by Bill Blowers
Viko didn’t think himself in any way superior to the common sailors who bore the brunt of the work on board the Californian, and this led to some important friendships that would aid him in his final preparations for Titanic. While sharing pints with his shipmates in places like Dargan’s Pub near the Harland and Wolff Shipyard, it was common to hear dockworkers and sailors complain about lousy working conditions, low pay, overbearing supervisors, and all the usual bitching that went on among common laborers. But it was also here that Viko learned the names and positions of various men who held berths on the ships, especially the ones who were vying for positions on the new ships Titanic, Olympic, and Britannic. With his infallible photographic memory, Viko filed away the information for future use.
In Ireland, ready to return to his duties on Titanic, he reported for work on his first Monday back at the docks. As he walked along the railing of the first-class promenade deck, Viko was surprised to see the amount of progress made in his absence of just five weeks. Everywhere he looked men were installing fixtures, painting, and riveting huge structures in place; Titanic’s majesty seemed to be taking shape before his eyes.
“Impressed, Viko? It’s amazing to me, even after all the times I have seen this happen, just how quickly the outfitting takes place. She is going to be a glorious ship, I tell you, the finest to ever sail the seas.” Thomas Andrews was justifiably proud of his creation, and especially when he could show it off to a knowledgeable colleague like Viko. They met earlier that morning at Andrews’s field office on the dock next to the ship. After the usual pleasantries, Andrews remembered why Viko needed to leave in such a rush. “How is your uncle?”
The question caught Viko off guard, and it took a few seconds for him to recall that his excuse for rushing back to America had been a ruse, an electrical “accident” that caused Tesla to be severely injured. He stammered for a moment, quickly recovered, and explained, “He’s pretty sore and has some nasty scars, but appears to be recovering nicely. Hopefully he will be a bit more careful the next time he gives one of his high-voltage demonstrations.”
Andrews brought Viko up to date.
“We completed the testing of the rudder controls last week, and several of the suggestions you made have been installed. Meineke expressed his appreciation for the insight you offered. We are ready to seal the bridge floor over the controls, and we need to do it as soon as possible as Meineke is quite concerned that the salt air is going to cause corrosion. However, I asked him to wait until you returned before fastening the floor in place.”
Viko was fortunate to have returned when he did. Another few days and Meineke would have sealed the floor of the bridge, riveting the heavy steel plates in place and making any access to the vulnerable controls impossible.
Viko said, “I’ll take a look at it right away. When can we have electrical power operating? I want to observe the operation of the rudder and also operate the wheel myself. If I can have eight hours, I’ll have more than enough time.”
Keeping track of the work crews and the status of their work assignments on Titanic took a staff of thirty-two people. Andrews devised a huge billboard type display, with scaffolds and walkways that gave clerks access to its gigantic surface. The display was set up in a warehouse near the ship. Andrews as well as other executives could stand on the far side of the building and watch as the status was updated hourly, twenty-four hours a day. It looked like a miniature image of the ship. Various colors were used to indicate progress or completion. Runners spent the day going back and forth between the ship and the warehouse bringing progress updates to the billboard managers, who kept detailed notes and directed the scaffold climbers to change colors at coordinates on the huge display. Green indicated that a given task was completed; yellow meant a maintenance procedure, and red was for problem areas. Andrews enjoyed watching the display as the ship slowly turned to a solid green as the sailing date approached.
Andrews took Viko across the room where he could see that the electrical generator section was yellow in color. They went to a desk clerk, Timothy DeForest.
Andrews’s reputation as a friendly but demanding chief designer preceded him, and he greeted DeForest with a warm handshake and a friendly “Good morning, Tim. Is everything as hectic as usual down here?”
“No more hectic than usual, sir, and I assure you that we have everything under control—well, as under control as we can manage.”
“Let me introduce you to Viktor Gracac, Viko for short. He has been immensely helpful with electrical work. He needs to run a few tests before we seal things up, but the electricity seems to be unavailable. When will it be restored?”
DeForest looked through a pile of papers that were located under a yellow paperweight, and pulled out a work order. “This was issued late last night. It seems that the brushes in a generator are being replaced. The replacement brushes could not be located until a half hour ago. Completion of the repair is predicted to be eleven o’clock this evening. They’ve put a second shift on to be sure that it is done before midnight.”
Andrews and Viko went to the observation tables, poured two cups of tea, and considered the options.
“Meineke is adamant that we get that compartment under the bridge floor sealed up no later than tomorrow morning, and I agree with him,” Andrews said. “The men have been waiting to rivet the covering plate in place, and Captain Smith is upset that the bridge cannot be completed with the floor plate open like it is. As I see it, there is only one option to get your testing done. Are you willing to come in at midnight and work through till morning?”
At midnight the ship would be deserted. No one would be anywhere near the bridge. Viko could send his helper home early and do his deadly work in private. Fate had stepped in again in his favor, and another piece of his plan was falling into place.
