Echoes of Titanic

by Mindy Starns Clark

  “You okay?” Cole asked in her ear.

  “Halfway there,” she whispered in reply.

  It wasn’t until she had to walk past the open doorway that led to reception that she saw something in her peripheral vision. She swung her head to the right and gasped, freezing in her tracks.

  “What is it?” Cole asked.

  She didn’t answer immediately but peered toward a human form standing in the corner, past the reception desk.

  “Kelsey, are you okay?” Cole asked more insistently.

  Then she realized what she was seeing. Blowing out a long, slow breath, she continued down the hall.

  “Yes, but for a moment I thought I was done for,” she said, chuckling softly.

  “What happened?”

  “I saw the glass display case with the Titanic memorabilia. Do you remember the mannequin wearing Adele’s outfit? I thought it was a person standing there.”

  He chuckled as well. “I guess that could be pretty startling.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not the first time that’s happened,” she admitted.

  She reached the executive hallway, turned right, and walked all the way down it, past Gloria’s office and the executive washrooms, to the last door on the left. The placard read “Nolan Tate,” but long before this had been her father’s office, it had been used by Adele herself. The guys all thought this room was their first, best chance for finding the safe. Placing a hand on the knob and giving it a twist, she whispered, “Made it to the office. I’m going in.”

  “Roger that.”

  She opened the door and stepped inside, breathing in the stale, unused smell that hung in the air. Closing the door behind her, she was glad she didn’t need the overhead lights or her flashlight. The wide front windows let in so much brightness from outside that she could see just fine.

  Kelsey pulled the paper Cole had given her from her pocket. She unfolded it and studied the diagram, searching for Xs. Instead, this entire room had been circled.

  “Cole, I thought you said this was the best place to start,” she whispered. “You don’t have any places marked in here at all.”

  “That’s because three of the four walls are deep enough to handle a recessed safe. If you can’t find anything in there, the Xs will guide you to other places in the building where you could also look.”

  “Okay.”

  Shoving the diagram back into her pocket, Kelsey slowly circled the room, lifting framed art out from the walls and checking behind each one. She peered around all of the furniture.

  Nothing.

  Next, she opened the door to the closet and was hit with an even staler whiff of air. She clicked on her flashlight and shone it on the shelves that lined the closet walls from ceiling to floor. They were packed with office supplies, manuals, and old boxes.

  Nothing.

  She stepped out of the closet, her flashlight beam sweeping across the floor as she did, and she noticed something gray on the carpet. Kneeling, she studied it more closely. Dust. Lots of dust. Like a squared off ridge of dust.

  “Kels?”

  “Just a sec. I have an idea.”

  Shining her flashlight on the lower shelves, she saw that they were packed tightly with old records and file folders, all coated in a deep layer of dust. She tried to see if any of them looked as though they had recently been disturbed, but she couldn’t tell. Still, she had a feeling that the dust mark on the closet floor had come from a stack of these old papers that someone had placed there. Given that the things in here were ancient, and the fact that this office wasn’t currently being used anyway, she felt that the dust marks had to be significant.

  With a heavy sigh, she began removing items from the shelves so she could peek at the walls behind them. She started at the bottom right, pulling boxes out, looking, and putting them back. Pulling out, looking, putting back. It wasn’t until she got to the second shelf, left side, that she pulled a stack of file folders out, looked, and gasped.

  Black. She could see black. The black of metal.

  The black of an old safe.

  “I think I found it!” Heart pounding, she pulled out more and more things from the shelves until she had exposed the recessed wall safe in its entirety. It was about two feet high and a foot and a half wide, and it was in better shape than the one in the photo. The letters on this one had barely worn off at all. The “Cramer Bros.” was clearly visible on the door. And above the door, across the top, were the words, “THE WONDER.”

  “Do you have something?” Cole asked urgently.

  “Do I ever!” Kelsey replied, grinning. “We found it, boys. We found The Wonder.”

  Another cheer rang out from the van, this one louder than before.

  She reached out and touched the cool, black metal. Could it possibly hold the bonds? Or had whoever made that dust mark on the floor already gone inside and taken them?

  Gloria’s words rang in her memory, “Have you ever done something bad out of good intentions?”

  Please, let the bonds still be there. Please.

  “Guys? What do I do now?”

  “Okay, Kelsey, it’s Thriller here. We have two choices. One, you close things back up the way they were and we come back tomorrow with a locksmith.”

  She sighed. She was unwilling to wait that long—not to mention that she couldn’t exactly sneak one in through the back door. “You said you used to work for a locksmith, Thriller. Can’t you crack this safe yourself?”

  He chuckled. “Locksmiths don’t ‘crack’ safes, Kelsey. They bring in tools and equipment and open them up other ways.”

  She sat back on her heels. “What’s the other option? Got any explosives out there in the van?”

  “Hey,” Flash snapped. “Don’t kid around like that. We’re on wireless here.”

  “Sorry.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. Apparently they were getting a little tense.

  “According to the book,” Thriller said, “The Wonder’s combination was configurable by the customer. If your great-grandmother was the one who had it installed, chances are it still has the combination she gave it originally.”

