Dangerous Betrayal

by Bill Blowers

  He was not quite finished.

  Moving in the shadows, Viko worked his way to a staircase that led down the entire depth of the ship and quietly descended to the central boiler room where a crew of four sleepy men was maintaining a single boiler. Under his right arm was the final piece of his intricate plan, the first black box ever conceived. Using his photographic memory as a guide, he recalled the location of a spacious storage closet against the port wall of the ship. Inside, with the door closed, he moved several shovels aside, sat down, and began his last installation. He opened a vial of powerful glue, smeared it on one side of the black box, carefully wiped the ship’s wall to remove dirt and moisture, and pressed the box firmly into place. He held the box for several minutes, allowing the glue to set. He uncoiled an antenna and glued it to the wall, once again pressing it into place as the glue dried.

  He operated a switch on the box, placed his hand against the ship’s wall, and felt it vibrate as the box emitted high-energy sound pulses directly into the iron wall. A faint “chirp” could be heard each time.

  He was done.

  On a future date, radio signals from an FM wireless transceiver, once intended to promote Titanic, would emit unique radio signals directed against the great ship. Explosive charges would stop and silence her.

  A unique acoustic sounding device would secretly provide her location, but only to someone who knew how to listen.

  Early in his career, Nikola Tesla had experimented with resonant devices that could produce powerful sound waves, the types of waves that could travel vast distances through the dense medium of seawater. Viko had located Tesla’s experimental data and, unknown to Tesla, had made his black box using this technology.

  Viko left the ship. He walked several hundred feet and turned to look back at the great ship. The mist grew heavier and a blanket of fog was settling over the ship, rolling in from the bow. As the fog advanced toward the stern, Titanic appeared to be drifting away and floating into oblivion. He watched the ship disappear from view, an omen of the disaster to come.

  Viko raised his collar against the chill and the drizzle, turned away, and walked into town and the welcome warmth of his room.

  He lay there in the darkness overwhelmed with all that he had accomplished. He had arranged for a world-shaking seagoing “accident.” He savored the sweet taste of revenge. The Titanic missing! And only he, Viktor Gracac, would know what happened or how to find it. All those giants of finance missing, J.P. Morgan included, unable to be located. That was the sweetest taste. All their money, all their power, all their influence, all would be meaningless—they would be unable to help themselves.

  Nikola Tesla would be the most surprised of all. He would not be able to ignore the anonymous cablegram from London. It would contain a few key words, and in those words he would find the secret to locating Titanic.

  When the man Morgan and Edison dismissed, the man they tried to stop, who they treated like the rabble of the street, Nikola Tesla, directed the rescue ships to her freezing passengers, all that Viko had accomplished would be worth the sacrifice. That would be the crowning moment. Morgan would be forced to admit his crimes—Viko would have his revenge.

  Viko crawled out of bed after a sleepless night. Rest could wait for a more convenient time. He arrived at the shipyard along with the thousands of men who would soon be swarming over Titanic like so many ants. He went directly to the planning warehouse. Andrews was standing at his desk in a heated conversation with his supervisors.

  Andrews was saying, “I know what you are saying, and I agree with you, but I have no choice in this. We must remove thirty-two of the lifeboats. That son-of-a-bitch has done it again. I will work on this and do my best to restore the boats, but for now they have to go. Have them taken to warehouse 3A, and cover them to keep them in good condition. The davits stay as they are, no changes.”

  The men who were gathered around began to walk away muttering to themselves. Andrews sat down and shook his head in disgust.

  Viko had never seen Andrews so upset. Considering that this might not be a good time, he turned to leave when he heard Andrews call him. “Viko, finally, a friendly face. Please tell me that you have good news for me. How did it go last night?”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt; it looks like you have your hands full this morning. I can come back later.”

  “Just a part of the job, one that I really hate, but sometimes I have to do asinine things to satisfy our customers.”

  “The inspection went well. Everything looks as good as it can, and the rudder control worked flawlessly.”

  “Thanks. That bastard Ismay is going to drive me to drink with his damned changes. I convinced him eighteen months ago that Titanic should carry forty-eight lifeboats. He was wandering around the promenade deck yesterday. When he saw the lifeboats in place, he went berserk. He has demanded that we remove thirty-two of them so that his first-class passengers can have more room to walk around. If he had his way, there would be no lifeboats at all on the damned ship. I pray that this ship never goes down or hundreds of people are going to lose their lives.”

  All talk of steering and wireless was forgotten. The progress on board Titanic continued, each step moving her ever closer to her one and only sailing date.

  CHAPTER 42

  Revenge or Disaster

  Viko’s plans for the Titanic rescue hinged on his ability to locate the stricken ship in the vast North Atlantic. If all went well with the detonation of the two explosive charges, Titanic would simply disappear at night somewhere between Southampton and New York. Unable to control the direction of the ship due to the loss of rudder control, the captain would be forced to shut down the steam engines and let the ship drift, hoping that someone would find them. The wireless operators would sit at their stations listening as the world searched for the ship, unable to send for help or inform rescue ships as to their location.

