The Titanic Secret (Isaac Bell 11)

Bell had expected the second sentence of Patmore’s answer. Not the first, though. Gly was obviously a dangerous man, and these were among the highest stakes he could imagine, but to so casually talk about murdering a man didn’

t seem right coming from a soldier wearing a West Point ring.

“If Brewster can’t find a way to throw the French off their game somehow, they might station guards on the island or make sure their supply ship is in position to preempt our effort to smuggle the ore out of Russia.”

“I’m not saying no, but why don’t you go to Paris. Brewster knows you and will take your warning seriously.”

“Deniability. If it’s learned—” Patmore cut himself off, and his eyes shifted from Bell’s face. Isaac turned to look out the hotel room door as a man in an overcoat carrying a cheap cardboard suitcase reached the top of the stairs. He checked his room number off his key fob and turned down the hallway, unaware he’d been watched. The Colonel didn’t speak until the man had entered his room and closed the door. “If it’s learned I am an active duty officer in Army Intelligence, it could spark a diplomatic incident. Also, it would take a week of fighting bureaucracy to okay such a trip and by then it’ll be too late. I first would need to return to Washington, debrief on my time here, and press for additional support. All that takes time. You, on the other hand, can take express trains to New York and hop the fastest ship to Europe.”

“Not to sound mercenary, but what about payment for my time?” Bell had already decided to take the case and would do so pro bono, but Joseph Van Dorn would have an aneurism if Bell walked away from some government largesse.

“We have some contingency funds that will more than cover your time and expenses. I’m sure I can draw something up, provided you keep receipts.”

“No need for anything formal, Colonel. I’ll take it on faith.”

“You’ll go?”

“Yes. I’m thinking about train schedules. It would be opportune if I can get to New York before they board their steamer, but I can’t imagine them laying over in Manhattan for very long.”

“No. Your best chance is in Paris. But you need to make your approach covertly. The Société des Mines has a large security apparatus.”

“I am versed in operating clandestinely, Colonel.”

“Sorry. I tend to overmanage my people. I do want to make you aware that Marc Massard has a twin brother, Yves, who also works in their security arm. Brewster got to know the two brothers. And Gly, to some extent, because all of them were at the lead mine during that time when the nearest village was complaining that their water was being contaminated. The loudest agitators died in a barn fire, and Gly and Yves joked about the sounds they heard during the conflagration.”

“Lovely,” Bell said sarcastically.

Patmore nodded. “Any talk of contamination abruptly ended, and the three men returned to Paris. Marc Massard tried to murder you yesterday by burying you alive and yet he’s considered the kindest of the three.”

9

They firmed up details, mostly about how to reach each other, and parted company. Bell now felt the pressure of time bearing down on him. He returned to the lobby to use the telephone. He still had to give Hans Bloeser a report on his findings but wanted to move the meeting from the Brown Palace bar to Union Station. As a frequent traveler, he was well aware of the limitations to transcontinental travel, and, as of now, every second counted. Once things were set, he returned to Doc Brinkerhoff’s office to check on Tony Wickersham.

They had moved Tony into a tiny back room with a single window overlooking a grim brick alley. He was lying elevated in bed, his shoulder swaddled under a massive bandage. When he turned from the uninspiring view, his face split into a bright but pained smile.

“Mr. Bell.”

“Tony, how are you holding up?”

“Hurts like the devil, to be honest, but the doctor says it’s best to wean off painkillers, so I must wait twenty minutes for my next shot. But I can move my fingers and thumb, which is proof there was no nerve damage.”

Bell moved closer in order to lay a comforting hand on the Englishman’s good shoulder. “That’s wonderful. I’ve spoken with Hans Bloeser and he says that you are to stay with his brother for the entirety of your convalescence. And that they are going to hire a specialist to make sure you retain as much function as possible.”

“I guess I can’t ask for more than that,” he said, looking pleased with the outcome of his ordeal. “Mr. Bell, can you tell me what happened after I blacked out? I don’t remember a thing.”

“I’m not sure myself,” Bell lied. “The hunter who shot you by mistake never came forward. I tried to find the fiend but saw no trace. While I was looking for the shooter, men from the Satan Mine brought you here.”

“I kind of recall an explosion.”

“That was a little later,” Bell bluffed. “As they were getting ready to take you away, the lead miner from the Satan insisted we blow the mine entrance and stop the flow of water into his property.”

“That makes sense,” the young man said, now that the situation was more clarified in his mind. “What about the Little Angel Mine? Did you find Brewster and the others?”

Bell had considered how he was going to proceed. “Couldn’t get all the way to the back of the mine where they were likely working, so I’m afraid the answer is inconclusive.”

“What about the hints we found? Did they tell you anything?”

Bell’s voice took on a serious, tutorial tone. “In my business, you either have proof or you don’t. There is no third option. There is no gray. It’s black or white. Period. If I can’t absolutely prove otherwise, I have no choice but to endorse the official view.”