Sherlock Sam and the Fiendish Heist in London

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Sherlock Sam and the Fiendish Heist in London Page 6

by A. J. Low


  “It-is-like-we-were-never-here,” Watson said.

  “Now to get past the guards in the tunnels,” James said.

  “I cannot help you in that regard, Master James,” Moran said. “There are no cameras that I can access there except for the one right outside the door. I have no view of the insides of the tunnels at all.”

  “What does that camera show you?” I asked.

  “It looks clear, but it has looked clear the entire time I have been patched in,” Moran said. “I never saw the two guards in the tunnel Miss Eliza mentioned.”

  “Okay, you, Liam and Noel can head back to the command centre, Moran,” I said. “Thank you for keeping an eye out for us.”

  “You are most welcome, Master Sherlock.”

  “There’s a pretty good chance that an alarm will sound as soon we open that door,” James said.

  “Eliza, which direction should we run towards once we’re in the tunnels?” I asked.

  “Assuming there are no guards in your way, just run straight ahead,” she said. “Good luck.”

  James, Watson and I nodded at each other. Watson got ready to hack the electronic lock while I grabbed the doorknob, ready to turn it and run.

  As soon as Watson had finished, a deafening alarm blared throughout the archives, and presumably the rest of the museum too.

  “That did it,” Mom said. “The police are now entering the museum.”

  “Cheese it! It’s the fuzz!” Dad yelled.

  “What?” Mom replied.

  We ran through the now open door and immediately saw two guards in front of us. They were more startled than we were, so we were able to quickly dodge and run around them. However, they quickly regained their composure and began to chase us while shouting into their walkie-talkies.

  “Eliza!” I shouted in my mike. “Directions!”

  “Turn left now and immediately slide under the low beam!”

  We did as instructed and saved ourselves a hard thwack to our faces. The two guards weren’t as lucky, as they barrelled straight into the beam and fell over backwards.

  “Turn right and run until you see a wall, then turn left again!” Eliza continued.

  “Are you sure they shouldn’t go left, then right?” Nazhar asked. I could hear him madly rustling papers.

  “Yes, I’m positive, Nazhar,” Eliza replied. “Don’t confuse them!”

  We ran as instructed, but I was getting winded very quickly. I wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for much longer.

  “Where to now, Eliza?” James asked.

  “Go straight until you see an opening on your right,” she replied. “Follow that tunnel until you see the manhole above you, about 300 metres from where you enter the tunnel. That’s your way out.”

  I really wanted to stop running and catch my breath, but I could hear the guards close by behind us. We had to keep up our pace. Then I saw the tunnel Eliza had told us about, but before we could get there, the floor gave way underneath us!

  We tumbled into a set of tunnels that was under the one we were just in, sending a cloud of dust flying into the air.

  “Sam! Watson!” Mom shouted.

  I coughed. “We’re okay, Mom,” I said. “We’re okay, right?”

  James tried to wave the dust away from him as he choked, but he gave me a thumbs-up.

  Watson used his vacuum cleaner function in his secret storage compartment to suck up as much of the dust as he could.

  “Yes, we’re okay, but we seem to have fallen into a deeper set of tunnels,” I said.

  “Oh!” Nazhar shouted. “Those are the unused Tube tunnels! They were dug a while back but never used. They were supposed to link up the cultural areas south of the Thames to Hyde and Regent’s parks, but the city planners ended up scrapping the plans halfway. See, Eliza? I know things!”

  We heard shouting above us, and started running in a random direction. After about five minutes or so, I couldn’t take it any more. I stopped and doubled over. My stomach was starting to hurt rather badly, not just from the running, but also from having landed on it in the entrance lobby of the Tate.

  “I think we’ve lost them,” James wheezed.

  “But-I-think-we-are-also-lost,” Watson said.

  It was true. I had no idea where we were. “Eliza, any way you can direct us?” I asked.

  “You’re too deep underground,” Nazhar said. “We can’t get a ping off Watson’s GPS.”

  “Master Sherlock?” Moran said. “I don’t know if this will be helpful, but I’m still tapped into the CCTV cameras and the museum seems to be emptying of all the police. Even most of the guards are outside now. Perhaps they are satisfied no one else is in the building?”

  “We should split up,” James said suddenly. “We have a better chance of escaping if we’re not all together.”

  This was what I had been waiting for all night—an opportunity for James to be too clever for his own good.

  “What-do-you-mean?” Watson said.

  “What are you planning, James?” Wendy asked through the radio.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I just work better alone.” He smirked at me. “And to prove it, I’m going to let Sherlock hang on to the painting, so you won’t think I’ve planned to run off with it.”

  “You’re going to let Sherlock keep the painting?” Bok Joo asked.

  “Yes, Minion Two,” James replied. “Just so that our partnership can last a bit longer before we inevitably become enemies again.”

  “You’ve always been our enemy,” Jimmy said.

  “I think if you just follow the tunnel, you’ll end up in Hyde Park,” Nazhar said. “So there’s no need for you to split up. The walk will take about an hour though.”

  “You think, or you know?” James asked.

  “Umm…” I could hear Nazhar scratching his head as he rustled more papers.