  “You want me to guess the combination?”

  “Well, it takes three numbers. A lot of people use dates.”

  “You mean like birthdays and things?”

  “Yeah. Any idea of a date she might have used?”

  “I don’t know. I could try her birthday and her son’s birthday, but those are about the only dates I have. I don’t know her father’s birthday, or her anniversary, or her husband’s birthday, or anything else like that.”

  “Okay, well, at least give those two a shot. Just remember to spin it three revolutions, clockwise, each time before you start.”

  “Got it.”

  Tentatively, Kelsey reached up and placed her hand on the dial. After doing as Thriller instructed, she tried right 7, left 21, right 93. Adele’s birthday.

  Nothing.

  After spinning it clockwise several times again, she tried once more, right 11, left 14, right 23. Grandpa Jonah’s birthday.

  Nothing.

  She shifted to a more comfortable position and tried to think how they could figure this out. If only her father could tell her.

  She sat up straight. Maybe her father could tell her.

  “Guys, I have an idea. I’m going to call my dad and ask him. I’ll have to take out the earpiece for a minute.”

  “Okay,” Cole replied, “but don’t talk any louder than you’ve been talking to us.”

  “I won’t.”

  She dialed her parents’ house. Then she pulled the triangle from her ear and held her cell phone to it instead. Her mother answered, and Kelsey asked to speak directly to her father.

  “What did you say, dear? Speak up.”

  Kelsey shifted further into the closet and pulled the door shut, nearly choking from the dust. “I need to talk to Dad for a minute. Can you put him on the phone? It’s urgent.”

  “Is it something I
could help you with?”

  “I don’t think so, Mom. I need the combination to an old safe at the office.”

  “Oh, well, then you do need him. Hold on.”

  After a good minute, Nolan finally came on the line. He didn’t speak, but she could tell from the sound of his breathing that he was there.

  “Dad? Can you hear me?” she asked.

  He grunted in return.

  “Good. Listen, I’m at B & T, in the closet in your office, looking at The Wonder.”

  “The Wonder! G-great.”

  “It is great, Dad, but I need the combination. Do you remember what it is?”

  The line was silent for a long moment, and then he said, “Birthday.”

  “Adele’s birthday? I tried that and it didn’t work.”

  “No. Hoppelin.”

  “Hoppelin?”

  “Joplin.”

  She closed her eyes, desperate to understand.

  “Jock. Jock.” He couldn’t seem to get it out. Then, “Josh.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Jocelyn? Are you trying to say Jocelyn?”

  “Yes. Joshen.”

  “Jocelyn’s birthday. That’s the combination?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Okay, Dad, put Mom back on the phone.”

  Once her mother came on, she explained that she needed to know Jocelyn’s birth date. “Try looking in Adele’s book. I think it’s in there.”

  “Hold on, I’ll check.”

  While she was gone, Kelsey thought about running out to the glass case in reception and grabbing the copy that was kept there. If not for the security camera, she would have done so already.

  “Okay, here it is,” her mother said, finally, coming back on the phone. And then she gave the date of October 23, 1893.

  Quickly, Kelsey thanked her mother and then hung up. Replacing the earpiece and tucking away her phone, she opened the closet door for air and light, and then she knelt down again in front of the safe. Hands shaking, she gave the dial several revolutions, and then she tried right 10, left 23, right 93.

  Nothing.

  Her heart sank. That had to be it. It just had to. She tried again, to no avail.

  Finally, she stood, brushed off her pants, and exited the closet as she explained to the team in the van what had just happened.

  “I don’t think he was wrong,” she whispered. “I think someone went in there and changed it. I guess that means we’ll need a locksmith after all.”

  Everyone was silent for a long moment, their disappointment palpable.

  “Well, all is not lost,” Flash said. “There’s something else I need you to do.”

  “What’s that?” Kelsey asked, looking down at the stacks of folders on the floor of the closet and trying to summon the energy to put them all back on the shelves.

  “I’ve been sitting here going through Gloria’s digital activity the night before she died. Looks like she made photocopies on a copy machine. If you can go there now, I’ll talk you through reprinting whatever it was.”

  “Okay.”

  Kelsey turned off her flashlight, crossed to the door of her father’s office, and pulled it open as quietly as possible. Listening intently, she peered down the darkened hallway. She still seemed to be alone.

  Summoning her nerve, she emerged and padded softly down the hall, limping a little from her sore heel, and went past Gloria’s office to the alcove next door, where Yanni and the other executive secretaries had their desks. Though there were other copy machines in the building, the one that sat there against the back wall under the window was the one Gloria used most often.

  Once Kelsey was there, Flash told her how to use the digital panel to scroll through the machine’s history until she found a printing job that had been done Tuesday morning at 12:25 a.m.

  “Got it,” she said, and then she pressed Print.

  With a flash of light and a noisy whirr, the machine sprung to life. Quickly, she ducked down behind a desk to hide, just in case, and then she finally allowed herself to peek around the side toward the hallway. No one appeared. She was still alone, and now copies were coming out onto the tray. Rising, Kelsey told herself to get a grip. She grabbed the first sheet and held it up to the light coming in through the window to see some sort of fancy scrollwork covering the page. Needing a better look, she turned on her flashlight and directed the beam of light at the piece of paper in her hand.

