A Briefcase Across The Atlantic

The door bursts open and two bodies stumble into the room, shouting and swinging fists at each other. Salvador jolts awake in his bed, fists at the ready, eyes wildly darting around and trying to adjust to the darkness. A dingy yellow light from the hallway creeps across the floor. It doesn’t so much illuminate the dark room as it acts as a big yellow barrier that is painted in the center of these midnight blue, shadowy quarters.

The two bodies fall to the floor, wrestling and throwing punches. Fists whacking into flesh and bones. Salvador moves his hand to shelf next to his bed and wraps his fingers around his frying pan.

The larger of the two bodies gets up off the floor and looms over the other body. The light from the hallway barely revealing he is an enormous man. Salvador leaps out of bed and swings the frying pan at the man’s head. The man sees something swinging towards him and shields himself with his arm. The frying pan strikes him in the shoulder, and he wails in pain.

“Salvador! It’s us!” The man yells in the voice that is now familiar to Salvador.

The other body pulls itself off the floor as Salvador looks for matches. He lights a couple of candles. Now, he can make out the faces of these two idiots, Wilhelm and Harry. They smile and their teeth are stained purple from all the wine they got into themselves. How Harry is smart enough to work closely with scientists and simultaneously dumb enough to lower himself to Wilhelm’s level… Salvador will never know.

“You two are so stupid!” Salvador says in a hushed tone, rushing to shut the door. “I had no idea who you were!”

Wilhelm puts a meaty paw on Salvador’s shoulder and shoves him onto his bed. One part playfulness, one part revenge from the frying pan strike, two parts, “I am drunk and wanting violence.” Salvador stands back up, still clutching the frying pan.

“Put that damn thing away!” Harry grabs the frying pan from Salvador and tosses it into his bed.

Wilhelm chuckles a big ape-ish chuckle and lumbers across the room towards his bed. He plops into it and Salvador swears for a moment the sheer weight of Wilhelm will just collapse the bed into shards of timber. But it doesn’t. Harry grabs one of the candles and brings it to his bedside and gets into his own bed.

“You can’t just be swinging that thing around.” Harry says. “You could have hurt one of us.”

“That was the point.” Salvador says bluntly. “What happened to keeping a low profile?”

“So, we had a little grape juice…” Wilhelm says in a nonchalant tone as he gets comfortable in his bed.

“If people come knocking the door in, I am going to start swinging. It’s as simple as that.” Salvador doesn’t bother looking at Wilhelm who already has his eyes closed. He stares right at Harry.

“Even if it wasn’t us, you don’t start swinging kitchenware.” Harry responds. “You are the one not keeping a low profile.”

“If you don’t want to be struck… then when you enter the room—” Salvador starts in a righteous tone.

“Then, nothing!” Harry cuts him off. “You don’t call the shots. Remember the chain of command.”

Harry blows his candle out and lays back in his bed. Wilhelm is already snoring. The slight glow from the candle near Salvador’s bed is enough to illuminate Harry’s eyes as they watch Salvador… waiting for him to blow out his own candle. Salvador is seething with anger. He inhales deeply and exhales sharply onto the candle, returning the room to darkness. Salvador gently lowers himself into his bed, searching for the frying pan. He locates it and holds it tightly to his chest.

He realizes his heart is pounding. This unpleasant surprise yanking him from a somewhat peaceful sleep still has him on edge. His chest hurts from his heart smacking repeatedly into it. His breathing is rapid and shallow. He can feel his lips snarling into an angry scowl.

It will be difficult to fall back asleep. A negative, sure. Perhaps, not the worst thing in the world. Does he want to fall asleep with these two men in the room with him? Does he want to let his guard down? He grips the frying pan tighter in his fist and presses it harder into his chest. No one will be pulling the frying pan from his hands again.

