Sins of the Titanic (A James Acton Thriller, #13)

  Sins of the Titanic

  A James Acton Thriller

  by

  J. Robert Kennedy

  From the Back Cover

  FROM USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR J. ROBERT KENNEDY

  THE ASSEMBLY IS ETERNAL.

  AND THEY’LL STOP AT NOTHING TO KEEP IT THAT WAY.

  INCLUDING KILLING MEDDLING ARCHEOLOGY PROFESSORS.

  When Professor James Acton is contacted about a painting thought to have been lost with the sinking of the Titanic, he is inadvertently drawn into a century old conspiracy an ancient organization known as The Assembly will stop at nothing to keep secret.

  It’s a race against time to discover what really happened the night the Titanic sank, and to stop a ruthless assassin determined to kill anyone exposed to the shocking truth.

  A century old conspiracy, torn from survivors’ accounts, is laid bare in the most exciting James Acton thriller yet. From USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy comes the next installment of the internationally bestselling series, uniting all your favorite characters in an adventure filled with action, intrigue, romance and laughs.

  Hearts will be broken, the innocent will die, but the truth will finally be revealed of what happened the night Titanic sank.

  About the James Acton Thrillers

  "James Acton: A little bit of Jack Bauer and Indiana Jones!"

  Though this book is part of the James Acton Thrillers series, it is written as a standalone novel and can be enjoyed without having read any of the previous installments.

  About J. Robert Kennedy

  USA Today bestselling author J. Robert Kennedy has been ranked by Amazon as the #1 Bestselling Action Adventure novelist based upon combined sales. He is the author of over twenty international bestsellers including the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series of which the first installment, The Protocol, has been on the bestseller lists since its release, including occupying the number one spot for three months. He lives with his wife and daughter and writes full-time.

  "If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy."

  Amazon Vine Voice Reviewer

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  Find out more at www.jrobertkennedy.com.

  Books by J. Robert Kennedy

  The James Acton Thrillers

  The Protocol

  Brass Monkey

  Broken Dove

  The Templar's Relic

  Flags of Sin

  The Arab Fall

  The Circle of Eight

  The Venice Code

  Pompeii's Ghosts

  Amazon Burning

  The Riddle

  Blood Relics

  Sins of the Titanic

  Saint Peter's Soldiers

  The Special Agent Dylan Kane Thrillers

  Rogue Operator

  Containment Failure

  Cold Warriors

  Death to America

  The Delta Force Unleashed Thrillers

  Payback

  Infidels

  The Lazarus Moment

  The Detective Shakespeare Mysteries

  Depraved Difference

  Tick Tock

  The Redeemer

  Zander Varga, Vampire Detective Series

  The Turned

  Table of Contents

  The Novel

  Acknowledgements

  Get a Free eBook!

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  For the victims.

  “If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their money, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and corporations that will grow up around them (around the banks), will deprive the people of their property until their children will wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered.”

  Thomas Jefferson

  “These circumstances convince me that the ship seen by the Californian was the Titanic and if so, according to Captain Lord, the two vessels were about five miles apart at the time of the disaster....When she first saw the rockets the Californian could have pushed through the ice to the open water without any serious risk and so have come to the assistance of the Titanic. Had she done so she might have saved many if not all of the lives that were lost.”

  Lord Mersey in the final report on the sinking of the Titanic

  July 30, 1912

  Author's Note

  This story deals with one of the greatest maritime disasters in history. Over 1500 souls died that day with heroism and bravery displayed by many. Any reference to actions or deeds by the captain or crew of the RMS Titanic are purely my own invention, and should not be in any way interpreted as an historical account of what any one individual did or did not do on that fateful night. This book is entirely a work of fiction and no disrespect is intended.

  This book also deals with a United States Presidential election. I have avoided all references to any characters being Republican or Democrat, and though this book is again “torn from the headlines”, any similarity to actual individuals is purely coincidental.

  Preface

  On April 14th, 1912, at 11:40pm, the Royal Mail Ship Titanic hit an iceberg only 37 seconds after it was spotted by the lookouts. A distress call went out almost immediately, however there was only one ship in the area, the RMS Carpathia. The Unsinkable Ship snapped in half less than three hours after the initial impact, the design fundamentally flawed. The watertight bulkheads, meant to prevent water from moving from one section of the ship to the next, were not built high enough. This meant that when one section filled, it spilled over the top of the bulkhead to the next section and then the next, dooming the luxury liner.

  This all so the rich could enjoy spectacular lines of sight in their unsinkable ship.

