The Titanic Secret (11 page)

Alfred led them down the port-side passageway, showed them the barber’s shop and stopped for a few moments in the aft staircase lobby. Then he continued further down the passageway and stopped a few doors before the end.

‘This is the port side of the ship, the left side if you’re looking towards the bow, the front end,’ he said. ‘For the first day or so, finding your way around might be a bit tricky, just because of the size of this ship. One easy way you can tell which side of the vessel you’re on is by looking at the numbers. Everything on the port side – all the doors and openings and so on – are marked by even numbers, but on the starboard side, the right side, the numbers are odd. And the numbers start from the bow and increase as they get closer towards the stern. So if you remember those two points, you’ll always know which side of the ship you’re on and which way to turn to reach your destination.’

His introductory lecture over, the steward opened the door of one of the staterooms and stepped back to allow them to enter first.

‘This is very nice,’ Maria murmured, looking around her at the opulent surroundings. Tremayne had to agree with her. The stateroom looked like a luxury suite in a really good hotel, not that he was particularly familiar with the more upmarket establishments. It was difficult to believe they were on a ship at all: the only giveaway was the small window opposite the door of the stateroom. In a hotel, he would have expected French doors leading onto a terrace or balcony. Whatever the outcome of their mission, they were certainly going to be comfortable , and for a brief second or two Tremayne wished that the circumstances were different, that he and Maria were just on board the ship to enjoy the voyage, nothing more. But that, he knew, was not to be.

Mansfield Cumming had clearly not stinted on the cost of their accommodation, though he was certain that this was a case of operational necessity overriding budgetary considerations. To get close to Voss, they had to be able to move at will anywhere on the ship, which they could only do as first-class passengers. As Tremayne had already noted, the
Titanic
operated a rigidly defined class system, and passengers travelling on second- or third-class tickets were forbidden from entering any of the first-class spaces.

The cabin was panelled in wood – Tremayne thought it was probably walnut, but he was far from certain – inlaid with smaller panels containing an attractive red velvet. The floor was carpeted in a light gold colour. Against one wall stood a comfortable-looking double bed, and the other furniture comprised a dining table with two chairs, plus an occasional table and an easy chair with an elongated base, something like a modified chaise longue.

The steward showed them the wardrobes and cupboards, and advised them that their luggage would be delivered to the stateroom shortly.

‘This stateroom does not have a private bathroom, I’m afraid,’ he said, ‘but there are bathrooms and ladies’ and gentlemen’s toilets on the other side of the corridor. The first-class dining saloon and the reception room are all on D-Deck midships. There’s information about the ship on the table over there, including things like restaurant menus and, of course, the first-class passenger list. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?’

Tremayne shook his head, followed the steward to the door and slipped a few coins into his hand.

‘How much did you tip him?’ Maria asked. ‘I mean, what’s the usual rate on board a ship like this?’

‘I gave him half a crown, but I’ve absolutely no idea if that’s the right amount,’ Tremayne replied. ‘As I said, the only other vessels I’ve ever been on as a passenger are the cross-Channel steamers. But I thought it was a good idea to pay him something, because if we need anything during this voyage, we’re much more likely to get it if the steward thinks he’ll get a good tip if he delivers what we want.’

Maria looked around the stateroom again, and then her eyes settled on the double bed.

Tremayne followed her glance.

‘Don’t worry, that’s not a problem,’ he said. ‘We’re supposed to be married, and that means we have to keep up the pretence. The last thing we want is for the stewards or chambermaids to start wondering why a young married couple aren’t sleeping together. But that chaise longue thing looks perfectly comfortable to me, so I’ll sleep there and you can take the bed.’

Any further discussion was halted by a discreet tap on the door. Tremayne opened it, and two other stewards stepped into the stateroom carrying their luggage.

‘Would you like us to put your clothes away for you, sir?’ one of them asked, lowering the cases to the floor.

‘No thanks,’ Tremayne replied briskly. ‘My wife always insists on doing it herself. But thank you anyway.’

