Clocktower Read online

  “Get off of me!” Ayano kicked and screamed, but Mari’s grasp was firm.

  “Run, Mr. Tokisaki!” she yelled as she pulled Ayano back inside Tonimura’s office.

  From behind them, the main elevator door started to open, releasing suited men like water burst from a dam. There was only one way out. Johnny grabbed onto Jack as tightly as he could and made a mad sprint for the emergency elevator down the other hall.

  For a mercy, the lift opened immediately, and he shoved himself along with Jack inside.

  “Stop them!” a gruff voice shouted from just out of sight. Johnny slammed his fist into the button for the lobby, and watched as the doors closed just as the figure of a man appeared before him.

  “Give me the keys,” Johnny ordered as the elevator began to descend.

  “P—pocket.” Jack’s voice had begun to shrink. He pointed at the pocket directly below his wound.

  Johnny nodded and reached in, retrieving the keys.

  “Never . . . never thought . . . ” Jack winced in pain, unable to finish the sentence.

  “Save your energy,” Johnny said. “When this door opens, we run, and we don’t stop running until we get to the car. Can you do that, Jack?”

  “Yeah,” Jack whispered. “Okay.”

  Johnny threw Jack’s good arm over his shoulder and took as best of a running stance as he could.

  “Get ready,” he said, looking at the red elevator display. The numbers ticked down until it read 2, and their descent began to slow. Johnny took one deep breath. The elevator chime dinged, and as soon as the doors had opened wide enough for the both of them, they exploded out into a flurry of hospital staff.

  “Get out of the way!” Johnny yelled, shoving through them with such force that he knocked several to the ground. The long hall was soon filled with screams of confusion and panic. Amid the disarray, the pair pushed forward, twisting and turning through the maze that was Sonnerie Hospital, until at last, Johnny spied the double glass doors that led to the parking lot.

  “Almost there,” Johnny said as he kicked one of the doors open. A gust of icy air greeted them as they exited, but not a person was in sight. With the last of his nearly diminished stamina, he pushed himself and Jack all the way to his BMW.

  “I can get in,” Jack said, opening the passenger side.

  Johnny threw himself into the driver’s seat and thrust the key into the ignition.

  “Listen to me carefully, Tokisaki,” Jack said with great effort. “There’s a faster way to The Buckle than just taking the main streets. But you have to listen. You have to do exactly as I say.”

  Johnny wiped the sweat from his eyelids and pushed the car into drive. “Okay,” he said. “Which way do I go?”

  Jack shook his head and pointed a finger at the floor. “Down,” he said. “Straight down.”

  Twenty-Seventh Movement

  Bargain

  “Where are we?” Jack asked after five minutes of driving. He had been fading in and out of consciousness since they had left the parking lot, emerging only as the car occasionally jolted around.

  “I don’t know,” Johnny said. “Everything’s black.”

  They had come into a long stretch of what Johnny could only describe as a tunnel. What had happened before then was still beyond his own comprehension. One moment, they were pulling out of the hospital parking lot and onto the road. The next, the car, and even the road below them seemed to buck and roll around, sending them into an impossibly umbral space that was eerily reminiscent of the stairwell at The Bracelet.

  There was ground underneath them, to be sure. Johnny could feel the tires of the car grip and hug the road below, and though they were in an utterly featureless world without direction or speed, he trusted in the sound of the engine and kept his foot on the gas.

  “Right,” Jack said weakly. “We’re in the underbridge.”

  “Underbridge?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said, bringing his wrist up to his mouth. Unable to use his right hand, he loosened the leather strap of his watch with his teeth and pulled it off.

  “You ever wonder what time is, Tokisaki?” he asked, setting the watch in his lap. Johnny glanced over at him and watched as he began twisting the bezel in a way one might spin the lock on a vault.

  “I don’t know,” Johnny answered. “But the more I get of it, the less I like it.”

