Tip of the Iceberg Page 16

  “I did not mean to infer we should be cavorting, I simply voiced my concern for your reputation, nothing more.”

  “To hell with my reputation! I have money enough not to care about idle gossip, but enough of this tactful, verbal dancing. Was there a reason you came to visit me without first seeking an invite?”

  It was only then that Bernard remembered the true reason for his visit, so excited was he by Kathleen’s amorous overtones, his joyous mood evaporated and was replaced by a gut-wrenching malaise.

  “I actually came to warn you about a danger on board this ship. But strangely, I can’t tell you the exact nature of the danger or even if the danger is real and not just my own fears manifested.”

  “A danger to me?” Kathleen asked, a fearful look haunting her eyes.

  “I don’t believe so. But there are things going on that I have no answers for, and in finding the answers, we will undoubtedly uncover the danger.” As Bernard spoke, a frown line creased his forehead.

  “Speaking in riddles has only served to heap confusion on my fear, Bernard.” Her soft hands sought out his, holding them tightly, she asked, “Please offer some explanation for your reasoning? Have you seen something?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes; I have, but that is where the confusion begins.” Bernard explained about Patrick’s strange death, leaving out the details surrounding the monkey’s ownership and the nature of their relationship, referring only to him as a business partner. Then he continued, talking first about the doctor’s strange behaviour then moving on to discuss the mystery surrounding Patrick’s missing body.

  Kathleen listened earnestly to every word, then when he finished, she sat in silent contemplation. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and reassuring, her brash accent toned down as if to fit the subdued mood. “I think I should change before letting you escort me to dinner. Black is such a depressing colour, don’t you think?”

  Thirty-four

  Officer Moody stepped off the grand staircase and crossed the first class dining saloon’s small, but exquisite, lobby. His instinct told him there was more than met the eye with Sir Bernard, but he couldn’t put his finger on it and didn’t have the time or inclination to press the matter further. Especially with the captain summoning all the officers to the bridge for an impromptu, and yet, given the lack of notice, urgent meeting.

  Moody walked briskly around the saloon, acknowledging each of the stewards in turn as they prepared the tables for the evening service, before entering the frantic chaos of the ship’s main galley, which served both first and second class passengers. He raised his hand towards the head chef, who simply nodded in return. With only an hour or so to go before starting the dinner service, the head chef was far too busy to engage in small talk with Sixth Officer Moody. The captain himself would have struggled to get more than a few begrudging words from him this close to dinner. Moody hurried on intent on completing his rounds before the meeting with the captain, not wishing to be found wanting should a senior officer ask him about the ship’s current readiness.

  He knocked on Miss Wilson’s door and politely waited for her to answer before entering. Frankly, Old Dragon, as the chambermaids somewhat less than fondly called her, scared the shit out of him. And worse still, she knew it, even revelled in it.

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Moody?” She eyed him suspiciously from her lair on the other side of her imposing desk.

  “I’m Duty Officer, and I’m completing the afternoon inspections prior to attending the captain’s officer meeting.”

  “What meeting?” The head housekeeper demanded, cutting him short.

  Realizing the wrinkly Old Dragon knew nothing about the meeting, and therefore, had not received an invite, Moody decided to have some fun.

  “I’m not at liberty to say, Ma’am.” He also had no idea about the intended subject matter of the meeting, but seeing the Old Dragon almost breathe fire at the suggestion something important was about to happen, something important she knew nothing about, was a priceless moment he would cherish.

  “I see. I shall take the matter up with the captain, myself.” The scornful look she gave him lingered long after her words died away, seeming to suggest he would be in for an awkward, even painful, return journey should he be in any way lying.

  After a long pause during which Moody savoured his brief victory, he asked, “Is there anything you need to bring to my attention?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is, young man.” Her refusal to address him by rank, almost dismissing him as a child, was a calculated move to undermine him on Miss Wilson’s part.

  Moody ignored her snub, and through a polite smile, asked. “And what would that be?” He fought the urge to add the phrase, you Old Dragon.