  “That’s what I thought,” James said, a sneer in his voice. “I’ll take my chances alone, thank you.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Eliza, can you read the map any better?”

  “The map shows where the line should be, but not if the tunnel has actually been dug,” Eliza said. “It’s a gamble no matter which direction you go in.”

  I was afraid of that.

  “Okay, fine, let’s split up,” I said. “I’ll look after the painting and head this way to what will hopefully be Hyde Park.”

  “I-will-head-in-the-opposite-direction-andhopefullyemerge-in-Southwark,” Watson said.

  “And I’ll go back towards the way we came and head to our original exit,” James said. “Minion Five, please have the car waiting for me.”

  There was no reply from Mark.

  “Minion Five?” James repeated. “I will demote you to Minion Ten if you do not reply this instance.”

  “He’s gone,” Bok Joo said. “Mark’s not here.”

  “What?” James asked.

  “I heard a door open and close,” Inspector Lestrade said, “but I thought someone had just gone to the restroom.”

  “That’s rather…suspicious,” James said. He paused for a moment, frowning. I could almost hear the gears in his brilliant mind turning. He blinked. “No matter. Minion Four?”

  “Yes, Master James?” Noel replied.

  “Get the car to wait for me.”

  “Yes, Master James.”

  “Okay, everyone, radio silence from here on out,” I said. “No sense in letting the police know who we’re working with if one of us gets caught. I’ll see you back at the command centre.”

  We split up.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  After an hour of trudging through a dark tunnel, I finally emerged in Hyde Park. I found a bench and sat down, placing the tube holding Liu Huimin’s painting next to me. I was exhausted, but all I had to do now was wait. I couldn’t believe our plan had succeeded, and so well too. Sure, we had a few close calls here and there, and I was almost certain James would have figured something was up, but it didn’t look like he ever suspec
ted a thing. Maybe he was slipping, or maybe the Mysterious Mastermind had really rattled him.

  I had almost felt sorry for him, but reminded myself that the only reason this was happening to him was because of his criminal ways. And, if he were caught today, it would be for the same reason.

  Hopefully, the Mysterious Mastermind would also be as predictable.

  After a few more minutes, someone walked towards me. It was Mark, James’ Minion Five.

  “Hello, Mark,” I said. “Why are you here? I thought you would be at the command centre with everyone else.”

  “I was, but Master James said to come here and get the painting from you,” Mark said.

  “I’m pretty sure he didn’t say that,” I said, opening the tube and pulling out the painting. “There’s no reason he would want this.”

  “Uh, why not?” Mark asked. “As you know, Master James needs that painting to prove to the Mysterious Mastermind—”

  “But this painting is a fake,” I said, letting Wendy’s forgery drop onto the wet grass. “And more importantly, James knows this is a fake. He helped me plant it, after all.”

  Mark was visibly confused, and suddenly very worried.

  “I think… I think I should go,” he said.

  Watson appeared behind him, letting his invisibility melt away. “I-think-you-shouldstay,” he said.

  “Watson, let’s show Mark what happened to James about a half hour ago,” I said.

  Watson projected the video playback from the CCTV cameras inside the museum. James had sneaked back into the archives of the Tate Modern. Now that he knew all the combinations, the only trouble James had with the safe was picking the two locks at the same time, which he ingeniously solved by using an umbrella that had been lying around. The safe opened and James walked in. A few moments later, he walked out holding what he thought was the actual Hé Píng. Shortly after that, a squad of the Metropolitan Police Service surrounded James. Officer Siva was with them and he led James away.

  “What was that?” Mark asked. “That’s not real! Your robot made it up!”

  “How about we go to the station and get everything sorted out?” a large bush situated between two smaller bushes said.

  Mark jumped about 10 feet into the air.

  Inspector “the shrub” Lestrade stepped forward and put her hand on Mark’s shoulder. He put his face in both his hands.

  “Yes,” I said. “Let’s do that.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  New Scotland Yard was buzzing.

  The police station on the Victoria Embankment off the Thames was always hectic, as it was a large metropolitan station where crimes were being investigated at all hours. But that night was somewhat special. Many police officers had come in to see the Singaporean detectives and the criminal mastermind who was an 11-year-old boy.

  “How did you manage to pull this off?” James snarled. He was seated in a wooden chair in one of the interrogation rooms. The door was open as James wasn’t officially being questioned—his parents were on a plane and would not arrive for at least 12 hours. Officer Siva and a local officer were standing guard as James had tried to make a break for it twice already. Four of his five minions were seated behind the two officers. They hadn’t tried to escape. The Supper Club was also there, except for Inspector Lestrade. She was attempting to track down the fifth minion, but I was pretty sure she’d come back emptyhanded. Mark had confirmed my suspicions.

  “You’re not this smart, Sherlock,” James said. “I know you’re not this smart.”

  “He clearly is,” Eliza said.

  James ignored Eliza and asked again, “How did you do this?”

  “A double bluff,” I said.

  “Double…?” Mark asked.

