Depth of Deception (A Titanic Murder Mystery) (47 page)

Pamela turned to Callum.
"
My first duty is to the Queen.
"

"
I know,
"
he smiled weakly.
"
I’ll get them to the lifeboats. Cheers!
"

Pamela smiled back,
"
I’ll see you in New York. And we’ll toast your ‘brilliant’ plan.
"

A moment passed, then a brisk handshake, and Pamela turned to walk sharply away.

Callum watched as Pamela left. Dolanna tugged his sleeve.
"
I can’t be with the person I cared about… but it’s not too late for you.
"

Callum nodded, understanding.

Myra knelt down next to Dolanna, who still had the brooch, and said to her,
"
My apologies for the pain and suffering you endured at Archie’s hands — what he did to your family… and to Edward…
"

"
And to the countless other people he killed… and ruining my grandfather’s career,
"
Callum added.
"
Not to mention letting Otto Slade hang for their crimes. You can’t carry that burden — you’re too good for that.
"

"
Thank you, Mr. Toughill.
"

"
Can you take Dolanna over to the lifeboats?
"
Callum said, gesturing to the nearby boats being loaded with passengers.
"
I’ll go help Edward find the bomb.
"

"
You've been injured,
"
Myra observed.
"
I'll go help Edward. Please, get Miss Fergraith to safety, take the brooch.... make sure the whole world finds out what atrocious people those two are.
"

Callum shook his head. Maybe it was macho bravado, but he couldn’t allow her...

"
I can’t leave Edward,
"
Myra said. Then added in a whisper,
"
Not again.
"

Callum looked at her for a moment.
For one who has no faith, no explanation is possible. But if you have faith, no explanation is needed.
Callum shook her hand,
"
It was a pleasure meeting you… Mrs. Myra Sloan Hoffman. Good luck!
"

_ _ _

Since all security was now occupied with the safety and evacuation of the passengers, Edward took it upon himself to try to locate the bomb. He decided to concentrate his efforts closer to the engines. After all
,
that’s where he would have planted a bomb for sabotage. He made his way down to the bowels of the ship, through crew catwalks and bulkheads. Then he heard Myra's familiar voice calling his name,
"
Edward?
"

"
Please Mother, go back above deck.
"

"
Oh no. I lost you once before on a ship like this. Not again. This time I’m staying by your side.
"

Edward sighed with resignation,
"
Very well. You can help me find the bomb.
"

Myra nodded,
"
What are we looking for?
"

"
First and foremost: Wires. Or Dynamite.
"

"
Wires like this?
"
she asked, pointing to a long cable that ran the length of the ceiling.

"
No, those are communication cables. Look for something smaller and possibly more colorful.
"

"
What about the boilers?
"
asked Myra.

"
They’re only for decoration. They’re acting like ballasts... they’re filled with water for weight.
"
He opened one of the cubbyholes and peered in.
"
I must say, Mother, you missed your calling. You could have been an actress. You were quite convincing.
"

"
I only followed the instructions you and Mr. Toughill gave me.
"

"
Well,
"
said
Edward as he climbed a ladder to peer above some pipes.
"
No one would believe you were my mother from 1912. I had to come up with a plausible explanation. Saying I had hired an actress ensured you wouldn’t go back to the funny farm.
"

"
The what?
"

"
Euphemism for the clinic where you were kept. You played the part well. I almost believed you were an actress. Where ever did you come up with the name of the other actor?
"

"
He’s actually an actor on this ship. I sort of had a run in with him as I boarded.
"
Myra stood up from where she was looking,
"
What is
My Fair Lady
?
"

"
It’s a musical based on a play written
by
George Bernard Shaw,
"
chuckled Edward as he craned his neck to look through some nooks and pipes.

"
Georgie. Brilliant, charming but abrasive. How is he?
"

"
Dead,
"
replied Edward as overturned some crates.
"
He died thirty years ago.
"

"
Oh dear, I keep forgetting,
"
whispered Myra.
"
How?
"

"
I don’t remember, but he wasn’t young. Near a hundred. Like dear Archie upstairs.
"

"
Last time I saw my husband he was a young man insisting that I drink my tea.
"
Myra paused,
"
Now he has become this horrible, wretched old man, who’s committed unspeakable crimes.
"

"
He was always horrible,
"
muttered Edward.
"
Don’t forget, the tea was poisoned. It prevented you from leaving the
Titanic
. He left you there to die... while he safely got off the ship...
"

"
I know, and from what Mr. Toughill told me…
"
Myra said as she steadied herself on a metal stepladder,
"
…I can’t believe I was so blind to the evil that he truly was.
"

"
You’re a good person,
"
replied Edward.
"
I think that trying to see the good in others is a virtue. In his case…
"

"
What’s that?
"
Myra asked, pointing to a red wire peeking out from behind the coaxial cable for the ship’s video system. Edward followed the wire and found some dynamite set into a familiar gray clay-like substance: C4 explosive. He had first worked with it during his training in Camp X.

