Chapter 7
"Sit down, Clara," Julian commanded, stepping toward her.
"Don't tell me to sit down!" she yelled, the carefully constructed wall of her composure shattering. "You told me he was a thief! You told me he laundered your money and stole from the margins. But he was investigating a mole! He was murdered because of your goddamn syndicate!"
Victor moved to intercept her, but Julian held up a hand, stopping his lieutenant in his tracks.
"I told you what you needed to hear to keep you alive," Julian said, his voice entirely devoid of anger. He walked past her, heading toward his private study. "Come with me."
Clara hesitated, then followed him into the dimly lit room. The walls were lined with leather-bound books and glass display cases containing antique weaponry. Julian walked over to a heavy steel safe behind his desk. He dialed the combination, the heavy tumblers clicking into place, and pulled out a small, charred wooden box.
He set it on the desk between them. "When Elias's shop burned, my men were the first on the scene. Before the fire department, before the police. We recovered this from the ashes of his workbench."
Clara stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. She recognized the box. It was a mahogany gear-housing Elias used to store fragile escapement mechanisms. The wood was blackened and cracked, smelling faintly of old smoke.
"It's locked," Julian said. "A complex sequential puzzle lock. Victor tried to crack it for a month before we gave up. If we force it, the internal mechanism will trigger an acid vial, destroying whatever is inside. Elias was paranoid."
Clara reached into the deep pocket of her scrubs. Her fingers closed around the small, solid brass cog she had picked up from the floor of the shop the night Julian found her. She hadn't thrown it away. She had kept it as a reminder of the life she was forced to leave behind.
"He wasn't paranoid," Clara whispered, pulling the cog out. "He was a horologist. He thought in gears."
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She placed the charred box in front of her. She examined the side panel. There was a microscopic indentation, no larger than a pinpoint. Clara aligned the teeth of the brass cog with the hidden groove and twisted it clockwise, then counter-clockwise.
A sharp click echoed in the quiet study. The lid of the box sprang open.
