The Drawer That Rang

Samir liked the harbour fish auction because nothing about it ever changed. Every morning at five, the boats tied up at the quay. The crates slid down the ramp, and the big clock above the hall began to fall.

It was a price clock. A number started high and dropped one cent at a time. The first buyer to press a button stopped the clock and won the fish. Samir sat at a small desk in the auctioneer's office, which had a window onto the hall. He wrote every sale in a thick ledger. He was sixteen, and it was his Saturday job.

His friend Darius worked in the hall too. He was seventeen, and he was a runner. He pushed carts of ice and fish across the wet floor and carried sample boxes to the buyers. He never walked when he could run.

The auctioneer's desk had one strange thing on it. In the middle of the left side there was a small drawer with a brass lock. She wore the key on a string round her neck. She had never opened the drawer in front of anyone.

"What is in it?" Darius had asked once.

"Probably money," Samir had said. "Or old letters."

"Or a very small fish," Darius had said, and they had laughed.

On this Saturday, everything began as usual. The boats arrived, and the cold air smelled of salt and diesel. The hall slowly filled with buyers in rubber boots. At half past six the auctioneer stood up and fixed her silver whistle to her collar.

"I must sign the fuel papers at the harbour office," she said. "Ten minutes. Samir, keep the ledger. Darius, keep the carts moving. The clock runs by itself, so nobody touch anything."

She went out through the side door. The door closed with a bang.

The biggest lot of the day was waiting by the ramp. It was forty crates of mackerel from a boat that had stayed out for two nights. Its captain stood beside the clock with his arms crossed. He looked like a man who had slept for five hours in three days.

The captain had told Samir the problem the week before. The big buyers often waited together. They let the price fall to the very bottom, and then they all pressed at the same moment. Last month the captain had sold his catch for less than the fuel had cost.

"Three fifty," he had said. "That is the least I can accept. After that, I lose money."

At twenty to seven, Samir heard a noise. It was a small, dull buzz, and it came from the auctioneer's desk. He looked down. The brass drawer was shaking a little, like a sleeping animal.

Then it began to ring.

It was an ordinary phone ring, with a silly tune that sounded very loud in the quiet office. It rang six times and stopped. Darius came running in with an empty cart and froze.

"Your desk is calling you," he said.

"It's not my desk. It is hers," Samir said. "And I am not allowed to touch it."

The drawer rang again. This time Samir felt a cold feeling in his stomach. He put his hand in his jacket pocket and found a small yellow note. He read it, and his face went pale.

The note said, in his own handwriting: Phone buyer from the city market. Calls 6:45. Bidding on the mackerel. Tell the clock to stop at the price he says.

"I forgot," he said quietly. "She told me yesterday. I wrote it down, and I forgot to give it to her."

"What is it?" Darius asked.

"A buyer from the city market. He wants the mackerel, and he will pay a good price. But he cannot be here, so he calls her second phone." Samir looked at the drawer. "She locked the phone inside."

Through the window they could see the hall. The lot was about to start. A man in a green apron was already walking towards the clock.

"How long do we have?" Darius asked.

"Four minutes."

He knelt in front of the desk and tried a paper clip in the lock. The clip bent in half. He tried a pen. The pen cracked. Samir ran his hands along the back of the desk. He found four small screws holding a wooden panel.

"A coin," he said. "Quickly."

Darius found a coin in his pocket. They took turns to turn the screws, and their fingers were slippery from the ice. Outside, a bell rang once. The green button was pressed, and the great clock started to fall.

The panel came loose at the last screw. Darius reached inside with one long arm. He pushed past the dust and a lost pencil and pulled out the phone. It was still ringing.

Samir took it and pressed the green circle. "Harbour auction," he said. His voice shook.

"At last," a calm voice said. "I have been calling for ten minutes. Where is the clock?"

"Four twenty," Samir said, because he had looked through the window. "And it is falling."

"I will take the whole lot at four exactly," the voice said. "No lower. You must stop it at four. Can you do that?"

Samir looked at the window. The clock showed 4.18. Three cents later it showed 4.15. The only button for a phone bidder was on the auctioneer's console in the middle of the hall. The hall was full of buyers in heavy boots.

"I can try," he said.

"Then run," Darius said, and he picked up an empty fish crate and put it on his shoulder.

They ran out together. Darius went first, shouting loudly in the narrow space between the buyers. "Wet floor! Heavy fish! Coming through!" People jumped away from him. Samir followed with the phone against his ear. The calm voice counted down like a second clock.

"Four ten," the voice said. "Are you there?"

"Yes. I am near."

The console stood on a platform at the end of the hall. A big buyer in a leather coat was leaning on it, watching the numbers fall. He looked like a man who waited for the price to reach the bottom. He did not move when Samir came.

"Excuse me," Samir said.

The man did not look at him. Darius put the crate down very close to the man's boot. The man stepped back with a surprised noise.

The clock showed 4.03.

"Now?" Samir asked into the phone.

"Wait," said the voice. "Wait. Now."

Samir pressed the blue phone button with his thumb. A loud, short beep filled the whole hall, and the clock stopped at 4.00.

For a moment nobody spoke. The buyers looked hard at the frozen number. The man in the leather coat said a word that young people were not supposed to hear. Beside the ramp, the captain slowly uncrossed his arms and smiled.

The side door opened. The auctioneer stood in the doorway with a bundle of papers in her hand. She looked at the clock. She looked at the broken back of her desk. Then she looked at Samir, who was holding her second phone in one shaking hand.

She walked across the hall without a word and took the phone from him. She put it to her ear and listened for a long time. A small smile showed at the corner of her mouth.

"Four exactly," she said to the voice on the phone. "Do we have a deal?"

Then she gave her own answer with a single word.

"Sold."