by A. J. Low
“Yes, indeed. So it is imperative that we get to the painting before he does,” James replied, a look of distaste on his face. Behind him, his minions nodded in unison. It was really weird. Were they literally his puppets? Did he control them via unseen strings? Then something horrible occurred to me—what if they were robots? Had James created an army of humanlike androids?!
“Why are your friends so creepy?” Jimmy asked. “They all move in the same way. It’s like they’re robots or something.”
At that, Watson’s imaginary ears perked up. I couldn’t see them, since he didn’t have ears, but I could sense them.
“I’m not a robot,” the only girl in the group said. She had very pale skin, and long black hair that she pushed back with a red hairband. She looked about the same age as James and me. “My name is—”
“Minion Two!” James barked. “What did I say about speaking? I elevated you to the position of Minion Two because of your excellent organisational skills, but that doesn’t mean you are allowed to speak out of turn.”
Minion Two fell silent. She kept her face neutral, and her eyes reverted to a glazed, robot-like look. I really didn’t like calling her Minion Two, but I didn’t know how else to refer to her. I made a note to ask her for her name once I had the chance.
“As I was saying, we need to get to the painting before it’s stolen. He already stole the Lewis Chessmen,” James continued. “We don’t have much time. I foresee the theft occurring within a few days so we need to—”
“We don’t need to do anything,” I said. “I know you, James. There’s something you’re not telling us, and that’s why we’re here—to find out exactly what you’re hiding.”
James narrowed his eyes. “And here I was, thinking that you came to assist me out of the kindness of your heart, Sherlock.”
I remained silent.
“Very well. This pesky villain has threatened to unmask me if I don’t steal the painting before he does. And he gave me seven days, from the time I called you, to do it. At this point, we have five days left.”
And there it was. I knew that James Mok would always have a hidden agenda.
“Why should I care if you’re unmasked?” I replied. “I’m presuming, despite all the precautions your parents have put in place, you’ve been up to no good, which is why you fear being revealed? So why should we help you cover up your crimes?”
“Yeah! Sherlock makes the most sense!” Jimmy chirped.
James gave an inelegant snort and straightened his blazer. “Because, Sherlock, once we take care of this pesky new fiend, it’ll just be you and me again. I bested you the last time. Don’t you want to see if you can win our battle of the brains this time? But we can’t do that if I’m unmasked. And better the fiendish mastermind you know than one you don’t, isn’t it?”
“I’m not like you, James,” I replied. “I win as long as you’re not able to do any more harm. I don’t need to be the one to take you down.”
Anger flashed across James’ face, but only for a moment. He remained quiet, but I knew his brilliant brain was working.
“Well, yes, you are quite ridiculous like that,” he said. “But no one other than me has been able to make contact with this unknown criminal. What if he vanishes after I’m out of the picture? Can you really allow a devious mind like his to go unchecked?”
He did have a point. I couldn’t let another criminal go scot-free without at least trying to apprehend him. And the only way to do it seemed to be via James Mok, as unpleasant as that thought was. I could risk not involving James, but that would just make things more difficult. Fortunately, I had had a lot of time to think about this on the flight over.
“What about you guys?” I asked, looking at the Supper Club. “What do you think we should do?”
“I hate to admit it, Sam,” Wendy replied, “but James makes sense.”
“Yeah, we can’t have yet another fiendish mastermind running around causing trouble,” Eliza added. Wendy nodded.
“Especially since we don’t have any information other than what James has already told us,” Nazhar said. “And Inspector Lestrade did say that Scotland Yard and Interpol had no leads as to this new villain’s identity or whereabouts.”
“We-should-take-the-both-of-them-down,” Watson said. James turned to glare at my robot.
Moran remained silent. I didn’t expect him to speak up anyway.
I paused for a moment. In truth, I already knew what I had to do even before we had arrived in London.
“Okay, James. You have a deal.”
CHAPTER THREE
“This is the Tate Modern,” James said.
