Titanic 2012 (inspector alastair ransom) Page 42

  As the third body had been that of Dr. O’Laughlin, they followed up by having the dog walk through the officer’s quarters, which turned up nothing significant, although Varmint lingered about Will Murdoch’s personal items. Murdoch merely raised his shoulders and laughed a bit nervously. When Ransom escorted the dog to where Murdoch stood, again the dog did not become agitated. It proved just another dead end.

  They moved on to the infirmary and repeated the performance with the assistant ship’s surgeon and what was now his staff of nurses. At this point it was difficult for anyone to believe that their approach was anything but a lost cause.

  However, after a series of missteps that led them in blind searches and circles about the mammoth ship, Varmint hit on a trail that appeared promising. The Retriever grew more and more agitated as it followed along a first class passageway until he came to the stairwell leading to the first class passenger rooms.

  “Like I said… this thing is moving up in the world,” Ransom whispered to the others in the corridor. “First class berths.” Varmint had passed one after another until he had come to this sudden stop before Room #148.

  “Whose room it this?” asked Ransom.

  Lightoller turned to the purser behind him and tapped the younger man’s clipboard. “Well, Mr. Phelps? Answer the question, man!”

  “This is the stateroom of Mr. Olaus Abelseth, sir—a well mannered old gent, perhaps in his mid-sixties. Made his fortune in military uniforms, civilian garments, and supplies.”

  Ransom insisted they open the door.

  “Unusual circumstances dictate, Mr. Phelps,” said Lightoller, snatching his firearm—the one Murdoch had gotten into his hands—from his hip. “Open it.”

  Carney Phelps used a first-class skeleton key, and in seconds, he shoved the door wide open. In a matter of seconds, they saw Abelseth on the floor in his death throes, turning to a wooden state before their eyes, when suddenly a screech and a black shape like a banshee tore itself from the dying man’s mouth and ripped about the room like a maniacal, winged angel of death. In the next instant, Lightoller fired several shots, missing repeatedly as the inky shapeless creature flew out an open portal and was gone up the side of the ship’s hull, leaving behind one agitated, barking dog and several stunned men in a quivering silence—ears in pain from the proximity to gunfire.

  “It’s getting away!” shouted Ransom, quickly regaining his senses. “Give me the gun, now!”

  Lightoller did so without hesitation.

  Ransom raced back to the nearest stairwell, with Varmint ahead of him. The creature was a dark, oily-skinned spectral being that had left Mr. Olaus Abelseth of Scandinavia like all those before him.

  “We’ve gotta transport Abelseth’s body to the freezer compartment!” Declan said.

  “He can wait!” Thomas shouted over his shoulder as he’d already begun to follow Ransom. So had Lightoller, but not the young purser, Phelps. He had raced off in the opposite direction, terrified out of his mind. For the moment, Declan found himself alone with the body, and he helplessly, fearfully, imagined the creature swooping back into the room to target his body and slip into him as easily as it’d slipped out of the dead man at his feet.

  THIRTY TWO

  When they all arrived topside in the direction the creature, the disease organism had gone, up and along the outside hull of Titanic toward the officer’s quarters, there was nothing. Not so much as a tell-tale slug trail. No evidence they weren’t all simply hallucinating. It had disappeared as quickly as it’d slipped from Abelseth’s room.

  Captain Smith had gone white and was unable to keep up with the others, but with the help of Wilde, he managed to catch up. “My god, Ransom. What are we faced with here? It’s absolutely vile.”

  “There is no telling how many staterooms in first, second, and third class have a dead man or woman lying within and incubating these things, Captain.”

  “And no stopping this monster,” added Declan, shaken at having actually seen the thing as it slipped from the body, from Stateroom 148, from gunfire, and from capture.

  Some time later, a weary, hungry, exhausted, in-need-of-a-bath Alastair Ransom luxuriated in the steam room opposite Captain Smith. The two men knew they must speak of the unspeakable, and it must be done in secret. “We can only beat this thing one way, Captain,” Ransom began, “and you know it. In your heart, you know it.”

  “What do you know of what’s in my heart?” asked Smith, irked by the suggestion.

