The jangle of the bells against the cold, wet glass caused the old man to look up.
The door closed behind a very wet, bedraggled young man. His stern mien gave the clockmaker a chill entirely unassociated with the inclement weather.
“Good day, sir. Which of my fine precision works might I interest you in today?”
“The only timepiece I have any interest in would be the pocket watch you carry in your right vest pocket, Sturmbanfuhrer Krieger. It was my father’s and you will return it to me before you die today. It is not revenge…merely justice long delayed.”