Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (39 page)

"
Because it hadn’t happened yet,
"
Myra added.

"
Correct,
"
Edward smiled as she seemed to be grasping the concept.
"
The novel addressed the question that has been asked by many scientists and philosophers alike: If you could go back in time
,
would you kill Hitler before he became a dictator?
"

"
Is Hitler the one who ruled Germany, and invaded Europe…
"

"
That’s right!
"

"
Would you kill him?
"
Myra asked.

"
Hmmm,
"
Edward pondered as he sat back in his chair.
"
Armed with the knowledge of the future, I would hesitate for a moment. After all, though his death might have prevented World War II from ever happening and would essentially create another timeline, or alternate universe, where six million innocent people might not have died in the Nazi death camps…. However, some believe there is no way to predict the outcome of a new timeline… and perhaps there’s a worse dictator that would come to power… Then there’s the grandfather parad
ox: P
erhaps the chain of events in the new timeline will cause an early death in my own life and I cease to exist.
"

"
So you wouldn’t kill Hitler?
"
Myra surmised.

"
I never said that… I said I’d hesitate for a moment. I would still kill him.
"

Myra looked at him in shock,
"
What about the uncertainty in the new timeline?
"

Edward leaned in and said,
"
I’ve seen first-hand the horrors of his death camps and his attempt at genocide. I’d gladly sacrifice my own existence if there was a chance at saving innocent lives.
"

Edward signaled Myra to be quiet as Jamie approached. She nodded at Myra then addressed Edward,
"
There is a phone call for you, sir.
"

"
Thank you. Wait here. I’ll be right back.
"
Edward followed the stewardess to the front.

_ _ _

"
What do you mean ‘delayed’?
"
Callum demanded of the clerk behind the desk.

"
The Hoffman Private Jet was delayed in its take off due to poor weather conditions,
"
replied the clerk.
"
It should be arriving shortly.
"

"
Thanks,
"
Callum grumbled. He had to get back to the car as he left it parked in the ‘Short Stay’ area. He noticed a security officer staring at him. He continued to walk casually as to not draw attention. He stole a glance to see the security officer talking to another airport officer while pointing in his direction.

Callum would not be able to sit around waiting for Edward. He looked at his watch. Now time was moving very slowly.

. . .

Moments later, Edward returned with a solemn look on his face. Myra tried to read his expression. He finally looked up at her and said,
"
Dr. Lindsay was mugged yesterday.
"

"
Mugged? What does that mean?
"

"
She was shot and robbed as she was getting home, an all too familiar occurrence in large cities like New York.
"

"
Is she all right?
"

"
The bullet has been removed but she’s still in critical condition,
"
Edward said. Then noticing the confusion in her brow added.
"
It’s too early to tell whether she’ll survive.
"

"
Is there anything we can do?
"
Myra asked.

Edward shook his head,
"
I’m afraid not. Only time will tell.
"

Myra looked solemnly out the window. Edward could see the sadness well up in her eyes. His hand was reaching into his inside jacket pocket for his handkerchief when it felt the bulky folded paper.

"
Oh, before I forget, you’ll need this,
"
said Edward as he handed it to Myra.

"
What is it?
"
asked Myra as she took it.

"
It’s a security boarding pass,
"
Edward said.

Jamie quickly came up the aisle toward them.

"
The captain wanted me to let you know that we are starting our descent into London,
"
Jamie said sweetly.

"
Thank you, Jamie,
"
Edward replied.

Myra looked at the sleek boarding pass with the embossed logo and asked as she ran her finger across the pattern of several vertical black lines,
"
What are these lines?
"

"
That is called a
barcode 39
,
"
Edward said.
"
The system to read it was developed by the U.S. Department of Defense. With the Royal family on board the ship, the security is going to be tight, especially with the situation in the Falkland Islands. There has been an apparent death threat made on the Queen should the British troops not pull out by the end of the week.
"

"
My word,
"
remarked Myra.
"
Should the Queen be making the journey at all?
"

"
She’s committed to being present at the transfer of the Canadian Constitution in Ottawa next week and she’s a tough lady, not easily intimidated by radicals.
"

"
But are you responsible for her safety? How safe can a ship be?
"

"
It’s like a battleship. In fact, should it be called to war like the RMS
Queen Mary
was, it can be battle-ready. Complete with anti-aircraft guns and large sickbay for transporting wounded.
"

"
They had nothing like that on the
Titanic
.
"

"
No they didn’t. It’s a different world. A sad world where we have to anticipate every worse-case scenario, so that no tragedy can ever happen again.
"

_ _ _

Deep in the hull of the RMS
Titan
, Smith stood back to admire his work. No one would ever find it.

Smith looked at his watch and synchronized the clock on the b
omb’s timer with it. He smirked.
The maiden voyage of the RMS Titan will end with a bang.

