by G. P. Taylor
‘We are here by your kind invitation, Lyon, and a million pounds is not just a few bars,’ Charity replied. He looked up to the roof of the crystal atrium seven decks above them. The dim Atlantic sun streamed down and glistened on every landing. The atrium was the heart of the ship and took light to the darkest depths of the vessel. From where he stood, Charity thought it was like an ancient basilica, a holy place of glass and steel. Each floor was linked by a balcony and a sweeping staircase, which was joined on every deck by the long corridors that ran the length of the ship. At every door stood one of the Marquis’s officers, stopping anyone from entering. ‘This is a marvel of engineering, it is a cathedral of the age.’
The Marquis put his hand on Charity’s shoulder as if to steady himself as he also looked up. ‘I wanted it to be an experience and not just a journey. The air is cleaned and warmed, the water purified, and there is every technique to refresh the body. That was my desire – a pleasure-dome of the ocean, greater than that of Kublai Khan. Imagine it, to cross the Atlantic in three days, to join continents – what price will people pay for such a luxurious venture?’
‘In that you have succeeded,’ Charity replied as he checked the case that covered the gold.
The Marquis looked about him to see if they could be overheard and changed the conversation. ‘Do you think the information about a robbery is true?’ he asked quietly.
‘If there are thieves, where would they take it? We are at sea. Who would be able to do such a thing and not be noticed?’ Charity asked.
‘I fear the plot may be greater than you think,’ the Marquis said cautiously. ‘I didn’t say last night for fear of being overheard, but I have had grave … correspondence.’ The Marquis stuttered his words and took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. ‘I am being held to ransom. A letter was in my room. Pinned to the wall. I am to deliver a million pounds in bullion or the Triton will be sunk.’
‘And you have this letter?’ Charity asked.
‘It is here in my pocket. It is clear in its demands. I have to place the gold in a lifeboat at midnight tomorrow, fifteen hundred miles off the coast of Nova Scotia. The Triton is to sail on. If I do so, then my ship will be safe. If not, a bomb on board will take us all to the bottom of the ocean.’
‘Do you have any idea who could have sent it to you?’ Charity replied as he stepped closer to the Marquis.
DeFeaux rummaged in his pocket and handed Charity the neatly folded letter. ‘There is nothing of consequence about the letter, but I know it is not a hoax. It also says that to prove their intent they will have your assistant, Mariah Mundi, killed.’
Charity took the letter. It was handwritten on a piece of vellum paper. He held it to the light. It carried the familiar watermark of Claridges Hotel in London.
Charity read the words written in fine black ink:
Dearest DeFeaux, if you do not place all the gold in a lifeboat and set it adrift at midnight on the third night of your voyage then my agent will blow up the Triton without warning. As proof of our intent we have selected a passenger from the roster and he will be killed. His name is Mariah Mundi.
‘I think they leave us without any doubt, Charity,’ DeFeaux said, his concern etched in the lines on his brow.
‘I would have said it was a hoax, had there not been three attempts on Mariah’s life,’ Charity replied.
‘Three?’ asked the Marquis.
‘Someone shot Lorenzo’s son by mistake, an assassin tried to kill us both, and when I went to Suite 395 I found this.’ He held up a vial with grains of purple crystals stuck to the side. ‘I found the dust on the inside door handle and on the telephone. It is Lyzerjid ergotium, a powerful hallucinogen.’
‘Poisoned?’ asked the Marquis.
‘Mariah was taken to the side of the ship. I have a witness who says that a woman was with him just before he was on the gangplank. He was meant to jump – but he was too strong willed to give in without a fight.’
‘Then you believe that this ransom note is true and a saboteur will try to sink the Triton?’ the Marquis asked.
‘You have a thousand passengers and not enough lifeboats. I counted them yesterday,’ Charity said.
The Marquis looked to the carpet. ‘Lorenzo Zane said they would blight the look of the ship – and that the Triton would never sink. We have enough for six, perhaps seven hundred people.’
‘And the rest will be left to the sea?’ Charity asked.
‘We will have to do what the ransomer wants. I cannot see the ship destroyed,’ he replied.