*******

Salvador’s eyes flutter open as he feels his body rocking back and forth. The room is light again. Sun from outside washes inside. Salvador sees he is alone. Wilhelm and Harry have left. He sees the frying pan is still pressed against his chest, somehow, he fell asleep but still managed to grip the frying pan. He relaxes his fingers, feeling the aching, pulsing pain in them from having clutched the frying pan. He’s surprised he never heard Wilhelm and Harry waking up and leaving. Then again, he does recall being up for hours after they burst into the room. When he finally dozed off, he must have been exhausted. He hasn’t slept well on much of this trip.

Salvador has no idea what time it might be. But he can hear the voices of other passengers outside his room. He can smell delicious food wafting in. He figures it is time to get himself out of this bed.

*******

After a hearty breakfast, Salvador finds himself leaning against a railing, clutching the metal pole as tightly as he gripped that frying pan. He watches the ocean water rushing past the base of the ship. Splashing and spraying up alongside it, white foam percolating and subsiding underneath the ship all too quickly.

The air is cool and brisk, but the sun is beaming down with warmth. It’s a strange combination. Salvador won’t remove his coat as he would become cold, but he is sweating underneath it. He suspects it is from the sun. But then he remembers, he is a sweater. Especially when he is nervous. He has been sweating this whole trip. Generally, his nerves are made of steel. Thick, durable, unmovable steel, just like that of this beauty from Belfast that takes him across the Atlantic. But he is extremely nervous about this particular mission.

A happy couple strolls by on the deck and nod with glee in Salvador’s direction. Salvador nods back and redirects his eyes downward, avoiding looking these people in the face for too long. It helps to not look at these faces too much. Knowing what Salvador knows, he doesn’t want to feel any sense of kinship with anyone on this boat or anyone over in the U.S. when he arrives there. Kinship with man or country… that’s something Salvador has had no problem avoiding in his years.

Salvador was born in the United States. Where, he is not certain. Somewhere in the northeast, he was told. He was born to a mixed couple. They were rejected much of their life together. They moved from the southern area of the U.S. to avoid much of this rejection. There was, indeed, less of this rejection in the northeastern portion of the country, but it still existed. Salvador’s life has been full of people rejecting him. He is the product of a mixed couple. Many people view him as the offspring of an unholy union. The other part to this equation, Salvador doesn’t have a visual memory of either of his parents.

He swears he remembers the smell of his mother from a time when he was a tiny child. Something vanilla. But he has no idea what either of his parents looked like. They stopped being in his life when he was very young. The reason why, another thing Salvador doesn’t know about his childhood. Were they killed? Did they abandon him? Was he separated from them? He doesn’t know.

He has hardly any memories of the United States. For some reason he was brought to France. He bounced around from foster home to foster home, adoption agency to adoption agency. He wound up in the United Kingdom eventually. Another thing he was unsure as to why it happened. Also, another thing he didn’t ask too many questions about. Salvador had gotten to a point in his life where he didn’t care about his past or his immediate present… he was looking to his future. A future where he would be an adult and could leave all of these people controlling his life, making decisions for his life… he could go make his own life.

By 18 he left the United Kingdom. He returned to France. But he had no sense of pride for this country he once lived in. He had no sense of citizenship. But that was true of any place he set foot in. He had no family, no friends in which the relationship lasted longer than five or six months, he had nothing tying him down to any region.

So, he went on his travels. Looking for odd jobs. Anything he could find that would pay him for his limited experience and skills. He spent time in Belgium doing odd jobs for store owners, but nothing ever stuck. He moved on to Switzerland, then to Austria. Austria was where he got his first taste of crime.

He got in touch with some groups of people who wanted some things done that were not legal. And they paid well. Salvador did them happily. He found out he was good at these sorts of things. His lack of empathy for others, lack of love for anyone, it made him a cold and calculating criminal. He was able to remain calm under pressure and use logic uninterrupted by emotions or feelings.

Salvador had found his calling.

