by Evelyn Weiss
speaking. Another familiar voice starts to talk.
“I’m Inspector Trench, and I’ll speak for these two men too, officers Bass and McMorrow, who work for the NYPD but are, as it were, on loan to me. Both are trained marksmen. They are instructed that, if they catch sight of James Nolan, or any other person suspected in this plot, they may fire at will. I am a British policeman, and I am handling the policing element of the same operation that Sir Chisholm has described. I am also, perhaps, best placed to explain how we find ourselves in this situation. In a way, it is my fault.”
All eyes look at Inspector Trench.
“When in New York, I was told to co-operate with Lieutenant Bouchard of the New York Police Department on an operation. Unfortunately, I was unfamiliar with Lieutenant Bouchard’s style of communication: he told me very little, and kept all the plans to himself. The result was that I witnessed a surprise armed attack by the police on the Gophers gang. In the aftermath of that attack, two police officers escorted me away from the scene. I then found myself unable to have further discussion with Lieutenant Bouchard. Effectively, he ran his own show, and I’m sorry to say that I let him do that. I now find that no effective search was made for the explosives, and that the counting of dead bodies was not properly carried out: they expected twelve dead men, and did not allow for a thirteenth member of the Gophers group. I now realize that Lieutenant Bouchard and his men were not interested in making a careful count: they were simply in a hurry to move the bodies and dump them in an alley in Manhattan, so as to give the appearance of a gangland battle.
The missing thirteenth member of the Gophers group is, of course, Jimmy Nolan, the man that has now stowed away, we think, somewhere on this ship. He is the man who poses such a danger to us all. All in all, the operation at Chelsea Piers was very badly handled, and I have to take a large part of the blame for that.”
The two men sitting with the inspector are silent: they feel that he’s done their introduction for them. The professor realizes that it’s his turn to introduce himself.
“I am Professor Axelson, Swedish national, scientist, hypnotist and independent detective. I am investigating the mystery of Spence’s murder. In particular, I use my Hypnotic-Forensic Method to obtain witnesses’ recall of the evidence that – ahem – sank with the Titanic. Co-incidence, good fortune, or maybe a simple convergence of paths meant that I have ended up working with Sir Chisholm, and latterly, Inspector Trench too. And I must say that although neither the inspector, or myself, would want to be absolved from all blame for what happened at Chelsea Piers, I do believe that both he and I were tricked. Lieutenant Bouchard had a strategy, from the beginning of the operation, to separate us and sideline us.”
There’s a noise at the door.
Two things happen at once. The first is that in an instant, Bass and McMorrow stand up and point two gleaming revolver barrels at the door.
The second is that the door swings slowly open, and a young but serious face peers in on us.
“Sorry to disturb you, ladies and gentlemen. I was told you were all meeting in here.”
Captain Haddock speaks. “May I introduce Harold Bride, wireless operator on the Olympic. I have entrusted him with co-coordinating our communications. When you are carrying out the search, as soon as you discover anything, please go up to the wireless room on the bridge, and tell Officer Bride anything you find. He will relay your message immediately to myself and Lord Buttermere.”
As Bride quietly takes the last seat in the room, I hear Calvin’s solid voice again. “Well, thanks for introductions, and for everyone’s honesty. I do appreciate it, and it gives us civilians around the table here confidence in you ‘professionals’. So Captain, Lord Buttermere – where do we go from here? Are we to organize a search of the ship?”
Captain Haddock looks around the table at each of our faces. “Yes, that’s perfectly correct. But it must be a planned search. Certain hiding-places are far more likely than others, so we need to be organized, searching the most likely places first, and then on to the less likely, in this way…”
Calvin buts in. “How d’you mean, less and more likely? A good hiding place might be the least expected one.”
Is the captain annoyed at Gilmour’s interruptions? His face is impassive and patient. “I’ll explain myself a little more, Mr Gilmour, if I may. The way that the explosives were smuggled aboard involved bribing the crew member who was guarding the third-class entrance on E Deck. So, there may be other members of the Olympic’s crew – or passengers aboard this ship – who are open to bribery. That fact adds to the importance of keeping our activities secret, as I’m sure you’ll all appreciate. But it also makes some hiding places more likely than others.”
