CHAPTER 1

"It was the curse of the Mummy that done it," the gruff blue-collar typeasserts between sips of his beer. "I'm telling ya, the ship was doomedbefore she left her mooring."

Some weeks earlier, a New York newspaper ran the improbablestory that an ancient Egyptian curse was behind the sinking of theTitanic. As the legend goes, an unscrupulous art dealer attemptedto smuggle the sarcophagus of an Egyptian king to America in theship's cargo hold. He planned to sell it to a museum in New York for$500,000.00, and then split the loot with the thieves who ransackedthe tomb. In retaliation for this ghastly deed, the Egyptian god Anubissent the Titanic to her underwater grave.

"Sheer nonsense," the refined gentleman next to him at the barannounces with equal conviction. "Only negligence could have senther to the bottom. From my travels, I know something of the protocolon these ships. It was the last formal evening, and the Champagneflows like water at every table. Dollars to doughnuts, the Captain wastaking his final bows with the society people instead of tending to hisduties. If you ask me, when the Titanic struck the berg, the Captain wasthe only thing on the ship resembling a mummy."

At the corner of the bar Allan Pinkerton, a lunchtime regular atMartin's, a popular tavern at the southern tip of Manhattan's busyFinancial District, shakes his head disdainfully at the useless prattle.The passage of two months time has done little to ease the pain of theunspeakable tragedy, mourned with equal passion on two continents.The findings of American and British inquiries, though quick to the taskand thorough in their approach, ultimately disappointed with theirsuperficial conclusions. New Yorkers responded with an inquisitor'sresolve—determined that blameworthy officials be made to answerfor the tragedy. Cries of whitewash and scapegoat resound from themany impromptu debates. The thoughts of George Bernard Shaw,recently quoted in the New York Times, instantly comes to Pinkerton'smind:

What is the use of all this ghastly, blasphemous, inhuman,braggartly lying? Here is a calamity, which might well make theproudest man humble and the wildest joker serious. It makes usvainglorious, insolent, mendacious. The effect on me was one ofprofound disgust, almost of national dishonor. Am I mad?

Pinkerton finishes the last of his corned beef sandwich. Thebartender arrives with an offer of fresh brewed coffee, but he politelydeclines and pays his tab; of late, there are rarely enough hours in theday.

The rain falls steadily as Pinkerton steps quickly along the streets ofLower Manhattan. He arrives at 57 Broadway, notes the black limousineparked in front—a sight more common as Wall Street bankers embracethe spectacle of the automobile—and enters the building lobby.

Pinkerton rides the elevator to the fourth floor, walks a shortdistance down the hall, and enters the office of the Pinkerton DetectiveAgency. Unaware of the curious stares following his progress, Pinkertonmoves past the row of desks to the wood partition, pushes throughthe hinged gate on the balustrade, and turns down the corridor. Amoment later, he spots the two men wearing the distinctive look ofgovernment professionalism stationed outside of his office. Pinkertonacknowledges their presence with a cautious nod, and quickly turnshis attention to his secretary who is approaching with a wide-eyedsense of urgency.

"Mr. President ... I mean, Mr. Pinkerton, it's the President."

"Kelly, calm down and start again. What President?"

"The President of the United States ... he's in your office," sheexplains in a whispered voice straining with excitement.

"Taft," he says incredulous.

"No ... Roosevelt."

"Theodore Roosevelt is in my office."

She nods firmly, and says, "That's what I've been trying to tellyou."

Pinkerton frowns thoughtfully for a moment, wondering what theformer President could want with him. He moves quickly to his officedoor, but enters cautiously. Standing at the window, hands on hipsgazing down at the Broadway pantomime is the unmistakable figureof Theodore Roosevelt. Pinkerton guides the door shut, loud enoughto attract his attention.

Roosevelt pivots and says. "Ah Pinkerton ... I hope you don't mindthe intrusion on your busy schedule."

"Of course not, Colonel, this is a wonderful surprise," he declares,quickly placing his hat and coat next to Roosevelt's on the clothestree.

Pinkerton knows of Roosevelt's preference for the courtesytitle "Colonel" rather than the customary Mr. President. Rooseveltenthusiastically thrusts out his hand and Pinkerton gladly accepts hisgreeting. Observing the portraits of the famous Pinkerton lineagehanging on the back office wall, Roosevelt then comments. "Splendid... this is what the United States is all about. A successful familybusiness passed on from generation to generation."

Pinkerton smiles at the compliment. Then, hastily, he slidesthe gold cuspidor away from the desk, a relic from the time of hisfamous grandfather, and invites the former President to have a seat.Roosevelt settles his broad figure into the high back leather sidechair and, displaying the toothy grin immortalized in photographsand caricatures, announces, "I had the privilege of observing youroperation back in '05 during the Steunenberg murder investigation,"Roosevelt recalls. "Agent McParland was the fellow who headedthe Pinkerton team. Damn fine job he did ... too bad those unionscoundrels were acquitted."

