Lusitania Lost

by Leonard Carpenter

  “Is that so?” Matt asked, wishing that he dared to take out his notebook.

  “Sounds right, young man,” Pearson added. “If you want to do some real war reporting, go and visit Mesopotamia, the place they’re now calling Iraq. Things’ll be heating up there soon.”

  “Well, there you go, Vane,” Bowring the shipper said. “My insider friends here have given you your inside scoop.” He reached in his pocket and drew out a deck of cards. “But now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe it’s time for some bridge.”

  “Yes indeed, that’s our game,” Lehmann agreed. “Just so long as it’s contract bridge,” he added with a wink.

  Chapter 17

  Central Powers

  “Danke schoen, mein Herr.” The coachman nodded respectfully, taking the banknote handed over his shoulder. The passenger steadied himself in his seat, and the open carriage clattered to a halt on the cobblestones of old Berlin. The horses whickered as they reined up in front of Bendlerstrasse 14, the Naval Ministry.

  A government automobile would perhaps have been more fashionable, the lone rider knew. But he personally didn’t mind the jolting informality of a short trip from the government complex in the Kaiser Wilhelmstrasse. A coach trot around the Tiergarten and along the river wasn’t too old-fashioned, not even for the Chancellor of all the Reich, and not even in a time of war.

  Bethmann-Hollweg didn’t wait for his cabbie to dismount. Opening the door, he stepped out unaided and waved a hand to dismiss the carriage.

  Undoubtedly the man recognized the tall, distinguished Prussian with his Van Dyke beard and trim officer’s uniform. Bethmann-Hollweg habitually dressed in military costume, like most imperial German officials including Der Kaiser himself.

  The Chancellor paused to inspect the grand façade before him. The peak-roofed portico of the Naval Ministry jutted forth like a great ship’s prow along the riverfront. Already the giant building was famous as the Bendlerblock. The structure’s size and newness signaled not only the importance of the Kaiserliche Marine, but also the growing power of the agency’s new master, Tirpitz. Now that Bismarck and Von Bulow were gone, dismissed by a fickle emperor, Admiral Tirpitz was seen as Der Kaiser’s oldest and most trusted confidant…though how he could be more cherished than Bethmann-Hollweg himself was a puzzle. Had it not been the ever-loyal Chancellor who, in boyhood, offered Kaiser Wilhelm his own shoulder to steady the rifle that killed the one-handed emperor’s very first stag?

  Striding through the front entry, Hollweg breezed past guards and receptionists toward the inner quarters where the Admiral lived and worked. He had pre-arranged the visit by telephone, and not even Tirpitz would dare to make him wait for long. The two of them were old acquaintances, old adversaries.

  At the broad desk of the Admiral’s secretary, a busy naval adjutant, Hollweg didn’t need to announce himself. He didn’t bother taking a seat, but remained standing. He was inspecting a model of the fleet’s newest battlecruiser when Tirpitz emerged to greet him.

  “Willkommen, Herr Reichskanzler,” his host said. “I’m very sorry to have kept you waiting,” he added, in a way the Chancellor could not help but find patronizing.

  The admiral advanced to clasp Hollweg’s hand. To add formality to the meeting, he clicked his heels together and curtly bowed, making his long, and gray, two-forked beard brush against his blue navy lapels.

  “Guten Tag, Herr Admiral.” Hollweg responded in kind, maintaining the formal tone. As a patient negotiator, he was willing tolerate this jumped-up naval officer’s show of importance. Had he not always done so in the past?

  “Many thanks for coming. I would have been glad to go and see you at the Reichskanzlerei, if not for the harsh maritime demands of this war.”

  There it was again, the arrogance of a wartime military leader over a peacetime official. “I understand, Admiral.”

  “Come. If you don’t mind, let us walk outside in the courtyard.” Tirpitz led the way toward his office’s exterior door, which stood open on a tree-lined quadrangle. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “To the same thing as my last visit, I fear,” the chancellor said. “I must ask again that our navy’s actions against neutral commerce vessels be more…restrained. I refer to this recent sinking of an American ship, the Gulflight, on May the first. With three of the neutral vessel’s crew members killed, our foreign office is facing renewed protests from abroad.”

