Clockwork Looking Glass (Heart of Bronze Book 1)

by Michael Rigg

  I winced again when he looked at me. "Rarity?"

  "She was nothing. She was one of the faceless bodies that paraded in and out of my office doors, a servant to the greater machine. You're nothing like her, Alice. You have something in your eyes that compels me." He moved to the table and picked up his steak knife. I watched the lamplight of the submarine cabin glint off its blade as he resumed his pacing. "I think for the first time in all my dealings with women, I don't look upon you as a mere plaything of the flesh, oh no. You, my dear, are an extreme value, a treasure of limitless possibilities."

  He stopped and faced me. "Are you truly the key to Atlantis? Was the monster right? Can you open its doors?"

  I kept my eyes on his. There was no point in lying because the lie would be as sure as the truth, and really just as good. "Honestly... I have no idea."

  Thorne let his eyes drift away from me as he tapped his chin with the steak knife. He appeared to think on something for a long moment before finally speaking again. "I believe you," he whispered. "I—" then his eyes fell upon me as if seeing me tied up for the first time. A wash of sympathy seemed to come over him—or perhaps he was reacting as if seeing a scratch on one of his expensive trophies. He came at me with the knife. I leaned away from him, but he was quick to hold up his hands defensively.

  "Oh no, my dear. No no. I won't harm you. I'm going to cut you free."

  He smiled as he began sawing away at the rope with the serrated blade, adding, "We're miles below the surface, Alice, and this vessel is filled with men loyal to me. I feel I can trust you. After all," he paused, "I imagine if you could escape and make your way to the surface, you realize the only thing waiting for you above is Teivel Hearse, the ghoulish monster of the night." He chuckled, making a joke of it. “And, of course... the Imperial Navy.”

  "I'm not an idiot, Thorne. I know there's no hope of escape."

  "You seem to know me better than anyone," he said softly as he resumed cutting. "You know by looking at me that my interests lie within investments and procurements; anything that will gain me power and wealth."

  My eyes fell upon a small gold statue of two naked women entwined around a serpent, and each other. "I get that idea," I muttered.

  "I see you now for what you are, my dear. You're a treasure, and I promise to keep you healthy and happy for the rest of your days." He cut through the strand that held my neck, then he started on my arms. "I'll get you your own house. I'll get you all the richest food of the Empire, your own servants...." After he cut through the rope holding my other hand to the chair, I raised both my hands to my rope-burned neck and massaged it while Thorne knelt and cut the rope tying my ankles to the chair.

  He said, "You'll live the life of a queen without a king. I'll never touch you, Alice. I fear that doing so would lower your value to me and I don't want that. Instead, I think I'll—"

  I never heard the rest of his plan because as soon as my leg was free I grabbed him by the ears and brought my knee up sharply to connect with his nose. I didn't have a lot of leverage sitting in the chair, but I didn't need it. The hit dazed him and made him drop the knife. That gave me time to jump to my feet, grab the gold statuette, and swing it up at his jaw. Thorne's head snapped back, the glass skullcap flying loose and thumping along the floor, and he fell to the deck unconscious.

  Moving quickly, I got up from the chair and slipped to the hatch. I pressed my ear against the thick metal but couldn't hear anything on the other side. If there were guards or servants out there, I doubted they caught the commotion. The only problem was that I couldn't hear them either. I had no idea how many—if any—men were on the other side. Turning, I moved to Thorne and checked his pulse. He was alive and well, just out cold, so I took him by the arm and lifted him around my shoulders so I could plop him into the chair. Then I tied him up.

  Moments later I stood looking down at Bradford Thorne all trussed up like a roast. I tied both his hands behind the chair and his legs to the legs of the chair, and added a silk napkin gag to his mouth. That done, I moved to his desk and started looking for anything I could use. It didn't take long. The distrusting corporate twerp kept two weapons in his desk drawer. I pulled out the small black stun gun with the glass tube on it (I wasn't sure exactly what it was, but I knew what it did. Both Fats on the pirate ship and the poor kid who worked for Thorne had used something like it on me. I held it in my left hand while I removed the long barreled nickel-plated Colt and tucked it into my belt. Then I transferred the stun gun to my other hand and moved to the door. It was time to see if I was as good driving a submarine as I was piloting a blimp.

