by Razi Imam
Masters Of
The Broken Watches
RAZI IMAM
Masters Of The Broken Watches
by Razi Imam
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations and
events are either a product of the author’s imagination, fictitious or
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any event, locale or person,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 Razi Imam
No portions of this book, except for book reviews, may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form
by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.
Cover Designer: Maegan Beaumont - MW Designs
Cover photograph provided by: Depositphoto
Interior Design and Formatting: Deborah J Ledford - IOF Productions Ltd
Issued in Print and Electronic Formats
Trade Paperback ISBN: 979-8616971159
Manufactured in the United States of America
All rights reserved
Praise For
MASTERS OF THE BROKEN WATCHES
“Masters of the Broken Watches is an incredibly self-aware 21st century global science fiction thriller. Its profoundly universal themes of family, love, determination and discovery are woven within an accessible yet fast-paced plot with incredibly relatable and captivating characters.” - Farhad Asghar
“This book is jam-packed with action, adventure and magic! It takes you on a fantastical journey filled with descriptive imagery from start to finish. One of my favorite lines from the book is: “Gleaming beauty of the illogical moment.”—which to me, perfectly surmises much of what the very real characters experience. A page turner for sure!” - Hina Khan
“Masters of the Broken Watches envelopes the reader in a world of adventure, science, mystery, and heart! It perfectly intertwines proven science with imagination that leaves you wishing the world in MOTBW could be a reality. An absolute page turner that is so vividly written that it feels like you are pausing a movie when putting the book down.” - Zoha Imam
“MOTBW is one of those books that is hard to put down and once you have finished it, it makes you desperate for the sequels. It has a theme that touches upon the deepest mysteries of the universe that have mystified humankind since the beginning.” - Sobia Ahmad
“Fast paced, gripping and entirely plausible. The length and depth of scientific research is commendable. Looking forward to the next episode, the twists and turns and the direction the story takes.” - Arif Hasan
“I found the story quite compelling and the book was difficult to put down. The science fiction was extremely imaginative and the characters believable.” - Arnold Shoulder
“Masters Of The Broken Watches is one of those books that completely drags you in, and makes you fall in love with its characters. This is a novel with a thrilling concept at its core. I love the way the author mixed adventure, action and commonplace everyday life occurrences. Like the wonderful mouth watering recipes from around the world, which tempt you into the kitchen to try them out for yourself! In newspeak ‘Double Plus good’ can’t wait for the sequel!” - Atiya Hasan
“A fascinating read that will make you question how we think and perceive time. Written in a pacy and punchy style, the broad arch of the story will leave you thinking about the possibilities for the future. The core concept is a unique take that combines an action thriller with science and philosophy.”
- Kashif Hasan
“I was absorbed from the first page and couldn’t put it down! Such colorful & vivid writing of a great action story interwoven with scientific facts and theory. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know the characters and look forward to their further adventures!” - Lynne Zapadka
“As an avid reader, finding a book that is wondrously unique is like finding a rare gem. Masters of the Broken Watches is such a book! This science fiction thriller is an action-packed paged turner featuring exceptional and well-developed characters (some you’ll love; some you’ll love to hate!) and a plot that’s unlike any I’ve come across before. It’s comprised of all the things that make up a masterful story. The level of research the author had to perform in order to write this book is impressive to say the least. You will not want to put MOTBW down, and you’ll be left aching for a sequel. I highly, excitedly recommend!” - Ruth Netanel
“A rousing adventure. I finished MOTBW last night and thought it was excellent! I found it to be filled with so many clever, creative ideas and interesting characters who were constantly thrust into difficult situations I didn’t know how they were going to escape. For all the grandness of the story, it was the details included (the food, the technology, the settings) that really grabbed me and pulled me in. It’s a truly impressive work.” - Shad Connely
“The author has masterfully created a fantastic adventure while weaving in details predicated on scientific principles. The reader is empowered to vicariously experience this stimulating journey through the eyes of the protagonists. This novel is a captivating page-turner that is hard to put down.” - Andy Mecs
TABLE OF CONTENTS
COPYRIGHT PAGE
PRAISE FOR MASTERS OF THE BROKENWATCHES
DEDICATION
MAP 1
MAP 2
MAP 3
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
SITES TO VISIT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DEDICATION
Wave:
A wave brings energy, motion and power.
It shapes the shores, carves rocks and creates structures.
It brings balance, and rejuvenation.
It brings life.
This book is dedicated to my wife Saman, the wave of my life.
“Your reality is not what you see, feel or live.
It is what you think, wonder and dream.”