Minion One used a laser pointer to indicate a flat building on the bank of the River Thames— flat, except for a tall tower in the centre of the building—being projected on the screen. He seemed edgy and kept pushing his glasses further up his nose in what I recognised as a nervous tic. Only Minions One and Two remained with us. James had sent Minions Three, Four and Five on patrol to make sure that the grounds remained empty. I asked Moran to accompany them, just in case they intended to spring a trap on us. With James, we needed to consider every possibility.
He had secured a classroom on the southern end of the Morrison College campus. Even though James’ school was in the middle of London, it was almost invisible if you didn’t know what to look for, nestled as it was within the city architecture.
Eliza had used her mobile phone to call Dad, and he, Mom and Inspector Lestrade joined us for the meeting. Once they heard James’ proposition, they were immediately disapproving, but agreed to listen to our plan.
“But why can’t you just let Inspector Lestrade and Interpol handle this?” Dad asked, pointing at the Inspector who was, for once, dressed in an inconspicuous dark suit.
“I agree with your father, Sam,” Mom said, frowning.
“Breaking and entering is an actual crime,” Inspector Lestrade added, nodding. “It would be a lot more difficult to hide that than my use of an Interpol plane without proper approval.”
Mom and Dad looked startled at that, but Inspector Lestrade just scratched her head and averted her eyes.
Eliza’s phone beeped and everyone turned to look at her. She stepped away to check her screen.
“Saving me will obviously not push your do-gooder buttons the same way it did not for your son,” James said, “so instead I’ll appeal to your logic as scientists. This other fiendish mastermind—”
“Mysterious Mastermind!” Jimmy said.
“What?” James said.
“You’re the Fiendish Mastermind,” Jimmy said. “And while this new person is clearly a mastermind as he beat you—”
James’ face flashed with anger again, and I smirked to myself.
“—we can’t call both of you the Fiendish Mastermind, so this new person is the Mysterious Mastermind!” Jimmy said. “At least, until we figure out who it is. Maybe then he might be the Prata Mastermind or the Hamster Mastermind. Who knows?!”
“Have you finished?” James asked. Jimmy nodded vigorously.
“Good, so this thief—”
“Mysterious Mastermind!” Jimmy interrupted again.
James glared at him. “He’ll just keep doing that until you use the correct term,” Eliza said, typing something on her phone, not looking up.
“Correct—?!” James looked like he might explode, but then controlled himself again.
“Fine. This…Mysterious Mastermind…”— Jimmy gave James a thumbs up—“somehow knew I was planning on stealing the Lewis Chessmen, and stole them before I could. He must have people everywhere, like I do.”
“You have people everywhere?” Mom asked, her eyes wide.
“I run a very well-oiled operation, Auntie,” James said. “I have informants, security guards, and yes, police officers who report to me through various proxies. They don’t know who they’re working for, but I know who’s working for me. Or at least I did. Now this Mysterious Mastermind has put my network in
doubt.”
“I still don’t see why we cannot tell the Metropolitan Police Service, Scotland Yard or my colleagues at Interpol,” Inspector Lestrade said. “If nothing else, at least they would not arrest you immediately.”
“Because we need to keep this circle as small as possible,” I said. “He’s right. The Mysterious Mastermind is getting his information somehow, and until we can figure out how that’s happening, we can’t trust anybody else. And eventually, when the time is right, Inspector Lestrade can absolve us.”
“Or join you in a prison cell,” the Inspector muttered, shaking her head. “There are only so many times I can claim ‘administrative error’, like with the plane.”
“I would have preferred if Sherlock hadn’t brought all of you since I can’t be sure the Mysterious Mastermind isn’t somehow spying on us right now,” James said, shooting me a glance.
“I am very uncomfortable with this,” Inspector Lestrade said. “Officer Siva warned me about this young man, and I am still not convinced he didn’t steal the Lewis Chessmen as a big ruse to get us to play another one of his Fiendish Mastermind games.”