  “Ha,” Jack laughed. “That’s good. That’s real good.”

  He turned the bezel again, counterclockwise this time. “Imagine,” he said, “that you’re caught up in a whirlpool. It sucks you in, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker. You can swim against it all you want, but at best you only delay the inevitable, and that delay gets made up again in the long run when you run out of energy and let the current take you.”

  He turned the bezel a third time, clockwise.

  “But what if someone were to start another whirlpool that intersected with your own? Where might it take you? What might you see?” He paused once before giving the bezel one last twist until it made a loud snapping noise.

  “What new doors might open?”

  Johnny raised an eyebrow at him, but as he did so, he noticed a shift in the world outside the car. A single point of light that peeled back the darkness one photon at a time. When it was over, he found himself on a cliffside road, with the ocean to his left and The Buckle towering directly ahead.

  So quick was the transition that he nearly plowed straight through the rear gates, braking only in time to leave no more than a chip in the bumper.

  “Jack,” he said. “We’re here. We made it.”

  He looked over at his companion only to find him completely unconscious. The dagger still protruded from his shoulder, and fresh streams of blood slowly trickled their way down his forearm.

  Johnny pulled himself together and exited the car into the frigid night. Much like the first time he had visited The Buckle, he found the grounds mostly vacant. It wasn’t until he shouted for help that a distant voice responded, and he heard footsteps rushing toward his position.

  Had he the choice, he would have left Jack in the hospital to get care. But even if Ayano had chosen to spare him, Johnny was certain that he would be taken and used as a bargaining chip against his mother and her allies. Johnny lifted Jack out of the car as gently as he could, and rose to approach the gate just as the twins arrived to open it.

  “He’s hurt,” Johnny said. “We need to get him immediate medical attention.”

  “Aniki!” Violet yelled. “What happened?”

  “I’ll explain later. Do you have somewhere we can put him?”

  “Follow me,” Sunflower said, ushering Johnny in. “Gin, get down below and pull one of the doctors out of whatever girl they might be in right now and get them upstairs.”

  “Okay!” Violet nodded and sprinted ahead of them.

  “Let’s go,” Sunflower said.

  Johnny adjusted Jack’s unconscious body in his arms and followed the twins up the stairs and into the back door of The Buckle.

  “Hang in there, Jack,” he said as they moved out of one hallway and into another. The club below them may have been shaped like a hive, but the main floor of the building was a complex maze of corridors and side rooms. Before he knew it, they had arrived in what looked like a small break room. Sunflower cleared a large table in the center with one clean sweep of his arm, and Johnny set Jack down upon it.

  “I’ll get Mamasama,” Sunflower said. “You wait here . . . Oh!” he paused and reached into his coat, producing a medium-sized padded envelope.

  “Something we got from the office of that lazy shit of a police chief, Oda. Figured you might be interested in having the first look.”

  “Right,” Johnny nodded, taking the package in hand. The twin lumbered out of the room and took off around the corner, leaving Johnny and Jack
alone once again.

  The light overhead flickered occasionally, but at last he was able to breathe a sigh of relief. The danger had passed, for the moment at least. Johnny reached into his coat for his pack of cigarettes, but found it empty. Bereft of the simple pleasure of a smoke, he took a seat in the only chair he could find, and opened the package he had been given.

  “What do we have here . . .” He narrowed his eyes as he pulled out two separate plastic bags, each containing a single bloodied knife: the weapons used by Mari and Ayano. They were relatively the same size. Typical long chef’s knives you might find in any kitchen. But the first was far more ornate and decorated than the second, with golden inlays and a clear roman numeral “I” on the hilt. This one undoubtedly belonged to Ayano.

  The second was a much humbler piece, but by no means cheaply made. It had good heft to it, and by the looks of it was fairly new. Besides the blood which tarnished the blade, it had no discernable knicks or chips, and looked like something that could have come from any home in Sonnerie.