  Tirpitz sighed. “I, too, feared as much when I read the press account. But come, Theobald—” his sudden switch to a first-name basis signaled, perhaps, that they had passed beyond earshot of the office staff. “This neutral ship, the Gulflight, was an oil tanker carrying vital fuel to our enemies. The crew was allowed to escape, but two of them panicked, jumped overboard and drowned. Then after being rescued, the tanker’s captain also died of a heart attack. I don’t see how Germany can be blamed for that unfortunate chain of events in wartime.”

  “The ship was torpedoed without warning, against naval law,” Hollweg said. “They call us criminals, pirates.”

  “So says the English press, as ever,” Tirpitz countered. “But my U-boat captain let his boat be seen first as a very obvious warning. He stayed on the surface a good three minutes before submerging, but the American ship did not stop or turn around.” The admiral paused in the sparse shade of one of the small new courtyard trees. “The very same newspaper account acknowledges that this supposedly neutral American tanker was also being shadowed by a British warship. What are my captains to do?”

  “They are to do what you tell them, Alfred,” the chancellor said. “Can you not control your subordinates?”

  Tirpitz sighed. “A ship is not a land brigade, Theo. A captain at sea bears, first of all, the responsibility for his vessel and the lives of his crew. He must make instant decisions as conditions dictate. I cannot approve or countermand those decisions, even by the miracle of Marconi wireless.” Pacing again under the linden trees, the Admiral smiled. “A vessel’s captain has more freedom of choice than do I, or you…or even our dear friend the Kaiser, with all his ships and officers.”

  “Yes, but these ships are more than just playthings in Der Kaiser’s bathtub,” Hollweg snorted. “These are real vessels with real lives on board. Innocent lives, some of them, and when they perish, we hear about it. God help us if a great passenger liner is sunk, with important Americans on board. Should that happen, Britain will have a strong new ally in her war against us.”

  “Britain already has such an ally, but in secret,” Tirpitz retorted. “Her former American colony supports her with food, supplies, fuel, and all manner of weaponry and ammunition. My concern is to stop that traffic. If we do not, all is lost.”

  “All is lost…” Hollweg repeated. “That, as I recall, is what you cried out when our great enemy Britain first entered this war.” He scanned the admiral’s bearded face for any sign of embarrassment. “Hardly an expression of confidence in our German armed forces.”

  “All of us make ill-considered statements at times, Herr Kanzler,” Tirpitz parried, “…such as when you told the British ambassador that our attack in the west was illegal, and that Belgian neutrality was a mere scrap of paper.” He stopped again in his pacing and turned to Hollweg. “What I saw then, old friend, when Britain entered the war, is that they are above all a naval power. With control of the seas, they have Germany blockaded. We must in turn blockade them from the battle front, using these miraculous new weapons, the U-boat and torpedo, or all will indeed be lost.” The old Admiral smiled at the Chancellor in a direct appeal. “I know navies, and I know these tools, Theo. Years ago I helped perfect the torpedo as a weapon for our Reichsmarine.”

  “As did your opposite number in Britain, their Admiral Fisher, for his Royal Navy in the early days,” Hollweg pointed out.

  “Yes, he saw the future, as I did,” Tirpitz matter-of-factly said. “That is why h
e is now Britain’s Sea Lord, and I am Germany’s Secretary of the Navy.”

  “Secretary of State for the Navy, you mean,” Hollweg reminded him. “With your increase in authority, to equal mine or the army’s, there comes a broader responsibility. Your decisions now affect diplomacy and foreign affairs, not just Der Kaiser’s battlecruisers and other pet projects.” He turned to face the admiral directly. “In that capacity, I ask you: Can it help Germany if every nation in the world turns against us?”

