
Dodge.”

“Ahh,
Mr. Dodge. I see my colleagues failed to deal with you. Unfortunate.” The man
paled, clearly aware of what he was referring to. Jones shrugged. “No matter,
you’ll be dealt with now.”

“Why?”

Jones’
eyes narrowed as he turned toward Astor. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why?
What’s the point? We’re all going to die here tonight.”

“Perhaps.
Perhaps not. My job is to make certain you do.”

“I just
put my pregnant wife on a lifeboat. They are
not
allowing men aboard.
There aren’t enough lifeboats for all of us. We
are
going to die.” He
nodded toward Jones. “Including you.”

Jones
smiled. “No, I won’t be dying today, Colonel.”

Astor
and Dodge exchanged glances. “How do you plan to escape?”

Jones’
smile broadened. “The same way I came aboard.”

Both men
looked puzzled, then the young man’s jaw dropped. “You came on a ship!”

“Give
the man a cigar!” He pointed at Dodge with his gun. “Colonel, I’d tell you to
hire this man right now, before he gets away, but alas, it’s too late.”

Astor put
a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I would be honored to have this gentlemen
in my employ.” He nodded toward the pocket Jones had stuffed the money into.
“You have enough cash and jewels there to change your life forever. To make a
good life for you and your family. Why not take it?”

“I am
taking it.”

Astor
smiled. “I’m not referring to the money, I’m referring to the opportunity. Take
the opportunity to change your life.” He paused, glancing at Jones’ left hand.
“I see you’re not married.”

Jones
looked at Astor. “Standard operating procedure would be to remove all
identifiable jewelry, so I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”

Astor
smiled. “You have tanned hands, mister, with no tan line on your ring finger.”

Jones
glanced at his hand and chuckled. “You’re a sharp man, Colonel.”

“Thank
you, sir. And I’m sharp enough to know you have someone important to you in
your life.”

Jones
frowned, unsure of how the man could possibly know that.

He’s
playing for time.

“You
wonder how I know that.”

Jones
said nothing.

“You
work for The Assembly.”

Jones’
eyebrows popped almost imperceptibly.

“You
seem surprised.”

Almost
imperceptibly.

Again he
said nothing.

“Then
let me enlighten you, sir. The Assembly is an ancient organization, no one
really knows how old as it is very secretive, but let us say at least many
centuries. The members are few, only a dozen, and change only through death or
murder. They are usually succeeded by family members, or when that isn’t
possible, by a unanimously agreed upon new member, welcomed into the fold of
unthinkable wealth and power. These men control the lives of millions, millions
who have no clue they are being controlled. And those millions, good sir,
include you.”

Jones
still said nothing, his mind soaking up all the forbidden knowledge. He knew
there was big money behind whoever had been hiring him, and their targets were
always political or financial, so they were powerful.

But he
had, for some reason, always assumed he was working for the United States
government, some sort of top secret spy, working for some even more secretive
agency.

It had
never occurred to him that he was working for a private group, centuries old,
that was manipulating world events for their own benefit.

Though
if he were truly honest with himself, he had known he wasn’t really working for
the government. His government wouldn’t kill its own citizens for financial
gain.

No, he
had always known he was working for bad people.

Incredibly
powerful, bad people.

He inhaled
deeply, yet still said nothing.

“I can
tell from your demeanor, sir, that you knew how dangerous your employers were, though
you didn’t know who they were.” Astor pointed to the safe. “Yet, despite
knowing how dangerous these people are, you took the money and jewels. A man
like you would only do that for one reason.”

Jones
felt his chest tighten.

“You are
looking to escape this life.”

The man
was good. Too good. He seemed to be able to read him like a book, and it was
making him uncomfortable.

Shoot
him already!

Water
washed over his feet, the icy Atlantic reminding him of the time constraint
they were all under. He glanced at a clock on the mantle.

Time
to go.

He aimed
his weapon at young Mr. Dodge. “Your copy of the papers.”

Dodge
looked at Astor, who nodded slightly. He reached into his pocket and produced
an envelope, handing it over to Jones. Jones glanced inside then placed it in
his breast pocket.

“You
have what you came for, now why not leave us to die in peace?”

Jones
looked at Astor, a bemused smile spreading across his face. “You are indeed remarkable.”
He looked at a picture of Astor and a young woman on the mantle, beside the
clock. He motioned toward it with his chin. “Your wife?”

“Yes.”

“Beautiful
woman.”

Astor
said nothing.

And she
was a beautiful woman. Jones recalled hearing about the scandal when Astor had
married her, barely eighteen, he almost fifty and only two years since his
divorce. It had been the talk of the gossip columns for months leading the
newlyweds to flee the country on an extended honeymoon in Europe and Egypt,
accompanied by one of their few supporters, Margaret Brown.

She
reminded him of Margo.

And he
made a decision.

“Colonel,
you are a man of honor.”

Astor
bowed slightly.

“And you
swear you are not going to attempt to save yourself by taking the berth of
someone else.”

“I
swear.”

Jones
turned to Dodge. “And you, sir?”

“I
swear.”

Jones
returned his weapon to its holster, patting the envelope. “Then as far as my
employers are concerned, I killed you after I retrieved the papers.” He turned
toward the door then paused. “And gentlemen, should you think rescue is on its
way, and you may yet be saved by an arriving ship, I am truly sorry to tell you
that it is not. The Carpathia will arrive far too late to save you.” He bowed
slightly. “Good evening, gentlemen, and may God have mercy on your souls.”

Jones
quickly left the room, striding with purpose, his feet working against the icy
cold water that now reached his ankles. His mind was racing with what he had
done. Or hadn’t done. It was the first time he had betrayed his employers, the
first time he hadn’t fulfilled his mission.

And if
these two men didn’t die tonight, he’d be dead for certain.

His feet
were blocks of ice by the time he returned to the First Class Purser’s office.
He rapped on the door three times. It opened slightly, the sliver revealing the
eye of one of his team, the door jerking open to allow him inside.

“Status?”
asked Commander Whitman as he rifled through the contents of the safe, looking
for Astor’s papers.

“The
mission was successful,” he replied, holding up the envelope. “I encountered
Mr. Henry Dodge and he kindly provided me with his copy.”

Whitman nodded,
continuing his search then stopped, yanking an envelope out of the pile. Jones
looked about the room, the three safes opened, their contents spilled on the
floor, mostly letters and wads of cash. In one corner sat a stack of paintings,
probably priceless—or at least fabulously out of his budget. One stood aside,
as if it were more valuable than the rest, of a naked woman with a cloth
wrapped around her back, standing in front of what might have been a stone
archway.