‘Or people die?’ asked Charity.
‘There will always be people, Captain Charity – but the Triton is unique.’ He muttered slowly as he thought of the consequences.
‘Then we shall have to stop this before anyone is lost,’ Charity replied as Captain Tharakan stormed down the cascading staircase from the deck above.
‘It cannot be true,’ he said loudly as Ellerby followed at a polite distance behind. ‘The ship cannot be held to ransom like this.’
‘I took the liberty of informing the Captain by letter and inviting him here,’ the Marquis said to Charity as Tharakan stood by them.
‘We must search the ship and the passengers,’ Tharakan gabbled loudly. ‘You must have some idea who is responsible.’
‘We must tell no one. There would be panic,’ Charity replied. ‘If we are to search the ship then it must be done secretly. As for the passengers, they are to be watched.’
‘But what about the gold?’ Tharakan asked as he looked at the bullion behind the glass dome.
‘It is to be put on a lifeboat and cast adrift just as they want. It cannot be left to chance,’ Charity said.
Tharakan gasped with disbelief. ‘You cannot just give away all this gold. It cannot happen. They are pirates,’ he protested.
‘And what if the bomb explodes? You only have enough lifeboats for seven hundred people. Will you allow the rest to die and the crew as well?’ Charity asked Tharakan, staring him in the eye.
‘But they will be able to hold every ship in the world to ransom. It will not be safe to put to sea. Do you not understand that money and gold is transported from country to country by ship? It is the way in which the world works. Giving in to these people will mean they could do this again and again.’
‘The Triton is unique. I cannot see my ship go to the bottom of the ocean,’ the Marquis intervened.
‘I will not allow this. I am the captain!’ Tharakan screamed as if he chastised two children. ‘The gold will stay on the ship and we will find the saboteur.’
‘As soon as the saboteur knows you are on to them, what is to stop them from exploding the bomb and blowing up the ship? Whatever is to be done has to be in secret. It is the only way,’ Charity said, trying to reason with Tharakan. ‘Nothing must seem to be different. We have until midnight tonight. Then we have to take the gold from the ship.’
Tharakan thought for a moment. ‘Marquis,’ he said urgently, ‘you must reconsider. If we give in to these people it could have consequences for the whole world.’
‘And if I don’t it will have consequences for my ship, Captain Tharakan.’ The Marquis spoke as if these were the last words he would ever say.
‘I cannot agree. I will instruct my men to search the ship. The bomb has to be somewhere,’ Tharakan said.
‘If you mention that there is a bomb then the news will be out,’ Charity said. ‘I suggest you tell them it is contraband. Something hidden of great value. I’m sure that the Marquis will reward whoever finds it. Make sure, Captain, that when it is found, no one touches the device.’
‘But what will such a thing look like?’ the Marquis asked.
‘It will most likely be a travelling case placed somewhere below the water line,’ Charity said. ‘There cannot be many places that are suitable and yet secret enough for the bomb not to be found. I too will search and will report to the bridge before dinner tonight.’
‘You go alone?’ asked the Marquis.
&n
bsp; ‘I think it would be best if you all carried on as normal. If I cannot find the device by tonight then Captain Tharakan can have his men search the ship,’ Charity replied as Ellerby listened eagerly.
‘We cannot have a civilian wandering all over the ship, Captain,’ Ellerby said to Tharakan. ‘I will send one of my men with him.’
‘It would only be right, Charity. The crew would wonder why a guest was below deck. This way it could be said that you are being given a guided tour.’
Charity thought for a moment as he considered what Ellerby had said.
‘My assistant, Mr Sachnasun, will be able to help you, Captain Charity. He knows every part of the ship,’ Ellerby said.
‘Very well,’ Charity replied. ‘Have him meet me in one hour by the saloon. In the meantime, Tharakan, I suggest you get your men to start loading the gold into a lifeboat.’
He could see Tharakan bristle with rage as the gold braid shuddered on his black tunic.
‘I don’t like giving gold to criminals and murderers, Captain Charity,’ Tharakan said as he picked at the thread on the sleeve of his jacket.