  Tirpitz frowned at last. “The only thing that can help Germany now is to choke off the enemy’s commerce, before they strangle our homeland. In that, the U-boats are vital. Any restriction on submarine warfare threatens our survival as a nation.”

  Chapter 18

  Roll Call

  When Matt finally was about to get Alma alone below decks, he found himself behaving with propriety that was exaggerated, if not awkward. To his request for a couple of hours to themselves, his cabin-mates agreed with sly, knowing permissiveness.

  Not wanting to give out any hint of Alma’s secrets, he explained, “It’s just to be uninterrupted while we get some things done.”

  “Oh yes,” Winnie blandly agreed with him. “I’m sure you too will get quite a lot done.”

  Flash added helpfully, “As long as you take care not to interrupt each other. Winnie and I have a problem with that sometimes, when we’re interviewing.”

  “So it’s purely business then, you understand,” Matt held out heroically. He dared a glance at Alma, who seemed amused.

  “Why, of course it’s business,” Winnie said as she pinned on her hat. “Very important business at that.”

  “Now,” Flash said, “if you’ll excuse us—” He opened the door, checking for spies as was their custom. “Winnie and I will go and find someplace private.”

  “Yes,” she finished, waiting a decent interval before following him out. “Flash and I have personal business to attend to.”

  With the door finally shut and locked after them, Matt turned to find Alma demurely at ease.

  “Well, those two make quite a pair,” he said. “They should take up vaudeville.”

  “Or maybe burlesque,” Alma said lightly. “Though I’ve never really seen it. Big Jim would take the boys out to the burley-Q now and then, but he wouldn’t let me go, much less sing there.” She stood poised against the roll of the cabin, waiting calmly. Her cotton dress, flower-printed and tied at the waist, wouldn’t have stood up to the chilly sea gusts on deck.

  “A burlesque house hardly would have been a showcase for your vocal talents,” Matt said. “Those places are pretty raunchy.”

  “I can guess,” she said bitterly, “from having to fight off his drunken friends when they got back.”

  “Big Jim didn’t mind his friends bothering you?” Matt asked.

  “Usually Jim didn’t come back till next morning,” she said.

  So much for the charms of intimacy, being alone with Alma. Just as well, Matt thought. “So you split on him,” he said. “But you didn’t go empty-handed.”

  “No, I packed up all I could of the clothes he gave me—I had the cabbie help carry it down, and I took his— I don’t know what you’d call it. He always kept it in a satchel.” She turned toward the bedroom, and he followed.

  At the bottom of the narrow closet, she bent and unbuckled her large suitcase. Reaching inside, she drew out a carpet bag with leather straps and handles. She gave it to Matt and sat down on a bed, as he seated himself beside her.

  “You took this because…?” he asked, loosening the straps.

  “Well, it was important to Jim, and I just wanted something to defend against him with, in case he came looking for me.” She sighed. “And to get even.”

  “Did you want him to come after you?” From the satchel, he lifted out a leather-bound account book and set it on the bed.

  “I…don’t know. I was confused then. I certainly don’t want him after me now.”

  “Well, the issue may not be so personal, after all. He could be looking for this.” From the bottom of the bag, Matt dredged up handfuls of greenbacks, twenties and fifties, and held them up for her inspection.

  Alma’s jaw dropped. “My heavens, I didn’t know that was in there—I never even looked inside, I swear it!”

  “The bag’s lined with cash.” Matt took out several bundles of money and laid them on the embroidered Cunard coverlet.

  By their count, there was about six thousand dollars.

  “You’re pretty good at getting even,” Matt remarked. “But would Big Jim, flush as he is, chase you halfway round the world for this? We can assume he didn’t report any theft to the police, because of what’s in here.”

  Letting the cash lie in neat stacks, he turned his attention to the ledger. As he opened it, Alma moved across to peer over his shoulder.

  Each lined page of the book contained one or more last names, some with initials. Underneath were grids of number entries–most likely whole dollars, in tens or hundreds–arranged in columns by month. Some entries were in pencil, others in red or black ink. A few lines had cryptic labels such as “Station 26” or “Market Village.”