He moved on to Germany when he was introduced to a group that could use his assistance. And use his assistance they did. For several years. This particular group, no one would call them criminals. Partially because they wouldn’t want to face the repercussions, but also because this group seemed to ascend criminal status. They were more than just criminals. They were powerful. They also had a lot of money and paid very generously for various tasks. That was the reason Salvador stuck around. Not for a sense of loyalty, or pride. It was the money.

Then again, there was another reason Salvador stuck around. And just as Salvador began to muse about Allison, a few passengers strolled by, and he swore he saw her face. He glanced at the people and slyly studied their faces. Something he vowed he wouldn’t do on this entire voyage on The Titanic. But here he is doing it.

No. It’s not Allison. Of course, it’s not Allison. She died over a year ago. That would be impossible. He was just thinking of her, vividly… and his brain supplanted her face on the next woman to pass by. But this woman has a similar build to Allison. A similar figure. And her face is pleasant in many of the same ways. Same pointed chin, same blue eyes lighter than the Caribbean Sea. She catches Salvador gazing at her, cast a smile his way and carried on. A deep feeling came over Salvador that he couldn’t describe if he wanted to. It froze him in his place. It made his stomach lurch and turn, and it weakened his knees.

He stared back down at the water. It continued to rush by as they stormed on to the United States. He looked back up onto the deck of the ship. So many happy people. So many people filled with hope. Waiting to meet people at their new destination, waiting to be reunited with loved ones. An entire country filled with people, many innocent, many good, many kind… and Salvador was on his way to destroy all of that for many of them.

Suddenly, the steel trap that shielded his heart from his logic and decision-making had been unlocked. It had been broken up into many pieces. It had dissipated into his bloodstream and vanished. His heart was free. It beat on as it always did. But now it entered into the decision-making process. And none of this felt right anymore.

Something took over his body. His brain was no longer in control. He rushes over towards this woman and the two men she strolled with. Salvador places his hand on her shoulder, and she spins around to face him again. Slight surprise comes over her. The two men spin around, a bit more concerned. Salvador hasn’t thought this through. Why is he touching this woman’s shoulder? He knows she is not Allison. But he is compelled to speak to her.

“Do you know Allison Dimic?” He asks.

Salvador swallows hard. He freezes his face into something that hopefully appears casual. The awkward uncertainty bubbles just beneath the surface of his skin.

“I’m afraid I do not.” The woman responds. “Is she a passenger on this boat?”

“No. She is not. She—” Salvador doesn’t know where to go from here.

“Excuse me, I hate to be rude.” One of the men speaks up. He is wearing a blue suit. Not light blue like Allison’s eyes, or like this blue-eyed lady’s eyes. Not blue like the Caribbean Sea. Blue like this vast and seemingly infinite Atlantic Ocean they all safely float on top of. “But we are in a hurry. I have just been given the responsibility and honor of delivering coffee and tea to the Captain and his crew.”

“That’s a servant’s job.” The other man speaks up. His suit is black. Not like any water Salvador has ever seen.

“It is an honor to meet this Captain and his brave crew.” Blue suit quips. “They work long shifts. Especially the lookouts. They need the stimulation.”

“Perhaps we may be stimulated by some further conversation with you another time mister…” The blue-eyed lady leaves her sentence and allows Salvador to pick it right up.

“Salvador.”

They nod politely, top their hats, and head off. Salvador attempts to block out how kind and polite these people were. But he has allowed those sentiments to creep in already. They’re now plastered to the inside of his brain… and his heart.

*******

Wilhelm has removed his socks. He lays on his bed and wiggles his toes, now free from their cotton prisons. They stink like eggs and the mystery meat from the little shop next to where Salvador used to live. The place where he met Allison. Thank Goodness for an Allison-Memory… to block out this Toe-Stench.

Harry has all the papers from their plans laid out on the floor. He is going over the plan once more with Salvador. Wilhelm is supposed to be listening. Wilhelm might be listening. Hell, Wilhelm is in the room, and he is awake. Harry should count his blessings.

