Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13) (11 page)

She
reminded him of Margo.

Whitman shook
the envelope triumphantly. “This is it. Let’s go.”

Jones
caught sight of a cloth bag sitting on the floor, its contents spilled open,
gems of spectacular color twinkling at him. Whitman left the room, the others
following, and Jones made a split second decision as the door swung shut from
the tilt of the ship.

He
picked up the bag, shoving the spilled gems inside, then the bag into his
pocket. He stepped to the door, looking back at the painting.

It
is
Margo!

He
pulled his knife, his heart pounding with the foolishness of what he was about
to do.

Saint Paul’s University, St. Paul, Maryland
Present Day

“The entire idea is preposterous,” said Milton. “A US Navy ship that
just stood by and did nothing while the Titanic sank?” He shook his head. “I
can’t believe it.”

Acton
pressed his lips together, his head bobbing in agreement. “I can’t believe it
either. There’s no way a navy ship would stand by and watch as over one
thousand people died.”

“The
Californian did,” said Judy.

Laura
shook her head. “That was a civilian ship holding position in iceberg filled
water with arguably an idiot for a captain. I doubt the same could be said for
a military ship.” She sighed. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

“
If
the ship were there, then they must have been under orders that prevented them
from helping,” said Milton. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“But
orders that would include letting so many innocent people die?” Steve shook his
head. “I refuse to believe my grandfather was such a man.” He wiped a tear away
before it escaped.

“But we
know it’s true,” whispered Judy, putting a hand on her brother’s shoulder.

“What do
you mean?” asked Acton.

“Show
him.”

Steve
frowned, giving his sister a look that at once conveyed anger and resignation.
He removed a file from a satchel he had been gripping in his lap all along. “We
found this with the painting,” he said, handing it to Acton.

Acton
opened the folder and found photocopies of several documents. “What am I
looking at?”

“The
first page is his suicide note.”

“May God
forgive me for what I did,” read Acton for the benefit of the others. He
flipped the page.

“And
that was found with a manifest of the passengers that died.”

“We
could have saved them all.”

Acton
leaned back in his chair, his eyes wide as he exchanged looks with Laura and
Milton. He closed the file. “It seems to me that this confirms he was there. It
doesn’t explain why, though.”

“Or why
they didn’t help,” said Milton. “There was no way they could know the Titanic
was going to sink. If they—”

“Unless
they
did it!” cried Sally, who had been quiet for most of the meeting. “Could he
have, Steve, could he?” She dropped her head into her hands. “What kind of a
monster would do such a thing!”

Acton
leaned forward, lowering his voice. “No, there’s no way the Titanic was sunk in
any other way than what history recorded. The expeditions to the wreck have
proven it was torn open by an iceberg. A torpedo or other type of weapon would
have left a distinctly different hole in the hull. There’s no way Captain
Wainwright was responsible for the sinking.”

“You’re
sure?”

“Absolutely.”

Sally
sat up, wiping a few tears away with her fingertips. “I’m sorry. This is all
just so overwhelming. I just keep picturing that movie and how those poor
people died. So terrified. So helpless.” She shivered. “So cold.”

“Don’t
believe everything Hollywood tells you,” said Steve, putting an arm over his
wife’s shoulders.

“Actually,
that movie was fairly accurate when it came to the sinking,” said Acton. “These
people died horrible deaths, there’s no question about that.” He nodded toward
the painting. “Here’s the thing. If your grandfather was in the area with his
ship, and he had this painting in his basement, I can think of only two
reasonable ways for that to have happened.” He held up his index finger. “One,
he did pick up at least one survivor, who had the painting with him. That
explanation would only make sense if that survivor then died, since all known
survivors were rescued by the Carpathia, though I guess there’s a chance they
could have survived and been sworn to secrecy.”

“Tough
secret to keep,” said Milton. “The manifest of those taken aboard the Carpathia
was thoroughly checked. There’s no way someone could pop up later and say they
were on board and missed.”

“Which
is why I don’t believe that’s what happened,” said Acton. “What are the chances
of one survivor being found, alone, with an eight-foot by four-foot painting?
The mystery ship was too far away to swim to, so I just can’t see it happening.”

“And the
second possibility?” asked Steve.

“That
someone from your grandfather’s ship went aboard and stole it.”

North Atlantic Ocean
United States Naval Vessel—Identity Classified
April 15, 1912

Captain Johnathan Wainwright watched as the team was hauled aboard.
He had been forced to steam away a short distance, the survivors having spotted
their silhouette on the horizon.

