The Skeleton Clock Read online

  ‘Officer Revelle,’ the Toymaker said. ‘How nice to see you again so soon. Looking for something for your children this time perhaps?’

  ‘I have no children,’ Revelle replied. ‘But I do want to buy something, yes.’

  ‘A boat? Boats are very popular. A gift is it?’

  ‘Advice. Expertise.’

  ‘Ah. Helping with your enquiries?’

  ‘If you want to put it like that.’

  Sarah didn’t dare look, but she hoped Revelle was smiling. That this was a joke.

  ‘There’s money in it,’ Revelle went on. ‘I’ll see you are properly paid for your time.’

  ‘You want me to make something for you?’

  ‘Oh no,’ Revelle said. ‘Someone’s made this already. A long time ago. I want you to take a look at it and tell me how it works.’

  ‘A toy?’ Jasper Hickson asked.

  ‘A head,’ Watchman Revelle told him. ‘Made of gold. A life-size talking head.’

  *

  The puddle reflected the colours of the morning sun. A rainbow of dark blues and greys. There wasn’t much oil floating on the water, but enough for Jake to skim it off in an old jar. He had a dented jerry can back at the warehouse where he kept the oil he found. It would take a while, but one day the can would be full. Then he’d have something to sell. Maybe when it was half full, the way things were going.

  He had found some fruit at the docks for breakfast. A couple of bruised apples dropped from a box while being unloaded from a boat.

  What he hadn’t found was Geoff. They usually started the day at the docks, seeing what they could scavenge after the boats unloaded. There were half a dozen waterlarks working the quays. But no sign of Geoff.

  Jake decided to give his friend another half hour, then he’d move on to the mud banks by the dryways and see if he could find anything useful washed up as the tide receded. It was cold this morning – too cold for Jake to fancy diving in the shallows. If there was no sign of Geoff by mid morning, he’d try Whispers. He didn’t think the Brothers had seen him, and his precious cavalry soldier would be safer in his stash than in his pocket.

  *

  Sarah insisted on going with her father. He was reluctant only because it meant closing the shop. He was obviously glad of her company on the journey.

  They got a ferry to Nelson’s mooring, where they had to wait for a while. Sarah stretched her legs on the uneven wooden deck that surrounded the plinth. The statue itself was just above her head. If she jumped, Sarah could reach the statue’s chipped feet. The ancient figure stared out across the waterscape oblivious to Sarah and her father. After what seemed an age they got another ferry to the Caring Cross.

  ‘I doubt we’ll be losing many customers,’ Sarah said as they descended the chipped stone steps into the tunnel system. ‘And I want to see this talking head.’

  ‘Probably clockwork,’ her father said. ‘Or an old disc recording with a pull-cord.’

  ‘Why didn’t Watchman Revelle come with us?’ Sarah wondered.

  ‘He said he had been called over to Harrow on the Dry.’

  They both knew what that meant. ‘Atherton,’ Sarah said quietly.

  The tunnels were quiet as they approached the White Tower. No one went there unless they were in the government, or they had to. Sarah and her father were the only people who emerged from the tunnels in the shadow of the enormous stone building.

  ‘I’ve been trying to remember something,’ the Toymaker said as they approached the walkway up into the White Tower.

  ‘You’re always trying to remember something,’ Sarah said. She glanced nervously at the camera mounted above the main gate. At the Defeaters in their scarlet uniforms and dark caps waiting under the huge archway. At the seagulls circling above the Tower and perched on the ramparts and battlements.

  ‘In this case, I was trying to remember something William Atherton once told me. About those soldier figures.’

  Sarah was at once interested. ‘And what was it?’

  ‘Ah, well, that’s what I was trying to remember. He said that he knew someone else had a similar figure. It might be nothing, but it might be a useful lead.’ He paused, and turned to look at his daughter. ‘Assuming you want to follow this up, rather than just forget about it. Let it drop. Hide the clock and hope everything will be fine.’

  Sarah met his gaze. ‘What do you think, father?’