  “Yes, Mark, double,” I said. “The first bluff was making sure all of you only saw what we wanted you to see. From the very beginning, I suspected that one of you was the Mysterious Mastermind, and I told James this. He had figured the same thing, which is why he called me. He wanted to catch one of you in the act. You were in the best position to take advantage of your boss’ plans. You were in on the whole thing, after all. You helped him choose a crime, you helped him gather information and resources, you even helped him plan the whole thing. It stands to reason that one of you stole the Lewis Chessmen right from under him.”

  James’ classmates started to protest their innocence.

  “One of you did do it, and we had to pretend to steal something that James and I had already stolen. We had to put on a very elaborate show for you tonight,” I continued.

  They began murmuring amongst themselves, Liam and Noel in particular, as did some of the London officers.

  “We broke into the Tate Modern, as you saw, and those poor guards had no idea what was going on. I’ll have to apologise to them and explain everything before we leave. But the police knew what was happening.”

  “They knew?” James said. “Of course the police knew.” James smacked himself on the forehead. “That’s why they didn’t enter while we were in there, and why they were still there when I went back. You told them.”

  “I’ll get to that,” I said. “What you didn’t know was that James and I had already broken into the museum the night before, and switched out the real painting for one of Wendy’s forgeries. The plan was to then switch the artworks again tonight, so that the Mysterious Mastermind would think I had the real painting. James and I were the only ones who would know we’d actually put the authentic Hé Píng back where it belonged, and taken Wendy’s forgery.”

  “You must have done something that alerted the guards to your presence last night,” Nazhar said.

  “They did,” Officer Siva replied. “They didn’t put a painting back in its proper place. The museum assumed that it was one of the staff who left it out, but just in case, they notified the guards.”

  “Yes, that’s why they had secured what they thought was the real painting in the safe, nearly ruining tonight’s plans in the process,” I said.

  “You knew I’d go back,” James said.

  “We weren’t sure,” Officer Siva said. “But we couldn’t risk it. All you had to do was walk away, James, and you would have been fine.”

  “Did you come all this way just to arrest me?” James asked glaring at the police superintendent.

  “I’ve actually been here the whole time. We were on the plane together,” Officer Siva said.

  “Who do you think kept texting Eliza and Michael?”

  “What?” James looked astounded.

  “‘It’s all good!’” Dad exclaimed, beaming. “I’m getting good at our code phrase. Pity we won’t need to use it any more.” Eliza shook her head, but she was smiling.

  “Sending photos of restaurants as a sign that things are going according to plan was also a good idea, Eliza,” Officer Siva added. “Everyone knows Sherlock Sam always seeks out the best food wherever he goes so it wouldn’t be suspicious.”

  “That was the second bluff,” I said. “And it was designed to fool you, James. Because I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t go back for the painting, or would somehow take what you thought was the real painting at any point. So we had Officer Siva and the London police replace the real Hé Píng with one of Wendy’s forgeries before we broke into the museum last night.”

  James gave a mirthless laugh. “So what you’re telling me is that I stole a forgery not once, but twice.”

  “That’s right,” Officer Siva said. “You never even saw the real painting. It’s been held safely here since yesterday evening. I went to their serviced apartment before you did and took one of Wendy’s excellent forgeries. Then you took the second forgery, thinking it was the first.”

  “I really don’t know if we should be proud or alarmed that our children are such excellent international art thieves,” Mom said, wincing slightly.

  “Well, credit where it’s due,” James said. “You’re a phenomenal artist, Wendy. Your forgery had me quite fooled. I wouldn’t have gone bac
k for it otherwise.”

  Wendy gave a small curtsy, obviously proud of her work.

  James then looked at me. “And you too, Sherlock. This entire time I thought I was deceiving you, but in truth, you were deceiving me.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “I was so proud of myself for convincing you to not tell your friends about our first break-in last night, but they had known the whole time.”

  “Sherlock doesn’t keep secrets from us!” Jimmy said.

  “It’s like I’ve been telling you from the moment we met, James,” I said. “My friends are important to me. They’re the only reason I am such an effective detective.”

  “Sherlock’s Eleven, indeed,” James said. I couldn’t quite decipher James’ expression, but I knew that this would not be the last time I encountered him, despite his seeming acceptance of his fate.

  “We-are-not-Sherlock’s-Supper-Club,” Watson said. “We-are-all-the-Supper-Club-together.”

  “But wait,” Dad said. “Who’s the Mysterious Mastermind?”

  “Did you ever figure that out, Sherlock?” Nazhar asked.

  “Yes, Sherlock, did you ever figure out who the Mysterious Mastermind is?” James repeated in a drawl. That was when I knew— he had figured it out as well. But like me, he was a step too late.

  I turned back to the minions. “Yes, I did, but unfortunately, not soon enough. Like I said, we suspected one of the minions, but I think the Mysterious Mastermind began to realise something was off when the police wouldn’t go into the museum, and then knew something was definitely wrong when last night’s break-in was mentioned over the police scanner.”

  “It wasn’t Master Mark?” Moran asked.

  James scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Mark isn’t smart enough.”

  “No, it wasn’t Mark,” I said. “I knew somebody would show up at the park to try and take the painting from me, but Mark honestly thought he was still working for James.”

 

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