D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

“The what?”

“It’s a nice ship. Like a fancy, floating hotel.”

Courtney stared at the picture. “According to the database on Third Earth, Mark Dimond was on board when she sailed for England on November seventh. He never showed up in England.”

“And you think his body washed up in Jersey a few weeks later?”

“That’s what Patrick thinks. It makes sense.” She dropped the paper and paced, thinking out loud. “Mark filed his Forge technology application with the US Patent Office in October. He had a meeting scheduled with a company called ‘KEM Limited’ in London on November thirteenth and booked passage on the Queen Mary. He boarded the ship but never showed up at that meeting, and was never seen again. A few weeks later the body of a passenger in a tuxedo washed ashore in New Jersey with a spoon from the Queen Mary in his pocket. He was killed by a bullet. The body was never identified.”

“And nobody filed a missing-person report,” Dodger added.

“Because nobody knew Mark here. I think it all fits.”

“Except for one thing,” Dodger cautioned. “You’re saying all this like it’s history.” He picked up the paper and pointed to the headline. “It’s November second. The Queen Mary doesn’t sail for five days. None of that happened yet.”

“Exactly!” Courtney exclaimed. “On November seventh Mark is going to board that ship.”

“Unless we stop him.”

“Unless we stop him,” Courtney echoed.

(CONTINUED)

The next few days were busy ones. While Dodger worked his shifts at the hotel, Courtney did all she could to track down Mark. She made dozens of phone calls to different city offices, trying to find the former tenant of 240 Waverly Place, apartment #4A. She tried the housing authority, moving companies, the police department, the fire department, banks, the phone company, and even the US Patent Office again. The answer was always the same. “We can’t help you.” It was frustrating because she had to do so much legwork just to get to a place where somebody would tell her to “forget it.” There was no Internet. She couldn’t leave messages on anyone’s answering machine because those wouldn’t be invented for another fifty years. She went back to scouring newspapers for information about Mark Dimond or the Dimond Alpha Digital Organization or even KEM Limited.

Two days before the Queen Mary was scheduled to sail, she found something. It was a small item in the New York Times about a British company called “Keaton Electrical Marvels, Ltd.” They announced plans to manufacture a new, portable phonograph machine. Courtney wasn’t even sure what that was. She had to go back to Macy’s to learn It was a device that played records. The only records Courtney had ever seen were vintage albums that her parents never played anymore. But in 1937, phonographs were popular. The design made by KEM Limited was touted as being incredibly innovative, with the ability to store energy in batteries that would allow the phonograph to be played for short periods without being plugged in. The article made it sound as if this were an amazing scientific breakthrough. Of course to Courtney, it seemed about as amazing as a flashlight, but knowing that KEM Limited was involved in electronic technology made sense. She realized a company like that might be able to take Mark’s invention and actually do something with it.

The pieces of the puzzle were coming together.

However, on November 6, the day before the Queen Mary would leave, Courtney was no closer to finding Mark than she had been on November 2. It was looking more and more like the only way they would be able to stop him would be to intercept him at the ship itself. She took the train back to Stony Brook, where she put Bobby’s latest journal in the safe-deposit box. She had no idea what to expect the next day, but she knew that one way or another, things would happen. She wanted the journals to be safe. Her last stop of the day was at Macy’s, where she replaced her floppy cap that she’d lost in the sinking taxicab. She also bought Dodger a new brown fedora. She liked that it made him look like Indiana Jones. A short Indiana Jones, but still. She hoped he’d have the same luck as the fictional character.

She barely slept that night. She knew her mission on First Earth would end the next day. Either she would prevent Mark from getting on that ship, or she would fail, and history would play out the way the computers of Third Earth said it would. She vowed not to let that happen.

The next morning was sunny and warm for November. The Queen Mary was scheduled to leave the pier at 1:00 p.m. The plan was for Dodger and Courtney to be on the pier early, to intercept Mark before he could set foot on the gangway. The two arrived at the pier by 9 a.m., long before any passengers were likely to show up. They positioned themselves at the entrance to the pier, ready to inspect each and every person headed for the ship. Dodger was armed with the family photo of the Dimonds, though Courtney didn’t think Mark looked much like that picture anymore. She couldn’t rely on Dodger to recognize him. It would be up to her. She positioned herself square in the middle of the mouth of the pier. They had anticipated everything…

Except for the size of the crowd. By 11 a.m. the place was packed with people. It was a carnival-like atmosphere as throngs arrived by car, by bus, by limousine, and even by horse-drawn carriage. With each passing minute the pier grew more crowded. A band played near the ramps leading to the gangways, adding to the party. People were hugging and crying and generally thrilled by the prospect of sailing on the greatest ocean liner of their time. Porters hurried along with carts loaded down with suitcases and steamer trunks. Horses and cars were put into the hold. Huge crates were hoisted up by a crane and lowered into the cargo areas.

There was far too much going on for Courtney or Dodger to recognize anyone. Making matters worse was the fact that most men wore hats, so they couldn’t get a good look at their faces. To Courtney everybody looked like Indiana Jones. She stood on a cement barricade, desperately scanning the crowd, but fearing Mark could walk right past without her knowing.

Half an hour before the ship was scheduled to sail, Dodger ran to her and exclaimed, “This ain’t workin’.”

Courtney was near panic. “He could easily have gotten past us. He could already be on board!”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Dodger announced.

He took her by the hand and pulled her through the crowd. Courtney didn’t argue. She figured anything would give them a better chance of weeding out Mark than what they were doing. The two ended up bumping into more people than they avoided, but they didn’t stop until they got to the bottom of a long gangway that led up and onto the ship.

“We’ve got to get to the purser,” Dodger announced.

“The who?”

“The guy in charge of the passengers. He can tell us what cabin Mark is in. Once we know that, we’ll go there, grab him, and get him off the ship with time to spare.”

“Wait, you want us to board the ship?” Courtney exclaimed, horrified.

“It’s okay. Families and friends are let on during boarding to get the lowdown on the ship. They get bounced before shove-off. Trust me.”

Dodger dragged her to an official in uniform who looked to Courtney like a naval officer. He stood at the bottom of the gangway with a clipboard, checking off names. Dodger ran up to him and spoke with a British accent. “‘Ello, guvna! Got here just in time to see me brother off, we did!”

Courtney thought it was the worst British accent she had ever heard.

The officer gave Dodger a sour look. He didn’t think much of the accent either. But he was polite and helpful. “And what would your brother’s name be, lad?”