by K. T. Tomb
“My name is Vlad. Vlad Afanasy.”
After a moment, Darya took his hand.
“Darya Nikita,” she said. “And this is my traveling companion, Stephan.”
Vlad threw his hands in the air. “Please,” he said, “allow me to make up for my fumbling ways and share a meal with you this evening; both of you. It is clear that you require discretion in regards to your travels.”
He glanced toward Darya’s hand still tucked intimately under Stephan’s arm, indicating that their relationship might be more than that of an aristocrat and her servant.
“We can dine in my quarters. Please say you will. It would be such a joy to share some memories of the old country with fellow comrades.”
Darya glanced at Stephan, whose eyes showed a hint of caution. The sea air, coupled with the sight of the ocean expanding to the distant horizon on all sides around them, sparked in her something she had rarely felt before: the desire to toss caution aside. After all, they were aboard a ship headed to America. There was little to be concerned with at this point. She no longer had to follow the rules. She no longer had to be concerned as to her image or her family name. She strengthened her resolve.
“Yes,” she said to the man before them. “We would be happy to accompany you for dinner.”
***
June 17, 2014
Latitude 41° 43’ 57” North, longitude 49° 56’ 49” West
“You should be approaching visual within the next ten minutes,” Harper’s voice instructed over the comm link.
“Affirmative,” Franco echoed.
His partner remained silent next to him. Harper prompted once more.
“Can I get an ‘affirmative’ on that, Moore?”
“Affirmative,” Nick finally muttered.
Franco began to talk to Nick.
“When we reach visual, our first priority is to get to ‘A’ deck. That’s first class, okay? I’ve studied the floor plan of the ship, so just follow me. We’ll be headed to room 108. That’s where she stayed, according to the ship’s ledger.”
“Room 108,” Nick repeated.
Within minutes, they began to see a distant shape in the light of the headlamps. Behind the floating debris and the small darting fish, both men were able to focus on what appeared to be a tiny toy ship resting on the bottom of the ocean. Once recognized, they both focused their lamps on the location and picked up the pace of their kicks. Seeing the destination gave them a new resolve. What they saw as they approached was nothing more than breathtaking. They had both seen footage of the previous dives the Titanic, but nothing could have prepared them for the view up close. They descended toward the ship, head down and kicking their large flippers behind them, propelling them forward. Soon, the front pier of the ship came into clearer view, the nose of the ship made famous by movies and paintings; once a vessel of splendor, the Titanic had taken on an eerie cast, covered in algae and other growths drifting from the outposts on the deck of the ship, dancing in the slow current. The ship had the illusion of still sailing as the strands of seaweed created a false wake trailing behind her. As the men approached, they pulled their legs underneath themselves, allowing them to float toward the deck of the Titanic until their flippered feet hovered right above the surface of the deck.
Franco looked around at the eerie surroundings. He could see the wonder in Nick’s eyes and imagined that his own face held a similar mask. He could imagine the splendor of the ship had it been viewed in its intended environment rather than at the bottom of the ocean. He could almost see the faces of the first passengers as they boarded the Titanic for her maiden voyage; some of them traveling to America for a new beginning, the trip of a lifetime. Others, such as the first class passengers, had taken the trip as a status symbol; a claim to say ‘I was aboard the Titanic’. Now he, too, could make that claim. Franco Michaels hovered over the most famous ship in modern history. Despite the sublime experience of standing on deck of the Titanic, Franco knew they had a job to do. He radioed up to Harper.
“Base, we have touchdown. Initial target is achieved,” Franco said.
“Affirmative,” Harper echoed back. “Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Titanic.”
Nick let out a shrill yelp of joy, immediately wincing with the echo through the comm link. Franco flinched at the sound, though he was glad to see his partner finally showing some enthusiasm. The spell of the Titanic had taken hold at last. Little did Franco realize the magical atmosphere they had entered would bring a change to him that could not have ever been imagined.
The men looked around the deck for a moment, careful as to where they swam. They moved in slow motion, partially against the pressure of the water and partially as to not disturb the clutter and detritus left by the wreckage. Franco motioned for Nick to follow him. Their headlamps illuminated the forward cabin of the giant ship. They both fell silent as they moved forward. There was no denying the atmosphere was that of a cemetery. Shuffling across the wooden expanse of the deck, they finally came to the entrance of the ship’s interior. The grand staircase greeted them both, still remarkably intact. Franco knew that it was just a matter of time. Some of the decay would not be apparent to the eye, but if touched or disturbed, could crumble into nothingness dissolved away by the sea salt. They moved through the space, still garnished by ornate chandeliers and oriental rugs piled and grayed by the ocean currents. They entered a darkened hallway which Franco believed would lead them to Darya’s room. The doors of the quarters remained fallen open and many of the passenger’s belongings cluttered the hall. Old fashioned clothing was strewn about, along with personal items: books, diaries, a small child’s toy fire truck, Edwardian styled leather shoes. Franco moved forward with Nick close behind him. They swam through in single file as the discarded items made for treacherous progress. The silence of the surroundings overwhelmed them both. Franco remained focused on finding the room, hoping that Nick had the same resolve.
