Clockwork Doomsday

by Alex Archer

  “Let’s hope.” Klotz shook his head. “She’s not someone I’d like to see again anytime soon.”

  Garin grinned. “Nor would I.” The elevator cage sat at the bottom of the shaft. “This is going to make a big impact.”

  “The safe will survive the fall. What about your butterfly?”

  “I packed it in nice and tight. That thing isn’t as fragile as it looks. Evidently it survived centuries on the ocean floor.” Garin heaved the safe into the elevator shaft and watched it tumble slowly through the air as it plummeted, skidding now and again against the cables and creating a shower of sparks in its wake.

  When the safe smashed through the top of the elevator cage it sounded like a cannon going off. A cloud of dust swelled up into the elevator shaft.

  “That’s going to draw attention.” Klotz took a pair of carabineer’s cable descenders from the canvas bag. The units had been engineered for mountaineers traversing difficult emergency descents from mountains after a route had been established. Klotz clamped them to the elevator cage support cables with practiced efficiency.

  “Amalia?” Garin took hold of one of the descenders and tentatively stepped into the shaft.

  “I’m here.” She sounded tense.

  “Do you still have eyes outside the hotel?”

  “For the moment. Local law enforcement is a minute and twenty seconds away.”

  Slipping the brake on the descender, Garin dropped into the darkness. The cable sang through the device and Garin felt the growing heat caused by the friction. Short seconds later, he reached the elevator cage.

  Abandoning the descender, Garin drew his pistol once more and reached for the emergency access panel at the top of the smashed elevator cage. Crumpled folds from the safe’s impact area stretched out across the door, causing it to stick. With a final growl of effort, Garin ripped the panel open and climbed inside. As broad as he was, he barely passed through.

  The safe lay on the broken surface of the elevator cage floor. One of the elevator doors leaned outward, bent from a secondary impact with the safe.

  Klotz dropped down just as Garin heaved the safe over one shoulder, precariously balancing the weight. Taking the lead, Klotz shoved through the buckled door—startling an employee who had clearly been studying the damage—and walked out into the lobby, which was nearly deserted. A young manager stood behind the guest check-in counter on the phone, his eyes on them, and two uniformed valets had come in through the revolving front door, probably to find out what the noise inside the elevator had been.

  “Amalia, you have a car at the back of the building?” With the safe over his shoulder, Garin loped down the hallway toward the rear of the hotel.

  “Yes. In position now.”

  Garin ran as fast as he could, staying behind Klotz, passing a few curious guests. The stink of an indoor pool filled Garin’s nose, then he was past it and the fogged glass door that led to the area.

  Klotz held open the back door, revealing the black SUV idling in the narrow alley. Garin caught the driver’s eye and pointed to the rear of the vehicle. The hatch opened and he thrust the safe into the cargo area. He took the seat behind the driver and buckled in as Klotz sat up front.

  The driver put his foot on the accelerator and roared out of the alley.

  Turning in his seat, Garin watched the hotel recede behind them. Nobody. He turned back around as the driver merged with the traffic out on the street.

  “Amalia.”

  “Yes?”

  “Get Annja Creed for me.” Even if Melina Andrianou was dead, whoever sent her wouldn’t give up so easily. Garin wanted to get out in front of whatever storm was descending on him. To do that, he was going to need help.

  * * *

  “MELINA? CAN YOU hear me?”

  Face numb from the cold, her eyes felt as if they were full of glass shards. Melina Andrianou made herself breathe. She regretted the effort instantly as pain racked her body. Still, she filled her lungs with oxygen again and again. Running a hand over her abdomen, she felt the two hot bullets that had lodged into the low-profile bulletproof armor she wore from chest to midthigh.

  Trying to remain quiet, she felt for her pistol and found it on the floor next to her. She closed her hand around it and listened, hearing nothing. The smoking ruin of the bed filled her nostrils and she had to fight not to sneeze. She wiped her free hand over her eyes, clearing more of the stinging chemical. Squelching the fear that the fire extinguisher might have done permanent damage to her sight, she sat up, following her pistol, ready to shoot anyone in the room.

  No one was there.

  Making herself breathe, Melina took stock of her situation. Garin had sprayed her with the fire extinguisher, but there had been another man behind him.

  “Melina?” She could hear her grandfather’s concern and annoyance.

  “I’m here.”

  “And the clockwork?”

  The bed was empty. Bright embers were woven into the sheets, glowing orange defiantly. Fire extinguisher foam stood out in spots.

  “Gone.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was shot.” Melina forced herself up and out of the bedroom. A wedge held the door to the hallway open.

  “Are you injured?”

  “Only bruised.” Tears ran down Melina’s face from the trace of chemicals still in her eyes. “Do you know where Garin Braden has gone?”

  “Unfortunately, no. However we have had some success tracking down Eyuboglu.”

  “The man who sold the clockwork butterfly to Garin Braden.”