~ Razi Imam
MAP 1
MAP 2
MAP 3
PROLOGUE
The Red Mist
Yucatán Peninsula - 300 A.D.
“THEY ARE TAKING my child away!” Itzel cried, looking out of her hut at two approaching military guards. The red mist behind them blurred through her tears.
“Itzel, Quiche law is clear,” her husband Sachihiro answered softly. “When the war chief summons for a family’s baby, he must be handed over.” Tears flowed down his cheeks as he held their ten-month-old boy in his lap. The baby reached his hands up to his father’s face, cooing.
“They are taking him into the red mist!” Itzel shouted. “I will miss his entire childhood.” She gazed at her child, stroking his forehead.
One of the guards barged in and took the child from Sachihiro’s arms. Itzel followed him out, crying and pleading, “Don’t take my child! Plea
se, please, don’t take my child!” Other villagers stood outside their huts, watching the traumatic separation.
Itzel and Sachihiro hung close to the guard as he approached the mist. A second guard pointed his obsidian spear, warning them not to follow. They collapsed to the ground in despair as the guard and their baby disappeared into the wall of glowing red particles.
Three days later, a young man approached their hut. Itzel stepped outside and smiled as the man bowed. She traced her hands across his face. “Sachihiro,” she called, her voice trembling, “our son has returned.”
CHAPTER ONE
The Su Vang Fish
“Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.”
~ Rumi
PHAM KAI STEPPED into his front yard. His house was tiny, a single room with a small area for a kitchen. The walls were made of coarse cement with a thin corrugated sheet of tin for a roof. The floor was a packed mixture of mud and red clay that gave off an earthy scent when water was sprinkled on it. It was a clean house. His front yard was a small piece of land no bigger than a dinner table. An old wooden bench sat under a blue tarp stretching out from the house, supported by two bamboo sticks. He sat down, admiring the changing shades of the dusky sea.
There were dozens of boats anchored in the water, including his modest twenty-five-foot schooner. It had a deep hull to store fish and a small cabin to protect him from rain and storm. A ninety-horsepower engine allowed him to head deep into the South China Sea, where there were strong fishing lanes. The top of the cabin had two spotlights that helped him navigate treacherous reefs at night. His boat was painted deep blue, with an orange and yellow accent stripe running its full length. On the beach were scattered several round, traditional blue bamboo basket boats. They were quite sturdy, used to transport fish from the boats to the shore.
Pham Kai was a third-generation fisherman. As a young man, he remembered the long debates he had with his father about not wanting to go into the family business. Pham Kai wanted to become an engineer. It was such a big world, he’d thought, with so many experiences to be had. But he had been anchored to fishing by birth. While sitting on his bench, he often wondered what it would have been like if he had followed his dream. Now, at fifty-three, it was too late for him.
Every evening, his wife Minh would join him on the bench, and they would look out to sea. She would chat about her day and he would smile and nod from time to time. Soon after, they would walk down a gravel pathway and reach their usual spot, a village sports bar—no more than a tiny shop with a cooler full of local beer. There were two foosball tables placed outside under the same kind of tarp, they had at home, accompanied by a few tables and benches.
They would find a spot with a view of the sea and order two cold beers. Often, other fishermen and their wives would join them, and they would spend hours talking about their day, which to Pham Kai was the same old routine—leave at two in the morning to catch fish, be back home four hours later to clean them with the help of his wife, then take them to market to sell to local stores and restaurants, and return home by noon. He would earn 700,000 Vietnamese dong a day, equivalent to thirty American dollars. Life was hard yet honorable in this tiny Vietnamese fishing village of Nhon Ly.
Each time, after the third beer, the stories would shift to fantasy. Tales would be told of fishermen in other villages who had caught the famous su vang fish. Su vang was a rare delicacy, and it was believed they held unique medicinal properties. A fully-grown specimen could fetch as much as $25,000. This was the dream of all fishermen—to one day find a su vang in their nets. Such a catch would change their lives, allowing them to move inland to a better home, educate their kids, and maybe even travel.
Tonight was no different. Stories were flying and so was the beer. Pham Kai remained quiet and listened. The loudest and most boisterous fishermen had peculiar marks on their hands and necks, like two puncture holes. Out of courtesy, he didn’t ask about them.
On their walk home, Minh did not say much. Often, she would be discussing local village politics or bigger economic issues related to fishing, like pollution. Pham Kai was always impressed with her knowledge—she would have made an amazing leader or businesswoman, had she been given a chance. She was the one reason his long years as a fisherman didn’t seem so hard. She was his best friend and his life.
“Why so quiet?” he asked.