Tremayne was very conscious of the weapons and ammunition concealed in his portmanteau. Under no circumstances did they want anyone to discover them.

Once the stewards had left the stateroom, Tremayne walked across to the table and picked up the information sheets which Alfred had mentioned. He looked at the first-class passenger list and quickly scanned through the names. Then he nodded.

‘Mansfield Cumming was right,’ he said. ‘The only section of a passenger list which is accurate is the first leg of a voyage, from the vessel’s original departure point. After that, it gets increasingly inaccurate as some passengers disembark and others join the ship. This list was probably prepared today or yesterday. Our aliases, Mr and Mrs Maitland are on it, but although we know that Gunther Voss will be joining the ship at Cherbourg later this afternoon, his name isn’t included. I was hoping we might be able to find out his stateroom number from this, but it looks like we’ll have to do it the hard way.’

He looked at the front of the passenger list and then chuckled.

‘What is it?’ Maria asked.

‘It looks as if this ship might be more than just a luxurious way of crossing the ocean. According to this note in the passenger list – the White Star Line calls it a “Special Notice” – it looks like it might be a floating gambling den as well. Listen to this: “The attention of the Managers has been called to the fact that certain persons, believed to be Professional Gamblers, are in the habit of travelling to and fro in Atlantic Steamships. In bringing this to the knowledge of Travellers, the Managers, while not wishing in the slightest degree to interfere with the freedom of action of Patrons of the White Star Line, desire to invite their assistance in discouraging Games of Chance, as being likely to afford these individuals special opportunities for taking unfair advantage of others.” So if anybody invites us to sit down for a friendly hand or two of cards, it might be as well to decline.’

He looked across at Maria, who was now sitting on the side of the bed.

‘Let’s get our stuff packed away,’ Tremayne suggested, ‘then we’ll go and have a drink and familiarize ourselves with the layout of this ship. Then we ought to sit down, read Mansfield’s latest instructions, and work out how on earth we’re going to do this. If we have to, that is. Maybe he’ll have found another way of stopping Voss.’

Maria nodded, the reality of their situation hitting home powerfully. ‘We can always hope, but if he had, I think the first thing he’d do would be to recall us and save the cost of the passage. I’m really afraid we might have to go through with this,’ she finished, almost sadly.

10 April 1912
RMS
Titanic
/Southampton

After they’d unpacked their cases, Tremayne led the way out of the stateroom, locking the door behind him. His portmanteau with its selection of weapons was in one corner of the stateroom, still locked, but the envelope sent to them by Mansfield Cumming was in his jacket pocket.

They walked along the same corridor they’d used previously, heading back to the forward first-class staircase. As they did so, Tremayne and Maria looked around them with interest. Most of the stateroom doors were closed, but a few were still open and the figures inside – some of them obviously personal servants – were opening suitcases and trunks, and packing clothes and personal belongings away in drawers, cupboards and wardrobes.

‘I feel deprived,’ Tremayne murmured, as they glanced into one enormous suite where two valets and a chambermaid were bustling around under the direction of a large, well-padded and imperious looking woman. ‘Perhaps I should have brought along somebody to help
me
get undressed.’

Maria looked at him with a grin. ‘Don’t get any ideas, buster. This is a strictly professional arrangement. You take off your clothes, and I’ll take off mine, but we certainly won’t be doing it at the same time.’

‘Heaven forbid.’

The ship was like a floating city, a seemingly vast and confusing maze of corridors and passages and staircases. There were doors everywhere: doors to cabins, crew spaces, restaurants and public rooms.

Their biggest challenge, at least in the short term, was going to be simply finding their way around. One of the very first lessons Mansfield Cumming had impressed upon Tremayne was the importance of always knowing where the back door was, of establishing the location of all possible exits from a particular building. There were of course no exits on a ship, apart from using the gangways or jumping over the side, but both of them were experienced enough to fully appreciate the importance of quickly acquiring an intimate knowledge of their surroundings. Knowing precisely what lay on each deck, and how to get from one place to another, would be absolutely vital for what they planned to do, and could easily make the difference between life and death.