  “Yes. If we don’t know where the clockwork is, maybe we can get closer to it by figuring out where it came from. In the meantime, you need to clear out of the hotel before the police arrive. A car will be waiting in the street.”

  Melina remembered the bodies in the room upstairs. “We’re leaving dead behind.”

  “None of those men can lead back to us.”

  “Garin Braden knew who I was. You heard him talking to Erskine in the bar.”

  “He tracked you through the Golino woman.”

  She heard the reproach in her grandfather’s voice. He had warned her to take no chances with Garin Braden, had told her the man was dangerous, but she had chosen to go with Golino. Claudia had been the best woman for the job. Melina would miss her. They had done some good work together.

  “The police don’t have the resources of Garin Braden and the old man.”

  “Have you found the old one?”

  “We did.” Her grandfather was silent for a moment. “In Paris.”

  Melina’s stomach tightened as she went quickly down the stairs. She remembered him as he’d been in that dark dungeon: alone, beaten and half-starved, naked and wild-haired. Yet his gaze had been electric. He’d been afraid. Anyone would have under those conditions.

  The old man had also been cunning. Despite all the torture she’d doled out, he hadn’t broken. His secrets had remained his, and Melina still didn’t know what it was he was hiding.

  The next memory hurt. Her father’s blood all over her.

  She would face the old man again, and this time she would kill him. She didn’t care if he gave up his secrets or not.

  15

  The ringing phone startled Annja out of her studies. Jerked back into awareness of the silent hotel room around her, she broke her gaze from the tablet PC and checked the viewscreen. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”

  “Annja?”

  Relief flooded Annja as she recognized Roux’s voice. He sounded like himself, short-tempered and in a hurry. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing you should concern yourself over.”

  “I heard there were people trying to kill you.”

  “They didn’t succee
d. Otherwise, you’d be hearing from me through a crystal or scrying bowl, wouldn’t you?”

  Evidently his snarkiness is still intact, too. Traffic noise filtered in over the connection and Annja knew he was walking along a street. She ignored his sarcasm. “Where are you?”

  “Paris.”

  “I know you’re in Paris. I talked to Henshaw earlier. He was on his way to you.”

  “Well, that’s a waste of time.”

  “He thought he was being helpful.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of finding my way back home.”

  “He was worried about you. You might try being a little more grateful when gets there.”

  “Henshaw should have stayed at the house. With all of this nonsense going on, it needs to be watched. I don’t know what’s safe and what’s not.”

  Annja was curious about that, but she had other matters she wanted to know about first. “Have you heard from Garin?”

  Suspicion darkened Roux’s tone. “Why? Has he been in touch with you?”

  “Actually, I called him.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “I wanted to know more about the images you sent me. I figured he might know.”

  Roux snorted disdainfully. “And what did he have to say?”

  “Not much. He was in the middle of a gun battle.”

  “He never could take advice when it was given to him. I told him to get out of there.”

  “There where?”

  “Florence.”

  “What was he doing in Florence?” Annja wanted to scream. She would have thought she’d be used to Roux’s petulance and half answers by now, but she wasn’t.

  “It has to do with the image I sent you.”

  Annja touched the tablet PC and brought up the image again. “The butterfly?”

  “Yes, the butterfly. Have you found out anything about it?”

  “I haven’t exactly had it very long.” Annja’s phone buzzed and the viewscreen showed Garin’s face. She had taken a picture of him and stored it in her phone, but it had mysteriously been erased and replaced by a different one. She’d assumed Garin hadn’t cared for her picture, and she wasn’t surprised that he had someone who could hack her phone. She also wasn’t surprised that he’d be egotistical enough to improve his picture. “Hold on a minute. Garin’s calling.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t answered the call yet.” Annja put Roux on hold because she knew he was safe, then answered Garin’s call, listening carefully for the sharp crack of gunfire or bombs going off. With Roux and Garin, anything was possible.

  “Good morning, Annja.” His voice sounded pleasant and relaxed, as though he hadn’t been dodging bullets only a few minutes ago.

  “What are you doing in Florence that has people shooting at you?”

  Garin paused. “How did you know I was in Florence?” He sounded slightly paranoid, which was unusual for him.

  “Roux told me.”

  “You’ve talked to Roux?” His paranoia fled as anger took over.

  “He’s on the other line.”

  “Why did you call him?”

  “I didn’t. He called me. Both of you called me. I’ve been sitting here worr—wondering if you were alive or dead.”

  “Oh ye of little faith. I’m not that easy to kill. You should know that by now.”

  “I also know that when it happens, the two of you are going to be more surprised than anyone.”

  “‘The two of you?’”

  “You and your ego. Together, you’ve got to be the biggest target I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how anyone shooting at you misses.”

  “Well, someone’s not in a good mood.”

  “No. I’m not. I’ve been locked up in jail most of the night, and I’ve been getting mysterious phone calls from you and Roux.”

  “You called me.”

  “You’re calling now.”