“Hand me the newspaper, Minion Two,” James said, holding out his hand. Minion Two unzipped her backpack, took out the paper in question, and passed it to James.
“He even sent me a coded message in a newspaper he noticed I get every morning,” James said, holding it out for Inspector Lestrade. “That’s how I knew about the challenge. This person is smart, and I cannot beat him on my own.” From the expression on his face, he was loath to admit that fact.
Eliza’s phone beeped. I turned to look at her.
“If you don’t believe me,” James continued, “you can go back to Singapore, and I’ll be arrested in five days.” I had never seen him so dejected. I almost felt sorry for him.
Eliza’s phone beeped again. “Can’t you put that on silent mode?!” James shouted.
That was when I was reminded of who he truly was.
“I’m sorry,” Eliza said. “My…um, my parents keep texting me.”
Eliza was acting suspiciously. Too suspiciously.
“We’re staying, and we’re helping you,” I said. “But only to catch this Mysterious Mastermind. After we do that, we’re going to deal with you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” James said. “Is everyone satisfied now? May I get back to the plan?”
I knew Mom, Dad and Inspector Lestrade would never be okay with this if we hadn’t already talked it over on the flight here. They grudgingly nodded their heads.
“The painting is called Hé Píng or Peace, and will be exhibited at the Tate Modern in a few weeks, as Wendy pointed out,” James said.
“Where is it now?” Nazhar asked.
“It’s already at the Tate Modern, in storage,” I said. “All of Liu Huimin’s paintings were flown from Singapore a month ago in preparation for the exhibition.”
“This will make it both easier and harder to steal it,” James said. “Easier because the painting will be in the museum’s archives, a low-traffic area, and if we’re not caught redhanded, it will take longer for the staff to notice it’s missing.”
“But harder because it will be almost impossible for us to get access to the storage area and figure out where everything is,” I said. “We’d be going in blind.”
“I’m sure the building’s plans are publicly available,” Nazhar said. “Perhaps at the London Library or the National Archives.”
“Good idea, Nazhar,” I said. “We’ll make it a priority to get those plans.”
“Why not replace the painting?” Wendy asked.
“Replace it with what? One of your refrigerator artworks?” James said with a sneer.
“You’re very irritating for someone who desperately needs our help,” Wendy said.
James swallowed whatever comment he was going to make. “Go on,” he said instead.
“You said it might take the Tate Modern longer to notice the painting is missing since we’re stealing it from their storage, but at most that will give us a few days, or a week before we’re wanted international art thieves.”
The adults began murmuring amongst themselves at her mention of “wanted international art thieves”, but Wendy continued.
“Instead, let’s create a fake to replace it,” Wendy finished.
“You mean create a forgery?” Inspector Lestrade asked. “I know a few forgers, but they’re in prison or in Amsterdam…”
“I could do it,” Wendy said. “I mean, I’m nowhere near as good as Liu Huimin was, but if I just need to copy her work, it shouldn’t be too hard. And this was one of her earlier paintings, which used a very sparse style and simple palette. In fact, I’ve done it be—”
“Wendy’s-Chinese-handwriting-is-terrible,” Watson interrupted. “The-forgery-would-bespottedimmediately.”
“I can copy just fine, Watson,” Wendy said with a grimace, glaring at my robot. “And as I was saying, I’ve actually reproduced paintings before, back home. You know, for fun.”
“You commit crimes for fun, Wendy?” Jimmy asked, his eyes huge.
“What? No!” Wendy replied. “It was just practice.”
“Practice that’s going to help us now,” I said, grinning at my sister. I had always known Wendy practised her painting by imitating artists that she admired.
“What’s the security like, James?” Nazhar asked.
“There are security guards on the ground, as well as a state-of-the-art security package complete with passcodes, handprint scanners, retinal scans, laser grids and locked doors.”
“Locked-doors?” Watson asked.
