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The sound of a 15 passenger van pulling up behind her car snapped her back to reality. She watched as the ex prisoners filed out, one by one, and headed up the stairs. Some looked bewildered, like they hadn’t seen daylight in eons, while a few looked as cocky now as they did the day they went in. Slapping hands of other men they seemed familiar with and high-fiving others as though they had accomplished some small feat. The act repulsed Kadi as she thought of the many atrocities they must have committed to end up in prison in the first place. Rape, murder, kidnapping. Not to mention the countless, innocent lives that were affected by their coldheartedness. Was there ever going to be a parole date for her, so she could walk free into society and be allowed to leave her self-imposed prison behind? Or was she a lifer? She continued to look through her rear view mirror when her eye caught the sight of a frail, older man getting out of the van. Kadi’s heart lurched forward then sank to the pit of her stomach. It was him…it had to be. A flood of emotions released itself all at once. But, sorrow was the one that seemed to weigh the heaviest on her heart. Loss was a close second. She had lost so much she could no longer grieve about it. She felt numb. She studied him intently as she noticed his graying temples and the pronounced crows-feet that made his eyes droop from years of sadness. The permanent scowl that lived across his face hid his, once-handsome features. Now he just looked hardened and angry. Nothing like the younger, most attractive man of her youth. The man that used to laugh and play and tickle her until she lost her breath. No, now he was just old and tired. Kadi felt drawn to him. No one noticed or paid her much attention as she got out of her car. And for a long moment, she just stood there in silence and stared. Before she could stop herself, her feet carried her to the back of her car and in front of the van. She was spotted. A uniformed officer yelled in her direction. “Hey! Move it. This is a no parking zone.” He pointed to the sign just in front of her car, which she hadn’t noticed before. “Can’t you read?” The commotion brought everyone’s attention to Kadi, including Ryan Crowe. In an instant he looked affected, though the hardened scowl on his face masked his inner emotions masterfully. Kadi could tell that he had recognized her instantly. She wanted to smile and let him know that it was going to be alright, but her face felt numb and frozen in a perpetual frown. She hadn’t smiled in years. The Officer slapped his hands across the trunk of her car, startling Kadi. “Move it!” Then he headed back to his released prisoners, ignoring Kadi’s dumbfounded expression. Kadi bolted to her car and took off before she knew it. She drove around in circles for fifteen minutes before she could think clear again. What should I do? I know he recognized me…I could tell by the pained look in his eyes that he knew exactly who I was. She did smile this time, though it was slight. “I have to go back,” she said aloud. “I can’t turn back and head home now like some wounded animal,” she was talking aloud to herself again. A habit she picked up when she was young and had no one else to talk to. With a newfound strength, Kadi turned her car around and headed back to The Trinity House to face her demons head on. Fin Chapter Eighteen - Robert W. Walker – Titanic; 1912 – The Curse of RMS Titanic – 2012 Award-winning author and graduate of Northwestern University ROBERT W. WALKER created his highly acclaimed INSTINCT and EDGE SERIES between 1982 and 2005. Rob has since written his award-winning historical series featuring Inspector Alastair Ransom with City For Ransom (2006), Shadows In The White City (2007), and City Of The Absent (2008). This history-mystery hybrid straddles the Chicago World’s Fair circa 1893, and has had enthusiastic reviews from Chicago historians and the Chicago Tribune, which likened “the witticism to Mark Twain, the social consciousness to Dickens, and the ghoulish atmosphere to Poe!” Rob’s most recent books have been Children of Salem and Titanic 2012, a new ‘theory’ of why Captain Edward Smith sank the Titanic as Rob put a plague-spreading monster on board (two concurrent stories of present day and historical suspense and horror). For more on Rob and his published works, see http://www.RobertWalkerbooks.com
Amazon author page: http://tinyurl.com/25r98ee Copyright © 2010 Robert W. Walker Two parallel books, thus two first chapters ONE Belfast, Northern Ireland, April 3, 1912: Titanic; 1912 – The Curse of RMS Titanic – 2012 Sifted coal dust rained unseen over them, choked them. A fine shower of it fluttered about the men like a million black fairies that insisted on entering them. The dark dust created of itself a ghostly, unruly smoke. Despite how fine the black particles were, their helmet lights captured it as a sparkling array before their eyes. “Black angel dust,” commented the taller man. “Stuff always looks to me as if, you know, alive,” said the stouter of the two. At the same time, the earth around them groaned and stretched, as if disturbed from slumber, just awakening. Tim McAffey, mine