Complication

Chapter Nine

Mayor Drasscol held the bar with both hands and spun it every which way, carefully examining it. He looked pleased, hopeful.

“We’re preparing a ship, sir,” one of the twins told him.

“Good.” He handed the bar to the twin. “You should leave right now. If they have the other map, then they already have a head start on us.”

Michael put a hand over his stomach, anticipating the feeling that would come. “I’m getting sick of boats,” he said.

“Not that kind of ship,” the twin said. “We’re going to the airfield.”

They rode to the airfield in luxury, in the back of a stretched town car with an interior of real, polished hardwood. The ride was silent and smooth and Michael watched the punch rod balance steadily across one of the twin’s knees. The car rolled to a graceful stop and the twin nearest to the door threw it open. “That’s our ride,” he said, jousting his chin toward an airship in the middle of the field.

They filed out, first the twins, then Debora. Michael got out and took a few paces before looking back. “Are you coming?”

Stanley still sat inside the car. “No, I won’t be joining you. I’ve got quite a lot of work to be done.”

“You’re making a new mayoral watch, aren’t you? You don’t believe we can recover it?”

Stanley shook his head. “Forget about the watch. This has nothing to do with the watch anymore.”

“Speaking of watches…” Michael approached the car and stood outside the open door. “You said you would tell me sometime why you wear that old broken watch.” Stanley gave him a blank stare and pulled the door shut. Deep inside the glass Michael could see the reflection of the airship and the three figures crossing the field to it. Then with a hum the window lowered.

Stanley admired the broken watch face on his wrist. He ran his finger tip over the cracks. “Watches are a mockery,” he said. “We make believe we can decide where we’re going to be and when.” He looked up, but not at Michael, he seemed to look past him into the open sky. “Sometimes I think there must be gears that turn the heavens themselves, turns everything, even our fate. This is a monument,” he said holding his arm up, showing the destroyed watch. “My epiphany came at one twelve in the morning. Perhaps in the future we can exchange stories, but for now there is some place you need to be.” He pounded on the hardwood and the car started its smooth motion forward.     

The airship was modest in length but stood almost as tall as it was long, making it appear stout and larger than it actually was. It was the color of pale stone, worn and weathered by its service, and repaired with little regard for aesthetics, looking more like it had been pieced together haphazardly. Its name, Aggregate, was stenciled on the side of both the blimp and the hull. As they approached, a door lowered like a castle’s draw bridge making a ramp that ushered them up inside.

While the outside of the Aggregate was largely neglected, the inside was grandiose. A wide corridor ran the length of the ship ending with enclosed viewing platforms on the far ends. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, tremendous works of art lined the walls, broken only by the occasional fine piece of furniture and a series of french doors that had to be at least twelve feet tall. Michael let out an impressed whistle. He could hardly believe his eyes.

Two staircases led to the upper levels, as well as the open deck on top. Michael and Debora followed the twins up to a floor with a maze of hallways. They went through them turning left and right until they came to a door with a brass label marked as the conference room. Inside, a table took up most of the space. They sat in the uncomfortable chairs surrounding it and waited.