Pinkerton nods knowingly at the reminder. During an Idaho labordispute in 1899, Governor Frank Steunenberg declared martial law,asking President McKinley to send federal troops to crush the rebellion.The intervention resulted in the arrest and imprisonment of hundredsof union activists. Six years later, an explosive device planted in hishome killed the former Governor. The assassination, it was alleged,was retaliation ordered by union leader William Haywood.

"Clarence Darrow was quite convincing in Haywood's defense,"Pinkerton asserts.

"Defense attorneys," Roosevelt utters, his jaw set sternly."A profession committed to defending criminals, libelers, andscandalmongers. Even so, I would rather a chat with you about thisshady profession than the reason for my visit." The look of contemptunexpectedly bleeds from Roosevelt's expression, and his mood isclearly somber. "I trust you are familiar with the tragic circumstance ofMajor Archibald Butt."

Following an extended stay in Rome, Major Butt, Roosevelt'sformer aide-de-camp and advisor was returning to New York on theTitanic when he perished without a trace. During his tenure in theWhite House, Roosevelt relied heavily on Butt's guidance and support.An ideal clubman, Butt was also one of the few men who couldphysically keep up with Roosevelt's exploits. Afterward, he remaineda close companion of the former President, and a regular guest at theRoosevelt's estate in Oyster Bay. Butt was a spit and polish militarytype, the kind of man Roosevelt holds in the highest regard, and theirbond was a matter of common knowledge around Washington.

Butt continued his role as aide-de-camp in the Taft White House,and the current President came to rely on him as well.

Pinkerton bows his head and says solemnly, "Of course ... a tragedyof unspeakable proportions."

"Very bitter to see that good, gallant, tenderhearted man leave lifeat its crest," laments Roosevelt.

Pinkerton considers the irony of the situation. "For a man ofsuch courage and stature to meet his end while on holiday seems soinappropriate."

For a long moment, Roosevelt's head hangs in evident remorse.Then he abruptly straightens, and with his left arm firmly planted onhis knee, asks, "What do you know about the purpose for the Major'strip to Rome?"

Pinkerton thinks it over, and says, "Only what I've read in thenewspapers. I recall some hearsay that he carried a message fromthe President for the Pope, but the main reason for the trip was hishealth."

"Yes, some rubbish about his digestion being ruined by a round ofpolitical banquets," Roosevelt is quick to add, "And that a trip up theMediterranean would repair his constitution. Well, I can tell you Archiespent the weekend before his departure at my home. He looked thepicture of health ... and if appetite is an indicator, there was nothingwrong with his digestion."

Pinkerton nods, but before he can respond, Roosevelt continues:"What I am about to reveal to you is done so in the strictest of confidence.I must insist upon your word that any mention of the matter of thismeeting will be in the strict confines of our arrangement."

The word arrangement leaps out at Pinkerton. "Of course, Colonel... my word is our bond."

Roosevelt reaches into the inside pocket of his morning coat andremoves an envelope. "This letter from the Major arrived at my homethe week following the sinking. It is postmarked April the tenth ...Rome, meaning he mailed it the morning of his departure."

Pinkerton accepts the letter with a gracious nod, and immediatelybegins to read:

My Dear Colonel,

My concern for the welfare of the United States compels me toalert you to a matter of potentially grave consequences.

As you no doubt suspected all along, my trip to Rome involvedmore than a vacation. Though my mission to this grand city wasnot in an official capacity, as the State Department was in noway concerned in the matter, the President did instruct me to callon King Victor Emmanuel of Italy. The King availed himself of theoccasion to entrust to me a confidential letter for the President,saying only that it concerned a matter of utmost urgency. Sinceit is not an official communiqué, the substance of the messagewill not pass through the State Department, unless the Presidentso desires.

In as much as the request was conventional with regardto matters of diplomacy, I was quite prepared to carry outthe instructions undaunted. However, the ensuing encountercompelled me to reach out to you in this manner. As I was leavingthe palace, an emissary for Italian Prime Minister Giolitti, anindividual associated with Italy's secret service—and hence at hisrequest shall remain nameless—approached me with a requestfor a private audience in a location away from his chambers inParliament. Noting his apprehensive appearance, I put asidemy plans and right away agreed to his appeal. Nothing couldhave prepared me for what followed. He informed me of a rumorintercepted by his network of spies of a plot intended to provoke theUnited States into a world war. The stratagem would involve theunprovoked sinking of an ocean liner carrying American citizensby a nation recognized as a would-be adversary. The public outcryin the United States and England about this cowardly act wouldno doubt result in swift retaliation that, in this turbulent time,would likely incite the world to war. Regrettably, he could notprovide me with the identity of the rogue nation, or the intendedmethod of the heinous deed. However, knowing of my plans toreturn to the United States on the Titanic, he alerted me to anastounding prospect; what better provocation than to attemptan attack on the new liner!