  He sniffed and looked down at the cobbled walkway. ‘I think that you are your mother’s daughter,’ he said. When he looked up at her again he was smiling, but his eyes were moist. ‘And I don’t think you can let things be.’ He set off again up the slope towards the arched gateway.

  ‘Did he say who had this figure?’ Sarah asked, unable to keep the eagerness out of her voice.

  ‘A lady of considerable wealth. The widow of another noted collector. Mrs Gladhall. She lives over at Knights’ Crossing, I believe.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sarah said quietly.

  ‘You be careful,’ her father warned. He looked up at the arched stone high above them. ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’

  Sarah gave a short laugh. ‘I hope not. Why do you say that?’

  ‘It’s a quotation from an old book. Which gives me another idea. The public library is too obvious, and probably not much help. But you could go to Mandrake. He has all sorts of arcane literature. There might be something there about the soldiers, or about the clock.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ Sarah agreed. But she said no more as one of the Defeaters was approaching them.

  Sarah’s father told him who they were and that Officer Revelle of the Watch had sent them to examine a talking head.

  The Defeater nodded. ‘Miss Patterson left instructions. I’ll show you the way.’

  ‘Abandon hope, did you say?’ Sarah asked quietly as the Defeater led them across a small courtyard to a heavy wooden door studded with metal. ‘Seems appropriate.’

  ‘It’s an inscription,’ her father replied. ‘In the story, it is what is written over the gates of hell.’

  The Defeater opened the door to let them inside.

  *

  There was no sign of Geoff at the Fleet, and no one had seen him at Nelson’s Mooring. He asked a couple of the ’larks he knew down on the mud banks, but they’d not seen Geoff either.

  ‘Not since Tuesday,’ Harry said.

  ‘I ain’t seen him in a week,’ Leez told Jake. She grinned, showing off her chipped yellow teeth. ‘You tell him I said hello when you find him.’

  ‘Ask him if he knows about the monster,’ Harry said.

  ‘What monster?’ Jake felt suddenly cold. ‘You seen a monster?’

  ‘Not us,’ Leez assured him. ‘But they’re saying some giant squid or something wrecked one of the floating restaurants.’

  ‘Who’s saying that?’

  Harry shrugged. ‘People.’

  ‘True though,’ Leez added. ‘Someone was killed. One of the waiters. And a woman was hurt bad enough for the hospital, so I hope she’s rich.’

  Harry stretched out his arms and lumbered menacingly towards Leez, his feet squelching in the thick mud. ‘I’m a monster, and I’m going to get you.’

  Leez gave a shriek. She scooped up a load of mud and flung it at Harry.

  ‘Definitely gonna get you now,’ he yelled, grabbing handfuls of mud himself.

  Jake left them to play. A few days ago he’d have joined in. A few days ago he’d have laughed off stories of monsters as well.

  It took a while to find a boatman willing to go over to The Twisting. The journey seemed to last forever. But finally, the twisted broken tower of rusted metal loomed up above the boat. The whole building had once been sheathed in glass. Some of the huge panes still hung precariously in place – cracked and pitted. But most had long since fallen away. The glass that was left was smothered with mould and weed and algae. There was makeshift scaffolding up one curving side of The Twisting so people could climb up to the higher floors
. But Geoff’s room was only just above the water.

  Jake was relieved to see that Geoff’s boat was tied securely to one of the metal stanchions, and they tied up beside it. He asked the water boatman to wait for him.

  ‘You pay me now though,’ the man told him. ‘Pay me for both trips.’

  Jake turned away so the man couldn’t see how much money he had. Luckily he had the right amount in coins without having to show he had notes. ‘You’ll wait here, right?’ he insisted, handing over the money.

  ‘Right,’ the man agreed, settling back into the boat and closing his eyes. ‘If you’re more than fifteen minutes though, that’s extra.’

  Jake climbed in through the hole where the window had been, careful not to cut himself on the twisted metal. There was a walkway round the edge of the building. Inside the floor was wet and rotting.