  “Oh, wow.”

  “What is it?” Cole asked.

  “Bonds,” she whispered. She grabbed another from the tray. “Each one is a copy of a very old bond.”

  “How many?”

  “Uh…hold on.”

  She waited until the machine went silent. “Six.” She picked up the rest of the copies. “Gloria came here that night and made copies of the six bonds.”

  “Check the date on ’em,” Thriller said. “Does it say they were issued April ninth, nineteen twelve?”

  She scanned the various markings on the page until she found the numbers 09-04-12 with the word “Date” underneath.

  “I don’t understand. Does this mean the bonds were purchased in September?” she asked. “I thought you said Rowan Tate got these in April, the day before boarding Titanic.”

  “He did.”

  They were all quiet for a moment.

  “Wait,” Cole said suddenly. “You’re talking about England here. What we write as four-nine-twelve, they would have written as nine-four-twelve. Kelsey, do you know what this means?”

  “I’m on it!”

  With the copies gripped tightly in her hand, she dashed back down the hall to her father’s office, ran inside, and fell to her knees in front of the safe. There, hands trembling, she tried Jocelyn’s birth date again, only this time, she flipped the month and day: right 23, left 10, right 93.

  She could hear the tumblers click in response.

  “I think that did it,” she whispered.

  Gripping the handle, she twisted and pulled. The door opened with a loud, rusty squawk. Her heart pounded as she swung it wide. She shone the beam of her flashlight inside. The safe was empty except for a small leather-bound book. With trembling hands, Kelsey pulled it out, realizing almost immediately what it was.

  “No bonds,” she whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” Cole replied.

  “Is there anything in there at all?” Flash asked.

  “Yes,” she said, cradling the book in her hands and gently turning a few of the pages. She blinked, sending tears of gratitude down her cheeks. “It’s Adele’s original diary,” she told them. “Written in her own hand.”

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  April 13, 1912

  ADELE

  Adele could not make up her mind about Tad. At times she felt quite fond of him, yet at other times she bristled at his behavior. He was handsome and charming and attentive, yes, but he was also brash and impulsive and immature. And though they had shared a fun afternoon together and were now eating side by side in the beautiful second-class dining saloon, a part of her felt exhausted, almost as if it were an effort to keep up the attraction between them.

  Shouldn’t romance be easier than this? Shouldn’t it feel more natural?

  Adele wasn’t well versed in male–female relationships, but she had to believe that most happy couples craved each other’s company rather than grew weary of it—especially in the beginning.

  But weary was the word she was looking for. A part of her just felt weary.

  At least their dinner companions tonight were interesting. Clancy O’Connell and his wife had taken two of the spots at their table, and because Uncle Rowan was dining with new friends at another table, there were three remaining places to give over to the Brown family from South Africa, including Thomas, his wife, Elizabeth, and their teenaged daughter, Edith. Tad had orchestrated the gathering, and soon Adele understood why. The Browns were quite knowledgeable about business, and they, too, were eager to pitch in on finding solutions for
Mr. O’Connell’s failing music store.

  Adele knew that their behavior—hers included—bordered on rude, that business and finance were not suitable dinner conversations. Yet the subject was so fascinating that she couldn’t bring herself to change it. The Browns discussed everything from hiring competent staff to negotiating a lease to launching a publicity campaign. Both of them were highly knowledgeable and seemed eager to share what they could. At least poor Edith had ended up next to Jocelyn, so the two tablemates who couldn’t care less about any of it were able to entertain each other with more appropriate dinnertime talk of fashion and celebrities and the day’s activities.

  After a while Adele found herself so comfortable with the Browns that she decided to share her decision to invest in female-owned businesses. They strongly endorsed her idea, but Mr. Brown also suggested she include another demographic as well—that of the immigrant.

  “For example, take an acquaintance of mine on this ship,” he said. “He’s a third-class passenger named Austin van Billiard. The van Billiards have been diamond mining in Central Africa for the past six years, and now Austin and his two eldest sons are on their way to America, where he hopes to become a diamond merchant.”

  “That sounds exciting,” Adele said.

  Mr. Brown shook his head. “He has a long road ahead of him. He has family in Pennsylvania, but how much can they do, really? He needs a big, solid loan to get started in his own business, but who will give it to him? He’s good for it. I’ve never known such a family of hard workers. Given a chance, I have no doubt the man could succeed brilliantly, yet I fear he’ll not find the capital he needs to get things off the ground.”

  Adele understood what he was saying, and she agreed that her business model could certainly be improved by offering funding to both women and immigrants.

  By the end of the meal, though her head was spinning with all of her new knowledge, a consensus had still not been reached as to how the poor O’Connells were to go about saving their music store. Pushing away his empty ice cream dish, Tad leaned toward Clancy when the others weren’t listening and said quietly, “I told you this morning, buddy. There’s only one way out of this thing, and you know what it is.”