Chapter
LII

Callum could see the small private jet with the Hoffman International logo painted on its side, as it was on its approach to the only runway at Stansted Airport.
It wouldn’t be long, now!

Sitting in Dolanna’s car, parked in Rounded Coppice Road near a hotel, Callum patted his jacket and felt the Walther P-38 in his shoulder holster. He was going to get some answers from Edward Hoffman, one way or another.

"
Sir, please step out of the car,
"
said a male voice. With the deafening sounds of the airport, Callum did not even hear anyone approach the car. Callum looked to his right and saw an Airport Security Officer standing outside the driver
's
side of his vehicle. Callum looked into his rear-view mirror and saw another officer sitting in an airport security car. The officer repeated,
"
I said, step out of the car.
"

He looked ahead and saw the Hoffman Jet as it circled around again, preparing to come in for a landing. The wheels were already down.

Callum turned to his right, smiled and nodded at the officer. Then he tramped his right foot down on the accelerator as he popped it into gear, and the car shot forward.

He had only a few minutes of lead-time as the security car picked up the officer and burst in pursuit. Callum raced toward Long Boarder Road when he saw an Airport Security lorry racing toward him with its siren howling angrily at him.

When he could almost make out the colour of the oncoming officer’s eyes, Callum spun the steering wheel hard and entered the second roundabout, turning his car back in the direction
from which it originally came
, narrowly missing the first security car as he came out of the circle.

Callum stole a glance in the rear-view mirror to see that the two security vehicles screeched as they skidded around each other, avoiding a collision. Callum laughed out loud as he dashed along the bend of Bury Lodge Lane.

Flashi
ng blue lights atop a white car
with black checks and a thick yellow strip caught his attention ahead. Since it had different colours than the Airport Security, Callum assumed it was the Essex Police. Its siren was also screaming as it charged toward him. Looking back, Callum could see the two security vehicles closing in. He was trapped between the two.

Callum screamed in frustration as he increased the acceleration and thundered toward the approaching police car. They must have thought he was bonkers when at the last moment he turned the wheel and flew over the kerb, onto the grass, ripping through Stansted Business Park. The other vehicles were in relentless pursuit.

Tearing past the flight hangers, sparks showered across the windows as Callum burst through the fence, tearing off his side mirror in the process. The car jerked and jolted before gripping the smooth surface of the runway tarmac. Callum’s eyes darted around,
Where'
s the Hoffman Private Jet?
He had seen its wheels down, it should have been on the runway by now. A moment of eerie silence engulfed him
, t
hen:

WHOOOSH!!!

A deafening roar as the entire car shuddered and the windshield vibrated from the proximity of the jet’s wheels, which were within arms’ reach. Callum gripped the steering wheel with all his might as the plane’s extreme velocity created a hurricane-like wind-tunnel causing the car to spin out of control. He stomped on the break with all his weight, whirling like a child’s spinning-top while still being dragged by the wind suction.

Callum couldn’t believe that the car hadn’t completely rolled arse-over-teakettle as the car spun to a stop on two wheels and landed right-side-up. Feeling dizzy and fueled by adrenaline, he needed a moment to get his bearings. He spun the car 180 degrees and saw the Jet as it raced along the tarmac to where a set of stairs on wheels and a white stretch Bentley was waiting to take Edward Hoffman away.

"
Oh no you don’t!
"
Callum said aloud as he once again stomped down on the gas, blazing along the tarmac to reach the private jet as it was taxiing to its stop. The jet was growing larger and larger again as Callum sped closer and closer. Suddenly the car began to sputter and grind… then it started to slow down. Callum tramped on the gas with all his weight… and it continued to coast even slower. Callum looked down at the dials.
Out of fuel!

"
Bloody hell…!
"

CRUNCH!

Callum was jostled in his seat as he felt an impact and the car spinning once again. He hadn’t seen the security lorry approaching until it struck him on the left side. He skidded to a complete stop, then the other security car pulled up in front of him and the police car wailed its approach from the rear.

Callum was boxed in. He wanted to run but every muscle in his body ached and did not want to move. The airport security was outside his vehicle screaming at him but he couldn’t hear them. His focus was on the Hoffman Jet as the staircase rolled up to meet its door.

They opened his door and he allowed himself to spill onto the runway.

"
On your feet, mate! Hands where I can see them!
"
one of the voices yelled.
"
I said, ‘on your…
’
"

His voice was cut off by the approach of two black Mercedes-Benzes with flashing lights on top, coming to a stop between them and the jet.
Now what?

Several large men in suits emerged from the pair of vehicles.

The security officer barked at them,
"
You can’t park…
"

One of the men in a black uniform held up a billfold with identification as he said in a calm Italian accent,
"
Interpol! We’re taking custody of Mr. Callum Toughill, here.
"