Viko said, “No problem. Just arrange for one of Meineke’s men to meet me on the bridge at midnight. Tell the night watchmen that we will be on board and that the rudder will be moving. I will stay as long as needed.”
They parted with a handshake. Viko went to his room, located the wooden crate that contained his explosives, and hired a carriage to take him back to the warehouse. He put the crate on a hand truck and wheeled it over to DeForest. “Tim, this box contains the tools that I’m going to use tonight to test the steering mechanism. Can you arrange to have it delivered to the bridge for me?”
“I would be glad to arrange that for you.” And he proceeded to have the box labeled: DELIVER TO BRIDGE – PRIORITY
DeForest called over one of his runners. “Take this to the bridge right away. Don’t let it out of your sight until it’s up there.”
As the crate was wheeled away, DeForest said to Viko, “Things can get misplaced on this ship, and if this crate goes to the wrong place, it could take weeks to locate it. With my man delivering it you can rest assured that it will be there when you need it.”
A light drizzle was falling when Viko returned to Titanic late that night. It was eleven-thirty; he was early for his appointment on the bridge, and he paused for a moment to take in the magnificent sight before him. As he stood on the dock looking up at Titanic, Viko was struck by its festive appearance. The ship was aglow from stem to stern, illuminated by hundreds of brightly burning electric lights that looked like little halos suspended in space in the mist that surrounded them. The freshly painted white walls of the upper decks reflected the light, making them appear in brilliant contrast to the black hull glistening with moisture as the mist and rain settled on its surface and ran down the sides in its unending cycle back to the sea. The distant hum of the steam-driven generator was the only sound save the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the ship.
Even on a cold foggy night it was obvious that this was a special ship.
There were few men on board as Viko found his way to the bridge and located his helper for the night, Sidney Black. The bridge was eight stories above the dock surface, and at this height, the chilling
effects of the rain and a gathering breeze caused both men to wrap their coats a little tighter. Viko looked around the bridge, and over on the port side, against a wall, he spotted his wooden box and silently thanked Timothy DeForest for his efficiency.
Black had a thermos of hot coffee with him, and as he poured each of them a cup, he commented, “Too bad we don’t have something to add to this on such a miserable night. It would take the chill out of our bones.”
Viko sipped the hot black liquid. “Well, if we’re quick about it, we can be done here in a few hours and get home to our warm beds.”
Viko explained his testing plan for the rudder controls. Black added a few suggestions of his own and the two set about the night’s work. Viko headed aft to the lower deck where he could observe the rudder mechanism in action. About fifteen minutes later, Black turned the wheel four turns to the port side and then a full eight turns back to starboard before returning the wheel to its original position. Viko watched as the steam engine came to life and performed flawlessly, effortlessly moving the thirty-ton rudder.
Viko was impressed with the large mechanism that moved with such ease and precision, but he was secretly delighted that there was no redundancy. Any failure in the single rudder control at any place along the way would render Titanic uncontrollable—precisely what he needed.
His reason for being on board this fog-shrouded night had nothing to do with his concerns about the operation of the steering mechanism. He was here for the dual purpose of installing his explosive devices and the activation of a unique homing beacon.
Viko went back to the bridge and asked Black to do a final inspection of the cable installation and wiring that connected the bridge controls to the rudder motor, a job that would easily take two hours. Viko remained on the bridge to verify that every part of the mechanism was well protected with the corrosion-inhibiting lubricants that Meineke had specified.
Black left to start his inspection. Viko, after waiting a few minutes to ensure he was alone, opened his crate and carefully removed the shaped charge that would disintegrate the control mechanism and sever its connections to the rudder control engine. He lowered himself and his materiel into the tight quarters of the cavity below the deck and began the task of mounting the explosive charge. He used a hand-operated drill to put three holes through thick iron brackets. A full forty-five minutes passed by the time the last hole was completely finished.
As he was bolting his deadly package in place, he heard voices and footsteps as people approached the bridge. They were arguing about something. He could make out a few words as they stood just outside the entrance to the bridge for what seemed like an eternity. In his cramped position, Viko dared not even breathe lest he be discovered. The arguing stopped and then there was silence. The eerie quietness of the ship caused him to become very nervous. Where were they? Had they entered the bridge?
Several minutes passed before he heard footsteps receding into the distance.
Viko relaxed. Whoever it was had left the area, and he was quite sure they hadn’t seen him, but he had lost precious time. He checked his pocket watch and saw that Black would be returning in a half hour. Time was running out. If anyone discovered his plot it would mean disgrace, prison, or hanging, but worst of all, failure. He could not let that happen.
Working as quickly as he could, he finished mounting his explosive package in place, tightened the bolts as hard as his fatigued muscles would allow, strung the wire antenna out and tied it to the support beams, and scrambled up out of the hole. He went to the wheel and turned it both ways to be sure its operation was not affected by his additions. When it turned normally and he could see the large mechanism was following the wheel’s rotation without interference, he threw his head back and exhaled.
But he was not done.
