The next morning Kate, looking slightly pale, was dressed and ready when they arrived to pick her up. A black car with tinted windows parked in front of her apartment and drove her directly to Heathrow Airport. From there, Feldman’s private jet flew her to Hamburg. She arrived just as the sun was setting.
Another black vehicle—Kate wondered if Feldman had dozens of identical cars scattered across the world—took her to the Port of Hamburg. Kate’s surprise upon passing the cruise ship terminal turned to unease when they ventured into a forest of cranes, semis, and enormous ships in the industrial section of the port. Eventually, they came to an area cordoned off by security guards: Pier 74b.
The guards at the entrance would not allow the vehicle or its driver to enter. From that point, security became even more ironclad than the system at Feldman’s mansion. Kate was the only one allowed in, but only after extensive questioning. Once cleared, she had to walk the final stretch, dragging her suitcase over the rough cobblestone. Kate cursed Feldman under her breath for his paranoia and excessive affinity for secrets and security. As she walked along the pier, Kate tripped on an iron bollard, and she cursed aloud. Rubbing her ankle, greatly irritated, she looked up and saw the ghost ship. She gasped, and her eyes grew large as she took in the spectacle that stood before her.
The Valkyrie had been restored to its former glory. A team of welders, restoration specialists, mechanics, woodworkers, and painters had labored tirelessly for weeks to restore the Valkyrie. The ship looked like it had just been built instead of being over seventy years old.
Kate estimated it to be more than five hundred feet in length. The bottom half of the hull was painted black in the style of the 1930s, while the greater superstructure was completely white. Two tall smokestacks were painted red with a white circle in the middle. Kate found the combination strange until she recalled that, in its original design, the white circles had contained two huge swastikas.
The lifeboats hanging from the sides were of a design Kate had seen only in old photographs and movies. They were made of wood crossed by two long planks for seats. A waterproof canvas covered each one. From the pier, she could not tell what the walkway had in store, but she bet anything the floor was wood and the hammocks were netted. The ship looked exactly as it had in the thirties, with the exception of the missing swastikas on the smokestacks.
A gangplank ran up the side of the Valkyrie. Two armed men stood guard at the bottom, while a group of Feldman’s men loaded wooden crates, barrels, and mountains of baggage. A column of steam had already begun to rise from the smokestacks, mixing with the smog of the port. The Valkyrie was ready to cast off into the open ocean.
She almost looks alive, Kate told herself, immediately wondering why the thought had occurred to her.
Kate gave a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature and wondered if it would be wiser to just let the story go. Go back home, back to working on culture and society stories, and forget about everything else. Go out, get drunk, meet new people. Flirt with a guy, or maybe even several guys. Live.
But the Valkyrie called to her, and Kate yearned to get on board. Then, she could begin to unravel the ship’s mysteries and finish the story Robert had started. In doing so, Kate hoped to discover peace once and for all, something that was sorely lacking in her life and holding her back.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
The voice startled her. Kate turned around to find a young woman, not more than thirty, looking at her carefully. She was tall, lean like an athlete, and undeniably Slavic in appearance. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing cargo pants. A knapsack was at her feet.
“Senka Simovic,” said the woman, extending her hand without smiling, looking attentively through intense blue-green eyes. She spoke with a singsong accent that Kate couldn’t identify. She was probably from one of the countries that had come out of the chaos in Yugoslavia.
“I’m Kate Kilroy,” she replied, shaking Senka’s hand, surprised by the strong grip.
“You must be the journalist,” Senka said. Kate waited for her to say something else, but Senka’s silence felt strategic.
Just then, a delivery van from a meat shop drove up. It clattered over the cobblestones and came to a stop next to the two women. Kate had no time to wonder how the van had slipped through the iron grip of pier security before the rear doors swung open and Isaac Feldman jumped out.
“Good morning, ladies,” he greeted them cordially. “I see you two have already met. Hello, Senka. It’s a pleasure to see you here.”
