Titanic

{Chapter Two}

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The safe, dripping wet in the afternoon sun, was lowered onto a ship by a winch cable.

They were on the Russian, research vessel, Akademik Mstislav Keldysh. A crowd gathered, including most of the crew of the Keldysh, the sub crews, and a hand-wringing, money guy named Bobby Buell, who represented the limited partners. There was also a documentary video crew, hired by Lovett to cover his moment of glory.

Everyone huddled around the safe. In the background, Mir Two was being lowered into its cradle on deck, by a massive, hydraulic arm. Mir One had already recovered with Lewis Bodine, following Brock Lovett as he bounded over to the safe like a kid on Christmas morning.

Bodine waved a bottle of champagne. "Who's the best? Say it! Say it!" he nudged Brock.

"You are, Lewis."

Bodine gave Lovett an ebullient kiss on the cheek, then proceeded to pop the cork on the champagne bottle. The contents of it sprayed everywhere, joyfully. It was a celebration at its best.

Lovett stuck a cigar in his mouth. "You rolling?"

The cameraman nodded. "Rolling."

Brock gestured to his technicians, and they set about drilling the safe's hinges, sparks flying from the friction of metal on metal. During this operation, Brock amped the suspense, working the lens to fill the time.

"Well, here it is, the moment of truth. Here's where we find out if the time, the sweat, the money spent to charter this ship, and coming out here to the middle of the North Atlantic...was all worth it. If what we think is in that safe...is in that safe...it will be."

Lovett grinned wolfishly in anticipation of his greatest find yet. The door was yanked loose. It clanged to the deck. Lovett moved closer, peering into its interior. He dug into the safe, pulling out an ancient portfolio and handfuls of wet paper. Nothing. He felt around the inside once more. After a long moment, his face said it all.

"Shit." He stood up.

"No diamonds?" asked Anatoly.

Lovett shook his head in disappointment.

Bodine watched him, half with sympathy, half with amusement. "You know, boss, this same thing happened to Geraldo and his career never recovered."

Lovett was too aggravated to be amused. He noticed the cameraman still filming him.

"Turn the camera off," he snapped, walking away.

.  .  .  .  . 

Technicians were carefully removing some papers in the safe and placing them in a tray of water to separate them with ease. Nearby, other artifacts from the staterooms were being washed and preserved.

Buell was on the satellite phone with the investors. Lovett was yelling at the video crew.

"You send out what I tell you when I tell you! I'm signing your paychecks, not '60 Minutes!' Now get set up for the uplink."

Buell covered the phone with his hand and turned to Lovett. "The partners want to know how it's going."

"How it's going? It's going like a first date in prison, what do you think?" Lovett grabbed the phone from Buell and instantly went smooth. "Dave? Barry? Hi! Look, it wasn't in the safe...no, don't worry about it, there's still plenty of places it could be...Hell yes! In the floor debris in the suite, in the mother's room, in the purser's safe on C Deck..."

Buell interjected. "Jimmy's office briefcase..."

Lovett glared at him. He averted his gaze toward the monitors when he noticed something the technicians had found. "Hang on a second..."

Perhaps the safe wasn't empty after all.

A tech coaxed some letters in the water tray to one side with a tong...revealing a conte crayon drawing of a woman.

Brock looked closely at the drawing, which was in excellent shape, though its edges had partially disintegrated. The woman was beautiful...and beautifully rendered. In her late teens or early twenties. She was nude, though posed with a kind of casual modesty. She was on an Empire Divan...in a pool of light that seemed to radiate outward from her eyes. Scrawled in the lower, right corner was the date: April 14, 1912, and the initials, JD.

The girl was not entirely nude. At her throat was a diamond necklace with one, large stone hanging in the center.

"Give me the photograph of the necklace!" Brock gestured to his techs, hope lighting his eyes.

Buell glanced at the drawing. "Looks like we might have something here, guys."

Lovett grabbed the reference photo from the clutter on the lab table. It was a period, black-and-white photo of a diamond necklace on a black, velvet, jeweler's display stand. A picture of the main artifact they sought for. He held it next to the drawing. It was clearly the same piece...a complex setting with a massive central stone, which was almost heart-shaped.

Lovett looked at the two pictures, realizing what he had just found.

"I'll be Goddamned."

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