“This is the address. These are the directions.” Harry gives some papers to Salvador. He promptly tucks them into a pocket. “Remember, you go straight there to let them know of our arrival. We will be along shortly.”

Salvador nods, tired of hearing the plan over and over. For one thing, he already knows it inside and out. Secondly, hearing it each consecutive time is making him feel sicker and sicker to his stomach.

The plan, it involves a new chemical substance. The first of its kind, invented by a scientist working for Salvador’s generous employer. Salvador’s generous employer who despises Americans and despises most Europeans who are not German. His goal is to expand the German territory. It is a goal shared by political leaders much higher up the rankings… but Salvador’s employer, he is rich for one reason. He is paid by these political leaders.

Plain and simple, Salvador’s employer, those that pay him, they all want to expand German territories. They know that in doing this, war is inevitable. Conflict will arise. Other nations will attempt to put a stop to this. This mission that Salvador, Wilhelm and Harry are on… this is the strike before the expansion. As they assume powerful nations will band together to stop this German expansion, they also assume that the United States will get involved. It is believed the United States will oppose this. Though the U.S. is a young country, she is a powerful country. She has many soldiers.

The Germans believe that if they are to go about with their plan of expansion, the European forces that will attempt to stop them will not be so powerful that Germany and it’s allies cannot defeat them. However, if the United States is to get involved, then that may tip the scales out of Germany’s favor.

The pre-emptive strike. This mission. Salvador, Wilhelm, and Harry take this chemical substance to America. It is in Harry’s briefcase. Once they step foot off the Titanic, the mission is in play. Salvador goes to the safe house. He notifies those inside of their arrival. Meanwhile, Wilhelm and Harry release the chemical from the briefcase into the air. As tested in controlled situations by its creator, the impact it should have is to enter the atmosphere. It will spread far and wide. It will only last approximately 20 hours. But all those who inhale it will die. It will span a tremendous area. It will kill millions. Back in the safe house, gas masks will be provided. The chemical will easily seep into homes all along the Eastern seaboard. Only a gas mask will serve as protection from it.

With America losing so many citizens, politicians, soldiers, she will be weakened massively. When Germany begins expansion and other European nations band together to stop them, there will be a call to America to help. America will either be a limited factor, or in knowing she will be a limited factor, will not get involved at all.

Harry is folding the papers up and putting them away. He checks on his briefcase and makes sure it is locked. He hides it away. Salvador thinks about how he has no affiliation to the country he was born in. Or any of the countries he has lived in… for that matter. He has no affiliation, no sense of loyalty. Everything he has done has been for himself. Other than that five-month period where he felt something that might have been what others call “love.” Those five months with Allison. He had never met anyone like her.

She lived next door to him in Germany. She was kind. She was helpful. She was warm and funny. She brought coffees and cakes to Salvador. She worked at a bakery nearby and always had leftover foods. She spoke German, English and French. She was wonderful. She was passionate. When she kissed Salvador, he never wanted to let go. He never wanted his skin to stop touching her skin. He wanted her warmth against him, always.

He began to feel that he would do anything for Allison. Then, one day, Salvador returned home to see Allison’s door smashed in. He found her laying dead in her own apartment, throat slit, and a few of her jewels and heirlooms missing. Lost her life to a few petty thieves. And now Salvador had no one in his life that he would do anything for… once again. His heart had finally begun to grow. Just a mere bulb of a flower, barely sprouted from the soil. Just like that, it was ripped from the Earth before it could bloom.

But the blue-eyed lady on board the ship. Why does Salvador keep thinking of her? She is not Allison. She looks like Allison. But she is an entirely different person. But she seems kind. Salvador didn’t have to know anything else about her. Even if she wasn’t kind… even if she was rotten… she doesn’t deserve to die.

Wilhelm continues to wiggle his smelly, bare toes. Harry pulls out a book to read. Salvador is left with his thoughts.