superintendent, along with his assistant superintendent, Francis O’Toole, dared enter to inspect the recent damage that had been left unattended for two months—this after the mine had sat unused for two years previously. This fresh and somewhat minor cave-in had shut it down anew. Still the order was to get Number 9 operational again at all costs. At times like this, McAffey wondered why he’d ever become a miner. Then as the floating grave dust ahead of them settled, he thought of the bonus promised if he did his job. He thought of home and family and food on the table. The day had ended with little to show for his efforts, so McAffey remained frustrated and upset. He knew from experience it’d take days if not a week to get the men comfortable enough—even now after sixty days— about reentering this section of the mine to even begin to clean up the mess where some timbers had given way. “Hell, this amounts to a sneeze,” he said to O’Toole. “Minor inconvenience at best,” agreed Francis O’Toole. “Thank God, no one’s been kilt this time by her; two injured and off to hospital’s all.” Still, men were superstitious; once an area underground shook with the slightest tremor, they bolted and often refused to return unless the owners offered a bonus or other incentive. Two years previous, there’d been a god awful mining accident the likes of which Belfast had never seen—twenty seven men killed in an instant. But that, while in Number 9, was in another section quite aways from here. This most recent set-back was a minor one, nothing of consequence beyond a six-foot high pile of rubble in the way of going forward to where it was believed the finest iron ore ever seen lay waiting for harvest—in the shaft where the twenty-seven had perished. “We’ve little choice, Francis, but to push on. Bosses signed a big contract with the White Star line. Provide iron for three ships that’re between fifty-three and sixty-three tons.” “Aye…building two more to match that monster Britannic we saw launched some time back. The three of ’em…” O’Toole shook his head. ..“they’ll be the grandest ships ever the world has seen.” “This one they’re calling Titanic will be even larger than the first, I’m told.” “She’s almost ready for launch, I ’ear.” The talk of the British-owned White Star’s plans for a fleet of ships large enough to compete with the Seven Wonders of the World had the two miners’ discussion turn to politics. “No matter a man’s politics or feelings toward the British, Francis, White Star has brought a level of prosperity to Belfast sorely needed.” “They’re calling this new one The Unsinkable Titanic, ’ave you heard, Tim?” “Aye—and Belfast Iron’s a big part of her; a part of history now, Francis.” “Getting the ore to the foundry and the shipyard, that’s all that matters—one more ‘Titanic’ to go.” “Aye—the one called Olympic.” “Hold on.” Francis stopped cold in his tracks and pointed with an unlit pipe, asking, “What ’ave we ’ear?” asked Francis. He pointed to a darkened corner of the troubled shaft.
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Cloaked in the darkness of his car,
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“Hell, no. When a damsel’s in d
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Even when his mother's cries grew l
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Judd sounded miserable. "Me, too. B
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“Just to give you a heads up,”
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Page 30 and 31: My journals from that time period s
Page 32 and 33: “Henry Blackheart Hanover.” Ecl
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Page 38 and 39: another night. The thin, hard mattr
Page 40 and 41: and midnight black detonated behind
Page 42 and 43: “Shut your mouth, Van.” Brody,
Page 44 and 45: Marla nodded her head. “Only a co
Page 46 and 47: The last of them were approaching,
Page 48 and 49: “Just tell her someone needs some
Page 50 and 51: “Thanks,” I jumped up and rushe
Page 52 and 53: As his eyes adjusted, he took in hi
Page 54 and 55: their squad had been assigned to de
Page 56 and 57: “Well how the hell was I supposed
Page 58 and 59: “You are the crème de la crème,
Page 60 and 61: actual happiness. Eleven years ago,
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Page 64 and 65: opening up the gate to Greg’s lif
Page 66 and 67: She lifted her glass for another si
Page 68 and 69: “Mr. Crowe, you were the last per
Page 72 and 73: “What is it?” McAffey directed
Page 74 and 75: And for no reason he could fathom,
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Page 78 and 79: His wide shoulders, height, and goo
Page 80 and 81: Melissa breathed a barely perceptib
Page 82 and 83: Maybe this would be the last sessio
Page 84 and 85: Melissa looked at her watch. Time t
Page 86 and 87: He stalked to a small desk under th
Page 88 and 89: No one waited on either side. She s
Page 90 and 91: She was thin next to his roundness
Page 92 and 93: “I seem to recall that you could
Page 94 and 95: Just as she started to think she im
Page 96 and 97: his two apprentices pull the great
Page 98 and 99: Lower, between a cleft in the hills
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