  “It’s written on your face.”

  “So what do you read there, Alastair Ransom?”

  “I see firm determination and profound sadness. But there’s no other viable solution. We can’t win against a disease-carrying creature that has likely spread its seed from one end of this ship to another. You sir, have a plague ship.”

  “Perhaps if I’d listened to you and those boys when you came aboard back in Cherbourg, we might have contained it then and there without the loss of life I’m forced to now contemplate. But you three just had the look of scoundrels about you.”

  “You might well have taken us more seriously… at our word, given the evidence we presented, my badge, the photos, and the sabre-tooth, had your Dr. O’Laughlin not been infected and using us at the time.”

  He laughed a hollow laugh, his seaman’s glare boring a hole through Ransom. “You were a fool not to have gotten off at Queenstown when you had a chance—the three of you.”

  “Three wise men who cometh from afar, only to fail unless we agree on the final solution, Captain.”

  “Constable.” Smith lifted a dark, warm brandy and toasted. “To your good health, sir.”

  Ransom lifted his brandy from where it sat alongside his burning cigar. “We’re both old men, Captain, and we’ve enjoyed this old planet perhaps long enough. Here’s to our long voyage.”

  “Our final voyage, yes.” They drank. They smoked. They stared at one another like men looking into a mirror, until Ransom finally said, “We must bring enough of your officers into the plot to bring your ship to the bottom of the sea, sir, if we’re to succeed. Who among your officers has your complete trust, and who among the crew has their complete trust? This is what you need to be asking yourself.”

  “I know these men well. I’ll see to it.”

  Ransom leaned far forward. “And you know who can’t be trusted to carry out orders of such horrible consequence as this?”

  “I do… I trust that I do, Constable.”

  Ransom leaned back into his relaxed position, sweat pouring from him. Smith tossed more water onto the burning coals. A fog of steam separated the two men for a moment. When it cleared, Ransom saw the doubt flit across Smith’s features, a look that asked for any hope to grab onto, anything other than what Ransom had called the final and only solution at this point.

  “We must be firm in our position, Captain, and you… you more than any of us, you have to be firm, clear, and concise in your orders to the men under your command, sir. Do you understand? You cannot give away your true feelings on the matter. You can’t order them to die with integrity and grit if you are not willing to do so yourself.”

  “Don’t you lecture me about my duty, Mr. Ransom! You’ve no call to question my resolve.”

  “If you are resolved then show it in every fiber of your being, else your men will detect otherwise and will mutiny over these orders. I swear that much I can predict.”

  Smith breathed deeply of the steam-filled air, sucking it in as if it might solidify his will. He nodded successively. “May God have mercy on our souls… .”

  “We have no choice, and God’s not likely to present us with an alternative.”

  Smith stood. “I’ll do what’s right when the time comes.”

  “You know that the time has come. You need to put this plan into motion as soon as you’re back in uniform. Wear your best, that white one I saw you in the first day we met, when you thought I was some sort of anarchist working for Cunard.”

 
; “I suppose then Inspector Ransom,” –Alastair had told Smith everything about himself –“we shall meet in Hades.” Smith stood, dejected but resolved, and without another word, went for the showers, his locker, and from there to the bridge. He had a great deal to put into play.

  Ransom, watching him leave, knew he’d never seen a man with so much on his shoulders. He didn’t envy the man his final task, giving such orders to his officers and crew.

  Smith chose to gather his most trusted officers and crew into what was now Dr. Johnny Simpson’s hospital aboard Titanic. Smith had been extremely selective about which members of his crew he could at this time confide in, and with Ransom at his side to bolster him and to help explain the horrible circumstances, he quietly, calmly informed these men of the nature of the danger aboard his ship.

  Everyone took it in with admirable reserve, the British stalwart outward appearance of acceptance of such a fate, taking it in as calmly as if Ransom and Smith were warning of a storm ahead out at sea.

  Smith carefully laid out the seriousness of the matter, and he asked Declan to delineate the nature of the plague on board, and the fact no one knew any longer precisely how far and wide it’d spread aboard the ship.