Suddenly, an unnaturally loud sound of a door slamming startled them both, a foreign sound in the ocean depths that surrounded them. Franco whirled around and saw Nick back against the wall on one side pointing toward the door across from him. Closed. It had been open a moment before. Franco could see the panic mounting in his partner’s eyes.
“Nick,” he said. “Nick, look at me. It was just a current.”
Finally, Nick’s eyes drifted over to Franco. Slowly he nodded in understanding.
“It was a current, Nick. Nothing more. The movement of the water. It just made the door close. That’s all, a trick of the mind. Nothing more,” Franco said. “Besides, look.”
Franco pointed to the next door down the hall, which read in ornate gold plate: Room 108. It stood slightly ajar, but not as fully open as the other doors had been.
“Come on.”
He turned and began his slow motion advance toward the room.
Once Franco reached the door, he pulled his arm forward against the water pressure and pushed the door open, allowing him to see the first class accommodations. The room looked opulent, even after the years of decay under the ocean. In the sitting room, Franco saw an ornate settee which looked as if it could be plucked from the wreckage to decorate any high-class living room. A small writing table huddled in a corner, with a full set of pens and stationery strewn below it. An electric lamp sat on the table, catching the reflection of the diver’s headlamps; the light bulb appeared to glow with the illusion that it was switched on. Franco approached the desk, hoping to find a clue as to where the chest and the diamonds might have been located. A sheet of paper rested on the desktop. Franco could see writing, but the contents looked like gibberish. He slowly reached out to try and pick up the paper, but it crumbled, disintegrating at his touch. A sudden darkness appeared, and he realized that the light in the lamp had somehow gone out. Franco remembered the warnings given by the medic before the dive and assured himself that they were experiencing nothing more than a trick of the eye. With the strange shadows, currents and flickerin
g creatures around them, this seemed like the best and only explanation.
Franco turned, discovering behind him the entrance to the sleeping quarters of the suite. He moved forward, his headlamp throwing a sharp shadow against the walls of the room. He took a breath, allowing the oxygen to strengthen him. As he made his way forward, one inch at a time, Franco realized just how good he felt. The dive had been flawless, so far everything had gone according to plan. A sense of euphoria and confidence began to seep into him. He reached the doorway of the bedroom. Looking around, he could see the large canopy bed. The sheets looked messed and tangled, but other than that, perfectly preserved. He swam into the room. Above him, a smaller but still ornate overhead chandelier swayed in a small eddy. A luxurious wardrobe sat in another corner opposite the bed. Franco stood at the doorway slowly swaying his head from one side of the room to the other, allowing the orb of light from the headlamp to cover every surface of the room. When he saw the chest, he would know it: a small, painted wooden box with Mother of Pearl inlay. He had seen a picture of one like it when he had been hired by Matvei initially. Strange shadows danced about as the light swept the room.
Franco could almost envision the young girl sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair in preparation for receiving her lover. The vision seemed to come alive before his eyes as he imagined Darya balanced on the edge of the chair, back straight, dressing gown draped around her. He pictured her pinching her cheeks to bring a blush to them, then sitting still for a moment. He could almost see the face of the young woman, embarking on the journey of a lifetime with the man she loved. For a moment, a flame of curiosity flickered in his mind. They had been sent to find the diamonds and the chest, but what of the people behind the story? The family lore that had been told to him by Leo Matvei was only part of the story. What happened after they set sail on the Titanic? The shadow of the girl in front of him seemed to have a look of hope upon her face, mingled with a hint of sadness. He flinched when the soundless vision seemed to show the young woman pick up her hairbrush and fling it suddenly at the mirror before her, shattering it into a thousand pieces; the shards creating an aura of mirror light around her. The vision dissipated, floating into nothingness. The girl had vanished.
He shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts. He needed to focus on the mission. Something underneath the bed caught the reflection of his lamp. Moving forward, he approached and leaned down to look. By an amazing stroke of fortitude, he reached under the bed and pulled forward the very chest that had been one of the purposes of the mission. He pulled it from underneath. The small ornate box had been marred by the presence of algae and barnacles clutching to the outside. The front lock looked secure, but he knew once they reached the surface that they could break the lock with no problem.
A blood-curdling scream broke the silence over the comm link. Nick.
Franco looked behind him, realizing Nick had not followed him into the suite. He moved back and tucked the small box under his left arm, beginning to find his way back to his diving partner. The screams continued over the comm link, sending waves of fear through him. His steps felt painfully slow as he emerged from the bedroom into the sitting room.
“What’s going on!?” Harper’s voice came over the comm link from far above in the support vessel. “Somebody speak to me! What’s happening!?”
“This is Micheals,” Franco said in response. “I’ve lost visual on Moore, but I have a trajectory.”
“Come on guys,” Harper said. “Don’t do this to me.”
