CHAPTER 100
New Delhi, India
“Wait here. If I don’t come out in 15 minutes, find a police officer, and tell him a robbery is in progress inside the store,” David said.
Kate scanned the street and the exterior of the store — Timepiece Trading Company. The street was busy, filled with older cars and Indians zooming by on bikes. David had told her that the store was one of a series of Clocktower’s covert outposts, a sort of back door communication channel where local sources and agents could send messages to central. His theory was that it may have been activated if Clocktower was still operational. That was a big if. If Clocktower had fallen — fully — then the Immari would be watching, or more likely manning, these outposts, waiting to clean up any rogue agents and loose ends.
Kate nodded, and David was in the street, limping toward the store; in the blink of an eye, he was inside. Kate bit her lip and waited.
The store was crowded. All the clocks seemed to be in glass cases, or at least the ones that weren’t standing on the ground. Every item looked so fragile, so intricately made, so breakable. David felt like the proverbial bull in a china shop as he tried to squeeze between two standing glass cases, forcing his wounded leg to cooperate.
It was dark inside the store and bright outside; he could barely see a thing. He brushed against a case full of antique hand watches, the kind men with monocles and a shiny vest might wear. The case shook, and the time pieces jingled as their edges touched and tiny pieces rattled. David grabbed the case, trying to steady it as he balanced on his good leg. He felt as if one false move could bring the whole place down.
A voice rang out from deep inside the store. “Welcome, sir. How may I be of service today?”
David searched the room once, then again, finally finding the man behind a tall desk toward the rear of the store. He limped over to him while trying to avoid the standing glass mines. “I’m looking for a special piece.”
“You’ve come to the right place, sir. What sort of piece?”
“A Clocktower.”
The clerk studied him. “An unusual request. But you’re in luck. We’ve located several Clocktowers for customers over the years. May I know more about what you’re looking for? Age, shape, size? Any information is helpful.”
David tried to remember the exact words. He never thought he’d have to use them. “A piece that tells more than time. Forged from steel that can’t be broken.”
“I may know of such a piece. I’ll need to make a phone call.” His voice changed. “Stay here,” he said in a flat tone. Before David could answer, the man disappeared behind a cloth that hung over a doorway.
David strained to see and hear, but nothing emanated from beyond the cloth. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He had been inside for 10 minutes. Would Kate keep her promise?
The clerk returned. He wore a blank, unreadable expression. “The seller would like to speak with you.” He waited.
What David wouldn’t have given for a gun at that moment. He simply nodded and stepped behind the desk. The clerk pulled the cloth back and pushed David into the darkness. He could sense the clerk reaching over his back, toward his head, but before David could turn, the clerk’s arm was coming down toward his chest, fast.