  “Who else writes in this?” Matt asked, noticing different slants to the entries.

  “Besides Hogan, you mean? There’s a bald-headed little man who brings it to him.”

  “Hintermann, the lawyer,” Matt said, and she nodded confirmation. “See here, these are family names. Say, are you really sure you should be hiding out in First Class? You might feel safer at the other end of the boat. There are some powerful clans here—Van de Vere, Felton, Bass. I don’t see anyone yet that’s actually on board. But they’re all connected, and they wouldn’t be too happy to know we have them in this hoodlum’s black book. They’d want it overboard…and maybe us, too.”

  “What is it, a gambling book?” Alma asked. “Are those racetracks?”

  “Bigger than that,” Vane said. “They could be transit lines that have to be redrawn to benefit somebody’s real estate holdings.” He turned a page. “It looks like what we have here is Hogan’s muster list, the record of all the payoffs he makes and receives in his borough for graft, vice, and favors, some of them to city leaders. A lot are regular as clockwork. See, here’s 32 dollars, month after month, to Atterly—a crooked cop maybe, or a building inspector? And here’s $70 a week coming in from Dawkins; I think he runs a tavern with a casino in the back. It could be protection money.” He riffled through the pages, which were more than half full. “There’s room in here for a whole criminal dynasty. I’ll have to spend time with it to follow the threads. And it would take legwork back home to nail down details. But I could put some kind of article together based on this, and then send it back to my friends who’d love to take Hogan’s empire apart, brick by brick.”

  “But if it’s published by you, they’ll guess where we are and that we’re together.”

  As she said it, Matt felt her anxiety, the soft arm clinging to his. “That’s true,” he said. I’d have to write under another name and hand it off to others, since I’m going to the war front.”

  He turned to her, seeing that she looked a little wide-eyed at what she’d stolen. “Don’t worry about it now; there’s no hurry. The money isn’t much good on shipboard, and nothing is going out by wireless. If you decide to make it public, I’ll help. If you want to hang onto this…” he patted the ledger, “…Flash might even be able to photograph the pages. Through my contacts in New York, you could mail back the book and the money to Jim in a nice little package.”

  “What you said…” Alma spoke uncertainly. “Could there really be friends, cronies here in First Class, who’d be looking for me, and who would get word back to Jim? Can he reach that high?”

  “No, no, it was just a bad joke.” Feeling protective, Matt patted her shoulder. “I’d say we only need to worry ab
out anyone that Knucks may have talked to.” He tried a smile. “It’s still tough being on the run, isn’t it?”

  She broke down then, not in sobs but with tears flooding into her deep blue eyes. She let him hold and comfort her as best he could. As he broke off their embrace there was a moment’s hesitation, but Alma excused herself and went into the lavatory to wash away her sorrow.

  From within the room, after some minutes of freshening up, he heard her singing to herself. Her voice sounded pure and innocent through the paneled door, but with a performer’s timbre behind it. Real talent there…it was a familiar tune, a love song, a bit melancholy. He’d heard it on a gramophone somewhere but couldn’t place it.

  All I have left behind

  Is just a memory,

  A feeling long gone,

  Like some half-forgotten melody.

  What lies ahead,

  A search for something true—

  All I have left

  Is you.

  Later, seated next to Matt on the divan, she confessed, “It’s been a different world ever since my parents died. Jim charmed me at first, and all my hopes came back; but then I saw that it was far worse than I ever dreamed. I don’t think I could have been happy, even if I’d become what he promised—a respectable wife in a well-to-do household, with sweet children—knowing what was underneath it all. Better to be a nurse in a far-off country, helping poor soldiers and refugees. Even if my life should end there.”

  Chapter 19

  Bridge

  Captain Turner stood in his chart room on the command bridge, pondering the Lusitania’s course. On the table before him was a map of the North Atlantic seaway. Above it, a window looked directly out over the ship’s arrow-pointed bow.