  The sudden loss of communication from Titanic would cause a worldwide panic as the news spread that she could not be located. Financial markets would go on red alert as the number one financial leader, J.P. Morgan, was reported missing. The relatives and friends of her wealthy passengers would converge onto the offices of White Star Line demanding answers.

  Whenever he let these scenarios play through his mind, Viko would salivate with pleasure. What fitting justice for those who thought nothing of stealing a man’s property, especially the property of his famous uncle, Nikola Tesla.

  Viko’s ultimate vision, his dream come true, would be the day that none other than J.P. Morgan himself, taken shivering and hungry from the decks of the stricken Titanic, stood before Tesla and apologized and admitted publicly that he tried to destroy the very genius who saved his life.

  Viko was so driven with his need to destroy Morgan that the potential for disaster never crossed his mind, or if it did, was dismissed by the hype that Titanic was unsinkable. His mind was as sharp and creative as ever. But his ability to weigh right and wrong, to measure the potential harm he might be instigating, was gone, shoved aside by his psychotic need for retribution. The same mental forces that caused the depression in Ana Tesla and Christina Gracac, stealing from them life-giving energy and from their children maternal love, surfaced in Viko. But in Viko, the depression turned into seething anger, held in check by his intelligence and cunning until the day his revenge could be taken properly.

  CHAPTER 43

  April 11, 1912 New York Harbor—Viko’s Final Goodbye

  Viko stood on pier thirty-nine awaiting his final crossing to Great Britain, looking up at the gleaming iron hull of the Californian, wondering if he would ever set foot on American soil again. Most of the crew was aboard, the cargo had been loaded, and in a few hours her passengers would arrive for the crossing to Southampton and then on to London. It had been raining for the past several days, but this morning dawned to beautiful pink clearing skies with a light westerly breeze sending a few nimbus clouds skipping across the blue canopy that spread
above him. Rain had washed away the grime of New York.

  The major news around the shipping world was taking place three thousand miles away on the other side of the Atlantic. Newspapers could write of nothing else as they tried to outdo each other with stories of the world’s first “unsinkable” ship. The subject of course was the maiden voyage of RMS Titanic, scheduled to sail on her first crossing on April 11. The articles published in the Times and the Post ranged far and wide in their coverage, some describing the detailed mechanical marvels of the huge ship, her propulsion system, and the unique watertight compartments. Others concentrated on the impressive list of passengers lucky enough to be sharing this unique moment in history. The list was more like the invitees to a swank society gathering than the manifest of a ship about to set sail. The newspapers were full of details of their dress, jewels, and most recent visits to European royalty and health spas, and a myriad of social trivia that was devoured by the endlessly curious public.

  Viko had been in New York for three weeks and was very careful to remain out of the sight of anyone who might know him. The culmination of his plans was just a few days away. He had to avoid his uncle at all costs, knowing full well that Tesla’s keen senses would cut through any alibi he could muster to explain his disappearance for the past six weeks.

  Sleep, an escape he rarely enjoyed, was more difficult than ever. So much had been done: intricate plans were in place, explosives had been installed on Titanic, the black box awaited—the fulfillment of his dream was nearly upon him. He was working around the clock to ensure every contingency was thought out, every potential stumbling block was removed, and everything humanly possible was done to achieve the ultimate success he hungered for.

  Viko tested his acoustic receiver and microphones several times until he had satisfied himself that they would work flawlessly, especially in the harsh environment of the open sea. When finally pleased with their performance, he moved everything to a storage locker at Grand Central Station.

  He wrote a long letter to Nikola Tesla, adding to the instructions he had written out weeks before, explaining all he had done to disable Titanic. He wrote over fifty pages of what turned into a manifesto, justifying the deed he had accomplished, all for reinstating Tesla to the place of prominence he deserved.

  Prior to returning to America just a few weeks earlier, Viko had been offered a position on Titanic as chief electrician for her first voyage. After that, a future at Harland and Wolff was his for the taking. His ideas for ship electrical design and application of new technology coupled with his extreme concerns for safety brought him directly to the attention of Edward Harland.

  Viko wasn’t expecting such an honor, and when it was first offered he had second thoughts about his plans, knowing full well that after Titanic was located adrift in the North Atlantic and the destruction of her mechanisms was discovered, he would be suspect number one. He asked for some time to consider the offer, and rather than turn it down he simply disappeared one day, going back to America and setting his final solution on its irreversible course.

  He had withdrawn his remaining money from the Manhattan banks. The money would be his only means of support. He would have to remain in Europe for years. He made plans to contact his uncle on May 1, 1912, giving him detailed instructions to locate the key to a locker at Grand Central Station. The rest would be up to Tesla himself.

  Viko boarded the Californian, secured his trunk containing the radio transmitter that would stop Titanic, and went to the bridge where he found the officers and Captain Lord standing around the map table discussing a serious matter.