*******

Up on the deck, Wilhelm and Harry have a conversation with two pretty women. Many people are out, talking, laughing. It is late, the sky is a black that is beautiful. Perhaps enhanced by the blue water below. The stars shine like so many candles hanging from the heavens. It’s cold. Wilhelm and Harry have a lot of wine in them. As does Salvador. He stands several feet away, fire in his eyes, perhaps brought on by the wine, perhaps brought on by Harry and Wilhelm’s disregard for human life. A disregard Salvador has adopted. Perhaps, this is all coming from Salvador’s loathing of himself. Perhaps, it is brought on by the blue-eyed lady who looks like Allison.

Allison. What would Allison think of Salvador?

Wilhelm laughs at his own joke. But it’s as if he is laughing at Salvador. Without logic or reason or any true thought in his head, Salvador charges Wilhelm and tackles him! They soar past Harry and the ladies and crash into a group of people and fall to the deck.

Salvador hears a snap. Scattered thudding noises. A man screams in agony. Glass shatters.

“You’ve broken my leg!” A man screams out.

Wilhelm and Salvador struggle on the deck. Wrestling. Fists thudding into one another. Elbows smashing into bones.

Wilhelm lands a big, meaty fist into Salvador’s jaw and launches him backwards. He gets up and lifts Salvador up. Salvador realizes they had crashed into the man in the blue suit. His leg is mangled and twisted. The blue-eyed lady and her companion in the black suit are also laying out on the deck, mortified. Shattered glasses and mugs lay about. Coffee is spilled everywhere.

The man continues to scream in pain and before Salvador can say anything, Wilhelm scoops him up and carries him away.

*******

Back in the room, Wilhelm throws Salvador to the floor, and he thuds into the wall. Harry enters, laughing. He clearly thinks Salvador was just playing around.

“We can’t act like that in front of everyone else!” Harry shouts with a big smile. “We’re supposed to act like first-class passengers, remember?”

Salvador finds a bottle of wine on the floor that someone had stolen. He pops the cork out and takes a big swig of wine.

“I’m heading back up to the party.” Harry says. “Perhaps, to a different section of the boat.”

Harry and Wilhelm look at Salvador. As a response, Salvador remains seated and takes another swig of wine. Harry shrugs and heads back out of the room. Wilhelm follows.

“You haven’t bested me yet.” He says through a grin that drips with evil.

The door shuts behind the two as they rejoin the parties on the deck of the Titanic. Salvador drinks more wine. He rests his head against the wall behind him. He closes his eyes. He shuts off the world. He stays hidden behind his eyelids. But even in here… he can’t stand himself.

*******

A loud crash followed by awful groaning and screeching throughout the ship is what awakens Salvador from his drunken, sleepy stupor. It felt like Salvador was shaken violently. He looks around the room. No one is in here with him. He still figures it was Wilhelm and Harry causing trouble… somewhere. The wine bottle remains clutched in his hand. He is getting good at holding things while sleeping. Another swig of wine. Closing eyes again. Drifting off to sleep again.

*******

The next loud crash that awakens Salvador is Harry and Wilhelm bursting into the room in a frenzy.

“Pack your stuff! We’re going now!” Harry screams in the most frightful voice he has ever emitted in his time with Salvador.

“What’s happening?” Salvador is in a daze. A bottle of wine still in his hand.

“The ship is sinking! It hit an iceberg!” Wilhelm is furiously packing.

“They’re getting the lifeboats in order!” Harry screams while swinging a bag at Salvador to prod him to his feet. “Our tickets deem us important passengers, so we’ll be ushered onto the boats quickly! Hurry up!”

The next few moments are a blur. Salvador packs what he can into his bag without taking too much time. He noticeably locks in on Harry grabbing the briefcase. The briefcase is firm in Harry’s hand. The plan will stay intact. They will still make it to America. The chemical will still be released.

Harry and Wilhelm rush out of the room with half of their belongings. Salvador didn’t bring much, for he doesn’t own much. Even with that being the truth, he still only managed to gather a small percentage of his belongings and then raced after the two.

