Voyage in Time: The Titanic (Out of Time #9) (24 page)

Simon picked it up and placed it on the bed. Amazingly, it wasn’t locked.

Elizabeth’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

He opened the lid, hoping to see code books and miniature cameras, something to prove this hadn’t all been for naught. But inside, was nothing of the sort. It was filled with make-up, wigs, grease paint, spirit gum.

“Maybe she really is an actress.”

Elizabeth dug through the chest. “Maybe. Or maybe,” she said as she pulled out a rubber nose and held it to her face, “these are for spy disguises.”

“Elizabeth.”

She made a face and then put the nose back. She rifled through the rest of it and just as Simon was going to tell her that was enough, she paused.

“Wait a minute.”

She picked up the chest and dumped the entire contents onto the bed.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked.

She put the chest back down. “Notice anything?”

“You’ve managed to
completely
lose your mind?”

She smiled and shook her head. “The bottom. It’s false, see?”

He looked back at the chest. It took him a moment to see it, but she was right—the inner bottom of the chest was a good two inches above the actual bottom.

She felt around inside and grinned as she caught hold of something. She lifted the panel up.

“Bingo.”

Inside was another pistol, a hollowed out metal spike, and a small book.

Simon opened the book. Rows of numbers and letters.
 

“What does it say?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s all gibberish.”

“That’s because you don’t know the code.”

Simon froze and closed his eyes briefly before slowly turning around.

Henrietta Rivet stood in the doorway to the bedroom, her husband casually leaned against the door jamb beside her.

She smiled smugly and waved the pistol in her hand toward the small book. “I will take that.”

Simon started to reach into his pocket for his gun.

“Now, now,” Henrietta said, then shifted her gun toward Elizabeth. “Don’t do anything foolish. We’ll take the book and …” she added glancing meaningfully at his pocket.
 

“Slowly, if you please.”

Simon took in a slow breath and did as she asked.

George took the book and Simon’s gun, then quickly flipped through the pages. He nodded to his wife that all was well before slipping the small book into his breast pocket.

Henrietta Rivet took a few steps into the room. Simon edged back as she did. He could see Elizabeth eyeing the pistol in the bottom of the chest. She felt him watching her and looked over at him. From the look in her eyes, she was actually thinking about reaching for it. He shook his head, imploring her not to.
 

“You should listen to your husband,” Henrietta said.
 

Simon reached out to take hold of Elizabeth’s arm and pull her away from the bed. He moved her behind him as best he could and then held up his hands again.
 

He made a quick assessment of the situation and it wasn’t good. The only positive was that the gun Rivet had in her hand was a small caliber and he could probably survive several shots unless she got lucky with one of them. He could make a move for the gun Elizabeth had been considering. If it wasn’t loaded, that would be the end of that.
 

No, he thought as he gauged the distance between them and the likelihood of Elizabeth being struck by a stray bullet, if he was going to make a move, it would be toward Rivet.

He rolled his shoulders, ready to lunge forward when George casually pushed himself off the door frame and walked over to the bed.

Simon’s heart clenched in his chest. George was going for the other gun. He couldn’t take them both on at the same time.

George picked up the other gun and Simon tensed. He moved Elizabeth completely behind him.

“You don’t have to do this.”

But instead of turning the gun on them, George slipped it into his coat pocket. “I would like to make sure nothing is missing.”

Simon didn’t understand. Missing?

George looked through the contents of the chest. “It is all here.”

Henrietta frowned and nodded, then looked at them with cold detachment.

Elizabeth edged around to his side. He kept his arm across her body, ready to do whatever needed doing to save her.

“You won’t get away with it. If you try to kill Niels—”

“Kill him?”

“And if you’re going to shoot us,” Elizabeth said. “People will hear. They’ll come.”

Henrietta arched a fine eyebrow and looked at her gun. “Ah. I see. Merely a precaution.”

She put the gun back into her purse.
 

Simon and Elizabeth exchanged confused glances. What in God’s name was happening?