  And because of the arrogance displayed in the design of the ship, the largest of its time, the belief it was unsinkable meant lifeboats were an annoyance rather than a safety feature. Too few were installed to evacuate all the passengers, as it ruined the “look” of the ship and took up too much room on the decks where the well-heeled were to stroll after their midday tea.

  A decision that would ultimately doom over 1500.

  The Carpathia didn’t arrive until almost two hours after the Titanic sank below the ocean surface, leaving hundreds behind in the frigid waters of the North Atlantic to die slowly of hypothermia, their cries for help heard by the lucky few to be saved in the too few lifeboats.

  After the fact, when interviewing survivors, many reported they thought another ship was in the area, close by, but were assured by authorities they were mistaken, any lights most likely planets or stars, any objects most likely icebergs or debris.

  It wasn’t discovered until days later that the SS Californian had been sitting unmoving, as little as five miles away, fully capable of rescuing the passengers of the sinking liner. In fact, the lookout of the Californian had spotted the Titanic and its emergency flares, yet their captain dismissed it as some sort of celebration, deciding not to wake their sleeping radio operator.

  So it turned out those passengers were right all along.

  Still others claimed there was yet another ship, they too dismissed.

  But what if those survivors were right all along? After all, they were right about the Californian, and if they were right about that, then why not about this other mysterious ship they claimed seemed to never get closer as t
hey rowed toward it?

  And if they were right, and that ship was indeed there, why did it sit by while over 1500 innocent souls perished?

  Outside Acton & Palmer Residence, St. Paul, Maryland

  “Everybody look at the bodies as if you’re shocked but not scared. That means mouths open, eyes wide as if your dentist just squeezed your boob.”

  Mai Lien Trinh looked wide-eyed at the CIA agent driving the car, unsure of what she meant, her English excellent but her grasp of American humor a work in progress. She looked over at her friend, Tommy Granger, and copied him, his mouth agape, his eyes wide, staring out the window.

  And when she looked, the shock didn’t need to be faked, her imagination not doing reality justice. A body lay in the middle of the street, a large pool of blood staining the pavement, a second on a nearby lawn, killed by her boss and his wife only minutes before.

  Professors James Acton and Laura Palmer.

  When she had heard what had happened she couldn’t believe how calm they were, it almost as if killing people were something they did every day.

  Archeology professors killing people.

  She had to remember that these two men had tried to kill the CIA agent now driving them to safety.

  Sherrie White.

  She seemed young. Very young. Barely older than her, perhaps not even.

  How much training does it take to become a spy?

  She assumed years.

  The car pulled away from the scene of the crime and Mai took a look back, spotting the professors pulling out of the driveway in their own vehicle, Acton’s boss and best friend, Dean Gregory Milton and his wife Sandra, in the back seat.

  She felt Tommy grip her hand, squeezing it tightly. She looked at him and he gave her an unconvincing smile.

  It made her feel better somehow.

  He’s just as terrified as I am.

  A police car screeched to a halt, two officers jumping out as they passed, Sherrie pressing on the gas just a little harder.

  They stopped at the end of the street, she assumed to allow the professors to catch up.

  The turn signal began to click.

  Then she caught something out of the corner of her eye and screamed.

  A large SUV slammed into the driver side, the entire side of the car caving in, the impact shoving her across the back seat and into Tommy. Her head slammed against his, the impact excruciating, knocking her senseless for a moment as a cacophony of screeching tires and twisting metal attempted to overwhelm the pounding of her head.

  Something else replaced everything, a rapid, popping sound, loud, strange, then everything suddenly rushed back into focus.

  Gunfire!

  Tires screeched behind them and she turned to see the professors’ Jeep reversing direction as bullets tore into the windshield. She wanted to scream a warning to them yet she knew it was useless.

  They slammed into the parked police cruiser.

  The passenger side doors were suddenly opened and someone reached in, grabbing an unconscious Tommy and hauling him out. Mai noticed blood on the window for the first time, he obviously having hit his head hard. She pushed away from the open door in vain, an iron grip on her ankle hauling her onto the pavement. Gunfire continued as they were yanked toward the SUV, the rear door open. Tommy was shoved inside first, Mai next. On instinct she dove for the door on the other side, but someone in the driver seat pointed a gun at her.

  “Sit or die.”

  She sat.

  She looked to see a dazed Sherrie pulled from the car and thrown on the pavement, a woman standing over her, aiming a weapon at the young CIA agent.

  Two rounds fired into Sherrie’s chest.

  Mai screamed.

  Central Road, Southampton, United Kingdom

  April 10, 1912

  Henry Dodge held a hand to his heart, trying to control his breathing, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. A woman, parasol in hand, looked at him, whispering to her husband. Dodge bowed slightly at her, causing the woman to hurry on, dragging her husband along, embarrassed at having been caught staring.