  As expected, Thorne took no chances. I pulled open the heavy cabin hatch and peered outside to find a wide-eyed guard flinching from me. As thick as the door was, he couldn't hear anything that went on inside and probably figured it would be Thorne opening the door to ask him to fetch something. The poor man didn't expect to see me there, so he was easy enough to stun unconscious. The black tube gun had no kick at all, and no sights to speak of. It was easy enough to see why from the shooter's end. A faint stream of blue electrical tentacles spread out from the barrel like a cone, wrapping around the man's neck, arms and chest. He convulsed momentarily, then collapsed to the deck. The passageway was empty, so I had no problem wrestling him into the room. I only hoped he would stay unconscious long enough to let me get away because these hatches didn't lock from the outside.

  I dropped him next to Thorne and tied his hands and ankles together with sashes and the table cloth. Then I went back outside and pulled the hatch closed.

  The next couple of bends and turns in the corridor were thankfully free of guards or sailors, but I found myself approaching a main junction busy with activity. Four men were here working at valves or passing tools to one another. The meeting place of four corridors, it opened into an octagonal room of hissing pipes and valves with a ladder in the center that went to the deck above. That's where I wanted to be. I figured, as was the case with most submarines, the bridge would be near the top, in, or just below, the conning tower.

  Swallowing hard, I edged my way as close as I could to the first man, glancing behind me to make sure I wasn't suddenly surprised by someone rushing up behind me. With each step in my crazy escape plan I became more and more aware that the clock was ticking and Bradford Thorne would wake up screaming as he and his friend found a way out of their bonds. If they didn't come running around the corner behind me, I was sure an alarm would sound. I had to keep moving. I was racing against time as well as futility.

  As I raised the stun gun I was hit with an odd thought. How long does it take for this thing to re-charge, or how many times can I shoot it before it no longer works? So I pulled the Colt out of my belt with my left hand and raised it as a secondary. I didn't want to kill anyone. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.

  The first two were easy since they both had their backs to me. The thin lightning wrapped around them and they dropped their tools, drooling as they collapsed to the deck. The third man hefted a long wrench and charged me but I was able to take him out as well with a searing bolt to the neck. As he collapsed, writhing and gagging on the deck at my feet, the fourth one charged forward with only his hands as weapons. Unfortunately, he was also the largest of the foursome. I wasn't even sure the stun gun would take him down so I raised the Colt and snapped, "Get back!"

  Within two steps he was on me, never once flinching from the long-barreled pistol. Instead, he whacked the Colt out of my hand with a backhanded sweep of his left arm and reached out to grab my neck with his beefy right hand. Praying it would be enough, I lowered the black tube gun to his groin and pulled the trigger. It was still charged and just as potent. The blue-white camera flash of electricity punched forward and doubled him over. He grabbed himself with both hands as he toppled toward me, but I was able to quickly sidestep, spin, and blast him again for good measure.

  Once the big guy was down, I froze, quickly checked each of the corridors, then up the l
adder, craning my neck to listen. I had to move faster now. There was no way to tie these guys up or conceal them. I had no idea which of these hatches opened to the submarine equivalent of a broom closet. I'd have to leave them. I went to where the Colt landed and tucked it back into my belt.

  Then I heard footsteps above, clanking on the deck as they approached the hatch. It sounded like only one set of boots, but at least they weren't rushing. Whoever it was hadn't heard the commotion above the hiss and churn of the sub's engines.

  A voice from above shouted toward the opening, "Hey, you guys nearly done down there? Cap says we're almost there and they've discovered a moon pool. Hurry up."