Minh hesitated, sighing. “Pham Kai, I found a lump on my left breast last week. I got it checked at the local health clinic. They took an X-ray, and the doctor said I need to get to a hospital in Qui Nhon City for further tests.”
Pham Kai stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me all this before?” he asked.
Minh smiled. “Look at you. I knew you would get too worried. I wanted to make sure before I said anything.”
Pham Kai shook his head in frustration. He remained silent for the rest of the walk, all the while holding her hand. As they reached their house, he turned to her. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the hospital in Qui Nhon. We’ll meet the doctors and see what they have to say.”
The next day, they took the early morning bus, arriving in the city two hours later. Pham Kai had never visited such a large hospital in his life. They waited eight hours before the doctor could see them.
After looking at the X-ray, the doctor ordered an immediate biopsy. While Minh rested for the night in one of the wards, Pham Kai found a wooden pallet in one of the corridors. He laid out a small towel to protect himself from splinters, and slept.
The next morning, they both waited for the doctor in an examining room with bare white walls, every minute felt longer than usual.
She appeared, holding a file with Minh’s test results. Placing herself on a rotating stool, she opened the file and leafed through it. “There is no easy what to say this,” she said. “Minh, you have an aggressive form of cancer. You need immediate surgery, then chemotherapy.” She paused to see if the simple couple understood the significance of what she was saying.
Minh started tearing up. Pham Kai held her close and asked, “What does this mean? Can she be cured? When do we start the treatment?”
The doctor nodded and said, “Here’s the problem—if we wait to get you treated under the government program, it’ll take a year-and-a-half before your turn comes up. And that may be too late. I recommend you take the private treatment route.”
She paused again. The doctor knew that this humble couple might not have the funds for private treatment. She bowed and left the two of them in the cold lifeless room.
On the bus ride home, they were able to find seats next to one another. He held her hands and kept hugging her. Minh knew this was killing Pham Kai inside. He was such a strong man. He’d faced extreme danger so many times while out fishing—getting caught in storms and surviving sixty-foot waves. But this was different. This was her storm.
“Minh, we will sell our boat and our house to start your treatment.”
She smiled. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work something out, but I don’t think we should sell our boat. It provides our income. And selling our house will mean we’ll have to rent. Let’s just get home. We can discuss this later.” She squeezed his hands and put her head on his shoulder.
Once they got home, they ate their dinner in silence, and afterward they walked to the same bar. This time, Pham Kai paid closer attention to the boisterous fishermen. A few of them regaled stories of a fisherman who had caught a su vang near the ominous Bombay Reef, a particularly nasty member of the Paracel archipelago. It was dangerous to fish in that area, as most of the islands didn’t have well-documented reef maps. Even worse, there was the threat of being caught by the Chinese Navy. There were stories about them torturing Vietnamese fishermen for days and then releasing them.
On their walk home, Pham Kai held his hands behind his back and Minh knew he was deep in thought.
“What are you thinking Pham Kai?” Minh asked.
Pham Kai stopp
ed. He could see the lights of the fishing boats on the bay and hear the waves breaking on the beach. “Minh,” Pham Kai said, “I’m going to catch a su vang.”
CHAPTER TWO
Bombay Reef
“Show me the way to the ocean!
Break these half-measures, these small containers.”
~ Rumi
IN HIS THIRTY-plus years as a fisherman, Pham Kai had on several occasions ventured close to the Paracel Islands, where the quality and quantity of catch was always strong. But for the last ten years or so, he had avoided them. The danger of fishing in these waters was too high.
Bombay Reef was ten miles long, located near the southeastern zone of the Paracel Islands. A rock-strewn lagoon sat at its center. Visibility approached zero when squalls rose up. The surrounding sea was greenish-blue in color, with clarity that allowed one to see the ocean floor at twenty to thirty feet. The area was known for sunken wrecks, so the reef wasn’t the only thing that could cause problems—wrecked ships could sink fishing boats, too.
Pham Kai reached underneath their bed and dragged out an old metal trunk. Pulling a tiny set of keys from the inside pocket of his kurta, he opened the padlock. Tucked inside sat a bundle of papers wrapped in a faded plastic sheet, held together with a rubber band. He began to lay them out on the jute floor mat.
Minh watched him sort the papers under the soft lantern light. The pages were old, with a light brown tint, their ink faded with age. They were nautical maps of the Paracel Islands, hand-drawn and annotated by his father and grandfather. They were more accurate than any modern map, and the notes detailed wind speeds, current changes by time of day and month, every last detail of the reefs and sunken wrecks. If he had any chance of helping his wife, these papers were the key.
