Deck Z - The Titanic (20 page)

Weiss’s life-jacket was slowly pulled back into the suction. He unbuckled the vest and reached up. Something like the afternoon sun blinded him, and he felt unburdened. Theodor Weiss closed his eyes as his twin pulled him to a higher place.

Lou stared at the spot where Weiss disappeared, waiting for him to resurface. The girl held her breath and counted silently in her head, not knowing how many seconds a man could stay underwater before needing to breathe again. Near three hundred, she inhaled sharply, gulping the night air. Then she sat and fought back tears, determined not to cry because it never made things any better.

The ocean was smooth and black. The screams of the poor souls still trapped in the frigid water soon dissipated altogether. Other lifeboats littered the horizon, but Lou could see no liner coming to their rescue. Some lady in the back of the boat was sobbing. The remaining
seaman put a comforting hand on Lou’s shoulder. The hook-nosed woman tried to put a blanket around the girl but she shrugged it off. She wanted to feel the cold.

No one said a word.

NEW YORK CITY, WALDORF-ASTORIA HOTEL
.

FRIDAY, APRIL
19, 1912. 10:40
A.M
.

Senator William Alden Smith of Michigan asked several questions about the nature of the collision and exactly how fast
Titanic
was traveling, but J. Bruce Ismay claimed limited knowledge of such things.

In fact, he still appeared to be in shock. His eyes only met the senator’s to express profound grief over the lives lost in the terrible disaster. In a voice barely above a whisper, Ismay claimed that he was only a passenger, just like all the others enjoying
Titanic
’s maiden voyage, and he had insufficient knowledge to explain the hows and whys of the tragedy.

“Just an ordinary passenger?” Senator Smith repeated skeptically.

The head of the White Star line claimed to have no idea the ship had an inadequate supply of lifeboats. He further went on to say that he never ordered anyone to push
Titanic
up to full speed.

Senator Smith turned his attention to Ismay’s rescue. The court stenographer noted their exchange:

SENATOR SMITH
:
What were the circumstances, Mr. Ismay, of your departure from the ship?

MR. ISMAY
:
In what way?

SENATOR SMITH
:
Did the last boat that you went on leave the ship from some point near where you were?

MR. ISMAY
:
I was immediately opposite the lifeboat when she left.

SENATOR SMITH
:
Immediately opposite?

MR. ISMAY
:
Yes.

SENATOR SMITH
:
What were the circumstances of your departure from the ship? I ask merely that …

MR. ISMAY
:
The boat was there. There was a certain number of men in the boat, and the officer called out asking if there were any more women, and there was no response, and there were no passengers left on the deck.

SENATOR SMITH
:
There were no passengers on the deck?

MR. ISMAY
:
No, sir; and as the boat was in the act of being lowered away, I got into it.

SENATOR SMITH
:
Naturally, you would remember that if you saw it? When you entered the lifeboat yourself, you say there were no passengers on that part of the ship?

MR. ISMAY
:
None.

SENATOR SMITH
:
Did you, at any time, see any struggle among the men to get into these boats?

MR. ISMAY
:
No.

SENATOR SMITH
:
Was there any attempt, as this boat was being lowered past the other decks, to have you take on more passengers?

MR. ISMAY
:
None, sir. There were no passengers there to take on.

The senator motioned for the stenographer to stop documenting the proceedings. He approached Ismay and paused a long moment before continuing.

“And now, Mr. Ismay, off the record,” he said. “Is there anything else you’d care to discuss? The committee has heard certain rumors, several of them of a particularly disturbing nature.”

Ismay’s eyes looked haunted. “I’ve spoken about all I know,” he said hoarsely. “The event was a horror. Everyone sees things differently in such total chaos, and memories of terror are usually the flimsiest. The mind is desperate to move on—and for good reason.”

Senator Smith knew then he would never get any more truth from J. Bruce Ismay.

The inquiry went on for seventeen more days, but outside the hotel, New York’s daily papers were already passing judgment.

“Coward of the Century!” hawked a newsboy, holding up a paper with a picture of a defeated Ismay for all to see.

A young girl stopped to read the headline. She was about the same age as the newsboy, with a skinned nose, worn skirt, and rusty hair. She flipped a coin in the air and took a copy of the paper to read later.