  They were considering altering their planned course from the shorter northern route to a more southerly passage, opting for safety rather than a fast crossing. News reached them from the crews of three ships that just arrived in port, one from Queenstown, the other two from Norway. They were reporting heavy pack ice. It had been an unseasonably warm winter and large amounts of ice had broken off from Greenland.

  Viko was quite certain Titanic would be taking the shorter northern route. Prior to his final departure from Ireland, he had been party to conversations between Captain Smith and Thomas Andrews. Bruce Ismay was interjecting himself into the navigational plans for her first voyage. His latest demand was that Titanic set new speed records on her first voyage. He wanted to do the crossing in three and a half days, perhaps even three. To perform such a feat Titanic would have to run twenty-four hours a day at maximum speed, putting undue stress on her huge steam engines. In addition, Captain Smith would need to take the shortest route possible, the northernmost crossing from east to west.

  In order to placate this latest idiotic demand, Smith had compromised and ordered that the northern route be taken. But he stipulated that Titanic would run no faster than 75 percent of maximum speed. He reasoned that they could avoid icebergs. He was following the well-offered advice from Thomas Andrews that sustained travel at any faster speed would damage the engine bearings, and it could take up to six months to replace them.

  It was critical to Viko’s plans that the Californian and Titanic pass near each other as they traveled in opposite directions. Viko knew that eastbound and westbound ships on the same route usually passed close enough to be in visual contact, a distance of perhaps five to six miles, certainly close enough for his radio signals to penetrate the steel hull of the ship. Viko also had a more personal reason. If they were close enough, he would be able to witness Titanic slow down and stop—a sight he desperately wanted to witness.

  Just then Peter Evans, the Californian wireless operator, came in with a Marconigram. “Sir, just received this from the Cedric. You might want to look at it.” The Cedric was about an hour out on its journey to New York. It had taken the southern route across from Queenstown and had encountered a surprising amount of ice along the way.

  Lord read the message and handed it to his second officer, who read it through. “Well, what do you think, what route would you take?” Lord asked.

  “Sir, it seems that no matter how we make the crossing we are going to encounter ice. I suggest we get the trip over with as quickly as possible and take the northern route. Seems it won’t make much of a difference; ice is everywhere.”

  Captain Lord asked everyone around the table for their opinion, and the general consensus was a northern route with extra lookouts and extra caution. Viko breathed a sigh of relief as Lord made the final decision and the ship’s navigator began to draw out the planned route.

  Lord then spoke to Peter Evans and Viko.

  “Viko, since both you and Peter are here, I would appreciate your assistance with the wireless on this trip. I want at least one of you on the wireless every minute, twenty-four hours a day. We need to send and receive a constant flow of communication with other ships. All information about ice is to be brought to the bridge immediately. I want two shifts. Peter, you will be on duty from eight in the morning to eight at night. Viko, since you are usually up all night, can you man the night eight-to-eight shift? Consider yourself a crewmember and your ticket money will be refunded.”

  Viko agreed. Part of his plan was to be in the wireless room alone at night; he just didn’t know how to make it happen.

  Unknowingly, Captain Lord had just aided him in his plans for Titanic.

  The Californian was steaming eastward at a steady fourteen knots, making her way across a choppy North Atlantic. It was just past three o’clock in the morning on April 13. Viko stood by the railing outside the door of the wireless room looking up at a spectacular display of stars. His mind wandered through the history of the past seventeen years of his life. Had it really been that long since he was lifted from the misery and pain of life in Salonia? How had he arrived at this moment in his life?

  He had studied at the feet of the master, Nikola Tesla. He learned the brushstrokes of this new science of electricity. He had traveled the world in pursuit of dreams that would never come true, and decided it was time to stop dreaming. He found it hard to acce
pt that this genius he worshiped was a very little man struggling hopelessly against forces, and he would never prevail. Those forces were as vast as the heavens that spread above him that cold April night. But in just a few days those forces would be wandering these same chartless waters helpless against one not-so-small man, Viko Tesla.

  Viko went back to the warmth of the wireless room, slipped the headphones back over his head, and continued listening to the wireless traffic between unseen ships and the shore towers that dotted the New England and Carolina coasts. There was little traffic at this early hour, but as he sat there a string of dots and dashes came through and he was sure that the name “Ismay” was one of the words. He reached for his pad and pencil and began to take down the message. It was indeed from Ismay; they were at sea and he was contacting his office in New York with details of his arrival. As a courtesy, Marconi operators relayed messages on to the receivers in New England, who in turn would forward it to New York. Titanic was at sea and, if on its original scheduled course, was traveling in his direction. Based on the time included in the message, Viko deduced that Titanic set sail as originally scheduled and was about five hundred miles out of Queenstown.

  The rest of his watch was quite busy. No sooner had he sent the message from Ismay than he received an entire string of Marconigrams that sounded like greeting cards. Titanic wireless operator Jack Phillips was sending personal messages from passengers. Simple messages were being sent like: “HI HAVING A GREAT TIME” or “THE TITANIC IS A WONDERFUL SHIP WISH YOU WERE HERE,” with an occasional business message mixed in.