‘You have no choice, Captain,’ Ellerby said, quite out of place. ‘But if Sachnasun helps him search the ship then we may not have to give the gold away.’
Tharakan did not seem to be appeased by what his assistant had said. He looked at the man with a sneer. It was as if Tharakan had to obey Ellerby without question. Charity noticed the look of insistence on Ellerby’s face, and he thought it not right.
‘So all will be done as you like, my dear Lyon,’ Charity said to the Marquis as he turned to walk away. ‘But I insist that no one should know of what we do – too many lives depend on it.’
‘You trust a civilian?’ Tharakan raged when Charity had gone.
‘He is more than that,’ the Marquis replied.
‘The Bureau of Antiquities? The answer to every problem in life?’ Tharakan scorned.
‘Trouble,’ muttered Ellerby under his breath.
‘It’s not for you to say, Mr Ellerby. I invited Captain Charity and The Bureau of Antiquities to protect the gold. After all – it is my ship and you both work for me.’
Charity listened from behind the closed door and smiled. ‘Divide and conquer,’ he whispered to himself as he walked the long passageway.
An hour later he was waiting by the door to the saloon. Mr Sachnasun was late. Charity looked at the dial of his fob watch. Inside the saloon he could hear the dancers rehearsing for the night-time performance, clumping on the stage in their iron tipped shoes as they stomped out another song. Passengers came and went, using the saloon as a short cut from the walking deck to the panoramic dining room.
‘Captain Charity?’ a man asked as he tapped him on the shoulder.
Charity turned. There was a man in full naval uniform. He was tall, wide and had a face that looked as though it had been chiselled from ice.
‘Mr Sachnasun?’ Charity asked, taken aback by the aspect of the man.
‘Indeed. Mr Ellerby has told me what I am to do.’
There was something about the man’s accent that seemed strange and yet familiar. His deep blue eyes peered from a hooded brow like those of an eagle. Flecks of pure white hair stuck out from under a black cap that was pulled tightly to one side.
‘Then you will lead and I will follow,’ Charity said as he gestured for the man to walk on.
‘It is an unusual task, no?’ Sachnasun asked. As they got into the steam elevator he pulled out his crew ticket and slipped it into the slot below the floor levels. He saw Charity look at what he had done. ‘It is for the crew only. So that the passengers cannot get below the decks.’
‘Does everyone have such a device?’ Charity asked.
‘Only if they are an officer. The only people you will see above deck are stewards and officers. The rest of the crew live and sleep below, in the gloom.’ Sachnasun laughed as he spoke.
‘Like prisoners?’ Charity asked.
‘Only of their poverty and lack of learning, Captain Charity. They all seem to be happy with their situation in life. Beware – it is a hot place. The Zane Generator burns with such heat that if we stay too long in one place it will boil the sea around the ship.’
‘If I am not mistaken you are from Greenland?’ Charity asked.
‘You are the first man to notice. I often get mistaken for a Dane or an American.’ He laughed again.
‘More than that, I would say that you came first from Iceland – in fact from the town of Arborg?’ Charity asked as Sachnasun nodded in agreement. ‘Then I would say that at the age of fourteen you went to live in Greenland – Jacobshavn?’
‘Indeed you are a clever man, Captain Charity. It is if I am an open book and you are reading my pages. You will be telling me what I had for breakfast, indeed.’ Sachnasun patted Charity on the back with his gigantic hands.
‘It is easy when you know the differences in people’s voices. I own a large hotel and we get people from all over the world. Perhaps you have heard of it – the Prince Regent?’
Sachnasun laughed as the elevator slipped quickly below the decks and into a world of darkness. ‘I have never heard of such a place. I worked on building this ship and now I travel upon it. Mister Zane trained me in navigation and many other things. Otherwise I would still be at Jacobshavn.’
‘I am sure that someone of your wit would have not been contained by the ice for too long,’ Charity replied as the steam elevator stopped at the bottom of the shaft.
‘Indeed, perhaps that would be true. But I have a lot to thank Lorenzo Zane for. He commands my loyalty.’ Sachnasun reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long carbide lamp. ‘This is for you,’ he said as he handed it to Charity and twisted the ring on his middle finger.