  Moon pool? That sparked a memory from somewhere, another hidden gem in my subconscious. I knew what that was and that my escape was well timed after all. Then I realized the sailor above would be expecting an answer from down here—an answer he'd never get. I started to rush to the ladder, to fire up at him, when two more sets of clanking footfalls echoed toward me from down one of the corridors. If I turned and ran, they'd see the unconscious men within seconds. If I charged the ladder and shot the man above, the other two would hear or see and come running—or pull that alarm.

  I saw no other option. I knew where I needed to be.

  Making sure the Colt was secure in my belt, I dashed to the ladder, I pulled myself up two rungs and shoved the black pistol up toward the open hatch. Bright light shone down at me, almost blinding me, but the man's silhouette as he leaned over the opening was clear as could be. All he managed was, "Eh—" as I pulled the trigger. The blast of light and electricity wrapped around the man's head as the bolt punched him in the face. He convulsed and toppled forward.

  I dove off the ladder as the man fell unconscious through the opening to land in bone crunching heap at its base. Meanwhile, the footfalls down the corridor stopped and I looked to see two armed guards dressed in black naval uniforms with sleeves trimmed with red and white insignia, their white waist belts and holsters bulging with weapons and ammo. And they were looking right at me.

  "Oh, crap."

  One of them pointed at me as the other reached for his pistol. "Hey! You!"

  I aimed the stun gun toward them and pulled the trigger, but either they were too far away, the stunner was losing its charge, or these men wore some kind of protective anti-static webbing under their uniforms. I couldn't even tell if the fingers of lightning reached them, but I had no chance to dash forward and try again. The second one was already pointing his sidearm toward me.

  "Stop!"

  I turned and rushed up the ladder, nearly dropping the stunner as I scurried up. Whatever was above, I knew there wouldn't be any company in the form of sailors up there or they would have reacted when I dropped one of them through the opening. On the next deck up I was relieved to find a handle next to the hatch labeled HATCH OPEN - CLOSE. I pulled and twisted the handle and the rim of the hatch hissed as a metallic iris twisted shut. With a hiss and a clank I was sealed on the next deck above. I couldn't hear the men below but figured they would simply rush up and open it from their end.

  Gasping, I glanced to the far side of the ladder hatch and saw a similar handle on the opposite side that read HATCH UNLOCK - LOCK. Diving across the iris and hoping they wouldn't open it while I was on it, I wrestled the handle to the lock position before scrambling to my feet and checking out my surroundings.

  It was another junction room, but all the corridors here were met with hatch doors that had all been sealed. Among the octagon of valves and pipes I found another ladder ascending to the next deck up and rushed to it.

  I kept scrambling up and forward, doubling back once or twice when I'd run into sailors. Strangely enough, despite leaving two locked on a deck below me, no one came running, the sub never went on alert, no alarms sounded, and no one came rushing toward me. The engines, however, idled down and then stopped. Hissing roared through the walls of the sub, what I imagined were vents blasting or filling with ballast. Either we were going back up... or going deeper.

  It was then that I suspected Thorne had been found and untied. He'd probably told his crew to let me go, that I was "just a woman" and that I'd have no place to go anyway. Which was true enough. How do you escape a submarine? I had the answer to that when I found a short corridor with yet another ladder up, but this one extended to an open hatch that revealed a high-ceiling cavern of some kind lit by a blue-green phosphorescence. Cool air wafted down from the opening and I smelled brine and ice.

  That triggered a memory. Well, it wasn't so much a memory as a feeling of dread. I knew I had been here before. The smell and the greenish glow triggered something hidden, locked away deep inside me and it made me shiver more than the chill. I suddenly had the urge to break cover, to call out to the men who had me imprisoned and warn them not to go in—but why? In where?

  Hedging between fear and curiosity, but knowing I couldn't go back, I tucked the stun gun into the pocket of my trousers and wrapped my hands around the cold metal of the ladder, then I climbed up into Atlantis.

