* * *
Just when Robert thought he’d eluded the J. P. Morgan automaton, something unexpected happened. The walls around him slanted as if the seemingly unsinkable steamship was capsizing. He struggled to regain balance and his old muscles were aching, but he refused to turn back. Robert was determined to end this conspiracy against the United States once and for all. And so, with his shining rifle in his hands and his father’s gold timepiece hanging freely, Robert charged sideways through the rotating halls of the RMS Titanic.
But then, just as the enormous ship righted itself, Robert heard a menacing thud above him. He took a step backward and the automaton came crashing down through the ceiling. The accursed machine was blocking his way and still slowly marching toward him.
Robert reached for the door to his left. Locked! He reached for another door. Locked as well. The only way out was back up the staircase at the end of the hall behind him. Robert spun around and sprinted from the relentless machine until something even more unexpected and terrible happened. A spectacular crash shook the steamship, and every board and bolt on the vessel groaned. The floor dipped downward and water started flooding the hallway.
The Titanic was sinking.
Robert turned around and saw the unstoppable automaton advancing. He knew his unusual weapon would be no good against it. He still needed to find a way to shut down all power on the Titanic to guarantee Leopold’s weapon could never be used. However, he did not want to be killed by an automaton in the process.
He raced down the other end of the hallway toward the stairs to escape, but then …
The floor dipped and the door leading to the staircase slammed shut. Again, locked. Gravity had just become Robert Todd Lincoln’s mortal enemy.
“NO!” he shouted.
Robert was trapped and the automaton was almost upon him. He had nothing but an endless hallway of locked doors around him. He was standing in a rising pool of cold water, and the rifle he was holding operated on high-voltage electricity. Tesla had upgraded the weapon to lethal levels for this mission, and it was only seconds away from becoming the cause of Robert Todd Lincoln’s death.
Then a fireman’s ax broke through the door beside him. “Bob?” a familiar voice inquired.
“John!”
Wilkie demolished the door and pulled Robert up a spiral staircase. There was no way the automaton could reach them now.
But as they ran up the steps, Robert got an idea. “Hold on!” he told Wilkie.
The chief turned around and saw Robert aim his weapon at the brass menace standing in the water.
“Does that thing conduct electricity?” asked Wilkie, pointing his ax at the android.
“Yes, sir.”
Robert pulled the trigger and Nikola Tesla’s electronic gun fired, knocking out all power in the Titanic.
The whole ship plunged into darkness.
“What do we do now?” asked Robert as they stood in the Cimmerian staircase.
Ever ready, the Secret Service chief lit a cigar.
Chapter XLI
Taft
“Mr. President!”
“He’s here! I know he’s here!” Taft shouted in near darkness.
No, the president was not racing after King Leopold II. He was digging through the smoldering, sinking remains of Airship One, searching for his best friend.
“Mr. President,” pleaded Sloan, “the Titanic is sinking!”
“I don’t care!” Taft screamed with tears in his eyes. “I’d rather die than live knowing I left Archie behind!”
It had been more than twenty minutes since the mighty airship went down.
“Mr. President!” called a woman’s voice behind him. Taft turned to see three flashlights bouncing toward him. It was Miss Knox rushing alongside an officer and a passenger. “Mr. President, Captain Young was with Major Butt when the airship went down. He says the major died in the crash.”
“No!” Taft cried. “That can’t be!”
“Mr. President,” said the captain, “when we landed on the deck, the major gave his life to rescue a mother and her child from the debris. I saw him disappear under the shattered decks of the ship just as the water rushed in. He’s gone, sir.”
“But … he could be below deck! We could search the ship!”
“Mr. President,” spoke a grief-stricken Francis Davis Millet, “Archie would have wanted nothing more than for you to return home alive. Please, come with us. We need to leave Archie in peace.”
“It’s not right,” sulked Taft. “I feel I should go down with the ship.”
