Recorder Notes Titanic Novels & Stories

I could never get used to that mental chat thing. I sat as Shelly instructed. When I did, Mitch took his seat, and the princess followed. Shelly and the Torus guy got in their seats at the same time. Alex and Jayel joined us after. The two assistants were the last to take their seats. I noticed both jotted down notes in notebooks. I knew for a fact Mia walked with a recorder. She asked my permission to do it. It would help this situation. She needed to catch everything. The recorder would help with that.

"Let's try to break it down first." Len had already jotted down the details in a notebook Tirana lent him. He even circled some particularly intriguing keywords to discuss. Lars just listened as Len reiterated the story he told to make sure everything was right. He nodded along every time as he snacked on some seaweed sprinkled potato chips. "Did I get it right? Don't just nod and chew," Len said after he finished. "Yeah, that's pretty much it." Tirana clicked on something and it turned out to be a voice recorder. "Alright then, got everything recorded here for later review. This is just a standard investigation log so I hope you don't mind."

One that was from William, she roamed her eyes first to check her surrounding before opening up the message. The recorder’s not on. Iris’ eyes widened, totally have forgotten about the recorder. She quickly dug for it on her peace lily that was all rotten now and turned the switch on of the recorder. Her heart was beating so fast, yet totally grateful that it was not recording when Claire was talking to her. “Detective Anderson, here are the findings of the toxicologists on their bodies,” an officer said as he put another pile of papers on her desk. She faked a smile and mouthed ‘thank you’.

The wise man with whom had he spoken nodded slightly. "I understand." Vessa's eyes softened, as if he were about to cry. Only slightly. Good enough. Eryn picked up his pen beside me. He didn't say a word and made a note in the official document. Carefully. Deliberately. I leaned a bit closer towards him. "What are you doing?" "Recording it." Of course he was. Eryn noted down all the important things. The words would be added to the archives. Permanent. Preserved. Protected.

Then I laughed, laughed until my shoulders shook. I pressed the communicator. My voice was calm. "Capitano." "We've intercepted the remaining pursuers. The extraction team will be there any moment." "I know. Pull the surveillance footage from the coastal highway and save the clip of that Rolls-Royce." "And one more thing." I paused, wiping the blood and rain from my face with the back of my hand. "Get all the call records from Tina's phone. Focus on numbers from a year ago. She wasn't with Damian yet back then, but the Milovich family would have already been in contact with her."

Mara’s voice broke fully now. “Then how am I not hers?” And Cassandra finally gave the detail no one expected: “Because your first memory is not your first memory.” That made even Adrian turn slightly. Marcus frowned. “What does that mean?” Cassandra reached again into her coat and removed something smaller than paper. A tiny recorder. Old. Damaged. Protected in plastic. Naomi recognized it first. “No…” Cassandra lifted it. “Elena recorded post-fire recovery sessions.” Victor stared. “You kept that?”

Slid the recorder in beside the burner phone and pressed the panel back into place. Markov. Shipment. Docks. Henderson. Four words I didn't fully understand yet. I didn't know how deep this went or how wide or how many people were in it. But Sylvester would. I closed the closet and sat back on the bed. I needed to plant this recorder in his study permanently. There was a lot I was still yet to find out.

“I didn’t get this recording until today, or I would have stepped in sooner. It’s from a close colleague of Claire’s at work.” The mention of a recording sent a cold shiver down Claire’s spine. Her voice barely above a whisper, she managed to ask, “What recording?” Claire’s pulse pounded in her ears as Mrs. Steele pressed play. The murmurs in the crowd grew into an almost deafening roar, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Bright flashes from reporters’ cameras lit the room, capturing every fleeting expression and movement. The audio crackled before a familiar voice filled the room—Tess’s voice.

The doctor finds her point of view relevant, so, without delay, he writes it down in his notebook, already with several enigmatic details about the patient. “Even though you are sure that everything is being recorded, when you check carefully every moment, do you still take notes?” She asks, confused. “These are observations and not your report. The observations have to do with your expression and posture... things that the voice recorder cannot capture... You can continue, ma'am...” he signals.

She smiled, and it spoke of sadness and perhaps empathy. She placed a hand on his arm. “You really have been stung by the media, haven’t you?” She gave his arm a warm squeeze. “The tape is just for me, to use as a backup for my notes and my memory. If it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t use it.” She picked up the recorder and made as if to put it away. Nick stopped her. “No, go ahead. Just do this the way you usually do.”