  It was dark enough where the submarine was docked that I was well hidden in the shadows, but there was enough light to take in everything inside the cavernous room. The submarine, a twisted squid-looking nautilus out of a Jules Verne nightmare, had broken surface into an airtight underwater cave carved with ornate patterns of trees and flowers, all culminating in a cluster of icicles and stalactites high above me. Sailors on the deck of the submarine were standing aboard ship looking down a boarding ramp they had extended to an icy-looking shelf near the rear of the sub. The shelf extended to the enormous doors I knew were there. I don't remember how I got here originally, but I remembered clearly being here... with Raymond Simcoe and a small group of black-clad armed insertion specialists.

  But insertion into what? Ice cold hell were the words that came to mind.

  Above the arch of the enormous doors were letters in an unfamiliar language. But... I remembered what they said. I remember a man with shaggy brown hair and glasses reading from a computer tablet. I remember him saying, "Entrance of the Gods," his breath coming out then like mine was now, a plume of soft steam.

  "Atlantis," I whispered allowed. This was it. It was really here.

  A small group of Thorne's men stood around the door. Only one of them appeared armed with some kind of rifle. My eyes widened and I silently gasped when I noticed Bradford Thorne among them. He wore a long red coat over his clothes and his black hair was twisted and as wild as his black beady eyes. He had lost the glass helmet, probably figuring he was where he needed to be: far ahead of the ghoul and out of reach. He also had a wad of tissue crammed up one nostril, it flared out from his face like a blooming carnation. I could tell, even from this distance, that he was drunk on the awe and marvel of his discovery and that I had fallen to a secondary concern in his mind. He knew I couldn't very well swim out of here, and he also knew the only other place I could go was here, to follow him in. If I dared.

  Which I knew I had to do. I had to find out more. But how?

  I didn't have to wait long to get an answer to my question. Thorne rather loudly ordered the man with the gun—which was actually some kind of steam-hissing cutting device—to step up and cut open the bolts on the enormous doors. As I watched, the cavern glinted with light from the white sparks thrown by the cutter, casting a ghostly illumination on the faces of the men gathered around, their eyes as wide as their mouths.

  The historic occasion drew the men from the gangway closer. Each one moved down the ramp toward the rest of their comrades leaving no one to guard it. That's when I made my move. I climbed out of my hatch and ran in a crouch along the far side of the sub until I reached the opening with the gangway. Then I moved down the ramp into the lighted area of the icy landing and quickly darted into an alcove formed by trees carved from rock and ice. By the time I got to my hiding place, the doors of Atlantis had been forced opened.

  I peered around a corner and watched as Thorne led the way inside
the green-glowing interior of the ancient city. I could make out enormous statues and dark side corridors, but no people. There were no “Atlantians” to greet them or accuse them of trespassing. They wouldn't show up until Thorne and his group reached the main chamber, the source of Atlantis's power and energy, the place where the gods lived. It was where the black room was, and the white room, and the Clockwork Carpenters with their branding forks and smarmy faces. I shuddered. I also wondered how I knew that, but somehow it all made sense. They didn't want me here. They had chased me from here before—and they probably killed Ray Simcoe and the shaggy-haired translator. This place was somehow linked to everything. It was as equal to where and when I came from as it was to this reality now, connecting my Ray Simcoe life with my Bryce Landry life.

  Knowing I'd have no choice, I waited until the last pair of men disappeared inside before stepping out into the open and following at a distance.

  As I got closer to the open doorway I could see how truly massive it was. The arch stretched twenty feet in the air, the alien letters of the portcullis were at least five feet high above that. I reached out and touched the open door and felt a jolt pass through me as I remembered its cold smoothness. In fact, I knew I had touched this same spot as I slowly entered the ancient tomb-like city miles below the ocean's surface. Thorne's voice echoed back from far in front of me and I realized I was letting them get too far ahead. He was telling his men not to touch anything and loudly proclaiming that it was all his in the name of the Thorne Corporation.