The Titanic Secret
Clive Cussler
TITLES BY CLIVE CUSSLER
DIRK PITT® ADVENTURES
Celtic Empire (with Dirk Cussler)
Odessa Sea (with Dirk Cussler)
Havana Storm (with Dirk Cussler)
Poseidon’s Arrow (with Dirk Cussler)
Crescent Dawn (with Dirk Cussler)
Arctic Drift (with Dirk Cussler)
Treasure of Khan (with Dirk Cussler)
Black Wind (with Dirk Cussler)
Trojan Odyssey
Valhalla Rising
Atlantis Found
Flood Tide
Shock Wave
Inca Gold
Sahara
Dragon
Treasure
Cyclops
Deep Six
Pacific Vortex!
Night Probe!
Vixen 03
Raise the Titanic!
Iceberg
The Mediterranean Caper
SAM AND REMI FARGO ADVENTURES
The Oracle (with Robin Burcell)
The Gray Ghost (with Robin Burcell)
The Romanov Ransom (with Robin Burcell)
Pirate (with Robin Burcell)
The Solomon Curse (with Russell Blake)
The Eye of Heaven (with Russell Blake)
The Mayan Secrets (with Thomas Perry)
The Tombs (with Thomas Perry)
The Kingdom (with Grant Blackwood)
Lost Empire (with Grant Blackwood)
Spartan Gold (with Grant Blackwood)
ISAAC BELL ADVENTURES
The Cutthroat (with Justin Scott)
The Gangster (with Justin Scott)
The Assassin (with Justin Scott)
The Bootlegger (with Justin Scott)
The Striker (with Justin Scott)
The Thief (with Justin Scott)
The Race (with Justin Scott)
The Spy (with Justin Scott)
The Wrecker (with Justin Scott)
The Chase
KURT AUSTIN ADVENTURES
NOVELS FROM THE NUMA® FILES
Sea of Greed (with Graham Brown)
The Rising Sea (with Graham Brown)
Nighthawk (with Graham Brown)
The Pharaoh’s Secret (with Graham Brown)
Ghost Ship (with Graham Brown)
Zero Hour (with Graham Brown)
The Storm (with Graham Brown)
Devil’s Gate (with Graham Brown)
Medusa (with Paul Kemprecos)
The Navigator (with Paul Kemprecos)
Polar Shift (with Paul Kemprecos)
Lost City (with Paul Kemprecos)
White Death (with Paul Kemprecos)
Fire Ice (with Paul Kemprecos)
Blue Gold (with Paul Kemprecos)
Serpent (with Paul Kemprecos)
OREGON FILES
Shadow Tyrants (with Boyd Morrison)
Typhoon Fury (with Boyd Morrison)
The Emperor’s Revenge (with Boyd Morrison)
Piranha (with Boyd Morrison)
Mirage (with Jack Du Brul)
The Jungle (with Jack Du Brul)
The Silent Sea (with Jack Du Brul)
Corsair (with Jack Du Brul)
Plague Ship (with Jack Du Brul)
Skeleton Coast (with Jack Du Brul)
Dark Watch (with Jack Du Brul)
Sacred Stone (with Craig Dirgo)
Golden Buddha (with Craig Dirgo)
NONFICTION
Built for Adventure: The Classic Automobiles of Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt
Built to Thrill: More Classic Automobiles from Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt
The Sea Hunters (with Craig Dirgo)
The Sea Hunters II (with Craig Dirgo)
Clive Cussler and Dirk Pitt Revealed (with Craig Dirgo)
CHILDREN’S BOOKS
The Adventures of Vin Fiz
The Adventures of Hotsy Totsy
G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Cussler, Clive, author. | Du Brul, Jack B., author.
Title: The titanic secret / Clive Cussler and Jack Du Brul.
Description: New York : G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2019. | Series: An Isaac Bell adventure
Identifiers: LCCN 2019028820 (print) | LCCN 2019028821 (ebook) | ISBN 9780735217263 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780735217270 (ebook)
Subjects: GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3553.U75 T58 2019 (print) | LCC PS3553.U75 (ebook) | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019028820
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019028821
Endpaper and interior illustrations by Roland Dahlquist
Title page art: Mining cart by TTstudio/Shutterstock.com; grunge texture by STILLFX/Shutterstock.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Version_1
CONTENTS
Titles by Clive Cussler
Title Page
Copyright
Cast of Characters
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Epilogue
&nbs
p; Postscript
About the Authors
CAST OF CHARACTERS
NEW YORK
DIRK PITT Director of NUMA.
