Read Online The Gossamer Crown: Book One of The Gossamer Sphere by Melissa Conway - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melissa Conway
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who touched the crown would get sick and die, so I traced each person reported or suspected to have come in contact with the jewels.”
He heard the bedsprings squeak again as Kevin came up behind him. “Find anything?”
“Actually, yeah. The guy everyone figured stole the jewels was named Shackleton. He was the brother of the famous explorer. One of his acquaintances, who was considered a possible accomplice, was a passenger on the Titanic in 1912. He went down with the ship.”
“I don’t see the connection,” Kevin said.
“That’s because I haven’t gotten to it.” Zach tried not to sound as irritated as he felt. “So, there were a lot of court cases in the eighties and nineties about who has salvage rights to Titanic, right? I guess under international maritime law, you have to recover something from a wreck in order to have a claim to it. One of the salvage companies that originally filed a claim had to drop out because everyone involved died. The owner, his wife, the captain of the ship and about half the crew. All died of some mystery illness.”
“What artifacts did they recover from the Titanic?”
“I don’t know, but the name of the salvage ship was The Gossamer .”
Chapter Thirteen
East of England
Caitlin gathered them all together with no apologies about skipping breakfast and herded them into the barn. Two Clydesdales watched placidly from their stalls as she headed for a late model SUV parked next to a stack of moldy-smelling hay bales.
“I call shotgun!” Lizbeth leaped over a pile of muck for the passenger door.
Kevin got into the back seat next to Zach, who filled Caitlin and Lizbeth in on what he’d discovered about Titanic and The Gossamer as they drove.
When he finished, Caitlin said, “Griffey.”
“Yeah, that was his name. Brian Griffey. The guy who died on the Titanic,” Zach said.
Caitlin’s head dipped in acknowledgement. “He was a friend.”
Kevin searched her profile for any hint of emotion, but it seemed carved out of ice. Whoever Griffey was, he’d been dead for nearly a century. If Caitlin had cared for him, time would have blunted the pain even if she were inclined to share it.
The quaint English countryside flew by as they headed for the coast. After about twenty minutes, Kevin saw the steel blue water of the North Sea slicing across the horizon. His stomach gave a little gurgle and he wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or from the memory of his queasy summer at sea. As they got closer, buildings cropped up and got thicker, as did traffic. Caitlin seemed familiar with the route. She turned down one street after another until they reached a dockyard.
All around was evidence of the tsunami. Kevin didn’t know what business-as-usual looked like in this district, but he doubted it involved so many boats dry-docked for repair or salvage.
Caitlin pulled up alongside a brick warehouse and shut off the engine. It didn’t look to Kevin like an official parking place, but he doubted something like illegal parking would deter her. He and the others got out and followed as Caitlin wove her way through workers pushing loaded dollies, past helmeted welders, and around slowly moving forklifts. The air smelled of the sea and diesel exhaust with an undertone of fish.
Kevin spotted the drill vessel anchored out on the bay and wondered how they were going to get to it. Then he saw an ambulance halfway down the dock, pulled up next to a boat he recognized.
He pointed. “That’s the outboard from the drill ship.”
Two paramedics and another man, all with surgical masks over the lower half of their faces, carefully traversed a gangplank with someone strapped to a stretcher. As they got closer, he saw the mussed blonde hair of the Swedish researcher, Astrid. Her head tossed back and forth, and her cheeks were puffy and bright pink.
Caitlin stopped, her delicate features frozen – all but her eyes
He heard the bedsprings squeak again as Kevin came up behind him. “Find anything?”
“Actually, yeah. The guy everyone figured stole the jewels was named Shackleton. He was the brother of the famous explorer. One of his acquaintances, who was considered a possible accomplice, was a passenger on the Titanic in 1912. He went down with the ship.”
“I don’t see the connection,” Kevin said.
“That’s because I haven’t gotten to it.” Zach tried not to sound as irritated as he felt. “So, there were a lot of court cases in the eighties and nineties about who has salvage rights to Titanic, right? I guess under international maritime law, you have to recover something from a wreck in order to have a claim to it. One of the salvage companies that originally filed a claim had to drop out because everyone involved died. The owner, his wife, the captain of the ship and about half the crew. All died of some mystery illness.”
“What artifacts did they recover from the Titanic?”
“I don’t know, but the name of the salvage ship was The Gossamer .”
Chapter Thirteen
East of England
Caitlin gathered them all together with no apologies about skipping breakfast and herded them into the barn. Two Clydesdales watched placidly from their stalls as she headed for a late model SUV parked next to a stack of moldy-smelling hay bales.
“I call shotgun!” Lizbeth leaped over a pile of muck for the passenger door.
Kevin got into the back seat next to Zach, who filled Caitlin and Lizbeth in on what he’d discovered about Titanic and The Gossamer as they drove.
When he finished, Caitlin said, “Griffey.”
“Yeah, that was his name. Brian Griffey. The guy who died on the Titanic,” Zach said.
Caitlin’s head dipped in acknowledgement. “He was a friend.”
Kevin searched her profile for any hint of emotion, but it seemed carved out of ice. Whoever Griffey was, he’d been dead for nearly a century. If Caitlin had cared for him, time would have blunted the pain even if she were inclined to share it.
The quaint English countryside flew by as they headed for the coast. After about twenty minutes, Kevin saw the steel blue water of the North Sea slicing across the horizon. His stomach gave a little gurgle and he wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or from the memory of his queasy summer at sea. As they got closer, buildings cropped up and got thicker, as did traffic. Caitlin seemed familiar with the route. She turned down one street after another until they reached a dockyard.
All around was evidence of the tsunami. Kevin didn’t know what business-as-usual looked like in this district, but he doubted it involved so many boats dry-docked for repair or salvage.
Caitlin pulled up alongside a brick warehouse and shut off the engine. It didn’t look to Kevin like an official parking place, but he doubted something like illegal parking would deter her. He and the others got out and followed as Caitlin wove her way through workers pushing loaded dollies, past helmeted welders, and around slowly moving forklifts. The air smelled of the sea and diesel exhaust with an undertone of fish.
Kevin spotted the drill vessel anchored out on the bay and wondered how they were going to get to it. Then he saw an ambulance halfway down the dock, pulled up next to a boat he recognized.
He pointed. “That’s the outboard from the drill ship.”
Two paramedics and another man, all with surgical masks over the lower half of their faces, carefully traversed a gangplank with someone strapped to a stretcher. As they got closer, he saw the mussed blonde hair of the Swedish researcher, Astrid. Her head tossed back and forth, and her cheeks were puffy and bright pink.
Caitlin stopped, her delicate features frozen – all but her eyes
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