Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13) by J Robert Kennedy

1912
     
    Captain Johnathan Wainwright watched as the team was hauled aboard.
He had been forced to steam away a short distance, the survivors having spotted
their silhouette on the horizon.
    It had
been heartbreaking.
    It went
against everything he had been taught to believe in as a mariner, it went
against the accepted code of conduct that governed his kind for centuries, and
it was completely un-American.
    With the
last man retrieved and Commander Whitman entering the bridge with a satisfied
expression on his face, he gave the order he had been dying to give. “Prepare
to take on survivors.”
    “Belay
that order!”
    Wainwright
spun toward Whitman. “You’ve completed your mission?”
    “Yes.”
    ‘Successfully?”
    “Yes.”
    “Then
there’s no longer a reason to let these people die.” He was about to reissue
his order when Whitman stepped closer, his weapon drawn, held tight to his side
so it wasn’t obvious to the rest of the crew.
    “In
order for the mission to succeed, no one must know we were ever here.”
    Wainwright
glanced at the weapon then glared at Whitman. “But it is completely believable
that we’d be in the area. We can render assistance and no one will know why we
were here. No one will know your men are on board.”
    “Captain,
the biggest ocean liner in the world is sinking out there. This will be the
biggest story on both sides of the Atlantic for weeks if not months. Questions will be asked as to why this ship was in the vicinity, then why it failed to respond
to the distress call, and then why it sat several miles away, dark, doing
nothing, for almost an hour.” Whitman shook his head. “No, Captain, too many
questions will be asked.” He leaned in closer. “And remember, Captain, since
you were never supposed to be here, these people would have died anyway.” He
stepped back, raising his voice slightly. “We have our orders, Captain. Make
best speed for Norfolk.”
    He
turned to face forward, his weapon now holstered, hands clasped behind his
back. Wainwright reluctantly issued the orders, several of his men looking at
him questioningly, no one comfortable with the situation, but after a moment’s allowed
hesitation, the ship was under way.
    And the
screams of the desperate and dying faded with the sound of the engines as they put
distance between them and their unforgiveable sin.
     
     

 
     

     
     
    Saint Paul’s University, St. Paul, Maryland
Present Day
     
    “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Steve. “If they went aboard the
ship, then wouldn’t that mean that was the mission all along?”
    Acton
threw up his hands. “I know, it sounds ridiculous, but doesn’t it fit the
facts? Your grandfather was a US Navy Captain. His suicide note and the note
found with the list of the victims suggests he feels he could have saved them.
If he had any hope of saving them, then he had to be in the area. If he was in the
area for anything but a secret mission, he would have ordered his crew to save
the passengers, but he didn’t. There were witness accounts suggesting another
mystery ship, and that it seemed to keep its distance from those rowing toward
it. A painting thought to be on the bottom of the ocean is found in your
grandfather’s basement, with no plausible way for it to have come into his
possession outside of that night in 1912.” Acton shook his head. “The only
thing I can think of is that his ship had to be there to meet the
Titanic, because there’s no way a US Navy ship, on a covert mission, would stop
to steal a painting from a sinking ship, while watching over a thousand people
die. They had to be rendezvousing with that ship.”
    “That
might explain why the captain of the Titanic was steaming at full speed even
though there had been icebergs reported in the area,” said Milton, his foot
tapping in excitement.
    Acton
smiled slightly at the sight of what once couldn’t move.
    “Are we
really saying what I think we’re saying?” asked