by K. T. Tomb
Chapter Seven
June 19, 2014
Latitude 41° 43’ 57” North, longitude 49° 56’ 49” West
Franco descended into the deafening silence of the deep sea to the Titanic, his face a blank mask of concentration.
Underneath the professional exterior, he felt a current of fear running through him. He had no idea if Matvei’s plan would work, or even if he would return from this dive at all. He wondered if he might face the same fate as Harper, after all, and assumed that Harper had come for him with the broken pipe with the intention of cutting his wet suit and watching him implode under the pressure of the sea. What Franco did not know, however, was why Harper had been dragged away. Were the spirits of the Titanic protecting Franco, or were they trying to keep the diamonds from being taken? Until that moment the ghosts had shown little sign of malevolence. Franco checked the carrying pouch at his side as he continued to kick downward through the dark ocean. The contents remained secure. Soon, the dark shadow of the Titanic emerged in the light of his headlamp.
“Visual on target,” he spoke through the comm link.
“Affirmative,” Nick said from the station in the support vessel. “Everything looks good, Franco. You got this.”
“Affirmative,” Franco said.
Franco kicked forward until he was close enough to pull his feet forward and descend upon the deck of the Titanic once more. This time, he hoped, for the final time. Before he had left the support vessel, Franco and Nick had studied the map of the ship to determine where Darya had led them during the last dive. They had found the path taken to the dining room. Franco replayed this path in his head as he began his slow motion trek toward the room. The white halls looked ominous reflecting back the light from his headlamp, but Franco pressed forward, absently clutching the bag attached to his suit. Hallway after hallway, he replayed the turns in his mind. Left, then right. Then right again. So far there had been no sign of disturbance as there had been last time. No visions or strange noises. No slamming of doors or keening wails. The silence felt worse. Much worse. Franco continued on. At last, he rounded a corner, exposing the beveled glass doors that he and Harper had seen on the last dive. He approached slowly, unsure what would happen. When he approached, he reached out and touched one of the glass panes. The door seemed to open of its own accord. Franco did not know if a current caused the motion or if the ghosts of the Titanic were welcoming him once more. He entered the dining room.
Immediately, the room brightened to reveal its previous state. The windows shone impossibly bright. The tables and chairs gleamed like newly polished wood, and the chandeliers seemed to glow from within. The noticeable difference was that this time the room was all but abandoned. Franco stood waiting. Not a soul emerged. The dais on which the quartet had previously played stood vacant. Franco looked across the expanse of the large room. In the center, next to the dance floor, he finally saw her. Darya sat at one of the tables. He was certain she had not been there prior to that moment. He began to move toward her. He could see that she still wore the white dressing gown in which she must have died. Her head was down, buried in her arms resting on the table. As he neared, he heard the sound of her crying, weeping over her lost love. He neared her, making his way through the maze of tables. Finally, he reached the woman, steadying himself to reach out to touch her shoulder. His hand passed through her incorporeal manifestation, causing a cold chill to pass through his hand where he made contact with her.
Wordlessly she raised her head, facing Franco with a look of puzzlement. He could see the tear stained streaks staining her cheeks, red with emotion. Her hair hung wildly down her back, the unkempt curls creating a dark halo around her pale face and luminous wide eyes. Franco lifted the bag, detaching it from the belt of his wetsuit. He reached inside and first pulled out the locket. He opened the small picture revealing the image of herself and Stephan. He placed the locket on the table before her, carefully watching her face. She reached forward as if to touch the locket, her fingertips hovering over the small pictures. He could see the emotion dancing over the features of her visage. He reached again into the bag, watching her as her eyes followed his movements. He pulled out the letter that Leo had transcribed to Nick, sealed in a laminated sheath which protected it from the effects of the sea. He placed the letter on the table next to the locket and stood back a bit allowing her to read it.
My dear Darya,
My name is Leonid Matvei. I am the grandson of your younger sister, Masha Nikita. It has been brought to my attention that you are feeling great unrest after your passing. Please accept this message as one who is of your family line, your kin, your blood. Accept the message that I bring to you and allow yourself to feel the peace to let go of the unrest of this world.
Your family did not learn of your passing until they found your name listed aboard the manifest of the Titanic. According to the stories passed down through the generations from your family to myself, my great-aunt, Darya Nikita, had run away with her lover aboard the fated ship. Of course, your family was greatly distraught at the sinking of the ship, thinking you lost at sea. Soon, it became apparent that neither you nor Stephan had survived the sinking.
There was a great sadness at your passing, but please believe that your family has forgiven you, and hope that you can in turn forgive us. Love is the greatest thing that any of us can dare to find as we walk through this life. Any of us can only hope to find the love that you and Stephan had felt for each other. You had found that love, and your family had dared to try and keep you from it. For that I ask your forgiveness, blood to blood.
Your sister, Masha, who would have been eight at the time you left, grew into a wonderful woman. She married at the age of nineteen and had six children. The youngest of those children was my mother, Ivanka. Baba Masha, as she had been known by her grandchildren, was much loved. She spoke of you to me when I was but a child.