The Italian emissary confessed that he does not possesscorroborative evidence of such a plot, but is certain the letter fromthe King contains sufficient verification for his story from sourcesrecognized as unimpeachable. As the government of Italy sharesthe President's reluctance for war and, I am certain, would doanything within their means to prevent it, I have little reason todoubt the genuineness of the appeal.

I trust you understand that my breach of confidence asemissary to the President comes not from disloyalty, but ratherfrom the stark reality that if the voyage were to end tragically,the evidence I carry of the plot responsible for her sinking wouldvanish; hence, my letter to you.

I will board the ship presently, and alert the Captain andcrew of the potential danger. With only the word of an Americanlandlubber to alert them to the potential peril, my task will nodoubt be a difficult one. Nevertheless, as you can bear out, I willpersist in my appeal!

If the worst should happen, in the aftermath of the tragedy,I can think of no one better capable of forestalling a certain rushto war than you.

Yours faithfully,

Archie

For a long moment, Pinkerton stares incredulous at the letter,before silently handing it back to the former President.

Roosevelt carefully folds the parchment and slips it back into hisinside coat pocket. His powerful chest expands from a deep breath;he quickly exhales and declares. "I waited for the American andBritish inquiries to run their course. Of course, to my knowledge, it isindisputable the collision with the iceberg sank the ship."

"The information certainly points ..."

"However," Roosevelt interrupts, thrusting a finger into the air,"I have been around politics long enough to understand that it isirresponsible to accept a final judgment ... to the exclusion of all elsethat is possible, based solely on the conclusions of a governmentsponsored committee." Unexpectedly he gets to his feet, and withhis hands clasped behind his back in a thoughtful posture, moves tothe window.

Pinkerton nonchalantly retrieves a notebook from a desk drawer.Working through his uneasiness, he asks, "What can we do to helpyou, Colonel?"

Roosevelt rocks back and forth on his heels and begins again."I wish to engage the services of your agency in the hope that wemay find the underlying cause of Major Butt's warning. Mind you,under normal circumstances, I would deal with the problem directly."Roosevelt pauses to give the matter some thought, then turns to facePinkerton, and continues, "Unfortunately, my decision to challengefor my party's nomination for president prevents me from taking anactive part in this investigation. In the current political climate, I wouldundoubtedly end up in a position of defending myself against chargesof sensationalism, and exploiting the tragedy for political advantage.In the end, all I will accomplish is to provide a cause célèbre for thesuspected conspirators to hide behind."

Pinkerton maintains a respectful silence as the former President,his deeply furrowed brows indicating the gravity of his dilemma, slowlypaces the office. As a detective, an adventurer of sorts, Pinkerton isintrigued by the extraordinary challenge deposited at his agency'sdoorstep. Nevertheless, a sense of apprehension tugs at him.

"The way I see it, Pinkerton," Roosevelt continues in a determined,high-pitched voice, "there is a certain agenda to be followed. First,we must establish whether the collision with the iceberg was solelyresponsible for the sinking ... and bear in mind we cannot ruleout the possibility the collision was the result of deliberately poorseamanship."

Pinkerton nods in agreement, but without conviction. Rooseveltadds, "Far be it for me to interfere with your agency's work. Regardlessof what you have no doubt heard of me, I am a man who believes inpicking the best man for the job, and then not interfering with theperformance of his duty. And yours, Pinkerton, is the finest detectiveagency in the world."

Pinkerton smiles gratefully. "Thank you, Colonel ... we have arather imposing legacy to uphold," he says, gesturing toward theportraits of the legendary agents, from his grandfather's time to therecent past, adorning the back wall. "There's always someone lookingover my shoulder ... making sure we do our best."

"That's all I ever expect of a man ... that he does his best," Rooseveltadds, nodding resolutely. He returns to his seat, and moves to the nextitem. "Should your investigation uncover evidence of wrongdoing,you will endeavor to learn the identity of the culprits and discover themotive behind their plot." His eyes filled with an unrelenting resolvethat speaks to the manner of the man's greatness, Roosevelt bringshis fist down hard on the arm of the chair, and proclaims, "By thunder,I do intend to bring these people to justice."

Roosevelt's no-nonsense approach is inspiring—his daring andhis quixotic crusade for justice certainly a noble cause. However, inPinkerton's world, caution has its place, and the race doesn't alwaysgo to the swiftest afoot. Pinkerton leans into his carved oak desk, andutters with caution, "What precisely would you expect us to do?"