THOMAS GWYNN Attorney for the estate of Isaac Bell.
VIN BLANKENSHIP Secret Service agent.
COLORADO
ISAAC BELL Detective with the Van Dorn Agency.
JIM PORTER Manager of a Denver post office.
BILLY McCALLISTER Denver Police.
JACK GAYLORD Denver Police.
BOB NORTHROP Postal inspector.
RUDOLFO LATANG Magician.
HANS BLOESER Banker and co-owner of the Little Angel Mine.
TONY WICKERSHAM Engineer and Bloeser employee.
WILLIAM GIBBS Reporter.
COLIN RHODES Van Dorn agent.
GREGGORY PATMORE U.S. Army Intelligence.
PARIS
JOSHUA HAYES BREWSTER Miner and leader of the Coloradans.
VERNON HALL Colorado miner.
WARNER O’DEMING Colorado miner.
ALVIN COULTER Colorado miner.
THOMAS PRICE Colorado miner.
CHARLES WIDNEY Colorado miner.
JOHN CALDWELL Colorado miner.
WALTER SCHMIDT Colorado miner.
JAKE HOBART Colorado miner.
FOSTER GLY Head of special security for the Société des Mines de Lorraine.
YVES MASSARD Assistant to Gly.
THERESA MASSARD Yves’s sister-in-law.
HENRI FAVREAU Bell’s contact in Paris.
THE ARCTIC
RAGNAR FYRIE Captain of the whaler Hvalur Batur.
IVAR IVARSSON Chief engineer of the Hvalur Batur.
LARS OLUFSEN 2nd engineer of the Hvalur Batur.
MAGNUS Crewman.
ARN Crewman.
PETR Crewman.
THE OTHER PETR Crewman.
GUNNAR Crewman.
ENGLAND
JOEL WALLACE Van Dorn agent.
DAVIDA BRYER Wallace’s assistant.
GEORGE DEVLIN Gangster.
PROLOGUE
New York City
April
The sky over Manhattan was the color of old pewter. The clouds were so low that the tops of some of the tallest buildings vanished into the mist. The air had a biting edge, while the Hudson Hawk, the famed wind that blew along its namesake river, was in full flight. The spring-like weather from a week earlier was but a memory to the city dwellers.
An armored Chevy Suburban with government plates eased up to the midblock curb in a downtown neighborhood. A late-twenties man in a trench coat holding a furled black umbrella and obviously waiting for the vehicle pushed himself from the flower box he’d been leaning against and approached the big SUV as its passenger’s-side window whispered down.
The driver, a thirty-year veteran in providing security for government officials, said nothing.
“Greetings,” the pedestrian stammered. He peered into the backseat and his mouth flattened into a line when he saw it was unoccupied. “I’m Thomas Gwynn. I’m supposed to meet with the NUMA Director. The National Underwater and Marine Agency. Dirk Pitt.”
Back at the beginning of his career, the driver, Vin Blankenship, would have asked to see ID, but he’d checked the website of the law firm where Gwynn worked and recognized the younger man from his online bio. “Mr. Pitt texted me to say his meeting at the UN is running a little long. He asked that I pick you up before I get him, and then we head over to Queens.”
“Oh, sure. That’s no problem.” Gwynn let himself into the back of the big truck. He loosened the belt on his coat. “Nice and warm in here.”
Despite the extra weight of its armor and bulletproof glass, the Suburban pulled from the curb with remarkable agility and power. Its throaty V-8 was as heavily modified as her coachwork.
Blankenship soon had the big truck cruising north on the FDR. Had he wanted, he could have hit the sirens and lights, but he figured they had plenty of time.
“Did you drive Mr. Pitt here from Washington?” Gwynn asked, just for something to say.
“No. I’m from the New York office. I was assigned to him while he’s here for the UN conference. I picked him up at Penn two days ago, and I’ll be dropping him off there after the tour—or whatever it is he wanted to see today.”
“FBI?”
“Secret Service.”
“Does he need protection like that?”
“C’mon, this is New York. Everyone needs protection.” Blankenship laughed at his own joke.
Fifteen minutes later, he wheeled the Suburban onto the plaza in front of the five-hundred-and-five-foot glass monolith that is the United Nations headquarters. He had to present credentials to guards in black tac gear and slalom through concrete barriers to approach the building. He stopped and rolled down his window so he’d be recognized. His wasn’t the only government Suburban present.