  Smith, sighing heavily, ended the meeting by telling them of his and Ransom’s plan, finishing with, “It is time now to put into effect the final solution.” Smith looked around at them all—Murdoch, Lightoller, Dr. Johnny Simpson, who’d been shown his boss’ diseased body, Declan, Thomas, and a handful of crewmen that Murdoch and Lightoller had said were absolutely loyal to the officers, to their captain, and to the ship—two of them being lookouts who worked the crow’s nest. “We must have no shirkers, gentlemen, and we must all be of one mind for this to work. We must all do our jobs precisely as told. Can I count on you?” Smith finished.

  Ransom marveled at the British for their exacting military and maritime protocols. Here were men swearing on their lives, no matter the order. “No one survives this voyage—none of us,” Smith added, eyeing the civilians as well.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound,” agreed Declan.

  Thomas held his tongue, his jaw quivering.

  “But how? How can we bring down a ship that’s unsinkable?” asked Murdoch, his hand playing over his mouth, head hanging.

  “We ask God and nature for help,” Smith replied, stuffing a hand in his pocket and coming up with six Marconi messages. “Ice ahead, gentlemen. We’ll find an iceberg a great deal sooner than we can find and kill this demon-spawning creature you’ve described, Charles.”

  Lightoller nodded but said, “But Will’s right. How can we be certain an iceberg will do the job and do it cleanly?”

  “It’s our best shot,” replied Ransom for Smith.

  “We must not make a direct hit to the bow, Will,” said Smith. “A direct hit will not bring her down.” Smith was speaking from experience, but also from the knowledge that a straight hit would only put the first compartment under water, allowing Titanic to back off and limp the rest of the way to New York.

  “You want us to drag her over a spur, don’t you?” asked Murdoch.

  “It’s far more likely to cause the kind of damage we can count on, yes.” Smith breathed deeply and ran his hand through his thick mane of white hair. “I can’t believe I’m in the position of having to ask this of you men.” He paused find his resolve. “But we are firmly backed into a corner, and this plague cannot reach shore. Nor can anyone on board now, as anyone might be the carrier.”

  “My God,” inwardly groaned Lightoller. “Sir, are we truly speaking of no survivors, sir?”

  “It’s the only way,” said Smith. “No one can get off. We have no tests, no way to determine if a person is infected until… until he’s a corpse!”

  “People will panic,” said Murdoch, imagining the aftermath of his running the ship into the ice as he would be behind the wheel according to the plan. His most trusted look-out, Frederick Fleet, would man the crow’s nest, and every man in the room was sworn to secrecy.

  “We must find it, and we must kill the damn thing,” said Thomas, pounding his fist into the nearest wall. “I don’t want to die on this damnable ship without sending word to my mother and father!”

  Ransom grabbed Thomas. “Keep it together, Dr. Coogan.”

  “What we need aside from this doomsday plan, Captain, is to break out the arms,” Murdoch said.

  “What if we were to track it to its next victim using the dog? Hell using every dog in the cargo bay?” asked Lightoller, still holding out hope. “We get another shot at it, who knows… maybe that’d do it.”

  Declan disagreed, his arms going up. “Even if we could kill the carrier and sacrifice one victim more to this affair, Mr. Lighttoler, we have no idea how many of those eggs are hatching all over the ship—and if they should hatch and infect numerous human hosts… .Well, it may well have happened already, don’t you see?”

  “It’s already an epidemic, I understand that, but we must try some action before we intentionally destroy Titanic,” said Lightoller, “Right, Captain Smith? I mean if we can search every square inch of this fifty-ton vessel before we get to the ice floes ahead, and we can dump… ahh place all the infected bodies onto the nearest iceberg, sir, making better use of the ice, I believe… sir.”

  “What’re you talking about?” asked Ransom.

  “We don’t ram the ship’s bottom over an ice spur, but rather we come to a halt at the iceberg, load the bodies, not our passengers onto the lifeboats and send the loaded boats to the iceberg surface.”

  “He may have something there,” said Thomas.

  “Perhaps, sir,” said Murdoch, “it’s worth the attempt.”

