Every year on New Years eve, regular as clockwork, Mr. Hubbard enchants our little alcove community in Fleet Street with a story. Not knowing how old dear old Hubbard really is, we can not begin to estimate how many times this ritual has been performed but he might have done this for centuries for all we know. Festivities begin on the morning of the big day. The square is cleaned up, cleared out and decorated with everything from mistletoe over Miss Grub's shop entrance to the hanging of many lanterns, strung on ropes going from lamp post to lamp post. In the center of our world, where normally a small circular stone bench wraps around a dilapidated garden, we had set alight a bonfire. At 5 minutes before 7 in the evening, when darkness had set in completely, Mr. Hubbard strolled out of his shop at nr. 19 and slowly shuffled towards a large chair placed there for him with it's back towards the fire.

Silence ensued over the many urchins gathered around the chair. Old Hubbard knows how to mesmerize children and perhaps exaggerated his age and wisdom a bit for added effect. Oddly enough this year there was no book from which a story would be re-told. In fact the old man just sat there with his hands folded in his lap. With a grin on his face Mr. Welder briskly walked up to Mr. Hubbard with a large glass of warm Port. At least this part of the evening was still the same. Suddenly our story teller stood up and looked slightly upward as if a message was being delivered by the snowflakes. "Listen !!", he said in a loud authoritative voice. Standing very still, everybody in around the fire listened intently. London always makes a noise, horses clanging and snorting, pulling coaches and carriages, the shouting of newspaper boys with the latest editions or the quieter stirrings of a dog checking its territory. In the distance old Big Ben chimed seven times, birds flocked to the sky from a nearby roof and added to the muffled sound landscape. Hubbard looked down on the many children who were both amazed and a little confused. Carefully he sat down again and started:

 

Did you hear old Ben's voice? every year since before you were born that clock and  those bells have told us what time it is, and by those gears, ropes and pulleys do we know when the new year begins. We take it for granted, we assume it has always been there, always worked, always told us accurate time. Some years ago on a new year's eve such as this I was browsing my library to find a suitable story to tell when I was startled by a loud banging on the front door. Whomever was standing there was almost knocking down the door in an effort to raise my attention. When I finally came down to answer the door I saw a haggard Edmund of clockmakers Messrs E.J. Dent & Co looking through the window. Before I could even let the poor man in he started waving and shouting frantically: "It's a bloody trap ........... come quick .............. can't figure out what ..... why!"

Not five minutes later were we rushing along London's streets in a hackney coach, pelting down high-streets and alleyways. "Where are we heading for dear Edmund?", I managed to shout out whilst holding onto my hat. "You'll see, it's not a pretty sight all right." I asked no further and instead contemplated what this emergency might be. We must have sped across London at lightning speed, bringing us to a complete halt in front of Big Ben's tower not long after we had left my shop. "Come along, I'll show you where they put it, be careful don't make too much noise", my companion whispered. I did as I was told not knowing entirely how to behave, although creeping around being quiet around a tower housing large bells seemed a but unusual to say the least. We climbed the tower as if we were breaking into to the tower of London itself. When we reached the bell tower we found two constables softly chatting to each other and what appeared to be a representative of Scotland Yard.

"Good evening Mr. Hubbard I appreciate you coming here so quickly and at this hour. I am police inspector Davies, pleased to meet you", came the well spoken voice of the inspector. He was a rather plain man but with excellent manners and well groomed exterior. Rather typical for the plain-clothes members of Scotland Yard he was sporting a black slightly upwards curled moustache and immaculately combed hair almost glued to his skull with pommade. "Let me show you what we have here, we were hoping you might be able to explain what is going on", said Davies. He directed me upwards onto a plateau from which one could look down the clockworks and bells. Everything looked quite normal to me and at first inspection the clock and its mechanics were just fine. When gazing lower towards the bell for which the tower was named an odd black shape caught my eye. Directly above the handle of the bell on the thick rope that suspended it from the going train was a black cylinder that seemed to be clamped forming one solid shape. "What in the world is that?", I asked inspector Davies. "We were rather hoping you could tell us", replied Davies. "We received a note at the bureau that informed us of this ... er ... situation". He reached into his pocked and drew out a smallish envelope containing a folded piece of paper, on which in black curly lettering was written:

 

Big Ben awaits your arrival for an urgent response.

The New Year may not sound the same unless

you solve this little conundrum.

 

Yours Sincerely,

T.C.

 

Davies looked at me as if note should mean something to me, he looked down the bell tower and said: "We contacted Dent & Co and managed to get hold of Edmund here. He told us that you were the expert on let's say unusual mechanical devices, hence the hasty retrieval of yourself". "I see, you are in quite a predicament here", I said. The condescending language in the note sounded familiar and it was almost certain that my old friend (and enemy since recently) Tressilian Cepter was behind this little diversion. For now I decided to keep this information to myself and instead concentrated on the black box dangling not too far below me.