Know that your death loosened a hard tradition within the family. The practice of parental influence for the purpose of sustaining the family name and resources, no longer fell upon the shoulders of the daughter in the family. In short, you saved Masha from an arranged marriage as well. The family saw the strength of your love for Stephan. And only love can come from love.
Find peace in this message, Darya. Go to Stephan. Be released from your anguish and be at rest.
All my love,
Leo Matvei
Darya lifted her eyes from the page before her and looked at Franco with her vacant eyes. He could see a small tear trailing down her cheek. He suspected this might be for the first time for her that this was a tear of release and not of sadness. A moment passed between them. All of the fear that Franco had felt up to this moment faded away. Darya smiled, and Franco felt a wave of gratitude coming from her. He stood silently, unsure what to do next. Across the dining room on the far side of the open floor, Franco saw a figure standing where there had been none before. A young man whom Franco recognized instantly as Stephan.
Darya turned and saw her beloved across the room. An ethereal white light radiated from around Stephan. He looked different than he had when Franco had seen him last. He still wore the simple clothing he had worn, but a shift had occurred that Franco could not quite pinpoint. Darya stood and turned toward her lover as if seeing him for the first time. Franco slowly moved out of the way of the dance floor; he felt almost as if he were spying unwittingly on a very private moment. He realized then what looked different about Stephan. As Darya took a step toward him, he recognized that the deep red marks on Stephan’s neck no longer showed. The ugly red stain on his torso had also vanished. He looked at Darya and realized as she raised her arms to Stephan that her arms showed no more gashes on the wrists. The ghostly pale skin showed whole and untouched once more.
The light that surrounded Stephan encapsulated Darya when she reached him, surrounding her in the aura. He raised his arms to embrace her, extending his arm to hers and taking hold of her around her waist. Stephan swept
her suddenly into a grand waltz around the expanse of the dance floor and Franco realized that from somewhere he heard the lilting sound of the music again: “Nearer My God, To Thee”. The music swelled around the two dancing from an unknown source, almost as if the music emanated from the dancers themselves. The light grew brighter. Franco had to squint and raise his hand before his face to keep from turning away from the celestial image. Still they danced, swirling and circling with increasing intensity around the floor. Franco could just make out their faces, gazing into each other’s eyes, smiling, rapturous and peaceful. At last the light became so bright that Franco could only see the silhouette of them. The music heightened to a great crescendo and they faded into the light with the final note of the waltz. Darya and Stephan had vanished into the light.
The sound of the music faded.
The vision slowly dissolved around him.
Franco found himself once more standing in the abandoned ship at the bottom of the sea.
“This is Franco to base,” he said into his comm link. “Preparing for ascent.”
“Affirmative,” Nick said in reply. “Any sign of the diamonds?”
“Negative.”
Franco turned to leave the dining room, and as he did, the orb of his headlamp caught a reflection of something glinting against the wall. A halfhearted thought fluttered into Franco’s mind that perhaps he had found the diamonds after all, though if he were to be honest, he did not feel the burning need to find them any longer. Matvei had promised them a payout regardless of the outcome if Franco could complete the final dive. Regardless, he wanted to check just to be thorough. Franco approached the area against the wall. He recognized the form of the dive suit even before he had gotten much closer. The suit was identical to the one he himself was wearing, gray with the orange pinstripe edging. He had found Harper’s body. He reached forward to attempt to uncover a film that had formed over the face plate. He had no way to retrieve the corpse of course, but he wanted to see with his own eyes what had happened to the man. When he touched the surface of the face plate, it strangely dissolved, crumbling under his touch. This exposed the face underneath. Franco saw nothing more than a bare skeleton, as if Harper had died here a century ago. The coloring of the suit looked faded much like the rest of the ship which had been exposed to the elements of the sea for decades. The sick, grinning skull stared back at Franco and he suddenly felt the need to be away from there. Franco turned and kicked through the opening in the large window above, beginning his ascent back to the support vessel.
Two hours later his head broke the surface of the sea. This time, he had been able to ascend slowly with the designated rests along the way to prevent the decompression sickness he had suffered last time. Nonetheless, he was grateful for the reaching arms of Nick and Lisa as they pulled him onto the deck of the ship. He opened his face plate and purged the liquid from his body. Despite the strenuous exertion from the dive itself, Franco felt overcome by what he had seen down below in the bowels of the Titanic. He felt something inside himself that he had not felt for a very long time. He was not quite ready to explore that feeling. He lay on his side on the cool wooden surface of the small ship, feeling the calming motion of the sea beneath him. The sun warmed his face as the other two knelt by him, releasing the various parts of the suit so he could remove it.
“What’s this?” Lisa said.
“What?” Franco asked, not moving from his position on the deck.
He sensed Nick leaning over to see what Lisa had discovered. He felt her pull something from his belt; the carrying bag that he had taken the locket down to the ship in. Lisa opened the bag and pulled something small out. Franco still could not see it. He wanted nothing more than to lie still for a moment, then take a shower and have a cup of coffee. All the while feeling the movement of the ship headed back to harbor, finally done with this adventure.
“This can’t be,” Lisa said.