“Mr. President,” said Miss Knox, “we were able to get nearly every passenger off the Titanic! The only ones we couldn’t save were those who died in the fighting.”
This surprised the president. “We have that many survivors?”
“Yes. Mr. Millet is the only passenger left on the ship.”
“Mr. President,” Agent Sloan spurred impatiently. “The sooner you leave, the sooner we can, too.”
It was at this point Taft realized he was nearly knee-deep in water.
“All right,” said the president. “Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
“Mr. President,” begged Sloan, “we can’t wait here forever!”
Taft stood with his arms folded on the sinking vessel. “Archie may be gone, but we are not leaving without Mr. Lincoln or Wilkie.”
But then there was movement. Wheeler and Jervis shined their flashlights on two men running out of the ship.
“Mr. President!” shouted the fuming-mad Wilkie, who was still holding his ax. “You’re leaving without us?”
“Not at all! Hurry aboard.”
The two ran up the slanted deck locked in each other’s arms.
“After you, Mr. Wilkie,” offered Robert Todd Lincoln.
The chief shook his head. “Age before beauty.”
The president and his bodyguard assisted Robert into the last lifeboat, but as the last son of Lincoln descended, he spotted vultures circling Taft. “Behind you!” he shouted.
The two remaining men on the deck turned around to see a row of rifles aimed at the lifeboat. Wilkie leaped in front of the president, carrying his fireman’s ax.
The villains opened fire, as did all the soldiers and Secret Service agents.
Robert Todd Lincoln fell backward into the lifeboat. He had been shot in the stomach, and the force of his fall sent the small vessel violently into the ocean. Captain Young had been shot in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun. Agent Sloan had been shot through the wrist and could no longer fire. Poor Francis Davis Millet had been shot in the chest and fell overboard, and the sinking Titanic sucked him under the water. As for Wilkie, who was the only person left with Taft on the deck, he absorbed four bullets that would have otherwise killed the president. One bounced off his bulletproof flask and another was deflected by his ax. The other two bullets, however, hit the Secret Service chief hard in the chest.
Wilkie collapsed on the deck and his head split into two pieces.
“WILKIE!” cried Taft. The chief’s body started to slide down the ship, but Taft grabbed him by the foot while holding on to the railing. There was no stopping Wilkie’s ax, however, which slipped silently into the Atlantic. Wilkie’s scalp, meanwhile, remained stuck on the deck of the Titanic.
Or was it a wig?
“You are in a hopeless position, Mr. President!” boomed Leopold from the ship. Taft could not see his enemy; he could only hear his deep, pitiless voice. “You are unarmed and exposed. Your life is ours for the taking. However, since I am in need of that lifeboat, I am willing to offer a trade. Tell your soldiers and agents to throw their weapons in the water, and I will only kill you. If you do not, then you will all be as dead as that man in your hands.”
“It takes more than that to kill a bull moose!” a familiar voice coughed.
Taft looked down at the late John E. Wilkie, more surprised than he had ever been in his life.
Chapter XLII
&nb
sp; Taft and Roosevelt
At that moment, a foghorn sounded and a bright searchlight shined on the Titanic. The SS Californian arrived to collect the remaining Titanic survivors. Or rather, Nellie Taft arrived to decide who should survive the rest of the evening. Miss Knox signaled the first lady using Morse code with her flashlight. Every man and woman on the Californian put their lethal weapons to work.
Gunfire erupted, hitting some but not all of Leopold’s men. Taft knew this would be his only chance: He slid down the Titanic with the man he now knew was not Wilkie until they reached the dome over one of the ship’s smaller staircases. Both men came crashing down through the glass.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” Taft shouted to Roosevelt.
“Nothing!” Teddy insisted as he spit out his false teeth. “See! I am not coughing blood. That means I’m still fit for a fight!”
“No! What have you done to John Wilkie?”
“Oh, he’s fine!” assured the former president. “I accidentally shot him with a Fox shotgun before I ‘went on safari,’ but he’s enjoying his retirement. I just wish he didn’t smoke so damn much!”