  “Esme Jackson! She was taken on as a chambermaid in Southampton; although I am truly baffled about how, has constantly neglected her duties. I am also led to believe she has struck up an overfamiliar friendship with Mrs. Grafton. It is the sort of friendship which will surely result in the Grafton’s embarrassment and tarnish the reputation of both White Star and the Titanic. I have already served her with her notice, but would be obliged if you undertake the delicate matter of speaking with the Graftons concerning our handling of this matter.” Miss Wilson glared at Moody over her spectacles, appraising him with the thinly veiled look of disdain the elderly reserve for anyone under thirty.

  Moody fidgeted under the intensity of her gaze but remained silent, unwilling to interrupt the hoary woman, lest she turn her dissatisfaction in his direction. Finally, she pushed her spectacles firmly back onto the bridge of her nose and added, “I suggest you address the issue with Captain Grafton. He is a gentleman with an understanding of such matters. I fear his young bride exhibits a more naive attitude towards matters of class—she is American, after all.” A wry smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

  “I shall endeavour to speak with him during dinner tonight. Will that be all, Miss Wilson?” Officer Moody had the feeling the Old Dragon had warmed to him and was astute enough to know her experience earned the captain’s ear. A little polite deference and subtle discretion would do his promotional prospects no harm at all.

  “That is all for now, Mr. Moody.” Her reinstatement of his name caused Moody to suppress a smile. Then she added, “But don’t think I haven’t noticed the stupid expression that crossed your face at the mere mention of Mrs. Grafton’s name. I suggest you get any notion you may have in that respect, out of your head this instance. Is that clear?”

  Moody felt a warm flush prickle his skin, and he was barely able to mumble, “Yes, ma’am” as he scampered out of Miss Wilson’s office feeling like a naughty schoolchild, unaware he would never get to deliver her message to Captain Grafton.

  Thirty-five

  Patrick’s corpse looked down at Catharina’s still twitching body. His gaze scanned across her shapely legs, lingering on the gentle curve of her buttocks before moving up the smooth alabaster skin of her back and hideously twisted neck and into the serene beauty of her face. The bathwater still sloshed from side to side in the wake of her violent passing, her swirling hair gradually fanning out around her angelic countenance like the twisting snakes of Medusa’s living locks. Driven by an unquenchable need, he knelt beside the bath, running his hand over the firmness of her muscle before leaning over her half-submerged body to rip a strip of tender flesh from her soft, slightly pinked buttock with his teeth.

  It tasted divine, better than any steak the previously living Patrick had ever tasted. He pushed his fingers into the open gash and ripped more of the fatty flesh free of the dead nanny’s rump. He stuffed the slippery morsel in his mouth, not bothering to finish the first mouthful, and chewed the still warm flesh, oblivious to the water soaking the sleeves of his tunic and running in tiny rivulets from his elbows. He didn’t notice the bathwater turning a dark, dirty brown as Catharina’s torpid blood gently seeped from the tear, and he was unconcerned by her beauty or the allure of her firm
curves. He just needed to feed, to consume without consequence, without conscience, and without compassion.

  Once he satisfied his hunger, Patrick rose from the bath-side, dropping Catharina’s torn and chewed remains back into the bath’s murky Hungarian nanny goulash, and staggered to the door. He fumbled clumsily with the door’s handle before finally freeing himself into the corridor beyond, where he stumbled into a scruffily dressed passenger walking towards him, a knowing smile plastered on his bearded face, his eyes twinkling impishly.

  “I bet you fucked her good. I saw that seductive bitch follow you in there.” The words died in his throat as he saw fresh blood smeared around Patrick’s mouth and across his strangely marked cheeks. The unsuspecting passenger’s eyes moved slowly down the darkly stained jacket, which hung at a rakish angle caused by several missing buttons, to look at Patrick’s bloodied hands, his mind struggling to understand how the stranger had gained such severe injuries.

  The bearded man took a step back. Confused, he glanced over Patrick’s shoulder into the bathroom the Irishman had just left. The pale, lifeless face of the young nanny stared back at him over the edge of the bathtub, and although he could only see her face from where he stood, it was enough for him to know she was dead.