“Whoa,” Nick exclaimed. “Franco, you better take a look.”
Against his desire, Franco pulled himself up into a sitting position. Nestled in Lisa’s hand was a small blue satchel that had last been seen in the depths of the wreckage of the Titanic.
“The diamonds,” Franco said.
All the emotion had drained from his voice.
“I thought you said you hadn’t found them,” Nick said.
“I didn’t find them,” Franco said. “Darya must have given them to me.”
Franco looked at Nick and wordlessly communicated with a look to drop the topic. Nick and Franco had been through dives so many times together that they had each other’s moods and idiosyncrasies down to a science.
“Let’s get you into decom,” Nick said.
“I’m fine,” Franco said. “Let’s turn the ship around and get back to land.”
Lisa signaled the captain and gave the all clear. A moment later, the engine started and the nose of the DSV Diamond turned back the way they had come two days before. The propellers started up and they began to move. Franco stood and watched over the edge, partially to make sure that no one or nothing had somehow clutched to the hull of the ship to continue to haunt his dreams. But nothing did. Franco knew that having the diamonds was good news, but he felt drained and empty after the events of the last few days. He watched the spot where they had been stationed, just on top of the Titanic, as it faded away and soon blended with the rest of the blue expanse of the sea.
Chapter Eight
June 28, 2014
Moscow, Russia, The home office of Leo Matvei
“I cannot thank you enough for seeing me today,” Franco said to the man before him, as they sat in the roomy home office.
Leo Matvei sat at the large oak desk surrounded by a large expanse of bookshelves. Behind him, the picture window framed him with a view of the immaculate gardens. In the distance, Franco could see the edging of a large hedge maze. The man looked pale and thin, with a wisp of white hair on his head, but he had a bright spark in his eye which defied his eighty years. His gleaming ivory cane rested against the desk next to him. The man nodded at Franco’s greeting.
“Tell me everything,” he said in a strong, bellowing voice.
He motioned for Franco to sit in one of the ornate leather chairs facing the large desk.
“And hold nothing back. I know your experience during the dive may have been a bit unconventional, but fear not, my boy. I am a bit unconventional myself. None of this,‘my mind played tricks on me’ nonsense! I want to hear the whole thing, word for word.”
He punctuated his words by pointing his thin finger onto his desk top as he spoke.
Franco did so and began the tale. Leo listened intently, nodding and shaking his head at certain parts. His eyes flamed when Franco mentioned the fate of Harper. When Franco described the final vision of Darya and Stephan dancing together, he could see moisture standing in the eyes of the old man. Leo nodded again when Franco described arriving back on the support vessel and finding the diamonds in the carrying bag, impossible but present nonetheless.
“Darya had seen that you were worthy to have them,” Leo said with conviction.
“And now I have brought them to you,” Franco said, bringing forth a small, white jewelry box.
He placed the box on the desk before Leo, who turned and lifted his hands over the lid. His thin fingers caressed the edge of the lid. Leo’s aged face became like that of a child experiencing the joy of opening a present, relishing in the last moment of not knowing. He took a breath and lifted the lid and the small cotton padding that lay on top, exposing the small satchel. Leo removed the delicate purse, almost paper thin. The fabric would have to be replaced. He carefully opened the drawstring, his thin fingers fumbling with the loose knot. Carefully, he poured the diamonds onto the dark brown surface of the desk, counting each one as it emerged. Franco watched the rapture overtake the man’s face at the sight of the small luminous jewels. His family legacy had been at long last restored. A cry of joy escaped Leo’s lips as h
e fingered over each small jewel, each one glowing from an inner light captured by the sunlight through the picture window.
“So beautiful!” he cried, emotion choking his words. “They are all there; each one representing a generation of the maternal family line. How can I thank you?”
“You have done more than you know,” Franco said quietly.
Leo carefully collected the jewels back together and placed the satchel back into the box.
“There is more,” Franco said.
He reached into the carrying case and pulled out the small chest they had found aboard the Titanic. The photographs and the diary lay within. Leo opened the box to discover these final treasures. He stared at the pictures, speechless. His fingers grazed over the image of Darya as she stood next to her younger sister in the photograph.
“My grandmother,” Leo said, referring to the younger of the girls pictured. “She had always been very distraught over her sister’s disappearance. She often spoke of her heartbreak when I was a young child. You don’t know...” he became choked again with emotion. “This,” he said, holding the journal and photos to his chest. “This is priceless.”
Franco could not help but feel the closure and gratitude coming from the old man before him. Again, something stirred and awakened deep inside himself, and again he felt that he was not quite ready to face it.
“Grandfather.”
A lilting voice at the door of the study caused both men to turn.
“Ah, my dearest darling!” Leo cried. “Come in! Come in!”
Franco stood out of polite custom, as the young woman pranced into the room, sitting on the arm of the chair in which Leo sat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a small kiss on her grandfather’s cheek. The young woman had a full head of dark curly hair, large bright eyes and a wide smile full of energy. Franco could little help but notice her near identical resemblance to her great-great-aunt. She was the very picture of Darya in the living flesh.