by Evelyn Weiss
the Bureau, both before and after the sinking of the Titanic. The FBI agreed that they were darned good evidence, that they proved the Gophers’ support for an Irish terrorist plot. In fact, they were such good evidence that half the FBI thought I’d obtained all my information in Jimmy Nolan’s bed.”
“And the other half of the FBI?”
“Oh, they were worse. They concluded that I was madly in love with Jimmy Nolan and was making up nonsense on his behalf, so as to mislead them.”
“So – did they ever use all that information that you sent them?”
‘Oh yes indeed. Although they used it in a way that you didn’t like. You see, I was able to establish that Jimmy Nolan only trusted a small inner circle of his henchmen when it came to the gathering of the explosives and the shipment to London. So when Chisholm went to Nolan and pretended to be Black Velvet, Jimmy gave the work of loading the Olympic only to that trusted inner circle. The leaders. The FBI passed that information to the NYPD. Lieutenant Bouchard realized that the entire Gophers leadership would be at Chelsea Piers in a single group.”
“I see…”
“So, you have me to thank for that massacre, Agnes. I don’t agree with what Lieutenant Bouchard did. But although I couldn’t have behaved like Bouchard, I can understand his actions. It’s a grim world, Agnes. I know you’d have liked to see a fair trial, justice and all that. But I also know that every one of those men had done things that would make your blood run cold. And if those men had been arrested, and put on trial, the Gophers would have threatened every lawyer, witness and juror in New York State to ensure that their leaders escaped justice. I’m not defending Bouchard, but I know that sometimes you have to disregard the rule book. Like I did, an hour ago.”
“What, when you didn’t stick up for Chisholm?”
“Yes. I lied. In the Captain’s Sitting-Room an hour ago, when Lord Buttermere was being Lord Pompous. Of course I don’t agree with what’s going on. Lord Buttermere is acting as if he’s God, yet his handling of this whole business has been completely incompetent.”
“So why did you cave in to with him?”
“Well let’s look at what happens when you don’t cave in to Lord Buttermere. Look at what Professor Axelson did. By challenging Buttermere and standing up to him, the professor just got himself into more trouble, and now he’s got an armed guard standing outside his cabin. So I thought we should try a different way.”
“What sort of way?”
“My way of doing things is this: let’s pretend to go along with Buttermere’s orders; then, we may get the chance to disobey them.”
“But – how will we disobey his orders? I’ve no idea what we are tackling. I’ve ended up here on the Olympic because of something else: a servant girl who, I think, is still alive, a prisoner somewhere. But I think she’s in the power of a man who’s aboard this ship, and those who work with him. I also feel sure that he is the man who fired those shots, who wounded you.”
“Then follow your instincts, Agnes. Either several unconnected things are going on all around us, or there’s one single web.”
“There is too much going on for these events to be coincidence, Gwyneth. So I believe that there is one single web.”
“Well then, if there is one web, then one spider wove it. That spider sits right in the middle and pulls all the strings. Now if all these things aren’t connected, then nothing we do can save Kitty, or get Chisholm released, or find out who killed Viscount Spence. But if they are all woven together… you’re a Connecticut girl, Agnes. You northerners love your knitting. Pull one thread of a garment in the right way… and…”
“…it will all come undone.”
“Exactly. I don’t know what will happen if we take action – but something is better than nothing. We might even catch your mystery gunman. I do have a grudge against him myself, you know.”
“You’re right, Gwyneth. Taking a chance is better than giving up.” I hold my head in my hands, I’m thinking so hard it hurts. And I recall something, something that I realized in the Olympic’s wireless room, when I was talking to Harold Bride.
“Gwyneth. I know what we need to do. I need to see Harold Bride, the Olympic’s wireless operator. And then, we need to get to Professor Axelson.”
“Not much chance of getting to see the professor. Like I said, there’s an armed guard outside his cabin. Better to search the ship for the gunman. By ourselves.”
“No. There’s only one thing that we need to find: one thing that will give us the key to this case.”
“And where’s that thing hidden, Agnes? It’s not kept in Axelson’s cabin, for sure.”
“No, it’s not kept in his cabin. Nor anywhere aboard this ship. And the key is not a person, or a thing. The key is a memory.” I look at her, and tap my forehead. “The key is here, Gwyneth. Inside my head.”
