Last time I wrote about the addition of Captain Rufus Mathers as a foil to both Loren and Ruiz in their work at the Central Precinct. Ratcheting up tension in each chapter became a very specific goal when I was wrapping up my work on Signs of Portents. The Mathers character fit the mold perfectly for what I needed. He also gave me another element to add later in the novel. What is commonly known as the ticking clock factor.

What is the ticking clock factor?

The ticking clock factor is a plot driven deadline to push the action forward in the narrative. It is the timer on a bomb about to go off. It is the fifteen minute race through New York City traffic to answer a phone call to the tune of a madman’s game. (Yes, Die Hard With a Vengeance reference achieved! Just don’t force me to explain the water jug thing.) The ticking clock forces action. It forces movement.

“You have to be home for dinner at five o’clock.”

You better damn well be home for dinner before that clock hits five. Even if your pants are on fire and you have three miles to run with dogs chasing you. So what if your cell phone broke and your watch is chirping like crazy? Get home already!

The ticking clock adds a layer of tension into the background of the scene and pushes characters to act.

The Bookstore Scene

In Chapter 32 of Signs, Loren is working tirelessly to put together the pieces of the case. He’s exhausted and pushing himself way too hard. Ruiz’s doubts, first introduced in his solo chapter (with Mathers) come out here and he tries to pull the plug on Loren’s work.

In the initial draft and the first couple revisions, before Mathers came into the picture, the conversation moved pretty quickly to Nathaniel Evans and the true history of Portents. There was no tension between the two of them. No pressure to complete the job at any pace, other than the natural need to stop another murder (not insignificant, just not enough in my eyes).

It went like this:

“Something someone said and then what I found at Mentor’s…Eckhart’s.”  Loren was trying to piece it together as he spoke.  He knew leaving the raven out of the mix was the best option when it came to Ruiz, who already looked him over suspiciously.  The Captain walked around the table and pushed the chair back under the table.  He grabbed Loren’s coat and held it out for him, pointing for the door. 

“Food first.  Then murder and mayhem.”

 As Ruiz backed up for the door, Loren tossed him the book he found tucked under Mentor’s pillow.  Ruiz looked down to see the title, The True History of Portents in bold white letters on the cover.  There was a list of authors in small print.  A book that extensive needed many hands to put it together.  One of them he recognized immediately.  Of course he did, he thought as his eyes widened, since he had stood up at her wedding the last time she used the surname noted on the crinkled cover. 

 “Beth worked on this book.”  Ruiz stated plainly, staring at the name Beth Schmidt.

 “Looks like.”

 “Your wife worked on a lot of books.”

“But this is the one that matters to this case.”  Loren snatched the book from the questioning Captain and held it in front of them.  “Every book in this library mentions the founding of the city as being late 1800’s.  Every sign, every monument has different stonework, with a revised date to make the word of all of these books true.  But they’re wrong.”

 “How so?”

“This book talks about the first Portents.  The real Portents that is still here, buried in the rubble.  It goes from the founding in the 1870’s until the revised dates.  Maps, details, historical documents long thought lost.  All from the very beginning.”

“I’m not seeing the connection, Greg.”  Ruiz replied.  He held the door for Loren.  The detective gathered up his belongings on the table quickly, holding tight to the case files and the book as he spoke.  He moved for the door, giving a quick nod to Mason behind the front counter before exiting the main door to the street.  The mini-van was parked by the curb in front of the store.  Loren shot Ruiz a look, but the Captain ushered him on without a word.

            “I know.  I know.  It sounds crazy but when you’re dealing with people killing other people with their bare hands and old souls this is what it comes down to, you know?”

            “Old souls?”  Ruiz tried to ask, but Loren refused to slow down.

            “Anyway,” he continued, “The same name keeps popping up throughout the book and I’ve seen it in a half dozen places in the last three days around the city.  Tell me, Ruiz.  What do you know about a guy named Nathaniel Evans?”

Not quite there.

It was adequate. It pushed the plot forward to where it needed to go. But it wasn’t enough. Not to me. I wanted more and I had this Mathers guy in the background so why not use him? Why not push Loren to take a leap because he was being forced to instead of just throwing it out there?

Revision time.

“Something someone said and then what I found at Ment—Eckhart’s.” Loren was trying to piece it together. He knew leaving the raven out of the mix was the best option when it came to Ruiz, who already looked him over suspiciously. The captain walked around the table and pushed the chair back under. He grabbed Loren’s coat and held it out for him, pointing for the door.

“Greg.”

“Wait.” Loren looked back to the clock and then to his friend. “Shift doesn’t start for another four hours. How did you get the call about me?”

Ruiz checked the door to make sure Mason hadn’t let anyone else into the back room. “Called in for a meeting.”

“Dammit,” muttered Loren.

“Yeah.”

“Mathers?”

Ruiz nodded. “He’ll be taking point first thing tomorrow if we haven’t closed it.”

“He has no clue what the hell—”

“We know that, but who else does?”

“Please tell me that prick at least had the decency to pin it on my idiocy and not lay this at your doorstep?” Loren asked, concerned.

Ruiz’s face was shadowed from the overhead lights, his eyes dark. “He did,” he answered. “Doesn’t matter either way. I handed you the case so it falls on me. Don’t think for a second Mathers won’t use it against me first chance he gets.”

“He won’t, because he has no chance of solving it.”

“True.”

“I screwed it up for you.”

“Not your fault.”

“Dammit.” Loren ran his fingers against the scruff collecting on his chin. Of course he screwed it up for Ruiz. He should never have been on the case in the first place. He should have stayed in Chicago or brought all of his things months ago when he first moved. But now? After three days of running through the streets looking for an old soul, talking to ravens, and almost being trampled by a giant with a chicken wing fetish? He had the answers. The damn raven knew it and so did he, at least on some level, and to see it slipping away because of Mathers? “So we have a day.”

Everyone loves a deadline.

Like life, throwing a deadline at the characters can help kick their thoughts into overdrive. We move faster when we have to be somewhere at a certain time. (Mostly because we ALWAYS leave late.) Sometimes we move too quickly and we forget something. But other times having that pressure focuses us.

That was my goal with the ticking clock and Loren’s connection of Nathaniel Evans to the case.

It gave more insight into Mathers who gets to be a bigger part of the story going forward. More than anything, however, it put the pressure on Loren to solve the case. He was the only one able to do it. It was time to prove that. To Ruiz and especially to himself.

All thanks to adding the ticking clock factor to the mix.

Thanks for reading.