The ring burst into a thick beam of light that shone from a narrow crystal tip. It brightly illuminated the dim, dungeon-like corridor that led from the elevator away into the darkness.
‘You do not seem surprised,’ Sachnasun said to Charity.
‘Another of Zane’s marvellous inventions?’ Charity asked.
‘Every officer of the crew has one. It is remotely powered by the Zane Generator. The lamp works within a hundred yards of the ship and the light is focused through the crystal.’
‘Does the heat not burn?’ Charity asked as Sachnasun walked ahead.
‘Indeed not. It is like ice – a closely guarded secret,’ he replied.
‘And this is like a journey to the centre of the earth, Mr Sachnasun.’ Charity shivered as he spoke.
The ship grew dark and deeply grim. A labyrinth of tunnels went this way and that. Each was lined in steel and every hundred feet was a watertight door and a dim, electric light. One long corridor led to another and everywhere the unfettered churning of the Zane Generator resounded. It whirred and moaned as if in constant anguish as Sachnasun and Charity searched the myriad of stores and rooms that led from each black, dripping avenue. Each room was lit by a dingy electric light that gave off a meagre glow. The air was thick with sulphur and vaporous oil. Every surface was glazed with a fine mist of viscous fluid. They saw no one and heard nothing but the generator and the thrusting of the steam jets that propelled the Triton through the sea.
‘Indeed, Mr Ellerby said we are looking for something of importance?’ asked Sachnasun as they searched another empty room.
‘Property of the Marquis DeFeaux,’ Charity replied.
‘I can’t imagine someone so rich being so forgetful with their property,’ Sachnasun said as he turned down the power of the ring so that it was no more than a bright glow.
‘Where do these go to?’ Charity asked as they came to a criss-cross of tunnels.
‘The right is to the far side of the ship and the engine room, the left to the outer bulkhead. The ship is designed not to sink,’ Sachnasun said. He pointed to a small glass sphere punctured with three holes and containing what Charity thought to be a lump of cheese. ‘If the detonator is submerg
ed in water then all the doors will automatically lock. Water will get no further and the ship will stay afloat. This is my job, to maintain the defences.’
‘Another of Lorenzo’s inventions?’ Charity asked as Sachnasun reached up and checked the alarm.
‘My invention, Captain Charity, and one I discovered by accident.’ Then Sachnasun stopped speaking and pointed back down the tunnel to a shaft of light and a thin black shadow. It appeared to move in and out of the light, but no one could be seen.
‘Have we been followed?’ asked Charity as he turned off the carbide lamp.
‘It is best that I go to check. Stay here and I will come back for you, it is the only way we will find who plays games with us,’ said Sachnasun, and he followed the tunnel towards the light.
Charity waited until Sachnasun was out of sight. He could hear the churning of the engine and the pounding of the water against the riveted steel plates. The cold sea dripped from above his head.
It was then that he heard a voice from far behind him. In the half-light he could see a figure the size of a small child standing to one side of the watertight door. It was too far away to make out any features.
‘Help me – she is trapped inside!’ The voice echoed eerily. Then the boy stepped through the door and ran away.
Charity followed at a pace. Soon he could see the boy ahead of him running in the shadows. He stopped momentarily to turn on the carbide lamp. When he looked up, the child had gone.
‘I’m here. Help me!’ came the voice of a woman from a nearby vault.
The voice came again, this time from behind the locked door of a room to his left. Charity spun the wheel handle and unlocked the door. He pulled open the seal and looked inside, shining the lamp. There in the corner was the slumped figure of a woman. Her head was pushed to the floor and her dress torn.
Charity stepped inside the room. He didn’t hear the door begin to close quietly behind him.
He knelt beside the woman and took hold of her lifeless hand.
‘A doll – a mannequin,’ he said to himself as the door thudded shut. Charity realised he was now trapped. A spigot turned above his head as he heard the dull twisting of a valve outside. Very slowly, drips of hot bilge water began to flood into the vault. Within a minute the floor was covered in a large pool of oil-smeared water.