Franco moved toward the hallway, struggling against the water, every movement a belabored effort. Cold fingers of suppressed panic danced up and down his spine as he pushed forward to try and find his friend. He did not know if Nick had fallen and gotten trapped somehow. Oddly enough, the sound of the screams gave him at least the realization that Nick was still alive. If there had been a breach in the suit or the TLV tank, Nick would have drowned in seconds. Screams meant life. As long as he could hear him, he could reach him. Franco moved forward into the hallway. Three doors down just within reach of the light of the headlamp, he saw Nick cowering against the wall, eyes wide with terror, his gloved fingers clawing uselessly at the wall behind him.
“Harper, I have visual on Moore. Situation is under control. Diver has not been compromised.”
“Repeat that?” Harper said.
“Diver has not been compromised. Preparing to ascend.”
Franco switched his focus from communicating with base to speaking directly to Nick.
“What’s going on, Nick?” Franco said, keeping his voice stern and professional. He needed to bring Nick back so they could get back to the surface. “Nick. Talk to me.”
Nick’s eyes darted from side to side, finally settling on Franco, who seemed to just become aware of his presence.
“The people. I saw the people walking along as if they were here,” Nick mumbled. “First in the hallway; ladies and men wearing clothes from a long time ago. Then, here in this room, there were two men. I saw them as plain as day. And don’t you dare tell me it was just a trick of the light, Franco. I know what I saw.”
Franco’s mind drifted momentarily, thinking of his vision of the girl sitting at the vanity.
“I believe you.”
“They moved and talked like they didn’t even see me,” Nick continued. “Then the one stabbed the other. The other man fell down but he was still thrashing around. Then the first one wrapped something around his throat, until the other man stopped moving.”
“Nick. I believe you, okay. Now, listen. I found the chest. We can go back to the surface. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
“Franco, listen to me! I saw two men arguing just now. In that room!” He pointed to the door in front of him. Room 114. “One of them killed the other. He stabbed him. I saw it.”
Franco finally reached close enough to Nick to reach out to him, strange shadows etched on his face from the light of Franco’s headlamp. He touched Nick’s shoulder.
“Nick, let’s go back up. We can sort this out once we reach the surface.”
Nick’s eyes seemed to calm slightly, but still flamed with a crazed look. He finally rested his vision on the box underneath Franco’s arm. “Okay, Franco. Let’s go up.”
Chapter Four
April 12, 1912
The RMS Titanic, Room 114
A well-dressed servant opened the door for Darya and Stephan, both dressed for dinner as they entered the chamber of their new acquaintance, Vlad Afanasy. Against the back wall, a large table filled with delicacies greeted them as they entered the room.
“Please come in,” Vlad said as he stood from the seating area, hands extended to greet them both. He gave Stephan a hearty handshake, then took Darya’s hand and, with a grand gesture, bowed his head to her.
“Thank you so much for having us,” Darya said. “It is always nice to spend time with a fellow countryman.”
A woman entered from the back room. She was a slight, blond woman with thin, delicate features, wearing a fine evening dress of blue silk. She had the same eyes as Vlad.
“My sister, Katinka,” Vlad said, motioning for her to come forward. “She is my traveling companion and will be joining us for dinner.”
Katinka walked forward and greeted Darya, gently grazing her fingertips with her own and offering a slight smile. Darya could not quite say why, but there seemed to be something strange about this young woman, something off. Katinka extended her hand to Stephan next, but she seemed to pause as he took her hand with a bow.
“I’m sorry, comrade,” she spoke in a voice that sounded like a tinkling of crystal, “Have we met before? I am sure I have seen your face.”
Stephan shook his head with a small smile.
“I am certain that we have not. I would have remembered.”
Darya suppressed a fleeting disturbance at the exchange between the two. She could have sworn she saw the blush rise in Stephan’s face when Katinka greeted him. She dis
missed the passing thought with a shake of her head.
“We are dining buffet style this evening,” Vlad said, sweeping his arm toward the table of food. “I had the food brought in from the restaurant so as to be more comfortable for us. Please, help yourselves.”
The four of them took turns filling their plates with cold cut meats, bread, melons, and other fruits from the bedecked table. A dining table had been set near the sitting area, utilizing the cushioned armchair for luxurious comfort and elbow room for the diners. Darya settled on the seat opposite Vlad. Stephan sat next to her on, and Katinka finally sat down across from Stephan and beside Vlad.
“What brings you aboard the Titanic?” Vlad asked Darya after they had begun the meal. “A woman of your social status surely has opportunity to make a trip such as this regularly, I would assume.”
“Actually, this is the first time I am making a trip across the Atlantic,” Darya said, improvising once more. “It is on behalf of my father’s business. He is quite ill you see, and he has given me authority to go in his stead.”
“That is interesting,” Katinka replied, taking a delicate sip from her water glass. “It is not often to see women involved in business affairs in such a manner, especially a woman of your position and stature. Do you find it difficult?”
“On the contrary,” Darya said. “My education and upbringing has prepared me for it quite nicely. Besides, I do enjoy the travel aspects. My father’s best man is sent along to accompany me, of course.” She gestured to Stephan. “After all, it would be unseemly for a woman to be traveling alone.”
Katinka turned her attention to Stephan.
“And you, sir? How are you enjoying your stay on the Titanic? It must be an honor to make such a journey for someone of your... position.”