I look round the room and see all heads nodding, except Calvin’s, who still looks puzzled. I must admit, I’m puzzled too. The captain continues. “Now, if I were to hide a cargo secretly on the Olympic, I would do so with the aid of an accomplice on board the ship. I would avoid the main storage areas, which are accessible to large numbers of the ship’s crew. I would also want to stow the cargo on a deck near to where I boarded the ship, so as to save time when loading and unloading. Because the inside of this ship is a labyrinth.”
Calvin has yet another question. “You mean, Captain, that the explosives are likely hidden near the gangway hatch for the third-class passengers? Now I understand that there’s no storerooms round there. It’s all passenger cabins near that entrance.”
“Exactly so, Mr Gilmour. In line with what I’ve already said, let’s try out a scenario. All of you, imagine that you are a New Yorker travelling to England, perhaps to find work.”
Gilmour interrupts again, “People generally travel in the opposite direction for that purpose.”
I speak up. “I didn’t. I traveled to England two years ago on the Mauretania to take up employment in England.”
The captain gives me a slight smile across the table, before carrying on. “So – let each of us, around this table, imagine ourselves to be a person travelling on the Olympic to England. Before you leave New York, you find yourself approached by gangsters. By threats or bribery, they get you to agree that, when you travel, you will find in your cabin some packing cases. Perhaps you are told, like the troop of men who acted as decoys at Chelsea Piers, that it is merely contraband whiskey. You are told to say nothing to the crew and to keep the packages concealed. You are also told that, when the ship arrives at Southampton, all you need to do is leave your cabin and disembark, and you need never hear any more of the matter.”
Calvin shakes his head. “Makes no sense to me. How would the Gopher gang know that they could trust the traveler to not spill the beans?”
Chisholm looks at the captain. “Shall I explain?”
“Yes please, Sir Chisholm. Because we need to move quickly now from discussion to action.”
“As I mentioned, my work for British Secret Intelligence has involved infiltration of a network that stretches from London to Dublin to New York. I am familiar with a lot of names of conspirators and sympathizers. This imaginary traveler that Captain Haddock describes – he or she can be relied on by the Gophers, either because they are already known to the Gophers and sympathetic to the revolutionary cause, or because the Gophers have a hold over their family and loved ones. My work over the last few years means that I hold a list of such individuals. So, most of us around this table should begin the search immediately – but the captain and I will not join you at first. He and I will sit down and go through the passenger list, and see if any passenger names coincide with my list.”
“Exactly so” says Captain Haddock. “each of us must start to search. In order to cover the ship quickly, we will each go out alone. But I am hoping that within an hour or two, Sir Chisholm and I will have checked our lists and be able to target the search and find the cabin in which –”
The captain is interrupted yet again. He’s a gentleman: he allows the other speaker to carry on.
“The s
earch” begins Lord Buttermere “must be done with the utmost secrecy and delicacy. The importance of preventing panic…”
This time it’s Calvin Gilmour who buts in. “We can’t avoid going into passengers’ cabins and nosing around. The occupants will want to know what the hell we’re doing. What do we say to them?”
Lord Buttermere suddenly looks tired. I can tell that he’s used to giving commands and having them acted on, without question. He’s not used to having to explain all his reasons. He seems to come to a decision, and I see a steely look in his eyes. He speaks with crushing emphasis.
“When we search for the explosives, secrecy is paramount. That is not only to prevent panic among the passengers. I have decided to tell you all: there is another, more important reason why no-one outside this room must know what we are doing.”
Now, every eye looks at Lord Buttermere. So far, he has hardly spoken in this meeting, but now he has the attention of the whole room. He pauses, and then speaks again, very slowly, to let the impact of what he is saying sink in.
“I tell you all now: there are reasons of international importance, which dictate that it might be better for this ship to sink without trace, and without survivors, than for certain matters to become public knowledge.”
We all