The blonde gave a hint of a smile as if the mere act of arching her lips upward was taking a great toll. Still, she was clearly quite friendly with Feldman.
“Everything is ready, Mr. Feldman,” Senka said. “The scientific team is already on board and so is the crew. The only ones yet to board are the security detail and us.”
“Perfect,” Feldman answered. Seeing Kate’s confused expression, he took her by the arm and began walking with her toward the gangplank. “As you can see, I’ve had to travel an unbeaten path to get here. Not to worry, Kate. As soon as we’re on board, I promise I will explain everything about the research team, among other things, all in great detail.”
As they walked along, Kate could feel Senka’s gaze boring a hole in the back of her head.
They came to the foot of the ramp. Feldman stopped and turned to Kate with a look of severity. “OK, this is your last chance,” he said, his voice quivering with nervous excitement. “If you walk up this ramp, there’s no going back. If I’m right, this will be the most amazing story in history. But I offer no guarantees for that or for your personal safety. I don’t know if it’s a fair deal, but it’s all I have to offer. What do you say?”
Kate smiled and tightened her grip on her suitcase. Without a glance back she stepped forward and walked up the gangway.
All aboard the Valkyrie.
PART THREE
VALKYRIE
XIII
If the ship’s exterior had surprised Kate, the inside left her speechless. It looked like a movie set, only real.
It was not Kate’s first time aboard a cruise ship. For their honeymoon, she and Robert had taken a Mediterranean cruise from Venice to Istanbul. Robert had enjoyed the trip so much that he was instantly converted into a lover of cruises and displayed the same brand of childish wonder Americans tend to express when they take an interest in something. In fact, Kate was curious if perhaps his interest in the Valkyrie had begun there.
On that particular trip their ship had been identical to the ill-fated Costa Concordia, an enormous, modern-style cruise ship that was a cross between a hotel, water park, and Las Vegas casino. Kate had greatly enjoyed the cruise and all the attendant luxurious comforts. Robert had splurged, booking a suite for the two of them. Those days on board had been magical, golden times, though she was fully aware of the hollow, shallow splendor so often associated with cruises. Like props on stage—rocks made of cardboard and the glitz of tinsel on the high seas.
Nevertheless, the Valkyrie’s interior did not look like any other cruise ship Kate had ever seen. Every last detail was a re-creation from the ship of the 1930s. Everything was decorated in art deco style. The furniture appeared to be excellent reproductions of the original furniture from that era. At least that was what Kate thought until she passed by a table on the terrace. She found, to her great surprise, that they were not reproductions at all.
Feldman had been watching her. “Nearly 80 percent of the furniture and decor you see here consists of original pieces,” he said. “Much of it comes from the Valkyrie itself. When they converted it into a warship, they emptied out everything and sent the contents to a warehouse in Scotland. I found them and purchased everything nearly twenty years ago. My experts have restored everything in its original place, using original photos that survived the war as a guide.”
Kate nodded, impressed by how Feldman had not spared a single expense or compromised any of th
e details. A lamp screwed into one of the tables on the terrace caught her eye. She was no antiques expert, but she was certain that one little piece had to be worth thousands of dollars, and there were hundreds of objects like that throughout the Valkyrie. It was extraordinary.
“After you’ve settled in and had a chance to relax in your cabin, I’d like you to come to a scheduled meeting to meet the rest of the team,” Feldman said. “We have a fairly small crew for this voyage since we have no passengers. While we won’t have many companions for the voyage, you’ll find at least they’re interesting.”
It was then that Kate noticed Moore, the head of Feldman’s security team, board the Valkyrie with a dozen other men. They were loading heavy wooden crates, and even from that distance, Kate could tell the crates held guns and ammunition.
“Is that really necessary?” she asked, pointing at the men.
“You can never take too many precautions, Kate,” Feldman replied and motioned her to walk with him. “I don’t expect any problems, but we’d be idiots not to prepare ourselves.”