  “What were you in jail for?”

  “It’s a long story. Let’s get back to why you and Roux called.”

  “What has Roux told you?”

  “He sent me an image of some kind of...mechanical butterfly.”

  “Clockwork. A clockwork butterfly.”

  Annja sighed as she sat cross-legged on the bed. “Fine. A clockwork butterfly. An automaton. Call it whatever you like. What’s that all about?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Roux.”

  “He has the butterfly?”

  “I have the butterfly.”

  “Then why is Roux sending me pictures of the butterfly?”

  “Because I sent the pictures to him and he probably wants your help figuring out exactly what it is.”

  “I want to know what is going on,” she said in exasperation. Neither Roux nor Garin trusted the other very much, but she’d seen both of them in situations where they’d risked their lives for each other. “Otherwise, I’m going to hang up, turn off the phone and get some sleep that I really, really need.”

  “As I said, you’ll have to ask Roux about the significance of the clockwork. Maybe he’ll tell you, because he certainly won’t tell me.”

  “Why are people trying to kill the both of you?”

  “Someone tried to kill Roux?” Garin sounded surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Just now.”

  “Interesting.” Garin paused. “Obviously the woman isn’t operating alone.”

  “What woman?” Annja knew for a fact there was a very thin line between exasperation and insanity. She had a toe over that line now and momentum was an irresistible force.

  “She may be dead right now, so it won’t matter.”

  “She may be dead?”

  “One of my associates shot her, but the moment was very hectic.”

  Memories of the general lockup haunted Annja. This smacked of something that would land her in custody—somewhere—if she wasn’t careful. She wasn’t ready to go back to jail. “Look, whatever the two of you are doing, maybe you should just keep it to yourselves.” Even as she said it, she knew she couldn’t walk away. Garin knew it, too.

  “Can’t do that, I’m afraid. If Roux sent those pictures to you for some kind of consultation, then he’s flummoxed, too. He needs help. I need help. You’re going to have to choose one of us.”

  “No, I don’t. If you’ve got something, and he knows something, you’re going to have to work together.”

  “We can’t. Not on this. That old goat is insufferable when it comes to these clockwork things.”

  The other line buzzed. Annja told Garin to hold on, then added his call to Roux’s. “Okay, now we’re all talking together.”

  “You’ve got Garin on here, as well?” Roux sounded put out.

  “I’m here against my will.” Garin didn’t sound happy about the three-way call, either.

  “Annja,” Roux said in a calm, about-to-explode tone, “if I’d wanted to talk to Garin, I would have called him. I called you.”

  “Why did you call her?” Garin demanded. “You’re willing to talk to her about the clockwork, but you’re not willing to talk to me?”

  “This isn’t about you.”

  “Of course it’s about me. I’ve got the clockwork and you want to talk to Annja about it.”

  Annja flopped back on the bed. “Guys. Maybe we could all talk this through. Like adults?”

  Roux ignored her. “This isn’t any of your business, Garin. Hang up.”

  “Not my business?” Garin roared into the phone. “I found this clockwork. It’s mine! You wouldn’t even have known of its existence if I hadn’t contacted you!”

  “I knew of its existence.”

 
; “Then why didn’t you get it?”

  “I didn’t know where it was. By the way, where did you find it? I know it wasn’t in Florence.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Tell me where you found it.”

  “No.”

  Roux took a deep breath and let it out. “Garin, this is no time to act like a child.”

  The effort Garin made to talk calmly strained his voice. “This is no time to act like an old fool. Melina Andrianou is a dangerous woman.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Then tell me what I’m missing.”

  Roux was silent.

  Annja took that opportunity to wade into the discussion. “Me. I’m still here.”

  “Annja, I wanted you to look into the clockwork butterfly,” Roux said.

  “I am.”

  “But you haven’t learned anything.”

  “Not yet. It’s been—” she looked at the time/date stamp on the tablet PC “—all of eighteen minutes. Many of them spent listening to the two of you. These things take time. If there were easy answers, you’d probably already know them.”

  “He’ll never tell you what he knows about the clockwork,” Garin said. “This is one of his big secrets.”

  Roux sighed. “Obviously it isn’t secret enough.”

  “Because I know about them?”

  “Wait,” Annja interrupted again. “Them? There’s more than one of these butterflies?”

  “There’s more than one clockwork device,” Garin said. “I’ve seen two others. I didn’t, however, get to see them for long. Roux is quick about making them disappear. That woman very nearly killed me—twice—to get this one. I want to know how she knew they were so important.”

  “Her family probably found out about the clockwork from someone you told,” Roux accused him. “Subtlety isn’t your style, and you were never any good at discretion.”

  “I can be the soul of discretion,” Garin argued.

  “Then how did Melina Andrianou get on to you so quickly?”

  “How should I know? Until today, I’d never heard of her.”

  Roux harrumphed. “You don’t know her, but you know her family. You just don’t recall.”

  “When did I meet her family?”