The clockmaker's workshop sat at the end of a lane that had long forgotten the sea. Edward Ashworth-Cross had walked it three thousand, four hundred and twelve times—each number precise, measured by the click of his own boots on the cobbles, each step a tiny rebellion against the silence that waited behind his door. He was a man who understood gears. People, he had learned, were irreparably...
English
Arabic
French
Spanish
Portuguese
Deutsch
Turkish
Dutch
Russian
Romaian
Portuguese (Brazil)
Greek