Compared to my last visit, the Olympic’s wireless room is quiet, almost a haven of calm.
“Mr Bride. It’s me again. And I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to my friend, Gwyneth Gilmour.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Gilmour. I saw you at the meeting in the Captain’s Sitting Room. And I’ve met your husband – I sent a message to him, when you were injured. Are you making a good recovery?”
“Very much so. You’re probably aware that it was a gunshot wound, but in effect it was just a kind of nasty scratch, really. It will take a lot more than that to stop Gwyneth Gilmour. But it’s Miss Frocester who has come to ask you a favor.”
“Ask away, Miss Frocester.”
“Mr Bride, I want to send three telegrams, one to New York, one to Canada, and one to Great Britain.”
“The same message to each?”
“Oh no. Quite different messages to each – and each one is an urgent request for information. I’ll write the messages on a piece of paper for you…”
I recognize the man standing outside the professor’s cabin: one of the NYPD officers. I’m not quite sure if he is Bass, or McMorrow: I get their names mixed up. As always, the officer’s face is impassive. I have no idea how we will approach this situation, but Gwyneth’s voice rings out in the corridor.
“Officer! We need to see Professor Axelson!”
“That won’t be possible, madam. We have clear orders…”
“You were there, weren’t you? In the Captain’s Sitting-Room, when you arrested Sir Chisholm. You heard what I said: I agreed totally with Lord Buttermere. Now I don’t want to undermine your duties. But I’ve been talking, just now, to Lord Buttermere – and he says, it is fine for us to go in, speak with the professor. As long as you come in with us. We all know you’re armed, you know. As for me, I’ve been shot once already on this voyage, so you don’t scare me.” I can hear the tone of teasing sarcasm in her voice.
The officer looks doubtfully at her. “Did Lord Buttermere genuinely authorize this?”
“Of course he did.” A dazzling smile accompanies this statement.
The man hesitates, thinking, silent. Gwyneth reads his doubts: she’s already guessed that he would act like this.
“Officer Bass, you can go and ask Lord Buttermere, if you doubt his instructions.”
“Well I can’t exactly go, can I madam? I was told to stay here and not to move. So, I’ll stay here until I’m relieved by Officer McMorrow. After that happens, I might decide to help you out and check what you’re allowed and not allowed to do.” I sense that Officer Bass, as I now realize he is, is trying to reassert his authority over the situation.
“Very well, Officer. I’ll go and explain this problem to Lord Buttermere. He did tell me that you would be immediately co-operative… but… oh well. We’ll be back in ten minutes.”
The man’s mouth moves silently as he thinks it through. “Mrs Gilmour… yes, I heard what you said, in the Captain’s Sitting-Room. Unlike the professor, you did state that you agreed with Lord Buttermere. But – she didn’t.” He points at me.
“Miss Frocester? Look at her, Officer. She�
��s as harmless as a mouse. Come on, just let us in, as Lord Buttermere requested.”
I can see Bass’s face changing: he’s decided to go along with us. He opens the cabin door. We enter, and I sense him nearby, immediately behind me. He too comes into the room, and shuts the door behind us.
The professor’s face lights up. “Miss Agnes! Mrs Gilmour! I did not expect to see you until Southampton. Where Lord Buttermere will doubtless clap me in irons and lock me up in the Tower of London.”
Gwyneth’s manner is breezy. “Officer Bass has kindly let us join you.”
“Well – I’m surprised. But very pleased, of course. So, what do we do now, ladies? We know that Lord Buttermere has failed in his attempt to discover the German double agents who may precipitate immediate war across Europe. The world is on the brink of disaster – but so are we. We have an armed gunman roaming the Olympic, and Chisholm is unable to help us, locked in the ship’s cells. We need to do something.”
He talks as if he’s oblivious to the presence of our silent, somber guard, and so does Gwyneth.
“Well, Agnes here seems to think that you should hypnotize her.”
“Hypnosis? My Hypnotic-Forensic Method can do many things. But our current difficulties are practical and physical, not mental.”
I decide to speak plainly. “Professor, ever since this investigation started, back at Chisholm’s house in Kensington, I’ve been fascinated by your approach – but scared of it, too. Scared for