“My God…” Taft realized. “Nellie was right. You didn’t go to Africa; you’ve been spying on me this whole time. My whole presidency! You sick egomaniac! I’ll kill you!” The sitting president lunged at the seated former president.
“Please, Will! We’ll have plenty of time to sort this out in November. For now, we still have a country to save. Hurry!”
“Come back here, you … Roosevelt!”
Taft crawled after his predecessor up the floor of the First Class Smoking Room. It was near-total darkness and the president could not see any further than he could punch. “Teddy!” he called out.
“Don’t call me that,” a voice whispered.
Taft found Roosevelt huddled in the corner of the room’s darkened bar. “How are we supposed to get out of here?”
“Hand me that whiskey.”
Taft complied. “Are we going to blow our way out?”
“No, this is for me.” Teddy took a long swig from the bottle and then poured it over his bullet wounds.
“Wilkie!” Taft shouted, but then corrected: “Theodore! What’s our plan?”
“There’s no way the ship’s hull can handle any more stress,” said the former assistant secretary of the Navy. “The ship should break in half soon. When it does, we’ll leap off the stern and swim away.”
Taft’s curly mustache drooped. “If we do that, we’ll freeze.”
“Will, if you were to land in the lifeboat, you’ll kill everyone in it. Honestly, how on Earth did you gain so much weight? You told me you would exercise!”
“I do exercise!”
“Golf is not exercise!”
“I took up boxing.”
“You box once a year!”
The hull started creaking, so Teddy discarded his bottle and drew his only available weapon: his puukko knife. “We’ll have to continue this later.”
The two climbed over the bar and up into the Titanic’s Verandah Café. For a brief moment, its tropic palms very much reminded Taft of the White House. Only slightly more sideways.
“Once we level out,” said Teddy, “start running.”
As the mighty ship moaned, several more gunshots rang out. The two men could hear bodies falling around them.
“Colonel, if we don’t make it out,” Taft began, “please know that I always loved you.”
“And I always loved being president.”
The two friends smiled at each other.
And then, the collapse.
Just as Roosevelt predicted, the fifty-thousand-ton boat reached its breaking point before completely submerging. The Titanic broke in half between its second and third funnel, causing the stern to level as it came crashing down into the water. The Verandah Café shook violently and nearly every window on the steamship shattered. But for the moment, the two U.S. presidents could run once again.
“CHARRRRGE!” the colonel shouted, swinging his puukko knife like a saber.
Taft and Roosevelt raced across the sinking ship as if it were San Juan Hill. They sprinted from the café onto the A Deck, leaped onto the B Deck, and then …
Taft turned around, realizing that he was alone. “Colonel, what is it?”
Roosevelt dropped his puukko knife. “Something’s not right. I—” He collapsed onto the deck, vomiting yellow bile with spots of blood in it. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“Teddy! Can you stand?”
“Don’t call me that. And no, I can’t stand. I can’t even move.”
The stern shifted upward as the bow continued pulling the ship under. Roosevelt’s knife slowly slid down the deck and into the darkness behind him. “I can’t go any farther. Please tell the world that no man has had a happier life than I’ve led.”
“You tell them that!” Taft picked up his friend and carried him across the twisting stern of the Titanic. The ship careened on its port until it was touching the water, where Taft was relieved to see Miss Knox waiting along with everyone else in her lifeboat. Taft let go of his friend and let him slide down the deck. The former president landed in the freezing water, shouting “Bully!” as Agents Wheeler and Jervis pulled him into the lifeboat to safety.
But then, before Taft could jump, the Titanic shook violently. The president was thrown backward as the double-keel connecting both halves of the ship snapped completely. Taft was able to grab on to some railing, but the stern continued to rise until it was nearly vertical. The president held on for his life until he was suspended in the air far too high for him to jump. The only option was for Taft to climb the railing with all of his strength, and he was never that strong a climber.