Henrietta walked over to the bed and looked at it with disdain.

“You could have at least been more careful with my things.”
 

She picked up one of the hairpieces and smoothed it out. “This is imported, you know.”

Simon slowly lowered his hands. “I’m confused.”

Henrietta gently put the wig down onto the bed.

“Are you with the Americans or the British? Or is this some sort of new horrible hybrid intelligence organization?” she asked waving a finger between him and Elizabeth.

“British,” Simon said, standing a little taller. “Secret Service Bureau. Foreign Section.”

“Renseignements Généraux,” George said.
 

Simon didn’t know much about French intelligence gathering, but that sounded right. “I see.”

“Well, I don’t,” Elizabeth said.

“It seems the Rivets,” he said, “are here on behalf of the
French
government.”

“The keen observational skills of the American spy,” Henrietta said to her husband with a smirk.

Simon almost said something in reply, but theirs was a fragile truce. If he could use the Rivets to help protect Bohr, he’d be willing to suffer a few insults.

George ignored his wife. “I am sure you can understand our government’s curiosity about this meeting your Monsieur Bohr is going to have.”

“Well, thank God,” Elizabeth said. “We thought you were with the German.”

Henrietta’s eyebrows arched. “The one you threw overboard?”

Simon didn’t think they’d known about that. He hadn’t thought anyone knew.
 

“The other one,” Elizabeth said.

Judging from both of the Rivets’ reactions, this was startling news.

“Another?”

Elizabeth smiled and turned to Simon. “The keen observational skills of the French spy.”

“Very amusing,” Henrietta said.

While she might not have thought so, George certainly did, at least until Henrietta glared at him.

“Who is this other German?” she demanded.

“That,” Simon said, “is something we’d very much like to figure out.”

“A
ND
THAT
’
S
THE
WHOLE
of it,” Simon said, pausing to put a hand on the fireplace mantel.
 

“Are you sure you can trust them?” Niels asked, looking across the table at Edmund, who clearly shared his concern.

The Rivets had kept his gun, although it was hard to blame them on that score. Simon looked toward Elizabeth. She was as dubious as he was at taking everything the Rivets had told them at face value. But, for now, it was the only thing of any value they had.
 

She shifted in her chair by the fireplace and shrugged.
 

“As much as I trust anyone outside this room,” Simon finally said.

His instinct told him that the Rivets were what they said they were—French agents. What their mission was and what they’d do to achieve it was still in doubt, however. His and Elizabeth’s ill-fated foray into burglary on the high seas hadn’t provided the smoking gun he’d hoped, but it hadn’t gotten them shot either. A small victory, he supposed.
 

He glanced once more at Elizabeth and she gave him a small nod.
 

“If I might change the subject briefly,” he continued.

He and Elizabeth had had a long discussion about what, if anything, to tell Niels and Edmund about the upcoming disaster. The more they knew, the better prepared they’d be. However, there was simply no good way to tell them. If he made the sinking seem like anything other than an accident, they were complicit. If it was merely an accident, there was no logical way for him to have that information now, time travel notwithstanding.

That left a cryptic plea.
 

“Over the next few days,” he said carefully, “I might ask …
we
might ask you to do something that seems odd or pointless. It’s important that you do as we ask no matter how strange or irrelevant it might seem at the time.”

Both men exchanged confused glances. Trust was a fragile thing.

Simon came over to the table and leaned against the back of an empty chair opposite them. He had to make them see the importance without telling them why it was important.
 

They would all need to act quickly and calmly, if all of them were going to make it through. Even then there were no guarantees. The thought made the pit in his stomach grow.

Niels shook his head. “I am not sure I understand.”

Simon stood up straight again and Elizabeth came to stand at his side. He looked at each of the men in turn. “Do you trust us?”

They both nodded without hesitation, but Niels’ keen eyes narrowed. “You know something you are not telling us, though.”

Simon smiled. “And you know something you’re not telling me. I trust you have your reasons; you must trust that I do as well.”