They made their way to the forward staircase, and decided first to go back down to D-Deck, the Saloon Deck, to look at the area which lay forward of the first-class entrance. At the bottom of the grand staircase, they glanced round the reception room, where at that moment there were only a few people, then walked across to the doorway which gave access to the first-class entrance, and stepped through it. Tremayne led the way down a short corridor marked by cabin doors located at regular intervals down the left-hand side, and by shorter, narrow corridors on the right, each with two doors on either side, each corridor serving four cabins.

‘I think this is all still first-class accommodation,’ he said. ‘It looks like a mixture of small inside staterooms and larger suites on the outboard side of the corridor.’

At the end was a passage which led them across to the opposite side of the ship, again with cabins or staterooms on both sides, and back to the first-class entrance. Then they walked through into the reception room, crossed it and took a look into the dining saloon, a huge room able to seat over 500 people at a time. It was, Tremayne had read somewhere, the largest room on any ship afloat. Perhaps the single most arresting feature was the ceiling, covered in intricate mouldings that were reminiscent of a London club, which was presumably the intention, supported by fluted pillars, all painted off-white. Large windows with rounded tops marked the edge of the room, the light streaming through them contributing to the ambience.

The room was under half full, but was alive with the hum of conversation and the chink of knives and forks on crockery. Waiters bustled to and fro, delivering full plates and removing empty ones. Sommeliers strode round the occupied tables, ensuring that the correct wines were being served for each course. Tremayne and Maria weren’t eating there, at least, not yet, so they just looked around, then turned away and walked out.

‘Right,’ Tremayne said, ‘let’s go all the way up to the Boat Deck, but we’ll take a walk around each deck as we climb.’

Almost twenty minutes later, they finally reached the top and stepped out onto the first-class promenade. They walked over to the side rail of the ship and looked down at the dockside. It was still an ant-hill of activity, the crowds of people apparently undiminished in size, although the departure time was fast approaching and Tremayne knew that quite soon the crew and dockyard teams would have to start unshipping the gangways and preparing to leave.

Forward and aft of where they were standing, lifeboats hung from davits, and above them, the four massive funnels, by far the most dominant feature of the ship, soared towards the sky, two forward of where they were standing, and the other two aft. Tremayne already knew that only three of the huge structures actually functioned as funnels, venting smoke from the engines down below. The fourth funnel, the one closest to the stern of the ship, was actually a dummy, a part of the ventilation system, but had been specified by the White Star Line because it was felt that four funnels would make the ship look more impressive than only three.

‘I need a drink,’ Tremayne said. ‘Let’s go down and find somewhere to sit. Maybe there are still a few vacant tables in that reception room,’ he added.

They retraced their steps down the staircase as far as D-Deck and the reception room itself, and found that there were in fact plenty of spare seats. They chose one on the seaward side, looking out at the harbour, and Tremayne ordered a couple of drinks – a tall gin and tonic for Maria while he had a small Scotch – from one of the waiters.

When the glasses were on the table in front of them, Tremayne checked that they could neither be heard nor observed, then took the envelope out of his pocket, broke the seal and extracted the sheet of paper that it contained. There was also a black and white photograph of the face of a heavily built man, looking towards the camera. On the back of the picture was the pencilled name ‘Gunther Voss’. Tremayne glanced over the typewritten paragraphs quickly, and then read it all carefully. In fact, there wasn’t much in the briefing sheet that was new.

The latest news from Washington was ambiguous. There were vague rumours about changes in American foreign policy, but there were often such suggestions, and nobody could find any specific information to suggest why any such action was being contemplated. Every enquiry made by the British diplomats over there at first seemed to produce convincing evidence that some change was imminent, but upon closer examination, no solid facts could be found to back up the story. It was all simply rumours and speculation – just ‘smoke and mirrors’ as one senior British diplomat had apparently described it.