Imperial Clock (The Steam Clock Legacy) (6 page)

“
Don’t look.” Sonja hung her head away from the esplanade when they got off the tram. “It’s Edgar and Aloysius, two rotters from my class. Just ignore them. They might not see us.”

“
One of them’s pretending to walk like a gorilla. What goes?”

“
Oh, they like to make fun of my walk. They say it’s not feminine at all.”

“
Ironic, I’d say. They look about as masculine as Parisian froufrou.”

Sonja
nodded. “Which boy’s doing the walk?”

“
The oily one with a stupid quiff.”

Immediately Sonja
spun around and pretended to snort up a pinch of snuff, then staggered drunkenly across the tramlines, finally lifting up the skirt of her frock from the back, flashing her petticoats.

Meredith glanced either side to make sure no one else was watching. The boy who
’d been mocking her now stood, fists on hips, glaring at Sonja.

“
What’s all that about?” Meredith hurried her sister away to the bookstore, fearing an ugly confrontation.

“
Aloysius’s older sister is hooked on the white powder—the family’s dirty little secret.”

“
Harsh, Sonja, harsh.”

“
No, self-defence. He and his family call Father fit to burn, and they don’t care who hears it either. They want to fling muck, they better learn to duck.”

Feminine or not, the little rebel had a vigilante sense of justice, and it ne
ver failed to inspire Meredith. If only everyone gave voice to their sense of right and wrong in Britain, the Leviacrum Council might not hold such sway, might not have scientists and businessmen and politicians alike quaking in their boots. Like tentacles in the sewer, the Council had grown its power slyly and with a long reach over the past several decades, suckering those with influence one by one, and now its stranglehold was absolute. A worrying amalgamation of science and power. An unofficial dictatorship pulling the strings, to the point where you daren’t voice dissent for fear of being branded a traitor and hung on trumped-up charges. Like the Embreys. The Forshaws. The Mayers. Respected families obliterated because they refused to bow to the Council’s dictates. And the worst part—ordinary people didn’t just buy the manure the Leviacrum shovelled, they ate it up with a spoon. Just like Edgar and Aloysius, young pillocks no doubt indoctrinated by pillock parents who didn’t question a thing they read or heard.

“
Afternoon, Meredith. Afternoon, Sonja.”

“
Good afternoon to
you
, Parnell.” Meredith’s haughty greeting elicited an eye-roll from the permanently flustered young man. At least, he always seemed flustered when they were around. He may have been perfectly sanguine as a rule, but they teased him something rotten, and even though he was engaged to a girl they didn’t dislike, Meredith loved to flirt with him. He had no defence, and to make matters worse, if he got too irritable and snippy Sonja would weigh in as well. No, it was safe to say, they were not his favourite customers.

“
What’ll it be this time?” He leaned on his desk, sighed and pretended to resume his reading. The rather becoming parting in his slick blond hair was clearly his fiancée Ethel’s touch, as Parnell had about as much idea of how to present himself as a barnacle in a bucket of snot. “I don’t need to remind you we don’t stock those...um, er, you know—”

Sonja plonked her elbows on the desk
, facing him. “Say it, Parnell. Say the words.”

He flushed bright red, then almost purple, refusing to look her in the eye. “
It’s your genre, not mine.”

“
Oh? And which genre would that be?” Meredith copied her sister, practically breathing the poor man’s air as he turned the page of his novel without reading a word.

“
You’re both disgusting.” He licked his trembling fingertip and turned another page. “And we’ll never stock that kind of filth.”

“
Aw, but they have such nice-sounding titles.” Meredith batted her lashes at him when he glanced up. “You don’t mean to say they were unfit for such innocent creatures as we?”

“
Innocent, ha! The devil’s own tormentors—you’d find something to tease in an open-top casket. Now what can I do for you? It’s near on closing time.” He stood upright, checked the time on the shop clock, and sniffed.

“
If that’s what you call customer service, no wonder you’re haunting an empty store. Sheesh. Or is that Saint Jerome over there in the corner?” When he swivelled to see, Meredith spun his novel toward her on the chestnut desktop. “
Frankenstein,
how dreary. But we always did have you pegged as some sort of back-alley body snatcher. Sonja, who are those two you read about—”

“
Burke and Hare. Might work well with Frankenstein and Parnell. All the anatomical research they could ever want at their fingertips.” She motioned across the scientific section behind her. “And with old Jerome looking on, quite the ghoulish set-up.”

“
Oh, you two are just a riot.” In Parnell’s hand, a book stamp. In his expression, the desire to use it violently on Meredith and Sonja. “Come on now, if there’s nothing you want, I’ve got work to do: closing up and all that.”

“
Yes, Frankenstein
,
we could see how busy you were when we came in.” Meredith slammed his book shut, then chuckled at his pitiful sigh. “So, what do you have on secret societies and such?”

He stared dumbly at her. “
You mean historical?”

“
No, she means futuristic,” Sonja replied with cutting sarcasm.

“
Well, you’ll have to be more specific, I’m afraid.” A note of triumphal superiority livened his voice, bringing out his professional tone. “There happen to be secret societies and esoteric organisations in every country, period and walk of life you can think of. The Europeans cornered the market in them, but as long as there’ve been people on Earth, there’ve been secrets shared and kept.”

“
What about sub-sects of the Leviacrum Council? Is there anything on those?” Meredith asked.

“
By sub-sects, I assume you mean the spy arms tasked to carry out surveillance and infiltration and all that. Those you hear about—” He checked himself, glanced to the front door. “Gosh no, who would be idiotic enough to publish a book on the watchers?” Skimming both their gazes, he added, “Why do I get the feeling this is going to end with my backside polishing the guest seat of a Black Maria?”