"Is there any way I can get a closer look of the object inspector?", I asked politely. "There is a service lift, or rather a small basked used to inspect and clean the clock and bells. I hope you are not afraid of heights?", asked Davies also politely. "That has never been a problem sir, show me please". I regretted not bringing my tools but something told me that even an entire shop of tools would not solve this problem. It took minutes before they had me dangling within the heart of the tower, slowly moving downwards towards the bell. Upon closer inspection the cylinder or rather device appeared about 10 inches in height long the rope and about 5 inches diameter. On the side turned towards me, quite conveniently there was a small cylindrical opening through which the face of a clock could be seen. The clock was set to the current time and other than this opening no other indentation or access point could be seen. The cylinder was quite smooth indeed. No not completely smooth, just below the clock face engraved in the black metal was the image of a dove or pigeon.

A pigeon, Tressilian was definitely playing again. This clock was one big joke and one that I now recognized. I signaled the two constables to haul up the basked and soon found myself standing on the platform looking at the visibly agitated inspector Davies. "Well, what did you find? What is it?, he asked no longer hiding his displeasure. "It is a game inspector, a very childish game", I answered. "The device, because that is what it is is a modified pigeon clock. Normally such clocks are used to both calculate how long it took a pigeon to fly from a starting point back to it's home and it can take the pigeon's ring and punch out a date that can be verified by the judges". "What are you talking about man, what race?", the constable asked now raising his voice. "Pigeon races of course. Let me explain. For a pigeon race, birds from a large amount of breeders are packed into a large wooden box and shipped to a remote location. Each bird is given a tiny ring around its leg that has the owner's information punched into it. When the birds are let go the exact time is recorded. Now when the birds arrives back at his or her owner the little ring is taken off of the pigeon and physically inserted into a pigeon clock. The clock uses the punches in the ring together with the time when the ring was inserted to create a card that is then handed over to the judges. The clocks then clamps and destroys the metal ring inside to prevent tampering".

"Assuming that this device is indeed what you say it is, why would anyone attach a pigeon clock to the Big Ben?", asked the inspector. "I'm afraid I might be partly responsible for that, you see I designed the device", I replied. "Maybe it is best if I tell you the whole story."

"The person who constructed this device is my old partner Tressilian Cepter. Until a few years ago we worked together in the shop I now run by myself. Cepter was excellent at designing the outer visible part of clocks and watches and was a superior salesman. I do not mean he did not understand the inner workings of mechanical devices, it was just that he could never completely grasp the depths and intricacies. Watches made by him were accurate watches but no certainly no chronographs and in that he must have been tremendously envious at me. It was bound to happen, Cepter one day informed me that he wanted to start for himself and did so immediately. I must say that because of the relationships he had built up over the years he managed to sway a great many customers towards his business. Those were bad times indeed, not only did I lose a substantial amount of business but also someone I considered a good friend. Our last project together was to design the security mechanisms for pigeon clocks. Needless to say most of the mechanics were my own design with Cepter contributing the tamper proof boxes in which the clocks were to be housed. It looks like he used our design with slight modifications to make this device".

"I see", said inspector Davis stroking his chin and gazing in the direction of the glimmering device below us. "And of course this was all done to put you in a bad light, make you look like the responsible party", continued Davis. "It does look like that I have to admit. It appears as if Cepter wants to make me responsible for the fact that Big Ben might not sound this year. Rather a strong message I would say." Davies looked up and started intently into my eyes. After a few seconds he asked: "Well what do you propose we do about this?" Slightly taken aback I had to adjust to the fact that indeed this situation now rested entirely on my shoulders. Slowly I started reasoning out loud about our predicament. "It seems that the device is attached in such a way that just before midnight the device will activate the normal mechanics that is housed in pigeon clocks. But I assume that it will not be used to clamp a small metal ring shut but instead cut through the rope and thus disable and potentially destroy the bell." "Yes that would seem a possibility, but as you can see the bell is suspended directly above a wooden frame that would catch it in case it fell. They probably use it for maintenance and carefully lower it onto the structure", the inspector added. "Indeed indeed, but then again the objective is not to destroy the mechanism but rather to disable it for a short period of time. It would take quite some effort to repair the damage even if nothing much were to be damaged", I thought out loud. "We could attached another rope to the bell handle and suspend it through a separate mechanism." "A very sound idea, we could attach the second rope onto the same spot the main rope is connected". Somehow this solution did not satisfy me, Cepter would have thought about this. "Inspector if someone has gone through the trouble of constructing such an elaborate device, then it is safe to assume that it will disable whatever means we construct to hold the bell in its original position. He may have added explosives for all we know", I said. "Good point, very good point, even if we could come up with a plausible method we have no way of definitely knowing if the solution would work since we do not know the exact contents of the device. Can you open it?", he asked. "Difficult to say, there are no openings other than the glass front and that is protected by thick glass. Cepter designed the outer shell and did so in an ingenious way. He showed it to me one time on a pigeon clock he was working on. The casing is created in such a way that it can only be closed once. A set of springs is triggers that locks the box from the inside." The inspector frowned. "I can not imagine a mechanical contraption that can not be broken into. Can't you drill into it and thus opening it from within?" "Very clever inspector, yes that would be the only way but my ex-colleague had found a counter measure for that. The shell actually consists of two layers, where the inner layer is made in such a way that if an object were to touch it it triggers another device that advances the timekeeping part to immediate activation. Nevertheless I do agree that this is the only way we could disable the device", I said wearily. "Please ask your constables to accompany Edmunds to fetch my tools, we will see what can be done, Edmunds, I'm sure you know what to get."

