Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13) (4 page)

BOOK: Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13)
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Wainwright Residence, Collette Court, Odenton, Maryland
Present Day
Two weeks before the shooting

 

Steve Wainwright looked at the scanned pages on his computer screen,
his sister Judy sitting beside him. He shook his head as they slowly read through
his grandfather’s service record, the files sent to them after he had put in
the request months ago. It had taken a call to his congressman a week ago to
finally grease the wheels of an impossibly slow bureaucracy.

And now
they were reading a rather mundane file, listing their grandfather’s personal
information, assignments and commendations. He clicked to the next page, finding
a list of specific missions.

A spasm
shot through his big toe and up to his knee. He winced as he pulled his foot up
by the pant leg, crossing it over his knee, massaging away the pain.

“Your
arthritis again?”

He
nodded. “Getting old.”

Judy
smiled. “Old? I just had my first great-grandchild. Now
that’s
old.”

“Hey,
I’m older than you.”

Judy lay
her head on his shoulder for a moment. “And I’ll never let you forget it.” She
lifted her head. “What’s that?”

Steve’s
eyes narrowed at the large blacked out block in the center of the page, one of
their grandfather’s assignments redacted. “That’s odd.” He pointed to the dates
of the previous and next missions. “Notice anything about those dates?”

Judy
shrugged. “Should I? You know I’m not the history buff like you are.”

“The
Titanic sank April fourteenth. His previous mission ended two weeks before
that, and his next mission started three weeks after. Don’t you think that’s
too much of a coincidence?”

Judy
squeezed his forearm as she looked at him. “You don’t think Granddad had
something to do with the sinking, do you?”

Steve
felt his stomach churn. “I don’t know what to think anymore. But I have to find
out.”

Judy’s
grip tightened. “But what if he
did
have something to do with it. Do we
really want to know?”

Steve
sucked in a quick breath as his heart slammed in his chest, not sure of the
answer. If his grandfather did indeed have something to do with the sinking, it
could destroy the family’s reputation for generations.

Nonsense!

The ship
sank because of an iceberg. That was accepted fact, the footage taken of the
ship on the bottom of the ocean proving the firsthand accounts from the survivors,
so there was no way his grandfather was responsible for sinking the ship.

Yet he
was involved somehow, his guilt haunting him until it finally became too much.

“I have
to know.”

“No
matter the consequences?”

Steve
frowned, looking at his sister.

“Yes, no
matter the consequences.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

North Atlantic Ocean
Aboard the RMS Titanic
April 14
th
, 1912

 

It was everything Henry Dodge could do to avoid an audible gasp.
Astor had sent him the letter? It sort of made sense that he could be the
source. He’d definitely have the connections and wanted to see the creation of
the Federal Reserve stopped. And if he was the source, then he definitely knew
about The Assembly, since they were mentioned in the letter.

He also
knew they would kill should it become necessary.

Which
meant he had Astor to thank for putting his life at risk.

“You’re
‘A Concerned Citizen’?” he finally managed to ask.

“Yes,
but now isn’t the time to speak of such things.” He looked about. “You have the
letter?”

Dodge
nodded.

“On your
person?”

“I fear
to leave it anywhere else.”

“Good
man. It is essential you deliver that letter to your father in Washington upon
our arrival. He’ll know what to do with it.”

Dodge
felt his chest tighten as someone approached, Benjamin Guggenheim. Astor shook
his head almost imperceptibly, the man changing direction slightly, striking up
a conversation with a group on another trajectory.

“Why not
deliver it yourself?” asked Dodge, his voice low, mimicking Astor’s continued
enjoyment of his cigar and spirits.

“They
would expect me to have it, and I fully expect they will make every attempt to
intercept it before I have a chance to deliver it. Hopefully you’ll succeed
where I’m likely to fail.”

“But
they know who I am.”

Astor
paused in mid drink, his eyebrows shooting up. He lowered his glass. “Are you
certain?”

Dodge
nodded emphatically, catching himself, his earnestness out of place in such
sedately civilized company. “Yes, two men came to my hotel but I was able to
evade them. They grabbed me just as I was boarding but I managed to get away.”

Astor
pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. “I had my man deliver it. They must
be watching me closer than I thought.” He looked about, the man clearly
nervous. “Have you noticed anyone suspicious on board?”

Dodge
smiled slightly. “Sir, I’m so on edge, I’ve convinced myself that nearly
everyone here is after me.” He bowed slightly toward Astor. “Present company
now excluded, of course.”

Astor
smiled, returning the bow. “Of course.” He motioned toward Dodge’s pocket with
his cigar. “Guard that with your life. As my note stated, they
will
kill
for it, however once it is in your father’s hands, it will be too late. If I
know him as well as I think I do, he will immediately take action, most likely
reading it on the Senate floor. Once that is done, their plans will be
scuttled, hopefully permanently.”

