A "Titanic" Conspiracy

6 London

Harold had visited with the commissioner, then after gaining the confirmation that the person he was looking for was in fact alive, along with the address, he caught a cab to London.
The cab had caught a flat halfway there, and he had to hop another one to finish the journey. Harold payed his fare, but he was cheap with the tip. He didn't make enough to issue out as much money as he would like. He didn't even know if he was going to be paid for the conspiracy case.

London had a rich history, but now in 1938, it looked like another planet. Though everybody went about their day as ever they did, they either wore or carried gas masks, issued by the Monarch government. The masks were called Micky Mouse masks to make them less scary. One child sat on his stoop sporting his mask, reading the first addition to "The Bean Comic" featuring a character called Lord Snooty. A month later would usher in the dawn of WW2, and the Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, would meet with Adolf Hitler; who to honor himself, institutes the first guillotine for use in capital punishment in Germany.

Fear of the approaching war had begun when Hitler first stood on his soap box. Local soldiers could from time to time be seen marching in formation down the less busy streets. Less busy streets were a rarity, most were bumper to bumper with automobiles, and sidewalks teaming with people on their way to whatever destination.

Luxurious hotels lined the opposite side of the street. A block away, the London Zoo would be flowing with laughing children given the new opening of the children's zoo brought about in June by Robert and Ted Kennedy; sons of the US Ambassador Joseph P. Kennedy appointed January 6th the same year. About a mile away London and Northeastern Railways streamlined the highest speed in steam locomotives. Immediately to Harold's right was a mobile wash which would shampoo a car for five shillings.

None of the close by hotels fit into Harold's price range. He needed some small family hotel. As he made his way around the corner a man in a long coat placed a Micky Mouse mask in Harold's hand. He had forgotten that they were mandated, and soon they would be common even in Southampton.

After a few blocks, the area catered to the less privileged. A cheap inn with gated windows offered shade to a homeless man next to the steps, with his mask like a hat on his head. He was passed out with a bottle of booze. This wasn't uncommon in this neighborhood.

The inn would work for the night. Come morning, Harold would find Peter, and find out if there were any answers to be found. For now he climbed the stairs and entered the half painted door into a smoky room.

He paid for his room to a man with one eye, a few remaining teeth, and a tattoo of a mermaid on his left forearm. He then entered into a large room that served for feeding the clientele, and acted as a bar for those wanting to get liquored up.

Harold wasn't much of a drinker, but just one wouldn't hurt. It was all he could afford if he wanted to hail a cab to take him back home. He payed the bartender and received his drink.

He found a dry place on the bar and removed the large envelope from his overly large inside pocket. He took out a portion of the contents and looked them over, not realizing that another man entered the room.

"Titanic huh?" The man said, reading over Harold's shoulder.

He took a stool nearby. He was a man in his mid thirties, with taught muscled arms and chest. His clothes were modest, and his hair was due for a cut.

"So what's your interest in big boats?"

"It's a ship." Harold retorted.

"Your right. But why Titanic?"

"I'm sorry sir, have we ever met?" Harold looked toward the man. He was usually good with faces, and was certain he had never met the man.

The man laughed and held up two fingers toward the bartender who immediately went to filling two glasses with booze. He spun on the stool facing Harold, and pushed one of the glasses over to him.

"Are you a cop?" The man said smiling.

"Hardly. Truth be told I'm a private investigator."

"So your not the fuzz, but you want to be like them. No we never met. Had you been a cop it would have been hard to say. I've had a couple drunk and disorderlies. Anyways, since we're sharing the bar, call me Kyle."

Harold went about his business as though the man hadn't said anything. Before long the man was sitting next to him reading over his shoulder again.

"You can't be from London. If you were, you'd have chosen better accommodations." He said.

"I'm here to see someone."

"Me too."

Harold looked up at him. "Is it a friend."

"Nah, business matter."

"What kind of business?"

"I kill people. Want a job?"

Something in the man's eyes said that he wasn't lying, though Harold was hardly the best judge of people's character. He couldn't confirm or deny any truth in the comment.

He finished his drink, and excused himself to retire to his room. Kyle watched him leave, smiling.