  “Ooo.” Jack began to stir on the table. “Where am I?”

  Johnny slid the weapons back into the padded envelope and set them aside. He stood and walked over to Jack and put his hand on his shoulder. “You’re safe. We’re in The Buckle now.”

  “Bag . . . ” Jack groaned. “Take . . . ”

  Johnny looked down at the messenger bag at his side. In the heat of their escape, he had completely forgotten about the items Jack had retrieved from Tonimura’s wall locker.

  “Alright,” Johnny said, sliding the strap over his head and relieving him of his burden. “I’ll take care of it. Try not to speak.”

  From down the hall, he heard a rush of footsteps tearing across the wooden floors. Johnny turned just as Violet barrelled through with a man he didn’t recognize following just behind him.

  “He’s right here, Dr. Sui,” the twin said.

  “By God, get out of my way!” the doctor barked, pushing Violet and Johnny aside. He was a younger man, mid-twenties by Johnny’s guess, with a slim profile and square-cut jaw. He had on nothing but a pair of tan socks and tanner khakis, and it was clear Violet had pulled him out from the edge of intimacy.

  “What happened to this man?”

  “He was stabbed,” Johnny said.

  “I can see that!” the doctor fired back. “How long ago?”

  “Twenty minutes, maybe? We rushed here as quickly as we could.”

  “I’ll need a first aid kit and whatever medical supplies you have,” he said, coming over to Jack’s side and inspecting the wound.

  Violet gave a quick bow and ran out of the room.

  “It looks like it missed his rib cage, but what the hell is this dagger? Was he attacked?”

  Johnny opened his mouth, but was silenced by the arrival of Mutsumi Baba and Sunflower following close behind.

  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to, Doctor,” she said, coming to Jack’s side. She grabbed ahold of his hand and held it up to her chest.

  “Mother,” his voice cracked.

  “Shh,” she hushed. “What happened to you? Who did this to you?”

  “Dr. T-Tonimura, she . . . ”

  “Sachie? What has she done?”

  Johnny swallowed hard at the memory of her sudden fall from the edge of the hospital balcony. He rubbed his fingers together, his mind searching for an answer to what Mari had whispered in her ear in those final moments. But Mari was no longer here, and he had no one else to question but himself.

  Jack shook his head, the pain was written clearly in the wrinkles on his face. “Tokisaki,” he said.

  Mutsumi Baba turned and glared at Johnny. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll make sure he answers for his failure.”

  “No,” Jack whispered. “Saved . . . my life.”

  She looked back down at him, perplexed, but before she could press him further, his eyes closed, and consciousness left him once again.

  “I’ve got the kit,” Violet said from the doorway. Johnny turned to him and wondered how long he had been standing there.

  “Good.” Dr. Sui motioned for him to come over. “Stay here and help me. The rest of you can wait for me down below. This will take some time.”

  “I must remain,” Mamasama insisted.

  “I know he is your son, Mistress, and I will take the utmost caution in treating him. Please.”

  The Sixth Index shuffled uncharacteristically for a moment, then gave the doctor a reluctant nod and turned to Johnny.

  “Come with me,” she said. “And tell me everything.”

  *

  When Johnny had been here the previous night, it was as an intruder. Even after he had fought Jack to a standstill and was subsequently invited in by Mutsumi Baba, he kept both eyes open, alert to every detail. Now, however, exhaustion had overtaken him. There could have been fifty patrons or five hundred for all he knew. Their faces blurred together as they passed by, until before he knew it he found himself at the bottom level of The Buckle once more.

  The same girl from that night was here again, and brought him a whiskey highball served in a tall glass. He nursed the drink slowly, letting the icy beverage cool his still-throbbing hand. The waitress set another drink down in front of Mutsumi Baba, along with two items: Mari’s diary, and a large, leather-bound ledger that Johnny hadn’t seen before.

  “Will you be needing anything else, madam?” the girl asked.