It had
been heartbreaking.

It went
against everything he had been taught to believe in as a mariner, it went
against the accepted code of conduct that governed his kind for centuries, and
it was completely un-American.

With the
last man retrieved and Commander Whitman entering the bridge with a satisfied
expression on his face, he gave the order he had been dying to give. “Prepare
to take on survivors.”

“Belay
that order!”

Wainwright
spun toward Whitman. “You’ve completed your mission?”

“Yes.”

‘Successfully?”

“Yes.”

“Then
there’s no longer a reason to let these people die.” He was about to reissue
his order when Whitman stepped closer, his weapon drawn, held tight to his side
so it wasn’t obvious to the rest of the crew.

“In
order for the mission to succeed, no one must know we were ever here.”

Wainwright
glanced at the weapon then glared at Whitman. “But it is completely believable
that we’d be in the area. We can render assistance and no one will know why we
were here. No one will know your men are on board.”

“Captain,
the biggest ocean liner in the world is sinking out there. This will be the
biggest story on both sides of the Atlantic for weeks if not months. Questions
will
be asked as to why this ship was in the vicinity, then why it failed to respond
to the distress call, and then why it sat several miles away, dark, doing
nothing, for almost an hour.” Whitman shook his head. “No, Captain, too many
questions will be asked.” He leaned in closer. “And remember, Captain, since
you were never supposed to be here, these people would have died anyway.” He
stepped back, raising his voice slightly. “We have our orders, Captain. Make
best speed for Norfolk.”

He
turned to face forward, his weapon now holstered, hands clasped behind his
back. Wainwright reluctantly issued the orders, several of his men looking at
him questioningly, no one comfortable with the situation, but after a moment’s allowed
hesitation, the ship was under way.

And the
screams of the desperate and dying faded with the sound of the engines as they put
distance between them and their unforgiveable sin.

Saint Paul’s University, St. Paul, Maryland
Present Day

“That doesn’t make any sense,” said Steve. “If they went aboard the
ship, then wouldn’t that mean that was the mission all along?”

Acton
threw up his hands. “I know, it sounds ridiculous, but doesn’t it fit the
facts? Your grandfather was a US Navy Captain. His suicide note and the note
found with the list of the victims suggests he feels he could have saved them.
If he had any hope of saving them, then he had to be in the area. If he was in the
area for anything but a secret mission, he would have ordered his crew to save
the passengers, but he didn’t. There were witness accounts suggesting another
mystery ship, and that it seemed to keep its distance from those rowing toward
it. A painting thought to be on the bottom of the ocean is found in your
grandfather’s basement, with no plausible way for it to have come into his
possession outside of that night in 1912.” Acton shook his head. “The only
thing I can think of is that his ship had to be there to
meet
the
Titanic, because there’s no way a US Navy ship, on a covert mission, would stop
to steal a painting from a sinking ship, while watching over a thousand people
die. They
had
to be rendezvousing with that ship.”

“That
might explain why the captain of the Titanic was steaming at full speed even
though there had been icebergs reported in the area,” said Milton, his foot
tapping in excitement.

Acton
smiled slightly at the sight of what once couldn’t move.

“Are we
really saying what I think we’re saying?” asked Steve.

“I think
so,” said Acton. “I think the United States Navy sent a ship on a highly
classified mission to rendezvous with the Titanic in order to retrieve
something or someone on board. During that mission, the Titanic struck an
iceberg, the Navy ship steamed to the location, sent a team aboard to execute
their mission, then left. While on board, one or more of the team stole this
painting, and perhaps other items.”

Steve
shook his head. “I can’t believe my grandfather was a thief.”

“Neither
can I,” said Acton, “and Captains wouldn’t accompany a team like that, so if I
had to guess someone took it upon themselves to steal it. The real question now
is what were they after?”

Steve
shrugged. “I don’t know, but whoever was behind it I think knows I’m looking
into it.”

Acton’s
eyes narrowed, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as the other shoe
was about to drop. “What do you mean?”

“When I
was with Congressman Mahoney, the clerk who was searching the database for my
grandfather’s records said there was some sort of security alert on his
computer and then the line went dead.”

Acton
looked at Laura, concern on her face. “A search of your grandfather’s records a
century later triggered a security alert?” Acton leaned back in his chair, slowly
nodding.

“What?”
asked Laura, looking at him.

“I think
this proves that our theory is correct.”

Milton
shifted in his chair. “And somebody wants to keep it a secret.”

Laura
frowned. “I wonder how far they’re willing to go.”