  Geoff’s door was closed. It was a solid metal door that could be bolted from inside. When Geoff left he had a chain that he tied tight round the door handle and padlocked to a pillar so no one could push the door open. The chain wasn’t on the door now, though. Another sign that Geoff was inside.

  Jake knocked, but there was no answer. He tried the door – bolted. He knocked again, hammering hard on the unforgiving metal. But still there was no reply.

  He was just about to give up, when he heard movement from inside.

  ‘Geoff?’ he called. Then louder: ‘Geoff are you in there? It’s me, Jake. Are you all right?’

  ‘Go away,’ a voice called back.

  ‘Don’t muck about, Geoff. Open the door. It’s me.’

  ‘Go away,’ Geoff called again. ‘It’s not safe. I’m not safe.’

  ‘What do you mean? Let me in!’

  ‘No. Go away. Leave me. If he sees you with me, it’ll come after you too.’ Geoff’s voice was indistinct through the thick door.

  Jake hammered again, pounding his fists on the damp metal. But there was no way he was going to break through. ‘Stop being daft and let me in,’ he yelled.

  There was no answer.

  ‘Look, I’m going to get help,’ Jake shouted. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, or what trouble you’re in, but I’ll get help. You…’ He stopped, realising how stupid it would sound. ‘You stay there,’ he muttered, turning away and retracing his path to the scaffolding.

  The boat that had brought Jake over to The Twisting was a small dot in the distance.

  *

  Despite her initial interest, Sarah was bored. The Head was a magnificent sculpture, carved or cast from shining gold. Its dark eyes seemed to follow Sarah round the small, plain, stone-walled room. It’s constant muttering had at first been intriguing but was now irritating and distracting.

  ‘… Cu gi ca na …’

  Her father was totally focused on his examination. He had persuaded two Defeaters to lift the Head off its plinth so he could examine the underside – the flat end of the neck. He had pulled a stethoscope from his jacket pocket and listened to the Head – like he did with a clock when he checked the mechanism was running true. He had tapped and scraped and peered at every inch of the golden Head.

  ‘… ta sa pi su …’

  And finally he stepped back and sighed. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what this is or how it works.’

  ‘Can we go home then?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Not until you give me a bit more than that, I’m afraid.’

  The voice came from the door behind them, and they both turned in surprise. A woman stepped into the room. She had very pale skin, her face peppered with freckles. Her hair was fiery red, hanging very straight to her shoulders. She was dressed in a dark jacket and skirt that looked every bit as expensive as her high-heeled leather shoes.

  ‘I was assured that if anyone could tell me about this Head, then it was you,’ she said to the Toymaker.

  He opened his hands apologetically. ‘Then perhaps no one can. Perhaps there is no answer.’

  ‘Oh there is always an answer. Always a solution.’ She walked briskly over to the Head, her heels cracking on the stone floor. ‘And I want you to tell me what it is.’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ Sarah’s father said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Miss..?’

  ‘Miss Patterson.’ She was staring at the Head, icy and still in front of it. ‘Marianna Patterson.’

  ‘Perhaps if you told me where it came from.’

  ‘Where everything comes from. The water.’

  ‘It was washed up?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘There is…’ he hesitated. ‘There is a possibility.’

  Miss Patterson turned sharply to face him. ‘Yes?’

  ‘If I could discern what is inside.’

  ‘It is sealed. And I won’t have it opened by force.’

  ‘Quite, quite,’ the Toymaker said quickly. ‘To damage it would be a tragedy. Such a work of art. But there must be some way of seeing inside.’

  ‘We have tried x-rays.’ She sounded impatient.

  ‘And found that they cannot penetrate the gold, I assume. And thermal scans would be no use as there is no heat differential. But,’ he went on, ‘I have heard that the government’s ships have a way of seeing into the water beneath them. Looking for wrecks and detecting approaching subaqua vessels.’

  ‘SONAR and ultrasound scanning,’ Miss Patterson said quietly. ‘How very clever.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No, no, no.’ She was walking quickly back to the door. ‘Thank you. I will arrange the scans at once. And if they show anything, anything at all of the internal structure of this… device, then I want you to examine them and tell me how it works.’

