Страница 54 из 83
“Do you think that’s the Roraima we’re looking for?” Juan asked.
“I know it is. This is the only remaining copy of a book that went out of print a hundred years ago. Remember that this was the biggest catastrophe in the Western Hemisphere. All but two people in a town of thirty thousand perished. Scores of books were rushed out about the subject. To take a different angle from the dozens that recounted the horrors visited on the city of Saint-Pierre itself, this one focused on the ships that were in the harbor that day. It was written by a newspaper reporter who took great care in interviewing shipboard survivors and relatives of those who died. Unfortunately, his journalistic thoroughness resulted in a publishing delay, so by the time the book came out the market was saturated. Most of them were pulped.”
“Does it say something about Oz?” Eric asked, incredulous.
“Indeed it does,” Perlmutter said, tapping the page. He read the relevant passage to them.
“Ingrid Lutzen, a German émigré to the United States, lost her brother, Gunther, in the disaster. She sobbed as she recounted how excited he sounded in his final letter to her, sent from the ship’s previous stop in Guadeloupe. He was searching for evidence in the Caribbean to support his postdoctoral research in physics that he was carrying on from his work at Berlin University and had made a recent breakthrough in the new field of radioactivity. Gunther was an avid photographer, even going so far as to convert his stateroom into a makeshift darkroom, and was pla
Eric peered at Perlmutter as he processed the paragraph. “Didn’t The Wizard of Oz come out long after this in 1939?”
“The film did,” Perlmutter replied. “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum was published in 1900 as a children’s book. It’s quite likely that foreign immigrants would have used the book to learn our language.”
“But he said, ‘I found Oz,’ as though he’d actually been there,” Juan said.
“Delusional perhaps? A hallucination in his final death throes?”
“Kensit seemed to think it was important. And the book references the diary that he inherited, so it definitely exists.”
“And Lutzen was a physicist,” Eric chimed in, “same as Kensit. But without knowing about the specific research Lutzen was conducting, we have no idea why Kensit would fake his own death to pursue it a hundred years later.”
Nothing about this was adding up for Juan. “What kind of evidence would Lutzen have been searching for? Why would a physicist be scouring the Caribbean for his research?”
“Your answer may lie inside the Roraima,” Perlmutter said. “Lutzen was an avid photographer.”
Eric shook his head. “That film has been bathing in warm salt water for over a hundred years. It’s probably mush by now.”
“Not necessarily,” Perlmutter said. “It’s possible that the glass plate negatives, which he would have used at that time, are still intact if the seals on the container haven’t been compromised. Frank Hurley, the photographer on the Shackleton expedition, saved photos that had been submerged in seawater because they had been stored in zinc-lined cases that had been soldered shut. If Dr. Lutzen was similarly prudent, the photos might have survived.”
“If they’re still there at all,” Juan said. “Martinique isn’t exactly off the beaten path. Divers have been picking over those Saint-Pierre wrecks for decades.”
“Maybe not so thoroughly as you think. The Roraima sits in one hundred and fifty feet of water, below the level of most recreational scuba divers. Bottom times will be limited for all but the most technically adept divers, and few will have fully explored the interior, which is dangerous because of the rusting hull.”
“It’ll take a while to search the ship since we don’t know where his cabin was,” Eric said.
Perlmutter gave him a crafty grin. “I believe I can help you out there as well.” He darted out of the room and came back with a roll of paper that he spread on the table. It was the deck plan for the Roraima.
“Okay, I’m convinced,” Eric said. “No computer needed here.”
Although he couldn’t know which particular cabin Lutzen had occupied, Perlmutter pointed out where the passenger staterooms were located, considerably narrowing the search grid.
“May I take a photo of this?” Eric asked.
“By all means,” Perlmutter said, waving at the plans. “And when I finally get a chance to see that fantastic ship of yours, I expect a guided tour from you.”
“Absolutely.”
When Eric was finished with the snapshots, Perlmutter ushered them to the door. “Do come back someday. And let me know if you find Oz as well.”
“I just hope we don’t run into any flying monkeys,” Juan said with a wink.
“Me neither,” Eric agreed. “They always freaked me out.” When he saw the looks from the other two men, he quickly added, “Back when I was a kid. Not now.”
Perlmutter bellowed a hearty laugh, and after Eric gave Fritz one last scratch, he closed the door behind them.
No sooner were they on the road than Langston Overholt called back.
“Juan, we’ve found the translation firm. Global Translation Services.”
“That was fast.”
“They remembered it because it was such an odd job. Kensit had the translator transcribe the notes by hand so there wouldn’t be a digital record.”
“I’d like to speak to the translator.”
“That’s going to be a problem,” Overholt said ominously.
“Why?”
“He’s dead. Killed in a hit-and-run four months ago.”
Juan grimaced. “That’s not the kind of coincidence I like.”
“Neither do I.”
“Is there anyone else I can talk to there? They might remember something.”
“The translator worked for a man named Greg Horne. He’d be willing to speak with you.”
“Where are they located?”
“Manhattan. Midtown. They do a lot of work for the United Nations.”
Juan checked his watch. “We can be there in two hours.”
“I’ll set it up.”
After alerting Tiny Gunderson to fire up the jet for a New York flight, Juan made sure he had a secure encrypted phone co
“How are our guests?” Juan asked.
“Mr. Reed is being tended to at the rehab facility by some nurses that are so beautiful, I wish I was the one who had been shot. His fishing boat is fully repaired and ready to sail back to Jamaica when he’s feeling up to it.”
“What about Maria Sandoval?”
“She’s been given our finest guest cabin and has an escort with her at all times to the exercise facilities, the mess hall, and the deck. I think she’s still under the impression that we’re a high-tech smuggling operation.”
“Good. But she’s free to go anytime she wants.”
“I think she’s okay for a few days. A friend told her that her apartment was ransacked, so she thinks laying low for a while is a good idea. So was your talk with Mr. Perlmutter useful?”
“More than we hoped,” Juan said, and told Max about their discoveries concerning the Roraima and the co
“I think I see where this is going,” Max said when Juan was finished.
“Get the Oregon under way for Martinique. You should be able to be there in twelve hours. When Eric and I are done in Manhattan, we’ll fly directly there to meet you. But don’t wait for us. Start diving as soon as you arrive. Eric will send you the deck plans for the search pattern.”