Problems? Prepared for what? Questions piled up in Kate’s mind, but for the moment, she chose to keep them to herself.
They came to an entryway and walked into a wide, softly lit hallway. The carpet on the floor was blood colored, and music floated in the background. They had to step aside a few times to let Feldman’s personnel pass as they were busy stowing the equipment and putting the final touches on the ship before departure. In some places it still smelled like fresh paint and sawdust. The deck shook slightly. Somewhere in the bowels of the ship enormous diesel engines had rumbled to life. The Valkyrie was ready to cast off.
“This is the entry to first class,” Feldman explained as he stepped aside to let two crewmen carrying wine pass. “At the moment, the second- and third-class sections have not been restored. We’ll be stowing supplies on those levels instead of in the original cargo hatches as they are still sealed.”
“I thought you had renovated the entire ship,” Kate said as she took pictures of the cigar lounge.
“I will,” answered Feldman defensively. “But there hasn’t been enough time to prepare all the details before our trip. Not if we want to stay on schedule.”
Kate nodded even though she had no idea what he was talking about. She figured he would explain everything more thoroughly at the meeting. In the meantime, she kept snapping pictures.
Next, they entered a wide oval-shaped room that was absolutely breathtaking. A giant crystal chandelier cast a blinding array of sparkles throughout the room. The marble and oak staircase that Kate recognized from one of Carroll’s stories rose before them. The stairs were etched with “KDF” and the name of the ship. The eagles that stood at the foot of the stairs had spread wings, and each one held a laurel wreath in its talons, but the center was empty, devoid of the swastikas. The Nazi flags that had once decorated the main landing of the staircase were also missing, replaced by an enormous palmlike plant that made for a strange contrast.
“They destroyed the staircase when the ship was converted. The marble and oak were excellent quality but were marred by the Nazi themes.” Feldman laughed. “Thanks to the pictures in the shipyard’s archive, we’ve been able to make a faithful reconstruction, minus the swastikas. There isn’t a single one on board the entire ship.”
“I thought it was supposed to be a faithful reconstruction?”
“It is. Nearly everything is exactly the same as when the ship was found at sea, more than seventy years ago. In fact, practically everything here is original. We’ve had to renovate only a few things that were damaged over time, like the staircase. In the process we eliminated the swastikas.”
“I see.”
“We haven’t done it just because Nazi imagery is banned here in Germany and we happen to be in Hamburg,” Feldman continued. “I’m Jewish, and on my ship I will not have a single swastika, unless—” Feldman cut himself off.
Before Kate could ask what he meant, an older woman, perhaps in her fifties, entered wearing a classic maid’s outfit with her hair in a bun. She glared at them over her beak-like nose.
“I thought you’d never get here,” she said. “From the minute those scientists stepped on board, all they’ve done is whine. ‘My room is too dark, or too sunny, or too hot, or too cold.’ It’s like they were born to complain, Isaac.”
Isaac? A smile crept across Kate’s lips. The woman was the first person who was not afraid of the almighty Isaac Feldman. In fact, he seemed uncomfortable in front of her.
“Mrs. Miller has been Feldman’s housekeeper for over thirty years,” Senka whispered from behind. Her mouth was right next to Kate’s ear, close enough that she felt Senka’s warm breath drift over the back of her neck, causing a sudden surge of hostility. “She’s the only person who dares to call him by his first name. Sometimes they even get into shouting matches.”
“Are they lovers?” Kate asked curiously.
“It’s rumored they used to be years ago,” Senka answered in a seductive voice. “But I don’t think they are anymore. He respects her, though.”
“Kate.” Feldman turned toward the two whispering women with the look of a man who was trying to outrun a pack of wolves and had suddenly found a tree to climb up. “Mrs. Miller will take you to your cabin. Senka will accompany you down to the Gneisenau Room at noon sharp. Our first meeting will take place there. I strongly suggest you stay in your cabin in the meantime. There are still areas on board undergoing renovation, and I wouldn’t want you to wander into danger. It’s for your personal safety.”