  “Sweet Jesus!”

  Emitting a deep, throaty growl, Patrick lunged at the young passenger. Before the man had time to react, Patrick was on him. His actions and reactions heightened, his speed and strength increased. Patrick bit into the man’s lower lip, tearing away a large chunk of sticky, wet flesh, leaving the man gasping in pain, too shocked to respond. Then, lifting him with one hand, Patrick slammed his head against a protruding iron girder. The scruffily dressed stranger went limp; the dead Irishman dropped him on the deck without a second thought.

  Patrick had sated his appetite for flesh with Catharina, and having no need to feed on the bearded passenger’s body, quickly stepped over his prone form and disappeared into the comfortable darkness of a nearby laundry cupboard. Here he hoped to sleep off the drowsy effects of gorging himself on prime Hungarian rump, firm flank, and one succulent, juicy breast.

  Thirty-six

  Captain Smith watched as his officers walked onto the bridge one by one. Chief Engineer Bell and the master-at-arms, Mr. Thomas King, had already arrived and taken up their position to the rear of the room just forward of the wheelhouse. Smith had sailed with almost all of them before and was instrumental in their appointments to the Titanic. It always gave him a feeling of pride to see them all assembled in the one place. Doctor Sampson shuffled in behind the line of officers looking as if he had just got out of his bunk. His hair was lank and appeared not to have seen a comb in days, and his creased uniform had several disgusting looking stains on both his jacket and shirt, while Sampson himself looked pale and lethargic.

  Sniffing the air for the telltale odour of alcohol, Smith frowned at the doctor. “For future reference, Doctor Sampson, when you come onto my bridge, you will dress appropriately. That means a clean, pressed uniform.” After an awkward pause, he added, “And make some effort with your appearance, you’re a disgrace to the crew, and this fine ship. Do I make myself clear?”

  Sampson nodded, but barely lifted his head, avoiding the captain’s piercing stare. Exasperated, Captain Smith continued by thanking everyone for coming; he would deal with Sampson later, he had other issues to discuss, issues too pressing for further delay.

  “Gentlemen, I expect you are all aware of the unfortunate death of both a passenger and a stoker yesterday. These types of incidents have an unfortunate habit of becoming common knowledge long before we have a chance to properly address them.” He paused while a general murmur of agreement rippled through the assembled officers. “It is,” he continued, “with great embarrassment that I must first confirm these deaths and second, reveal both bodies have since disappeared. Furthermore, their disappearance coincided with the discovery of a third body, an engineer assigned to watch the deceased overnight.” His gaze moved along the line of officers scrutinizing their reactions. He was aware they had probably all heard the news on the grapevine, but the stoic faces staring back at him gave him some reassurance they would deal with this in the same quiet, professional manner they went about their everyday duties.

  Chief Engineer Bell broke the silence, his northern accent somehow more pronounced in the relative quiet of the bridge surrounded by the ship’s officers, as opposed to the industrial hustle and bustle of the Engine Room. “That’s two good men I’ve lost in under a day.”

  “The doctor inspected the bodies and noted they all died in similar circumstances. He understands they died because of an attack by a wild animal. All three showed evidence of bite marks.” The captain paused to consult the doctor’s hastily compiled report then continued, “The first victim died following one bite, the second and third suffered multiple bite wounds. In fact, the master-at-arms, who secured the third victim’s body, described it as having had his face and the stump of his severed leg eaten away. Is that a fair assessment of what you told me, Thomas?”

  Thomas King looked as if he was about to reply, but the shock of what he witnessed was still clearly raw on his nerves. After a brief pause, he simply nodded.

  “The first one, McGowan, the passenger, the bite didn’t kill him, it was too superficial. He died ... he died because of the poison,” Doctor Sampson spoke in rapid bursts, his breath short, raspy.

  The captain stared at the doctor in surprise. “What do you mean by ‘the poison?’”