“Don’t mess with the classics,” James said.
“How are we supposed to get through all that?” Nazhar asked.
“We won’t,” I said. “Only James and I will be breaking in. The rest of you will be on support.”
Mom and Dad started protesting at once. “Absolutely not, Samuel Tan Cher Lock! Have you lost your mind? The police will arrest you!”
Inspector Lestrade just shook her head.
“We’ll make sure the plan is foolproof before we even attempt this, but regardless, we can’t all go,” I said. “If 11 people break into the museum, we’ll definitely get caught.”
My parents continued to grumble. Mom’s use of my full name was unexpected. It did make it clear that she was serious in her disapproval though.
“Okay, we have the beginnings of a plan,” I said. “Let’s see if we can’t put some of these pieces together before we figure out the rest.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“So what’s your actual name?” I asked Minion Two. She was slightly taller than I was, and had remained somewhat stone-faced since we left the school grounds. James had ordered her to accompany Wendy, Jimmy, Watson, Mom, Inspector Lestrade and me to an art supply store on Charing Cross Road. James had gone with Nazhar, Eliza, Moran and Dad to the National Archives to start looking up architectural plans of the Tate Modern.
“Bok Joo,” she replied. “Kim Bok Joo.”
“How long have you been classmates with James?” Wendy asked, walking alongside Bok Joo. They were about the same height, I noticed.
“My father sent me to the Morrison College six months ago,” Bok Joo replied before falling silent once again. She started to walk ahead of us, effectively putting an end to the conversation.
“Did you attend another school in London before?” Jimmy called out to her.
Bok Joo didn’t answer, look back or slow down. What I really wanted to ask was how she had ended up becoming Minion Two.
“What’s the name of the art supply shop again, Wendy?” Mom said, looking at her mobile phone to track our location with her online map app.
“Cass Art at Charing Cross Road, Mom,” Wendy replied. “I read about them online. From the photos on their website, the store looks super cool!”
“All their sales people are artists,” Bok Joo said, turning to look at us. She slowed down a littl
e.
Wendy’s eyes lit up. “No way.”
“Way,” Bok Joo said, one side of her mouth tilting up in what looked like the start of a smile. She caught me staring at her and immediately frowned.
“I think we’ll need to turn right somewhere up ahead,” Mom said, pointing at a junction.
“How do you know about the sales people, Bok Joo?” Wendy asked, hurrying to catch up with the other girl.
“I go there sometimes,” she replied.
“Do you also like to—what is the word I am looking for,” Inspector Lestrade asked, her heels clicking smartly on the ground as she trotted alongside the two girls. She made swirling motions with her two arms. Jimmy giggled and joined her, whirling in a circle.
“Paint? Are you miming painting, Inspector?” Wendy asked, trying not to laugh.
“Ah yes, painting! Sometimes I forget my English,” the Inspector replied with a grin. “Also, someone remind me to see if they sell face paint because I have ideas…”
“I watched a Korean drama about a girl who had the ability to use colours as magic and defeated a vicious demon with her powers. I just thought it would be cool to learn how to paint after that.”
“Korean dramas? My dad loves Korean dramas! He watches them all the time!” Wendy exclaimed. “Right, Mom?”
“Yes, and the only reason I watch them is to keep your dad company,” Mom replied absently. She seemed to be very absorbed with something on her phone. Or so she would like us to think.
“Except she also watches them when Dad’s not around,” Wendy whispered to Bok Joo who laughed, then immediately covered her mouth.
“And-at-night-until-three-in-the-morningwheneveryone-else-is-asleep,” Watson added. Mom finally looked up from her phone and narrowed her eyes at Watson. “I-only-speakthetruth-and-occasionally-film-it.”
“We have to turn right here, everyone,” Mom said.
We walked a little further down the road and stopped in front of Cass Art, which had a big signboard right across the top of the store front that read: “Let’s Fill This Town With Artists.” Wendy was right, this art shop was cool.