As Taft made his final ascent up the Titanic, an injured Leopold II looked up. He stared furiously at the president who had ruined his plans for world domination and was now hanging on to a flagpole at the highest point of the Titanic. Searchlights from the Californian were shining on Taft, and Leopold could see him clearly. There was also a knife and a rifle resting in front of the villain. Though mortally wounded, the former monarch reached for the rifle.
Someone seized the puukko knife and stabbed Leopold through the hand, impaling his palm against the deck of the Titanic. Leopold screamed with defeat until he was finally silenced. A stunned Taft looked down to see a watery figure leap onto the villain and cover his mouth.
“You’ve killed enough people with that hand,” Major Butt whispered into the ear of the king. “Now, don’t make a move or I’ll break every damned bone in your body!”
“Archie!” Taft shouted with delight from the sinking stern. “You’re alive!”
Major Butt looked up at the president and smiled. He wanted to salute him, but he refused to let Leopold out of his grasp. Instead, the gallant officer stared straight into Taft’s eyes, and then dutifully bowed his head.
The president’s smile disappeared. “ARCHIE!” he screamed.
Major Butt closed his eyes and let the Atlantic wash over him. His last thoughts were of his mother.
The ocean claimed him.
And it was rapidly approaching Taft.
“Good lord…” gasped the president, whose nighttime operation was not going anything like he planned. He tried to kick off his shoes, but his laces were too tight. He tried taking off his coat, but that only made him cold, so he stopped. And he did not have a lifejacket and never prided himself at swimming any more than he did at climbing.
The distressed president looked down at the lifeboat, which was rapidly becoming eye-level. His immediate thoughts went to Robert and how badly he was hurt. Would Taft live long enough to find out? He shook his head. He then looked to the Californian, where everyone on its decks was watching, hoping, and praying the twenty-seventh president of the United States would somehow survive the coming fight for his life against the Atlantic.
Including Nellie. Dearest Nellie …
Seeing this was the end, Willia
m Howard Taft performed what he expected would be the last act of his presidency. He blew Nellie a kiss, waved good-bye, and took a deep breath.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was right, Taft quickly realized.
The waters were freezing.
Chapter XLIII
In Memoriam
There were no smiles at Washington’s National Park four days later. The nation was still mourning the Titanic disaster. There was no zeppelin at the ball game, and such a feat would not be repeated for decades. There was no celebration, no confetti, no special rendering of “Hail to the Chief.” There was only a sparse crowd of unhappy attendees, and chief among them was Vice President James S. Sherman. It was Opening Day for the Nationals, and Sherman was there to throw the ceremonial first pitch. It was a recent tradition that he imagined few people would remember.
Before he threw the ball, he took a moment to recite some lines he had prepared in case the Titanic operation did not go as planned.
Both Major Butt’s seat and President Taft’s slightly larger seat were empty.
* * *
The twenty-seventh president of the United States did not die on April 15, 1912. Instead, he was reeled aboard the SS Californian clutching a life preserver he could not fit inside. Although the president swore Major Butt saved his life after the Titanic went under, there was no sign of the officer after Taft was pulled from the water. The president was devastated by this, but just as deeply relieved when he learned that Robert was alive and unhurt after being shot. A rather miraculous gold pocket watch caught the bullet that would have ended his life forty-seven years to the day after his father’s assassination.
Thanks to the heroic efforts of so many U.S. soldiers, Secret Service agents, White Star Line crew, and countless ordinary people who joined the fight for the RMS Titanic, the entire world was spared the fate Leopold II intended with his ultimate weapon. More than one hundred million lives were spared on both sides of the Atlantic, along with all the women and children aboard the Titanic. Nearly all those who died had fought so those who did live would live, and the president personally presided over every one of their burials at sea. As did his wife, Nellie Taft, and Robert Todd Lincoln, and a heavily bandaged but still very active Theodore Roosevelt.
The Great Abraham Lincoln Pocket Watch Conspiracy: A Novel Page 28