There were a few more tasks in his plan and tonight was the ideal time, in fact perhaps the only time for him to act. He went back to his crate and removed a small powerful magnet, went to the ship’s compass, located a bolt relief on the lower front side of its pedestal, and inserted the magnet up into the hole where it fit snugly and clung solidly to the iron assembly. He checked the compass reading and saw that it had shifted ever so slightly to the south—perfect.
Any navigator following the directions supplied by the compass would be unknowingly heading northwest from his intended heading. Viko wanted Titanic to be to the north of normal shipping lanes, with less of a chance for accidental discovery as it drifted aimlessly in the North Atlantic.
He stepped outside the bridge, enjoyed the feeling of the cool mist on his face, and, for the first time since Black left, allowed himself to relax. He looked around at the huge expanse of the ship in its final stages of outfitting. He felt a strange sense of pride. Even though he was moving inexorably closer to the day he would bring this behemoth to an unscheduled stop in the middle of the ocean, he had taken part in the decisions that went into its design. Titanic was one of modern man’s historic accomplishments, a glimpse of wonders yet to be created in the twentieth century.
Viko looked back into the bridge and was suddenly alarmed. The bridge lights were burning brightly. A bulb located near the wheel illuminated the explosive charge he had just installed. Two hours had passed. Black would be back at any moment. He frantically looked for the light switch but couldn’t locate it. To complicate matters, as a safety precaution the bulb was inside a wire frame enclosure. He couldn’t remove it. He thought of simply breaking the glass, but that was impossible because of the heavy-gauge wire frame that surrounded it. He looked in vain for something long and thin that would fit through the closed knit wire mesh—nothing.
His brain raced for a solution as he heard Black’s footsteps echoing off the steel deck of the ship.
He frantically looked around for a tool of any kind.
There it was on the floor before his eyes. He picked up his mug of cold coffee and threw it at the bulb. Just as Sidney Black stepped into the bridge, the hot surface of the glass shattered into thousands of tiny particles and the hot filament, finding a rich supply of oxygen-laden air, burst into a bright flame and in a fraction of a second burned away as the superheated carbon threw out an impressive array of sparks. “My God, Viko! Are you all right? What the hell was that?”
Neither Black nor Viko could focus for several seconds. All they could see were bright spots superimposed on their vision.
“I tell you, Sidney, those Edison bulbs are dangerous,” Viko said. “Did you see that thing explode? I almost crapped my pants. The bulb must have cracked from the filament heat.”
They stepped out into the night air to catch their breaths, relaxed for a couple of minutes, and proceeded to review their notes regarding the inspection. Black was surprised to see the perspiration on Viko’s face. It was quite cool and it seemed odd that someone working in such temperatures would show signs of exertion.
“Viko, are you all right? You look like you have a fever.”
“Thanks for your concern, but I was standing right under that damned light when it exploded. It must have frightened me more than I realized!”
Viko’s secret was still safe. But he was not sure what workers might see in the light of day when they arrived in a few hours to rivet the final floor plate into place.
“Sidney, this opening in the floor is dangerous and a night watchman might accidentally fall and get injured. Help me move the plate into place, and I will leave a note for Meineke’s morning crew that it is ready to be riveted.”
Working together they were able to muscle the quarter-inch-thick cover plate into place where it belonged. There was a loud clang as all two hundred fifty pounds of it fell into place.
They walked back to the gangway that would take them to the dock and were about to start down when Viko stopped. “Damn it, I forgot to leave the note. I told Andrews I would leave a message behind. Without it they won’t rivet down the floor. I’d better go back and take care of it.”
Viko did nothing by acc
ident or omission. He was not finished with his plans for Titanic. He told Black to go ahead without him, said goodnight, and walked back toward the bridge.
The ship was deserted except for the occasional sleepy night watchman who might happen along. Viko timed his activities to avoid inspection rounds. He went back to the bridge, scribbled out a note to the attention of Thomas Andrews and Osgood Meineke. He went to the wooden box that continued to sit discreetly in the far corner and removed the last two items, a small explosive intended for the Marconi wireless, and his special black box. The wooden box was discarded over the far side of the ship, falling silently seventy feet to the water below, making a splash that no one heard, becoming just another piece of flotsam drifting about the Belfast harbor.
The wireless room was two levels above and about a hundred feet behind the bridge on deck A. All the exterior lights on the deck were off. Viko went up two flights of stairs. Certain that he could not be seen, he turned on his flashlight and found his way to the wireless room. He was pleased to see that several of the screws that held one of the large panels were missing. He patted his pocket, smug in the knowledge that he alone knew their whereabouts.
He placed the explosive into the spot he prepared for it, directly above the main transmit coil. When detonated, it would sever the antenna connection and shatter the structure of the coil, cutting off Titanic’s ability to communicate with the outside world. Even if they managed to restore the antenna connections, they would only be able to listen as the world searched for them. Repairing the transmit coil would be impossible at sea. He made the necessary connections to the ship’s antenna and put the panel back in place.