  He stepped deeper into the alleyway, his feet bumping against a stray crate. He pulled his pocket watch, a Patek, Philippe & Co, given to him by his father on his eighteenth birthday.

  11:20 am.

  Ten minutes before final boarding.

  I just have to survive ten more minutes.

  And this was as good a place as any to wait. He had spotted the two men sent to stop him as he finished his breakfast at his hotel. They had looked slightly out of place, bruisers like that not common at the South Western Hotel.

  And though they were impeccably dressed, they weren’t too subtle, one pointing when he had been spotted, then both clumsily trying to hide behind columns too narrow for their large frames.

  Yet he was certain those who had sent them wouldn’t send just anybody.

  If they had been given time to prepare.

  And they hadn’t.

  For it was only hours ago he had been delivered the documents that showed who was behind the greatest change to monetary policy the world had ever known. America was about to create the Federal Reserve System, with the blessing of the government, the ultimate goal to create a financial system that would stabilize a fractured banking system. It would be allowed to lend and print money and set monetary policy independent of the government so the nation’s finances wouldn’t be swayed so easily by the whims of public officials.

  It was a laudable goal.

  On paper.

  It effectively privatized the entire monetary system of the United States, handing the US dollar over to a private group of investors, and if the documents sent to him anonymously were genuine, and he had no reason to believe they weren’t, the very men behind the creation of what could ultimately control one of the greatest nations in the world did not have its best interests at heart.

  It was a power grab of unprecedented proportions.

  The minutes of a meeting between a group of men, some he had heard of, some he had not, were chilling in their content and intent. These men were powerful. Heads of some of the largest companies in the world, some involved with the Inter-Parliamentary Union, various monarchies and conglomerates that controlled massive wealth as well as political and economic power.

  They were the elite, their positions handed down to them through the generations, almost all old money and old titles, their positions absolute.

  As was their power.

  They called themselves The Assembly. He had never heard of them as an organization, yet if this meeting were any indication, they were an organization that had been around for a long time, with their fingers into everything imaginable. What their motivations were, he had no idea. Money? Power? Both?

  With either came the other, neither being mutually exclusive.

  But the power and the money they would have should their plans succeed could impact the entire world for decades, even centuries to come.

  And no one knew.

  Except him.

  And whoever had changed his life forever by sending him the transcript.

  They must have been well informed. His trip today wasn’t well known, only he and a handful of business associates were aware of it, though if The Assembly were as powerful as it appeared, then he was certain they’d have access to the passenger manifests.

  The envelope had been slipped under the door of his hotel room only minutes before he was to leave for breakfast, his name and the word “URGENT” scrawled on the plain envelope. He had tucked it under his arm then opened it while waiting for his food to arrive.

  The handwritten warning inside had him almost tossing the papers aside, it simply too fantastic to be bothered with.

  Mr. Dodge,

  Be forewarned that they will kill to keep this information from falling into the wrong hands.

  A Concerned Citizen

  But he had some time so had skimmed the first page, and when he realized the subject matter,
had read every word, twice, his breakfast going cold, forgotten as he realized he had to get this information into the hands of his father, a United States Senator, and one of the most vocal of those opposed to the creation of the Federal Reserve System. It was something his father had taken an incredible amount of heat over, subtle threats received suggesting if he didn’t change his vote, his reelection would be all but impossible.

  It took money to run for the Senate, and though his family had plenty, their pockets weren’t deep enough to run a campaign against a serious challenger.

  A horn sounded from the mighty ship signaling the final boarding call, causing Dodge to jump. He looked about sheepishly, then inhaled, straightening his bow tie. He stepped tentatively out into the open, hundreds if not thousands of the public milling about, waving at the full decks. The dock was nearly cleared of cargo, several cranes swinging the last minute shipments aboard the massive vessel at Berth 44.

  He frowned, wondering if his luggage had been sent ahead as requested otherwise it would be a difficult trip. With two men in the lobby clearly looking for him, he had sent instructions through his waiter to have the luggage brought here and put on board as he ducked out a side entrance.

  He shrugged. There was no time to do anything about it should his instructions not have been followed. He patted his inside pocket, the envelope that had changed everything still reassuringly in place.

  Stepping into the crowd with purpose, he hurried toward one of the two First Class gangways, fishing his ticket from his other breast pocket. As he neared the staff, their crisp navy blue uniforms looking sharp, as if never worn before today, it became clear White Star Line was sparing no expense to make certain this voyage got off without a hitch.