It was a blur through the hallways. Items fallen all over the ship, people frantically rushing around. People slamming into one another in their frenzies, people falling to the floor, getting stepped on, hardly anyone stopping to pick anyone up.

It’s a blurry race through the halls, up the stairs, and out onto the deck. When the freezing night air hits Salvador’s face… things clear up a bit. But much of this portion of his journey continues to streak by in flashes, some parts discarded from Salvador’s awareness.

Still half-drunk, Salvador finds himself standing in a line about to board a lifeboat. Wilhelm stands in it with several other passengers. Harry has boarded the lifeboat, briefcase in hand. Salvador looks to his right. The lifeboat next to them is being boarded as well. The blue-eyed lady is stepping in the boat and catches Salvador’s eyes. She sneers at him, disgusted with him.

She has every right to be angry with him. Even if she didn’t, even if she was a rotten person, she still didn’t deserve to die. Especially not after going through this harrowing experience, making it to America, only to have it all end horribly.

“Salvador! What are you doing?!” Harry snaps Salvador’s attention back to the lifeboat in front of him.

Salvador drops his bag to the deck. He crouches, unzips it, rips the frying pan from inside of it. He lunges forward and swings the frying pan at Wilhelm’s chin. It knocks him backwards off the lifeboat and sends him careening down into the cold dark ocean water. Salvador drops the frying pan, he replaces his grip with the handle of the briefcase, ripping it from Harry’s hand. Salvador dashes the other way.

Harry has trouble pulling himself out of the lifeboat and back onto the deck of the ship, so Salvador is able to separate himself. He rushes for a staircase to head back down into the cabins of the ship. He needs to hide this briefcase somewhere. This briefcase cannot make it to America. This briefcase needs to sink to the bottom of the Atlantic.

Salvador sees an officer in his way. He purposely barges into him, knocking him down. He yanks his coat off him, throws it on himself and races off down a staircase.

Half drunken, half operating on adrenaline, Salvador rushes through a hallway, disguised as an officer. He needs to find a hiding place for this briefcase.

He passes door after door. Turns down hallways. Down another. Another. A room at the end of the hallway, the door ajar. He bursts into the room. It is empty besides some belongings strewn about.

He finds himself in the middle of the room, looking for a hiding spot to be absolutely certain Harry cannot find it. Just in the off-chance Harry glances in this room.

A knock at the door. Salvador spins around. Harry is crafty. Harry stands there with a pistol drawn. He fires it. A bullet tears through Salvador’s stomach and sends him stumbling backwards into a pole that extends up to the ceiling. Salvador leans against it, trying to prop himself up. He can feel warm blood seeping from inside him, smearing onto the pole, dripping onto the floor.

Harry drops the gun, letting it thud on the floor. He kicks it under a bed on the far side of the room. He approaches Salvador.

“That briefcase is making it to America no matter what.” Harry says. “I don’t need you and Wilhelm. I’ll carry out the orders myself.”

Salvador is weak, barely able to prop himself up. Harry reaches for the briefcase in Salvador’s right hand. He grasps it. Salvador digs his left hand into the coat pocket, grasping a pair of handcuffs. He slaps one side onto Harry’s wrist. Having caught Harry by surprise, Salvador has just enough time and energy to attach the other side of the handcuffs to the pole and lock Harry to it.

Salvador collapses to the floor. He reaches back into the pocket of the coat, finds the key to the handcuffs and hurls it across the room. Harry struggles, yanking his arm over and over, but he cannot free himself. He is cuffed to the pole. He stares at Salvador, his eyes filled with a mixture of evil and defeat.

“No country, no loyalty, no one. What happened?” He asks Salvador.

“That’s exactly what happened. No one.” Salvador utters through labored breath. “It got to be too much.”

Salvador and Harry and the briefcase will sink with this ship. They will both die on this ship. Salvador suspects many others on this ship will die. They will die thinking it was all for nothing. But in some strange way, it was for something. It was to save millions. To Salvador… that’s something.