He noticed more cables attached to it. He followed them to another set of dynamite.

"
This is not good.
"

"
What’s wrong?
"
Myra asked.

"
There’s enough explosive strategically set to ensure that no evidence would be found.
"

Edward continued to follow the cable to where a timer was running. Edward looked at the clock readout. Less than 30 minutes. They would never be able to evacuate the passengers and crew in time. It would take two hours to get everyone off the ship and they would all need to get away from the blast radius.
Would there be time to alert Pamela that he’d found it? What are the odds that someone on that detail could disarm a bomb?
Edward had the necessary training, and made a choice.

Edward frowned as he studied the bomb. It was a highly sophisticated IED which was constructed with components scavenged from conventional munitions.

"
What are you going to do?
"
Myra asked.

"
W
e don’t have time to evacuate, s
o I’m going to try to disarm the bomb.
"

"
Do you know how?
"

Edward nodded,
"
Something else I was trained to do during the war.
"

"
You were trained to disarm bombs?
"

"
Well… not exactly… I was trained to build bombs. They weren’t quite as sophisticated as this one.
"

"
That’s doing very little to heighten my confidence.
"

Edward took out his pocketknife and used the screwdriver component to remove the casing. He then carefully avoided the detonator in order to access the wires connected to the trigger. Now, which wire to cut?

"
It’s always easier in the movies,
"
mumbled Edward.

"
I beg your pardon?
"
asked Myra.

"
I have to decide which wire to cut. If I cut the wrong wire…
"

"
I understand.
"

Edward looked at her for a moment, and then smiled,
"
I don’t know how or why you got here. Maybe it was to expose those two, or to save all these innocent people, or maybe just me.
"

"
You?
"

"
I always knew that there was something important missing from my life. Now I know it was you. And I’m glad I got the chance to know you.
"

"
And I’m proud of the man you have become,
"
replied Myra.
"
It’s what every mother hopes for. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.
"

She tapped his shoulder gently. He chuckled.

Edward looked at her and sighed,
"
You know, when the ship hit the iceberg, you should have switched the teacups.
"

Myra looked shocked, then laughed,
"
Like the film you love so much, with that ethical choice whether to alter the past with the knowledge of the future?
"

"
Alternate timelines. Wish it were that simple.
"

She kissed him gently on the cheek,
"
If I knew then what I know now.
"

Edward turned back to the task on hand. He opened up the scissors component of his utility knife, studied the bomb for a moment then made his decision. He carefully placed the blades over the wire and took a deep breath,
"
God save the Queen.
"

"
I love you,
"
Myra said as
she
closed her eyes.

He stole one last moment to look at her, "I love you, too... Mother..."

…snip…

April 14, 1912

Epilogue

Myra’s eyes were still closed. She still heard the rumbling of the ship
'
s engines. She could still feel the momentum of the ship moving. She could smell salty air mixed with roses, and lemon-oil soaked into wood.

Very slowly, she opened her eyes. A look of confusion spread across her face. How did she get back into the ship’s stately cabin? She heard voices in the adjoining room. She stumbled to the door and was surprised to see Archibald and Miss Langlea together. Not so much that they were together, but that neither of them was in a wheelchair. Archie was as she remembered him: a strapping young man, poised and polished. He was indeed very appealing, except for the cruelty she now could see in his eyes. And what a waistline Miss Langlea had. She tied her apron to show off her curves. Myra realized that something was different - she looked insincere somehow.

Was it all a dream? It was so real!

"
You should be resting my dear,
"
said Archie, walking up to her.
"
Miss Langlea, could you prepare some tea for us?
"

Tea?
Myra felt her heart skip a beat.

"
Right away, sir.
"
Langlea curtseyed in a cute manner before she turned to leave. Myra noticed a slight exchange in their eye contact.
No!
I am
overreacting!
It was a dream. A horrible nightmare. Yet, she had the overwhelming urge to run down the hall warning everyone that the ship was sinking and to get to the lifeboats.