  “In time, the ocean will claim the frozen bodies we leave behind, sir.”

  Thomas took a deep breath of air and exhaled. “By god, now there’s a reasonable plan that doesn’t call for us to die.”

  Smith thoughtfully considered this. “Put your plan in motion, Mr. Lightoller, while Murdoch and I put my plan in motion. Whichever of us arrives at the—the final solution first, so be it.”

  While Murdoch huddled with Dr. Johnny Simpson and Captain Smith, Lightoller huddled with Ransom and the young doctors, saying that they must convince the crewmen and perhaps the Black Gang to help them locate and isolate any additional victims of the disease organism. As Lightoller took charge, he said, “We must enlist the help of Mr. Andrews, the ship’s architect, more fully. The man knows every inch of the ship.”

  “Make it so,” said Smith on overhearing Andrews’ name. Smith then said he had to break the news to the ship’s owner on board as well, Ismay. “However, for the time being, Mr. Murdoch, you have my permission regarding the guns. Arm only the men who are with us, understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh and Will, see to it that Constable Ransom here gets a firearm as well. Furthermore, Mr. Murdoch—” Smith hesitated, gathering his resolve.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Be a good chap and save a bullet for me when the time comes.”

  “I will see to it, sir.”

  “Before doing anything else, Mr. Lightoller, Mr. Murdoch, see to confiscating all binoculars aboard.”

  “Binoculars, sir?” asked Murdoch.

  “We must collect every single set issued to the crew, and especially the crow’s nest crew.”

  “What’ll we do with ’em, sir?” asked Murdoch.

  Smith looked sternly as his first officer. “Over the side with ’em but discreetly so. Mustn’t have anyone seeing the berg before we do… before we can take her full throttle for it at maximum speed for the best impact, as I said, along her side.”

  “Which side, sir?”

  “The one closest to the berg, of course!”

  “Yes, sir… of course, sir.”

  “The bottom of this ship is double-hulled, you know,” said Captain Smith, his voice giving way to weariness. “I never imagined I’d ever give orders to scuttle a ship, but look, we… we n
eed to tear a hole in the bow section large enough to drive a tugboat through at very least—if we’re to succeed in this devilish task.”

  “A success for the Grim Reaper it would be,” muttered Thomas, pacing in a small circle.

  “As you wish, Captain.” Murdoch’s tone was stiff. “You can count on me, sir.” Murdoch started off but turned and added, “With hand-picked chaps in the crow’s nest, and them without binoculars, we’re sure to hit something out there.”

  “As I trust you will, Mr. Murdoch,” replied Smith. “Reports of ice ahead coming in from all latitudes; if I make it out right, the ice extends fifty, maybe sixty miles if not more.”

  “Wise of you to not tell Wilde about all this, sir,” said Murdoch. “He… he can be unreliable in a crisis.”

  “He will know in time, but I agree with your assessment, Will.”

  “And the lifeboats, sir?” asked Murdoch. “Shall we scuttle them where they dangle from their davits?”

  “No, no! Captain,” pleaded Lightoller. “We’ll need them all for my plan, sir, depending on my being successful, of course.”

  Captain Smith smiled wanely at his junior officer. “Of course.”

  “And-And I am confident we can open every stateroom door and closet to stop this thing in its tracks, sir, before we must take the… the rashest of actions.”

  “The ice is but a few hours ahead of us, Mr. Lightoller, Constable, doctors. If you are all set on that course, I suggest you have at it post haste.”

  Lightoller saluted his captain. Alastair Ransom said, “Better to keep busy at this juncture, lads.” Ransom then saluted the captain as well. Seeing this, the two interns did likewise. As they filed out, Ransom turned to see Captain Smith standing all alone. They exchanged a look of utter hopelessness between them. Despite this, Alastair managed a crooked half smile. “We are doing the right thing, Captain. If we banish it from your ship, we’re heroes. If not we’re all doomed.”

  Declan popped his head back inside to address Smith. “Sir, I must say I’m sorry that we had to bring you this ugly truth… that the most magnificent ship on the high seas today is riddled with death and destruction.”