Chapter eleven-Cal's revenge
Upon arriving in New York City, Thomas and Rose booked a room in a hotel in the centre of the city. Thomas planned to buy a home for the two of them as soon as possible in New Jersey. There was noone to stop them now, Rose's mother had died in the lifeboat from over exposure and they had not seen Cal. Thomas knew there would be plenty of bad publicity when he was going to marry Rose, but after the sinking, surely more people would understand why. He knew it was almost selfish of him to be happy, but Thomas was really happy. White Star Line wrote and said he could keep his job, but he declined. He didn't want to return to England, return to the accusing stares, and what if another of his ships sunk? Thomas could not bear the thought of him putting more peoples lives in jeopardy.
He planned to get employment as an architect, something that payed well that would surely be safe. Designing buildings was preferable to designing ships, and he had the skills, even if the occupations were somewhat different. He already had had three different offers of publishers asking for his biography about the Titanic's sinking, and although he was dead against it, rose had nearly managed to convince him into it when he received another letter from the White Star Line, offering him a large pay- out in return for him not to publish a biography for at least the next thirty years. Thomas readily agreed, for with that money they would have enough to live on, and there would be no need to publish the book.
They spent the first few days were spent engrossed in each other. They didn't leave the room much, for Thomas suffered terribly with the accusing glares that came from the people who recognised him. He could see them even now, muttering to each other "There he is, that's the bastard who built the ship". Rose assured him it would only last a few weeks at most.
When Thomas proposed to Rose three days after their arrival in New York City, Rose agreed at once. They would have to wait until she turned eighteen, however, but no matter. Time wasn't much of a concern to Thomas anymore. He had all the time in the world. Pity the poor souls whose time ran short due to his failures.
***************************************************************
Unknown to them, however, was Cal, who was staying in his New York penthouse, which he had owned for several years now, along with his property in North Dakota, his apartments in Boston and Detroit and his holiday home in Virginia. Cal had used his "sources" to find out where Thomas and Rose were staying. Cal chuckled. It was amazing what people would do for you if you had enough money. He would have Rose, he was sure of that. It would be too easy to obtain another wife, but even now he was sure that he was quite fond of Rose. Attached, even. He was still her fiancé. But he couldn't just rush in and sweep rose out of there. No doubt old man Andrews wanted her as badly as he did.
The fool, Lovejoy had gone down with Titanic. He found his new manservant much more to his liking. Andrew Ripley was over six foot three tall, and appeared at all counts to be made of solid steel. Even now, standing in Cal's doorway, he blocked out the outside world with his bulk. Normally Cal would have chosen a man more inconspicuous, but he needed brute force to implement his next plan.
"Come in, Ripley," Cal called him lazily inside. "Now, as you know, the old man is living with my future wife in the Royal hotel on fifth avenue. And you also know I want her BACK,"
Ripley nodded. Another reason Cal had hired him was that he was a man of few words. Not like that damned Lovejoy. He was like a blasted parrot, always spouting off useless advice.
"I want you watching that hotel. First time they leave, I want you to get inside. Plant this in their room," He handed over a large envelope. "Shake them up a little bit, get them scared?"
Ripley laughed, an almost menacing sound.
"And then, when they least expect it, we strike!"
Upon arriving in New York City, Thomas and Rose booked a room in a hotel in the centre of the city. Thomas planned to buy a home for the two of them as soon as possible in New Jersey. There was noone to stop them now, Rose's mother had died in the lifeboat from over exposure and they had not seen Cal. Thomas knew there would be plenty of bad publicity when he was going to marry Rose, but after the sinking, surely more people would understand why. He knew it was almost selfish of him to be happy, but Thomas was really happy. White Star Line wrote and said he could keep his job, but he declined. He didn't want to return to England, return to the accusing stares, and what if another of his ships sunk? Thomas could not bear the thought of him putting more peoples lives in jeopardy.
He planned to get employment as an architect, something that payed well that would surely be safe. Designing buildings was preferable to designing ships, and he had the skills, even if the occupations were somewhat different. He already had had three different offers of publishers asking for his biography about the Titanic's sinking, and although he was dead against it, rose had nearly managed to convince him into it when he received another letter from the White Star Line, offering him a large pay- out in return for him not to publish a biography for at least the next thirty years. Thomas readily agreed, for with that money they would have enough to live on, and there would be no need to publish the book.
They spent the first few days were spent engrossed in each other. They didn't leave the room much, for Thomas suffered terribly with the accusing glares that came from the people who recognised him. He could see them even now, muttering to each other "There he is, that's the bastard who built the ship". Rose assured him it would only last a few weeks at most.
When Thomas proposed to Rose three days after their arrival in New York City, Rose agreed at once. They would have to wait until she turned eighteen, however, but no matter. Time wasn't much of a concern to Thomas anymore. He had all the time in the world. Pity the poor souls whose time ran short due to his failures.
***************************************************************
Unknown to them, however, was Cal, who was staying in his New York penthouse, which he had owned for several years now, along with his property in North Dakota, his apartments in Boston and Detroit and his holiday home in Virginia. Cal had used his "sources" to find out where Thomas and Rose were staying. Cal chuckled. It was amazing what people would do for you if you had enough money. He would have Rose, he was sure of that. It would be too easy to obtain another wife, but even now he was sure that he was quite fond of Rose. Attached, even. He was still her fiancé. But he couldn't just rush in and sweep rose out of there. No doubt old man Andrews wanted her as badly as he did.
The fool, Lovejoy had gone down with Titanic. He found his new manservant much more to his liking. Andrew Ripley was over six foot three tall, and appeared at all counts to be made of solid steel. Even now, standing in Cal's doorway, he blocked out the outside world with his bulk. Normally Cal would have chosen a man more inconspicuous, but he needed brute force to implement his next plan.
"Come in, Ripley," Cal called him lazily inside. "Now, as you know, the old man is living with my future wife in the Royal hotel on fifth avenue. And you also know I want her BACK,"
Ripley nodded. Another reason Cal had hired him was that he was a man of few words. Not like that damned Lovejoy. He was like a blasted parrot, always spouting off useless advice.
"I want you watching that hotel. First time they leave, I want you to get inside. Plant this in their room," He handed over a large envelope. "Shake them up a little bit, get them scared?"
Ripley laughed, an almost menacing sound.
"And then, when they least expect it, we strike!"
