Clive Cussler - Raise the Titanic

Adeline was stout, but she carried her extra pounds easily. Her blue eyes seemed to laugh with every sentence and her face carried a warm, gentle look. She was everyone's idea of a sweet little old snow-haired lady.

"You don't strike me as the Geritol type," he said.

She patted his arm. "If that is meant as flattery, I'll buy it." She motioned him to a chair in a tastefully furnished living room. "Come and sit down. You will stay for lunch, won't you?"

"I'd be honored, if it's no trouble."

"Of course not. Bert is off chasing around the golf course, and I appreciate the company."

Seagram looked up. "Bert?"

"My husband."

"But I was under the impression-"

"I was still Jake Hobart's widow," she finished his sentence, smiling innocently. "The truth of the matter is, I became Mrs. Bertram Austin sixty-two years ago."

"Does the Army know?"

"Oh heavens, yes. 1 wrote letters to the War Department notifying them of my marital status a long time ago, but they simply sent polite, noncommittal replies and kept mailing the checks."

"Even though you'd remarried?"

Adeline shrugged. "I'm only human, Mr. Seagram. Why argue with the government. If they insist on sending money, who's to tell them they're crazy?"

"A lucrative little arrangement."

She nodded. "I won't deny it, particularly when you include the ten thousand dollars I received at Jake's death."

Seagram leaned forward, his eyes narrowed. "The Army paid you a ten-thousand-dollar indemnity? Wasn't that a bit steep for 1912?"

"You couldn't be half as surprised as I was then," she said. "Yes, that amount of money was a small fortune in those days."

"Was there any explanation?"

"None," she replied. "I can still see the check after all these years. All it said was `Widow's Payment' and it was made out to me. That's all there was to it."

"Perhaps we can start at the beginning."

"When I met Jake?"

Seagram nodded.

Her eyes looked beyond him for a few moments. "I met Jake during the terrible winter of 1910. It was in Leadville, Colorado, and I had just turned sixteen. My father was on a business trip to the mining fields to investigate possible investment in several claims, and since it was close to Christmas, and I had a few days vacation from school, he relented and took Mother and me along. The train barely made it into Leadville station when the worst blizzard in forty years struck the high country of Colorado. It lasted for two weeks, and believe me, it was no picnic, especially when you consider that the altitude of Leadville is over ten thousand feet."

"It must have been quite an adventure for a sixteen-year-old girl."

"It was. Dad paced the hotel lobby like a trapped bull while Mother just sat and worried, but I thought it was marvelous."

"And Jake?"

"One day, Mother and I were struggling across the street to the general store-an ordeal when you are lashed by fifty-mile-an-hour winds at twenty degrees below zero when out of nowhere this giant brute of a man picks each of us up under one arm and carries us through the snowdrifts and deposits us on the doorstep of the store, just as sassy as you please."

"It was Jake?"

"Yes," she said distantly, "it was Jake."

"What did he look like?"

"He was a large man, over six feet, barrel-chested. He'd worked in the mines in Wales when he was a boy. Anytime you saw a crowd of men a mile away, you could easily pick Jake out. He was the one with the bright red hair and heard who was always laughing."

"Red hair and beard?"

"Yes, he was quite proud of the fact that he stood out from the rest."

"All the world loves a man who laughs."

She smiled broadly. "It certainly wasn't love at first sight on my part, I can tell you. To me, Jake looked like a big uncouth bear. He was hardly the type to tickle a young girl's fancy."

"But you married him."

She nodded. "He courted me all during the blizzard, and when the sun finally broke through the clouds on the fourteenth day, I accepted his proposal. Mother and Dad were distraught, of course, but Jake won them over, too."

"You couldn't have been married long?"

"I saw him for the last time a year later."

"The day he and the others were lost in the Little Angel." It was more statement than question.

"Yes," she said wistfully. She avoided his stare and looked nervously toward the kitchen. "My goodness, I'd better fix us some lunch. You must be starving, Mr. Seagram."

But Seagram's businesslike expression faded and his eyes came alight with sudden excitement. "You heard from Jake after the Little Angel accident, didn't you, Mrs. Austin?"

She seemed to retreat into the cushions of her chair. Apprehension spread across her gentle face. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do," he said softly.

"No . . . no, you're mistaken."

"Why are you afraid?"

Her hands were trembling now. "I've told you all I can."

"There's more, much more, Mrs. Austin." He reached over and took her hands. "Why are you afraid?" he repeated.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," she murmured.

"Can you explain?"

She said, hesitantly, "You're with the government, Mr. Seagram. You know what it is to keep a secret."

"Who was it? Jake? Did he ask you to remain silent?"

She shook her head.

"Then who?"

"Please believe me," she pleaded. "I can't tell you . . . I can't tell you anything."

Seagram stood up and looked down on her. She seemed to have aged, the wrinkles etched more deeply in her ancient skin. She had withdrawn into a shell. It would take a mild form of shock treatment to get her to open up.

"May I use your telephone, Mrs. Austin?"

"Yes, of course. You'll find the nearest extension in the kitchen''

It was seven minutes before the familiar voice came through the earpiece. Quickly, Seagram explained the situation and made his request. Then he turned back to the living room. "Mrs. Austin. Can you come here a moment?"

Timidly, she approached him.

He handed her the receiver. "Here is someone who wishes to speak to you."

Cautiously, she took it from his hands. "Hello," she muttered, "this is Adeline Austin."

For a brief instant, an expression of confusion was mirrored in her eyes, then it was slowly transformed and froze into genuine astonishment. She kept nodding, saying nothing, as though the detached voice over the line was standing before her.

Finally, at the end of the one-sided conversation, she managed to utter a few words "Yes, sir . . . I will. Goodby."

Slowly, she replaced the receiver and stood in a trancelike bewilderment. "Was . . . was that really the President of the United States?"

"It was. You can verify it if you wish. Call long distance and ask for the White House. When they answer, talk to Gregg Collins. He's the President's chief aide. It was he who passed along my call."

"Just imagine, the President asked me to help him." She shook her head dazedly. "I can't believe it really happened."

"It happened, Mrs. Austin. Believe me, any information you can give us concerning your first husband and the strange circumstances surrounding his death would be of great benefit to the nation. I know that sounds like a trite way of stating it, but . . ."

"Who can turn down a President?" The sweet smile was back. The tremor was gone from Adeline's hands. She was back on balance, outwardly, at least.

Seagram took her arm and gently guided her back to her chair in the living room. "Now then, tell me about Jake Hobart's relationship with Joshua Hays Brewster."

"Jake was an explosives specialist, a blaster, one of the best in the fields. He knew dynamite like a blacksmith knew his forge, and since Mr. Brewster insisted on only the top men to make up his mining crews, he often hired Jake to handle the blasting."