“Should I ask Moore to leave one of those rifles for me?” asked Kate. “For my personal safety, you know?”
“Please don’t be angry, Kate. As soon as we’re at sea, you’re welcome to wander throughout the Valkyrie. But we’re still trying to close off all of the dangerous areas, and I wouldn’t want you to suffer an accident before we leave.”
Kate was certain that Feldman was lying to her again. But she kept quiet. It was not the time to pick a fight, especially with Senka and Mrs. Miller standing right there, watching her closely.
“All right, Feldman. See you at noon then.”
Kate followed Mrs. Miller down another hallway until they reached an elevator that looked straight out of a museum. To enter it, the outside gate had to be opened by hand. The inside was lined with velvet. Along the back wall was a bench where a weary traveler could rest during the short ride.
“It looks magnificent,” said Mrs. Miller in a friendly tone, “but it’s slower than a snail. This elevator gives you time to get old, and that’s just in the time it takes to move past the three floors in first class.”
“What about in second and third class? Are there elevators?” asked Kate.
“I’m not sure.” Mrs. Miller shrugged. “I’ve never been down below. Only a few have, but workers are sealing the entrances to those areas until they’re ready to be reopened. From what I’ve heard, though, the mess deck in third class doesn’t have an elevator. And I think the elevator for second class doesn’t work. It hasn’t been used for seventy years, you know?”
After what felt like an eternity, the elevator stopped with a tremble, and Mrs. Miller opened the gate. They stepped into a hallway not unlike the one they had come from, only the carpet was blue and imprinted with “KDF.” There were at least twenty doors along the walls.
“First class used to be quite small on this ship,” Mrs. Miller explained as they walked along. “Three floors with a total of forty-five cabins and eight suites. They’re quite roomy.” They stopped at a door with a golden plaque that read “Room 23.” “This is your room.”
She opened the door. Kate held back a gasp of astonishment. The room looked like it had been modeled after an old, elegant black-and-white movie. The wide queen-sized bed was covered by an antique bedspread, and the walls were lined with inlaid teakwood. Art deco lamps sat on the nightstands. A splendid Persian rug covered the floor. The sun shone through two w
indows. The room was made complete by a sofa with wide arms, an end table with stationery, and a mahogany dresser that had to be worth a fortune.
“It’s beautiful,” Kate said, taking note of the lack of a television or telephone. Nothing to remind her of the twenty-first century. There was only one ancient-looking outlet. She wondered if the voltage would be the proper amount to plug in her laptop without getting a shock.
“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” Mrs. Miller said with a smile.
She opened up a sliding door and revealed the bathroom. Kate covered her mouth. Along the wall closest to her was an enormous sink with ornate brass faucets set below a mirror. In back was a gigantic square bathtub decorated on the bottom with small mosaic tiles, just like the colorful ones that adorned the walls. The combination reminded her of a Roman bath.
“Enjoy your stay, Miss Kilroy.” Mrs. Miller bid Kate adieu with a smile and exited the cabin.
Alone, Kate fell back onto the bed. Kicking her shoes off, she took in her surroundings. The Valkyrie was amazing—a piece of history afloat at sea. As she lay there in the sunlight and listened to the voices on the pier, all of the horror stories regarding mysterious disappearances seemed completely ridiculous to her. Occam’s razor, she repeated. Sunlight beamed through one of the windows, and specks of dust danced in its glow. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and fell right asleep.
A faint vibration woke her up. Her camera, which was on the table, was buzzing on the marble surface. Curious, she got up. The entire cabin floor was shaking. For an instant she experienced something akin to panic. But then she remembered she was aboard a ship. She looked out the window and watched a pair of workers winding up the mooring lines as the pier slowly shrank away.
The ship had cast off. The gangplank had been brought aboard, and now there was nothing tying them to land.
The Last Passenger Page 9