  “All three had a dark rash. It followed the route of their venous system. Like a snakebite, only worse, far worse. This rash continues to spread, creeping through their body, even after death. Like it is consuming the victim from within.” The doctor’s words trailed away into a fit of coughing. He held a handkerchief to his mouth but waved away offers of help.

  “I think you should return to your quarters, Doctor. You are obviously unwell.” Captain Smith felt a twinge of guilt at having assumed Sampson to be drunk. “Before you go, are you sure the poison enters their system at the point of the bite? It couldn’t come from some other source?”

  Doctor Sampson met the captain’s stare with bloodshot eyes. His answer, when it came, was firm and decisive. “Quite sure, sir, there was no other source. The third victim, sir! His wounds weren’t inflicted by an animal, his were human bite marks.”

  The remaining men watched Doctor Sampson, as he shuffled from the bridge, in stunned silence. The shock and revulsion caused by Doctor Sampson’s observation left Officer Moody with an uneasy feeling at the bottom of his stomach and a few pressing questions, such as how could someone bite another human being’s face off? It wasn’t just the physicality of the act, but the sheer mental derangement someone would need to suffer in order to eat another human being. The prospect was all the more terrifying when the perpetrator of such an unimaginable act was aboard your ship in the middle of the Atlantic. This lead to the more important questions; what was the identity of this deranged lunatic, and would he strike again? Glancing at the stern faces of the other officers told him he was not alone in his concerns.

  Gauging the unease among his most trusted advisors, Captain Smith cleared his throat and addressed the group. “That’s mere conjecture. The doctor is not an expert in animal bites and has only made the most cursory of examinations of each body.”

  “Aye, but he is an expert in anatomy. If he says they’re human bites, then like as not, they’re human bites.” First Officer Murdoch’s broad Scottish accent filled the bridge, such was its resonance. “If he is right about the poison, I’ll wager he is right about the bites.”

  Captain Smith looked thoughtful for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was calm, his words measured. “It appears we have an animal on board with the ability to poison, or at least infect, its victims. This coupled with a man, I cannot fathom this to be a woman, with an insane taste in human meat.” He fell silent, clearly searching for the right words with which to con
tinue. Then, raising his finger as if to accentuate his point, he concluded, “I find it incongruous to believe these are not, in some awful way, linked.”

  “Could it be that, somehow, the poison drives those infected mad and in this delirious state, these previously mild manner gentlemen, taking leave of their senses, viciously lash out against those they meet?” Chief Engineer Bell put his theory forward tentatively, exploring the possibility in his mind’s eye, even as he spoke.

  “That’s a possibility,” Captain Smith replied with a brief nod. “However, the doctor assures me both victims were deceased when the third man was attacked ...” If he was about to go on, Bell’s outburst cut him short.

  “Fuck that! With respect, sir, both bodies are missing, and I doubt anyone just happened by the cold store and stole them. If they were deceased, then they’re not now. I’m not a superstitious man, but something queer’s going on, like voodoo, they bring back the dead.” Bell was getting increasingly agitated at the captain’s refusal to accept what he increasingly considered to be the obvious, however bizarre it appeared.

  “I think we need to remain calm, gentlemen.” Captain Smith looked pointedly at the red-faced Bell, who raised a hand in apology, but who was still clearly on edge. “Nor do I hold with the notion of voodoo or any other mumbo jumbo, for that matter. But, I’m obviously concerned about the loss of life, and more so about preventing further loss of life. We need to find the missing bodies, and this may prove more difficult, the source of this infection; the animal that caused the death of passenger McGowan. And gentlemen! We need to do this without causing a panic.”

  Master-at-Arms King stepped forward, inspecting the faces of each man present. Finally, he announced, “We will split into pairs and conduct a search of the ship. The pairings and search areas are on here.” He handed a page torn from his notebook to Officer Moody. “Please conduct your search discreetly when in passenger areas. Anyone asks, it’s just routine. If you find anything, contact the bridge, and we’ll get help to you. Is that clear?” The officers nodded, each, in turn, checking their assignment. “In the meantime, ship’s routine continues as normal. Captain Smith will brief Mr. Ismay then dine with the passengers as normal, duty watch to remain on bridge.”