  “No,” Mutsumi Baba answered. “You can return to your duties.”

  Johnny watched the girl return behind the bar at the other end of the room, then looked back at the waiting Sixth Index, and took a long deep breath. There was no easy way to summarize the events of the past hour. He did not trust Mutsumi Baba, but they had a common enemy now. And though he was loath to divulge too much, he saw no other way of earning her trust.

  “Well?” she nudged after far too long a silence.

  “Do you have a cigarette?” Johnny asked. “I’m fresh out.”

  “Sure,” she scoffed. “Anything else I can get you? A warm meal? A bath? You’ve got some nerve, Tokisaki, thinking that you can—”

  “Dr. Tonimura is dead,” he interrupted.

  “What did you say?” Sunflower, who had taken a quiet seat at her side, stood up in fury. Mamasama, on the other hand, sat there like a stone. Not even a twitch of the lips or fluttering of the eyes to betray what she was feeling inside. Johnny kept his eyes on her, and took Jack’s messenger bag off his shoulder and set it down in front of him.

  “She asked us to deliver this to you,” he said, pulling the folio along with the VHS tape out of the bag and setting it onto the table. “It was her last request before she took her own life.”

  Sunflower opened his mouth angrily, but Mamasama pushed him aside with a wave of her hand.

  “Leave us,” she said. “Go upstairs and stand guard.”

  He balled his hands into fists, but gave no more objection than a dissatisfied grunt. He gave Mamasama a short bow, then marched up the staircase and out of sight.

  “How did she die?” she asked, taking a single cigarette out of a small metal case by her breast. She placed it at the center of the table, and let Johnny reach over and get it himself.

  “Jumped off the balcony outside her office,” Johnny said after taking the first puff. “Well, not exactly jumped. She stood up on the railing and then just . . . fell.”

  Mamasama stood and circled around the sofa with long, crestfallen steps. She came to the back wall, and the same picture of the original Twelve that Johnny had seen in the elevator at The Wheel Bridge.

  “Where were you?” she asked, tracing her fingers over the picture frame.

  “About a dozen feet away. She climbed up as I had my back turned, and fell before I could approach.”

  “And Jack?”
/>   “He was still inside, getting the tape and the file from her vault.”

  Mamasama cleared her throat, and after a few contemplative seconds, returned to her seat across from him.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Jack called her ‘Auntie Tonimura.’ I didn’t know he was that close.”

  “Did she say anything?” Mamasama asked.

  Johnny took another drag and twisted his face, trying to remember her exact words. And though the moment had happened less than an hour prior, his thoughts were interrupted by a demon-haunted visage. The bullet that he had sent through Ayano’s chest, giving her no more than a brief second death.

  “She said—” Johnny rubbed his temples, trying to get the words right. “She said that her time had come. That she knew what to do, and she lamented the fact that you and her had found yourselves at opposite viewpoints.”

  “I see,” she said. “But there must be more. She must have given you some reason. Some hint as to why?”

  Johnny wrestled with the thought of how much he could divulge. His list of allies in the city was short, and if he was to find answers that would help Mari, he needed information.

  “There’s something I would ask you before I continue,” Johnny said.

  “Go on.”

  “I have learned through my inquiries that there was an even split between the Indices several years ago regarding Akira Itsuka’s work. The foundation for the machine that now sits inside Ayano’s chest.”

  “Is that what the doctor told you?” Mamasama asked.

  “No, though through her actions, I can gather that she was in favor of developing the technology. Would that be accurate?”

  Mamasama reached over and took her drink off the table. “Very astute,” she said. “Dr. Tonimura had a son. A rascal of a boy, wildly popular with the ladies, who was diagnosed with cancer shortly after his twenty-fourth birthday. He could have been saved, if not for the former Fifth Index’s change of heart.”

  Johnny thought of the picture sitting on Tonimura’s office desk. The young man standing with Mrs. Saito, the woman who would become his widow.