There were dozens of people milling around on the plaza, huddled in little groups of three and four, all with name tags. Most wore smiles and were shaking hands in self-congratulatory ways. Most were dressed in suits, but there were a few Arabs in white dishdashas and some African women in dresses as colorful as tropical bird feathers. This had been a truly international affair. One solitary figure that did not look so pleased spied the idling SUV and its driver. He launched himself across the crowded esplanade with a single-mindedness usually reserved for master jewelers about to make a critical cut.
Dirk Pitt was tall, and rather more lanky than muscular, with a swirl of dark hair and bright green eyes. His mouth was usually held in such a way as to convey a sense that he found life to be pleasantly amusing. Not now, though. His eyes were dark, like the color of a squall at sea, and his mouth was pinched so that his jaw jutted out.
“You look even worse today than after yesterday’s meetings,” Blankenship said as Pitt neared the Suburban.
Pitt pulled himself up into the passenger’s seat next to the driver. This broke security protocol, but the NUMA Director had assured the Secret Service vet that if anything happened he would make sure blame would fall squarely on his own shoulders.
Pitt said, “I may not know how to stem the tide of so much plastic waste entering the world’s oceans, but I do know that spending days in a lecture hall with a bunch of overfed and overindulged bureaucrats who decide nothing other than the agenda for the next round of meetings isn’t going to solve anything.” He gave a little shudder and, just like that, the darkness enveloping him evaporated. He looked over his shoulder with a friendly grin and an outstretched hand. “Thomas Gwynn, I’m Dirk Pitt. Thanks for agreeing to meet in such an unorthodox way. My schedule’s tight, and my wife says I have to be back in Washington tonight for a birthday party for her chief of staff.”
“This is no problem at all,” Gwynn replied. He realized how soft his hand must have felt to Pitt’s callused grip. The man ran a massive government agency, but it was clear he was no overfed, overindulged bureaucrat. “Your wife is Congresswoman Loren Smith.”
“I’m a lucky man,” Pitt said with obvious love. “I will admit that you piqued my interest when you called my office. It was just good luck that I was coming to New York the next day. Most people are aware of the Titanic salvage, some may even remember that I headed the raising, but to the best of my knowledge the fact we were hoping to recover the byzanium ore from her holds remains classified. How do you know about that?” Pitt held up a finger to forestall the answer to ask the driver, “You know where we’re heading, right?”
“I grew up ten minutes from that old site,” Blankenship replied. “I used to fish the East River just upstream.”
Pitt grinned. “I hope you didn’t eat anything you caught.”
The Secret Service man chuckled. “We couldn’
t even identify half the things we caught.”
Turning his attention back to Thom Gwynn, Pitt asked again, “So, how do you know about the byzanium?”
“My law firm kept papers on behalf of the man who recovered it.”
Pitt nodded, and stated, “Joshua Hayes Brewster. A Colorado hard-rock miner who first discovered the ore on Novaya Zemlya Island in the Russian Arctic and then returned in 1911 with a group of other men to wrest it from the mountain.”
He knew the story as surely as he knew his own.
“No, Mr. Pitt. I’m talking about Isaac Bell.”
A shadow of confusion passed over Pitt’s eyes. While he couldn’t recount the names of the other miners, he did remember none of them were named Bell. “You’ve lost me.”
“I’m not surprised. Are you familiar with the Van Dorn Detective Agency?”
“Yes. I know they were as big and famous as Pinkerton.”
“In an age when hotels had their own in-house detectives, and railways hired armies of guards, Joseph Van Dorn built a thriving business around the motto ‘We never give up! Never!’ Isaac Bell was the lead investigator. Perhaps the greatest detective of his—or any—generation.”
“Okay,” Pitt said cautiously. “I don’t doubt that, but you need to believe me when I say that he had nothing to do with mining the byzanium or working to smuggle it aboard the Titanic. I lived that project for what seemed like the better part of a year. There were no private investigators involved.”
“Mr. Bell kept his presence out of all records. He even rewrote Brewster’s notes so that his name was expunged.”
Pitt’s face still showed nothing but confusion.
“Let me explain it this way, Mr. Pitt.”
“Dirk,” he said absently. “Please.”
“Sure, Dirk. Okay. So, Isaac Bell, over the course of his long career, came into possession of a great many secrets. Things that could ruin family dynasties, destroy the credibility of companies and even nations, and reveal hidden motives and behind-the-scenes players of some of the most pivotal events of the first half of the twentieth century. He had all this information, but unlike J. Edgar Hoover, the FBI’s first director, Bell had no interest in furthering himself through blackmail or intimidation. He was just a man who knew a lot of secrets.