Davies dismissed the two police officers with Edmunds whom I had given the key to the store. In the mean time the two of us made a full inspection of the clockworks in case there were any more surprises. When I met up with Davies he looked at me with a frown and said: "You know a strange idea had occurred to me. What if we disable the device by simply cutting it out. Then we keep a watch on the clock and manually sound the bell every time it would have normally, We do this until we can repair the clock". "You are full of ideas aren't you inspector. Again in principle a good idea but do you see those hammers? Observe that they are attached to powerful springs. It would take an army of men to make that bell produce the same volume without the aide of those metal coils." "I don't like this situation one bit, I am not used to being pushed like this", said Davies now quite agitated. "I'm sure you normally come in after the fact but not all hope is lost yet we will see what we can do", I said trying to calm the inspector. Not that I actually believed that it was completely possible to disable the device in time.

It took a lot longer for the constables to return with my tools and instruments. They were given specific directions on what to bring but of course not knowing what everything looked like they pretty much grabbed at random if they could not find an item with confidence. In total they had brought two full bags, which they put in front of me. Time was running out. So far we had been waiting valuable minutes and had only five minutes left to disable the trap. I asked the constables to lower me again down towards the giant bell. This was definitely a clever device, nothing could get hold of the surface and there was nothing to use as support for the various tools. The miniature drill used normally to add pivot holes would not even make a dent and was slipping left and right. Even the large clamps that were used to keep wooden clock cases closed would not hold and one fell down the clock tower making a wretched noise banging against every beam. With two minutes left I tried in between the thin edge around the small clock face. The drill could find a hold there in the metal but the glass cover was in fact crystal and would most likely shatter, setting off the inner seal. There was nothing left to try and time was running out. I therefore decided that my life was more important than the Big Ben not working. With a gesture to the men above I was quickly raised back onto the platform.

I had nothing to say and didn't need to. We all sped down and out of the tower. Not seconds later did we see a large plume of smoke emerge from the top and seconds after that we heard to our great astonishment the magnificent sound of the Big Ben chiming in the new year. Whatever had happened up there it did not do anything to the tower, the clock nor the bell. We made our way as fast as we could to the platform from where we could see the damage. Nothing. The device had apparently split open, expelled smoke and had fallen down the tower in two pieces. Not a trace of the trap could be seen above the bell. While I was still contemplating what exactly had happened, the inspector slowly turned to me and said: "I am usually a great appreciator of jokes but the one you have set off tonight was not one of good taste", he hurled in my direction. "Me? I did no such thing, it was my old partner who constructed this and set it off", I said incredulously. "Right now I want to get home and see what I can save of my new year's eve. I'm sure my wife won't believe even less of this than I do. Next year let me know if you plan a stunt like this".

Inspector Davies stormed down the clock tower and out of the building with the two constables in tow. For a while I just stood there staring at the bell and the place where before there was what I thought a great threat to one of London's great monuments. There was nothing more to do here and a good night's rest would solve more than puzzling over tonight's events. It was not easy finding a cab at this hour and it took me a considerable time to get back to my shop. Wearily I stumbled in and made straight for my bed. The evening had completely exhausted me and I was not in the mood to celebrate with the rest of the neighbours.

The next morning I woke up late, much like the rest of the city. With a jolt the events of the night before came back to me. After an extended breakfast I made my way downstairs into the shop. my bags of tools were still sitting by the door where I had dropped them. I picked up one of the bags and walked into the back of the store where my workshop is. Entering the room I dropped the bag and not because I was tired or because it was too heavy but because the workshop was virtually empty. All the specialized equipment was missing, many of the tools, instruments, parts were all gone. In my confusion I ran outside where I bumped into Mr. Welder. "You look rather haggard this morning dear Hubbard. By the way, what were all those cops doing in and out of your shop all evening?", said Welder. "What do you mean all evening?", I asked. "It started a little before midnight with two cops who came with a third man. They opened the store and came out carrying two black bags, then not too long after two other cops came and started to take out larger equipment and loaded everything in a coach. It was strange to be sure, but we did not ask any questions since the first guys seemed to have the key and knew what they were doing.", explained Welder.

So this was what last night was all about. There was no threat to Big Ben, there was no device, this was all just a plot to steal equipment to furnish Tressilian's new workshop.

 

Hubbard relaxed and rested his back against the chair. Around him the folk started applauding and the children cheered and started talking amongst each other about mean old Cepter. Welder who had been beside me during the evening leaned over and said: "Quite a clever man Hubbard is, don't you think?". "Yes he is a smart man but why do you mention this now?" Welder looked at me with gleaming eyes. "Don't you see what he has done? Look over there at the entrance." Standing next to a lamppost and talking to a constable was a man who closely resembled the description Hubbard had given of inspector Davies. "Hubbard knew he would come, he always comes, can't resist the stories and the puzzles. Didn't expect however that the story would include himself this year."