  ‘Gladly. If I can.’

  ‘There is always a solution,’ she said coldly. ‘I will arrange a boat to take you home.’

  *

  Sarah was excited and apprehensive to see Geoff’s boat tied up at the end of the street. She didn’t like falling out with him, and she was afraid he’d be upset she and Jake had been to Harrow on the Dry to see Atherton without him.

  So it was with more disappointment than relief that she saw Jake standing alone in the shallow water outside the toyshop. As soon as he saw Sarah and her father he hurried to meet them.

  ‘What’s all the haste, young man?’ the Toymaker wondered, unlocking the shop.

  ‘It’s Geoff,’ Jake said. ‘I think he’s in trouble.’

  *

  The whole of the middle of Geoff’s room was an empty space down to the water, like a well. But outside was raised enough to stay dry even at high tide. Geoff lay curled up on a threadbare sofa where he slept at the edge of the room. He was shivering, staring at the churning water in the centre of the room. He was safe here – surely he was safe here.

  The hammering started on the door again. Jake was shouting at him, and Geoff yelled for him to go away. He couldn’t endanger his friend. This was all his fault, if only he hadn’t gone to see –

  Then another voice. Quieter, softer – Sarah. How could Jake do that? How could he bring Sarah here, into danger?

  Geoff had to warn them, he had to send them away. He uncurled and got up, walking slowly round the edge of the ragged hole in the floor. The water washed over his boots. Was it his imagination, or was there a darkness in the water? A shape? Geoff paused, leaning over to stare down into the foaming depths. Spray stung his eyes, and he wiped it away. Just his imagination. He turned towards the door.

  And a massive shape erupted from the water behind him. Tentacles lashed out across the room. A flailing limb caught Geoff’s shoulder, sending him sprawling. He clutched at a chair, trying to stay on his feet and avoid falling into the water.

  The room was alive with tentacles. They thrashed and whipped through the air, probing into corners, slamming into furniture.

  The sound from the door was more insistent now. Urgent shouts and bangs. The thud of something hard battering against the metal door.

  A tentacle curled round Geoff’s leg, draggi
ng him across the floor. The room was awash. He was splashing and screaming. Hammering at the leathery tentacle that held him tight, clawing at the edges of it as he tried to rip it off his leg.

  Then another slammed across his chest, crushing his ribs.

  The money! It had to be the money. He’d left money on the restaurant table - and the creature had taken the table. Desperately, he pulled notes and coins from his pocket. There was something on the money that drew this creature to him. He should never have taken the money.

  Coins splashed into the water. Geoff hurled the little bundle of notes at the massive bloodshot eye that was staring at him. Slowly, it was descending back into the water. Tentacles withdrew after it. For a moment, Geoff thought he’d done it, that he was going to be all right. That the creature had got what it came for.

  But the two tentacles were still wrapped securely round Geoff, dragging him through the shallow water towards the churning frothy depths. He yelled and shouted. Darkness closed over his head. With a final wrenching heave, he managed to push himself upwards, and drew one last desperate gasp of precious air. He caught one last glimpse of his room – of the door shuddering and the bolt snapping under the strain.

  Then the waters closed over his head.

  Chapter 9

  The metal scaffolding pole finally broke through the bolt. The water was bubbling and frothing just as it always did at high tide. It sloshed across the floor.

  ‘Where is he?’ Sarah said, looking round.

  The room was in chaos. The sofa Geoff used as a bed had been pushed up against a wall so hard it was bent and broken. Shelves and chairs were scattered and splintered.

  Something floated gently on the calming water. A piece of paper. Jake picked it up, holding it carefully so it wouldn’t tear.

  ‘What is it?’ Sarah asked.

  Jake showed her. ‘It’s a five pound note. It’s more money than Jake’s ever had in his life.’

  *

  They sat in Geoff’s boat, neither of them knowing what to say.

  ‘We can’t stay here,’ Jake said at last.

  ‘Where can he have gone?’ Sarah asked. ‘He was there. We heard him.’