“Ay,” Gasher breathed.
Jake felt he was drowning in those wide green eyes. Although the Tick-Tock Man’s grip was still not really tight, he couldn’t get enough breath into his lungs. He summoned all of his own force in an effort to break the blonde man’s hold over him, and again spoke the first words which came to mind: “So fell Lord Perth, and the countryside did shake with that thunder.” It acted upon Tick-Tock like a hard open-handed blow to the face. He recoiled, green eyes narrowing, his grip on Jake’s shoulders tightening painfully. “What do you say? Where did you hear that?”
“A little bird told me,” Jake replied with calculated insolence, and the next instant he was flying across the room.
If he had struck the curved wall headfirst, he would have been knocked cold or killed. As it happened, he struck on one hip, rebounded, and landed in a heap on the iron grillework. He shook his head groggily, looked around, and found himself face to face with the woman who was not taking a siesta. He uttered a shocked cry and crawled away on his hands and knees. Hoots kicked him in the chest, flipping him onto his back. Jake lay there gasping, looking up at the knot of rainbow colors where the neon tubes came together. A moment later, Tick-Tock’s face filled his field of vision. The man’s lips were pressed together in a hard, straight line, his cheeks flared with color, and there was fear in his eyes. The coffin-shaped glass ornament he wore around his neck dangled directly in front of Jake’s eyes, swinging gently back and forth on its silver chain, as if imitating the pendulum of the tiny grandfather clock inside. “Gasher’s right,” he said. He gathered a handful of Jake’s shirt into one fist and pulled him up. “You’re pert. But you don’t want to be pert with me, cully. You don’t ever want to be pert with me. Have you heard of people with short fuses? Well, I have no fuse at all, and there’s a thousand could testify to it if I hadn’t stilled their tongues for good. If you ever speak to me of Lord Perth again . . . ever, ever, ever . . . I’ll tear off the top of your skull and eat your brains. I’ll have none of that bad-luck story in the Cradle of the Grays. Do you understand me?”
He shook Jake back and forth like a rag, and the boy burst into tears. “Do you?”
“Y-Y-Yes!”
“Good.” He set Jake upon his feet, where he swayed woozily back and forth, wiping at his streaming eyes and leaving smudges of dirt on his cheeks so dark they looked like mascara. “Now, my little cull, we’re going to have a question and answer session here. I’ll ask the questions and you’ll give the answers. Do you understand?”
Jake didn’t reply. He was looking at a panel of the ventilator grille which circled the chamber.
The Tick-Tock Man grabbed his nose between two of his fingers and squeezed it viciously. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes!” Jake cried. His eyes, now watering with pain as well as terror, returned to Tick-Tock’s face. He wanted to look back at the ventilator grille, wanted desperately to verify that what he had seen there was not simply a trick of his frightened, overloaded mind, but he didn’t dare. He was afraid someone else—Tick-Tock himself, most likely—would follow his gaze and see what he had seen.
“Good.” Tick-Tock pulled Jake back over to the chair by his nose, sat down, and cocked his leg over the arm again. “Let’s have a nice little chin, then. We’ll begin with your name, shall we? Just what might that be, cully?” “Jake Chambers.” With his nose pinched shut, his voice sounded nasal and foggy. “And are you a Not-See, Jake Chambers?”
For a moment Jake wondered if this was a peculiar way of asking him if he was blind . . . but of course they could all see he wasn’t. “I don’t understand what—“
Tick-Tock shook him back and forth by the nose. “Not-See! Not-See! You just want to stop playing with me, boy!”
“I don’t understand—” Jake began, and then he looked at the old machine-gun hanging from the chair and thought once more of the crashed Focke-Wulf. The pieces fell together in his mind. “No—I’m not a Nazi. I’m an American. All that ended long before I was born!”
The Tick-Tock Man released his hold on Jake’s nose, which immedi-ately began to gush blood. “You could have told me that in the first place and saved yourself all sorts of pain, Jake Chambers . . . but at least now you understand how we do things around here, don’t you?”
Jake nodded.
“Ay. Well enough! We’ll start with the simple questions.” Jake’s eyes drifted back to the ventilator grille. What he had seen before was still there; it hadn’t been just his imagination. Two gold-ringed eyes floated in the dark behind the chrome louvers.