EPILOGUE

LAS VEGAS, ZEPHYR RESORT HOTEL AND CASINO.

FRIDAY, APRIL 13, 2012. 1:30 P.M.

“Nervous?” Maggie Liu asked. The attractive director of entertainment for Las Vegas’s Zephyr Casino held a clipboard in her right arm. “We’re looking forward to a huge run.”

The Man in Red laughed. “Nervous? Me? Never. We’re ready to go. You know what Titanic Resurrected’s numbers were in Vancouver? And in Nashville and San Francisco?”

Maggie smiled. “I do. That’s why you’re here. Zephyr only wants the biggest shows. We only bet sure things. Maybe you’ve heard, but in Vegas, the house always wins.”

“I have heard that, but the great thing is there’s no way we can lose. Let me show you why.”

For the next half hour, as his crew feverishly bolted the plywood platforms and polished the Plexiglas displays, the Man in Red gave Maggie the grand tour, winding through historically accurate recreations of a first-class passenger suite, an elaborate dining hall, the grand staircase, and case after case of artifacts that had been raised from the wreck. Billed as “a historical voyage of romance and intrigue!” Titanic Resurrected was massive in scope and scale, the biggest collection of Titanic artifacts ever gathered. Tomorrow was the 100th anniversary of the Titanic’s sinking, and the Man in Red had planned a special event to mark the occasion.

“So, this is the big mystery?” Maggie asked, walking over to a finished Plexiglas display. Inside, positioned in a satin-lined case, was a cylindrical, stainless-steel container. “Doesn’t look like much.”

“We know something’s inside. Scans showed a smaller, liquid-filled tube, probably glass. I’ve had the top Titanic experts weigh in, and no one recognizes it or knows what it might have been used for. We’ll find out tomorrow when we uncork it.”

“Won’t it be a big disappointment if it’s only ink or water or something boring?”

“Well, the show’s run is almost sold out already, and the pay-per-view is going gangbusters, so we make money either way. But ultimately that’s not what interests me. Whatever it is, we’ll learn something.”

“Yeah right—like anyone learns anything in this town.” Maggie laughed.

“You’re about to learn something right now,” he said, lifting a key ring dangling from a belt loop and unlocking the back of the case.

“What do you mean?” Maggie responded.

“What, you think I haven’t opened the cylinder before?” The Man in Red grinned. “Do you want to see it or not?”

Maggie gave him a practiced, casual nod.

The Man in Red reached in, carefully lifting out the stainless-steel cylinder. “The only thing I won’t do is open the vial,” he warned. “Don’t tell anyone I did this for you.”

As his hand wrapped around the top of the canister to unscrew it, the floor began to shake. He stopped short and looked over at Maggie.

“Just a little earthquake,” she said with an easy smile. “Nothing to worry about. This property is more than a match for a tremor like that.”

“Fine for your casino,” said the Man in Red. “I have priceless displays of china and crystal to worry about.” He quickly placed the cylinder back into the display case.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he told Maggie, and then he ran off to check his other displays.

Maggie slyly glanced around. He’d left the case unlocked, and no one was watching. She grabbed the cylinder, spun the cap off, gazed inside, and frowned. Turning the cylinder upside down, a much smaller glass tube slid into her waiting hand. She put the cylinder down.

Staring at the jet-black fluid inside the tube, she shook her head, unimpressed—a bunch of ink, that’s all. Some big mystery.

Then her phone rang. Impatiently, she set the glass tube on a neighboring table, turned around, and answered the call.

As she did, a mild aftershock shook Las Vegas. The table behind her wobbled, and the tube rolled slowly toward the edge.