Niels nodded.

“If we trust each other,” Simon said, “have faith in each other, we’ll come out of this all right.”

Edmund was clearly confused and worried although he didn’t know why. Despite that, he nodded. “You can count on me.”

Niels nodded. “I will do what you ask.”

“Thank you,” Simon said. “And while the Rivets are not who we were searching for, I would still give them a wide berth, if you’ll forgive the pun.”

Edmund frowned and shifted in his seat. “But you said they’re on our side.”

“No,” Simon corrected. “I said they weren’t on the German’s side. That does not mean their agenda and ours necessarily align.”

Edmund frowned, still confused.

“Just keep your distance,” Elizabeth said. “They’re not the enemy, but they may not be friends either.”

That he understood. “Right.”

Niels sat back in his chair. “And still the question remains—if they are not the ones who were working with our German friend, who amongst the others is?”

~~~

Kimball wiped tears from the corners of his eyes as his laughter finally subsided. He sighed and squeezed Dr. Hass’ shoulder. The other man could only look at him blankly.

“Guess you had to be there,” Kimball said and then looked across the dining table and grimaced, mouthing the word “Germans.”

“Yes,” the doctor replied with a forced smile. “I’m sure it was most amusing in person.”

Kimball frowned, about to explain why it was funny, which it wasn’t, but mercifully decided against it. Instead, he settled on a patronizing pat on the shoulder.
 

Simon clenched his jaw. It wasn’t bad enough they were all probably going to die tomorrow, but tonight they had to endure a turn of the century Henny Youngman. It was almost more than anyone should have to bear.

“You like to laugh, yes?” Carrillo asked.

As if the awful jokes and endless stories from Kimball weren’t bad enough, Simon had to sit with that two-bit Don Juan and not wring his neck.

Kimball raised his glass. “Makes life worth living.”

“I always thought that was love.”
 

Kimball inclined his head in defeat. “I stand corrected.”

“To love,” Maggie said as she raised her glass.
 

Everyone drank to the toast, but then Hass put his napkin on the table. “I think I will call it an early evening.”

He pushed back his chair. “I will see you all tomorrow.”

Dinner was nearly over and Simon was ready to make the same excuse.

“So,” Margaret said as she looked around the table, “are y’all stayin’ in New York for a piece or travelin’ on?”

Elizabeth glanced over at Simon. “We’re not sure. We have, well, I have family in Texas.”

She nodded. “Family’s important. As soon as I got the telegram about my little grandson, I dropped everything.”

“I’m sure he’ll be all right,” Elizabeth said.

“We’re made of stern stuff.” She turned to Kimball. “And what about you, Mr. Kimball?”

He shrugged. “No family to speak of or that wants to speak to me,” he added as a joke. “But I’ll probably spend a few days in New York. Probably the Ritz.”

“Don’t let Jack Astor hear you say that.”

Kimball was oblivious to the comment and turned to Niels. “You stayed at the Ritz in London, right?”

Niels opened his mouth to reply, but shut it and frowned. “I don’t remember mentioning that.”

His eyes slid anxiously over to Simon’s. Niels wasn’t the sort of man to forget what he’d said or what he hadn’t. If he hadn’t, how could Kimball know that?

Kimball seemed confused for a moment and frowned. “Oh, I guess I heard it somewhere else.” He snapped his fingers and grinned. “The doctor. He said he saw you there. I guess he stayed there, too, before we sailed.”

Simon seemed to recall the doctor mentioning that he’d stayed somewhere else, but the memory escaped him.
 

Niels nodded. “Yes, I did stay there.”

“It’s quite elegant, I hear,” Simon said.

Kimball shrugged. “Never stayed there myself, a little too rich for my blood. But I think when this is all over, I just might treat myself.”

“Can’t take it with you, I always say,” Margaret added. “Spend it or give it away. Or lose it in a poker game?” she said with a wink. “Can I convince any of you gentlemen, and lady, of course, to part with some of your hard earned money this evening?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Simon said.