While walking down the bustling streets of New York, she stared at the faces as they passed by, one after another, bright and full of life. She was ready to journey to Iowa, to start her own life anew and grateful for the chance.

LAS VEGAS, ZEPHYR RESORT HOTEL AND CASINO
.

FRIDAY, APRIL
13, 2012. 1:30
P.M
.

“Nervous?” Maggie Liu asked. The attractive director of entertainment for Las Vegas’s Zephyr Casino held a clipboard in her right arm. “We’re looking forward to a huge run.”

The Man in Red laughed. “Nervous? Me? Never. We’re ready to go. You know what
Titanic Resurrected
’s numbers were in Vancouver? And in Nashville and San Francisco?”

Maggie smiled. “I do. That’s why you’re here. Zephyr only wants the biggest shows. We only bet sure things. Maybe you’ve heard, but in Vegas, the house
always
wins.”

“I have heard that, but the great thing is there’s no way we can lose. Let me show you why.”

For the next half hour, as his crew feverishly bolted the plywood platforms and polished the Plexiglas displays, the Man in Red gave Maggie the grand tour, winding through historically accurate recreations of a first-class passenger suite, an elaborate dining hall, the grand staircase, and case after case of artifacts that had been raised from the wreck. Billed as “a historical voyage of romance and intrigue!”
Titanic Resurrected
was massive in scope and scale, the biggest collection of
Titanic
artifacts ever gathered. Tomorrow was the 100th anniversary of
the
Titanic
’s sinking, and the Man in Red had planned a special event to mark the occasion.

“So, this is the big mystery?” Maggie asked, walking over to a finished Plexiglas display. Inside, positioned in a satin-lined case, was a cylindrical, stainless-steel container. “Doesn’t look like much.”

“We know something’s inside. Scans showed a smaller, liquid-filled tube, probably glass. I’ve had the top
Titanic
experts weigh in, and no one recognizes it or knows what it might have been used for. We’ll find out tomorrow when we uncork it.”

“Won’t it be a big disappointment if it’s only ink or water or something boring?”

“Well, the show’s run is almost sold out already, and the pay-per-view is going gangbusters, so we make money either way. But ultimately that’s not what interests me. Whatever it is, we’ll learn something.”

“Yeah right—like anyone learns anything in this town.” Maggie laughed.

“You’re about to learn something right now,” he said, lifting a key ring dangling from a belt loop and unlocking the back of the case.

“What do you mean?” Maggie responded.

“What, you think I haven’t opened the cylinder before?” The Man in Red grinned. “Do you want to see it or not?”

Maggie gave him a practiced, casual nod.

The Man in Red reached in, carefully lifting out the stainless-steel cylinder. “The only thing I won’t do is open the vial,” he warned. “Don’t tell anyone I did this for you.”

As his hand wrapped around the top of the canister to unscrew it, the floor began to shake. He stopped short and looked over at Maggie.

“Just a little earthquake,” she said with an easy smile. “Nothing to worry about. This property is more than a match for a tremor like that.”

“Fine for your casino,” said the Man in Red. “I have priceless displays of china and crystal to worry about.” He quickly placed the cylinder back into the display case.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he told Maggie, and then he ran off to check his other displays.

Maggie slyly glanced around. He’d left the case unlocked, and no one was watching. She grabbed the cylinder, spun the cap off, gazed inside, and frowned. Turning the cylinder upside down, a much smaller glass tube slid into her waiting hand. She put the cylinder down.

Staring at the jet-black fluid inside the tube, she shook her head, unimpressed—
a bunch of ink, that’s all. Some big mystery.

Then her phone rang. Impatiently, she set the glass tube on a neighboring table, turned around, and answered the call.

As she did, a mild aftershock shook Las Vegas. The table behind her wobbled, and the tube rolled slowly toward the edge.

Chris Pauls and Matt Solomon
are regular contributors to popular websites and national publications. They live in Madison, Wisconsin. This is their first novel.

Copyright © 2012 by
CHRIS PAULS
and
MATT SOLOMON

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

ISBN 978-1-4521-1914-4

Designed by
EMILY DUBIN

Illustrations by
LYDIA ORTIZ

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