“You
know my father?”

“I do
have that pleasure.”

“Interesting,”
murmured Dodge. This revelation meant he hadn’t been selected at random to
deliver the information, but specifically because of who he was, or rather who
his father was. It made him all the more determined to succeed. “Surely they
couldn’t do anything to stop you, could they? You’re too, well…” Dodge wasn’t
certain how to tactfully suggest the man was too powerful and wealthy to be
touched.

“Untouchable?”
Astor smiled slightly. “Those behind The Assembly are so well insulated from
consequences, I would suggest such considerations are of no concern to them. If
I were to die, no suspicions would be cast upon any of them.”

“But the
documents—”

“Would
be destroyed, claimed as fake should they not be.” Astor looked at Dodge.
“Which is why reaching your father is so important.
He
is the type of
man who will recognize its importance and reveal it to the world rather than
stop to check its veracity, as he will know full well that there will be no way
to prove it. He will recognize that the mere contents being made public will be
enough to slow down the process being driven through by The Assembly, and
perhaps derail it.”

“Why not
arrest them? Some of their names are in the transcript.”

“What
have they done wrong in this case? Is it illegal to try and make a profit on
the backs of others? If it were, I’d be a poor man right now. There is a
difference between being legally wrong and morally wrong, and once the Federal
Reserve Act is passed, nothing they do will be legally wrong.”

“So my
father is the key.” Dodge frowned. A pit formed in his stomach. “Will they try
to kill him?”

Astor
shook his head. “I doubt it, but he’s a wise man, he’ll take precautions. And
once they are stopped…” Astor’s voice trailed off as his gaze drifted over
Dodge’s shoulder. “The men who pursued you, would you recognize them?”

Dodge
resisted the urge to look over his shoulder to see what Astor was looking at.
“Absolutely.”

“There
are two men at the far end who seem to be taking a particular interest in us. I
will shift positions to allow you to see them.” Astor casually turned, his hand
extending toward the other end of the room, as if commenting on the architecture.
Dodge stepped forward slightly, turning back toward Astor, his heart leaping
into his throat as he spotted the two men Astor had been referring to.

“That’s
them,” he hissed.

“Keep
calm, young Mr. Dodge. It is curious, however. I wonder how they managed to get
on board.”

“Could
they have snuck on?”

“I doubt
that. If I had to hazard a guess, I would think they already had tickets.”

“But
how? You only delivered the papers to me a few hours before the ship set sail.”

“I would
suggest that these men had always intended to board.”

“But
why?”

“To kill
me, of course.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Congressman Bill Mahoney’s Office
Monroe Street, Rockville
Present Day
Day of the shooting

 

“Thanks for doing this, Bill, it’s appreciated.”

Steve
Wainwright sat across from Congressman Bill Mahoney’s large mahogany desk, the
ornate, cherry stained walls and ceiling contrasting sharply with the state of
the art computer equipment sitting on the man’s desk.

“No
problem, Steve. I owe your son for helping me get reelected. I’m happy to make
a phone call or two for the Wainwrights.” He held up a finger and hit the
button to put the call on speaker.

“Congressman,
sorry for the delay.”

“No
problem, Jerry. Do you have what we’re looking for?”

“I’ve
got Captain Wainwright’s record up on the screen. It’s just archival scans, it
hasn’t been computerized, but you’re right, part of it is redacted for some
reason.”

“I could
see that during wartime, but this was pre-World War One.”

“I
know. Let me check something. They’ve been digitizing the assignments, maybe
we’ll get lucky.”
The sound of fingers tapping on a
keyboard came over the speaker, Steve feeling his stomach squirm with
anticipation, not sure of what to expect.
“Oh shit.”

“What?”
asked Mahoney, leaning closer to the phone.

“I
don’t know, my computer is shutting down and there’s some sort of security
alert telling me to stay where I am.”

Mahoney
and Steve exchanged worried glances. “What did you do?”

“Based
on our conversation, I just typed in Wainwrights name and the word Titanic.”
There was a pause.
“Oh shit! I’m royally screwed, I shouldn’t
have done this!”

“Listen,
just tell them I’m the one who asked you to do the search. I’ll do everything
in my power—”

There
was a click then a dial tone.

Steve
looked at Mahoney. “What the hell just happened?”

Mahoney
shook his head, ending the call. “I don’t know, but something tells me someone
doesn’t want us looking into what your grandfather did.”

“And it
has something to do with the Titanic.”

And the
very thought of it made him sick with worry.

 

 

 

 

BOOK: Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13)
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