Deck Z - The Titanic Read Online Free PDF Page A

its purpose more decorative than functional, circumnavigated the room. Four well-stuffed chairs surrounded a sophisticated mahogany table, upon which sat a long wooden crate that he’d delivered himself earlier that day.
    Smith carefully lifted an oil painting from its nail. The still life depicted a bowl of figs. He’d have a steward find a more suitable spot for the work. It didn’t belong in his cabin.
    He reached inside a canvas sea bag and pulled out two wooden hooks, a small mallet, and a leather pouch containing a handful of mismatched screws and nails. He mounted the hooks in the holes where the painting had hung, cracking a little plaster along the way.
    Using a pen knife, Captain Smith pried a brittle plank from atop the thin crate with a splintery pop. He removed a long, narrow package wrapped in midnight-blue silks, carefully unwinding the cloths to reveal a worn but rugged leather scabbard, with a loop for attaching to a belt. He kept the blade’s slightly curved forty-four inches trapped safely inside the ceremonial sheath, with only a hammered brass pommel exposed to the air. In his hands, the treasure was curiously lightweight and substantial at the same time.
    He carefully hung the sheathed sword on the hooks, then stepped back and admired his work.
Now stay up there on the wall where you belong,
Smith thought.
    Captain Smith was ready to launch
Titanic.

5

    TRAIN. SOMEWHERE BETWEEN LONDON AND SOUTHAMPTON .
    TUESDAY, APRIL 9, 1912. 8:45 P.M .
    The rural British countryside flew past largely unseen, shrouded in darkness as the London and Southwest Railway train rumbled toward Southampton. A passenger car’s paneled interior and its occupants were swallowed in shadow, intermittently illumined by shafts of moonlight darting through the windows. A lonely whistle blew, warning livestock of the approaching engine.
    The Agent hadn’t expected to be on a train in England. Instead of traveling to Russia, here he was trying to find that damn scientist, who’d blown up his laboratory and escaped with what Moltke had called “the Toxic.” A thorough investigation of the Brocken Mountain facility had turned up an imposter vial, but no Theodor Weiss, alive or dead. Moltke was furious; so was the Kaiser. His order was to recover the Toxic and eliminate Weiss at all costs.
    Yesterday evening, Weiss’s Mercedes Simplex automobile had been discovered at Bremerhaven, and a man fitting his description had secured passage by steamer to Southampton. Weiss had fled to England, but would he remain there? Moltke was of the opinion the scientist would continue to America via
Titanic.
Its massive size made it the perfect ship in which to disappear.
    Others felt differently, so Moltke had dispatched personnel to intercept Weiss at several potential destinations, but the Agent was determined to reach him first. He had requested the
Titanic
assignment, noting that if Germany couldn’t apprehend Weiss before the ship sailed, they would need to make sure an operative was aboard. For the Agent, securing a false identity was paramount, and German intelligence had chosen the perfect candidate.
    Reaching inside his rough, tweed jacket, the Agent withdrew a worn black-and-white photograph and referenced the picture one last time, using what light flittered in the car. The man in the picture had receding black hair combed straight back, tight to the scalp. Suspicious eyes were set close together, his dark, slanted eyebrows furrowed behind bowless, wire-rimmed spectacles. There was something of a mustache below his nose, though graying whiskers seemed to fade into his pallid face. He wore the uniform of a monarchist Russian: a coal-black top coat with a dark tie knotted high on his neck.
    The Agent flipped the photo. The man’s name was written on the back: Vitaly Jadovsky. Jadovsky would be traveling on
Titanic
alone, in first-class passage. He was ostensibly a newspaperman but in reality nothing more than a propagandist. According to