“
And such a charming backside at that.” Meredith blinked coquettishly at him.

He stared
at her, again turning red with embarrassment. “Are you two in some kind of trouble?”

“
Actually...” As Sonja approached him, she peered out of the window and quickly ducked behind his desk. “You need to hide. They’re...they’re here!”

He shook his head
. “Nice try, Sonja, but you’ve tried that one before.” After thumbing his braces and rocking on his heels, “Fool me once—”

“
Not you, you blithering gollywog—
Merry,
it’s Father. I just saw him pass on the tram.”

Meredith froze, knew it was better to stay put than make any sudden movements
. A playful exuberance took hold, shivered her as she imagined them outfoxing Father, a man whose puzzle-solving and attention to detail were practically proverbial in England. “Did he see you?”

“
I’m not sure, but he was chunnering a mile a minute, from the looks of him.”

The tram bell rang, but the vehicle
’s heavy iron clunking sound continued without break until it faded far past the next stop. He’d missed them.

Sonja popped up, brushed herself off. “
I see the coast is clear. Look, not a lick of fog in sight.” She winked at Parnell. “Do you smoke it?” No reply. “Tough audience. So, about those arms?”

The poor man glanced at his own shirt
sleeves. “Oh right, yes, the spy arms of the Leviacrum. Do you have anything specific?”

Meredith
handed him the peeping tom’s pocket watch. “
Exitus acta probat.
”

“
The result validates the deeds. This is the symbol of the original founders of the Leviacrum. My grandfather worked for one, a chap named Hector Polperro, a landowner of enormous wealth. It was called, ah, let me see...I think it was The Icarus Club back then. Something Greek at any rate. No, no, it was
The Atlas Club.
See here, that’s what the symbol represents—the great tower supporting the globe takes the place of Atlas, the giant of Greek mythology who held up the sky on his shoulders.”

He studied the brass casing
under his spyglass, then checked the underside. “Number eight-two-six? Hmm, I’m guessing this doesn’t open like a regular pocket watch.” He tugged at the two halves, then tried the winder. “Nope, just as I thought—won’t budge.”

“
So how do we get in?” Sonja asked.

He shrugged. “
Beats me. My grandfather had one just like it, only the number on his was one-one-seven. No idea what that meant or what was inside, but I can tell you it wasn’t a timepiece. He carried it everywhere, but I never once saw him open it. And he was a stickler for knowing the time. His regular pocket watch looked nothing like this item.” He shook the object, then held it against his ear. “That’s all I have, I’m afraid. The engraving is quite a famous symbol, but its origins won’t be explored in any book, I can tell you that.”

“
Why not?”

“
Because no writer would be stupid enough to dig into the Leviacrum’s true origins, and no publisher would be dumb enough to print his findings, at least not in this country. Few people know much about the original Atlas Club, any more than they do about the current administration up there in the tower. It was extremely hush-hush back then, and it’s been a well-kept secret for the best part of a century. Not exactly something you can research for a school project.”

“
I see.” Meredith slid half a crown into the shop’s charity tin for homeless veterans. “Does it still exist? The Atlas Club, I mean.”

Parnell shrugged. “
I dare say. Who knows? Um, where exactly did you get this?” He gave her the object back, then ran a hand through his hair.

“
Niflheim,” her kid sister replied.

“
Norway?”

“
No, Piccadilly.” Sonja’s sarcasm suddenly seemed rude and inappropriate, even to her, so she bit her lip. “Sorry. I mean yes, Norway. We were a stone’s throw from that horrendous wave you’ve no doubt heard of.”

“
Yes, I was just going to say—”

“
The item belonged to a sleazy, rotten—” Sonja cut short her vulgar description when Meredith pressed a finger to her own lips and motioned for them to leave. “Let’s just say he made a rather poor showing as a conker. Bye, Parnell.”

“
Huh?”

“
Much obliged, Parnell. Don’t read any more of that smut now,” Meredith called over her shoulder as she hurried out, Sonja in tow. The next tram was on its way, and with it being after five o’clock, they’d have to wait another half hour for the next one.

“
Bye, Son—Bye, Mer—”

They were outside before he co
uld finish. Already the light was beginning to wane, and a fresh fog bank glowed silver-yellow to the west—the beams from several Gannet airships roving through the mist, probably searching for a vessel in distress. The gas lighter and his dependable old bulldog made their way up the seafront, illuminating the tall streetlamps one by one, while a convoy of steam-powered cars flying Suffragette banners and honking their horns clattered by, making the dog bark like crazy.

By the time Meredith and her sister t
ook their seats on the half-empty tram, Parnell had shut up shop. He stood outside the front door wearing his beige duffel, leather gloves and bowler hat, and upturned his collar to help ward off the chill. A dully dressed young woman with a broken boot heel limped toward him up the pavement. When she saw him, she waved madly and quickened her pace. He waved back, sprinted into her arms and lifted her as high as he could, spinning her round and round, to her immense delight.

Mer
edith swallowed self-consciously, trying to suppress the surprising ache that swelled inside her. She looked to Sonja, who was also watching the blissful couple. The ensuing silence they shared on the tram ride home seemed to echo unspoken truths between them. Hard to put a finger on, the inklings had been there these past couple of years but never quite so telling, nor so eloquent of feeling. A sad, constricting feeling.

They were close as sisters, yes
—they had each other. But there was perhaps something missing after all, something that gaped and would continue to widen between them no matter how much they railed against the world. Maybe it was
because
they railed against the world, everything society insisted they should be. But one thing she felt for certain: the strokes of an inevitable countdown had begun—exactly when she didn’t know. It was one they both felt, tacitly, but could never share. For it was beyond siblings, beyond family, beyond any casual expression.