Sherlock Sam and the Fiendish Heist in London

by A. J. Low

  I nodded.

  “Are you sure you mean me and not Mom?” Dad replied, pointing at Mom.

  “Wendy will be with you, and Mom, Nazhar and Eliza too, once they’re done. But you’ll be in charge, Dad. You’ll be awesome!” I said. “Oh, and I’ll get James to leave his team with you so you can keep an eye on them.”

  Dad looked worried. But Mom gave him two thumbs up.

  “The difficult task will be getting James to go along with our plans,” I said. “He tends to immediately hate any arrangements he hasn’t come up with himself.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “That’s not all he’ll hate,” Eliza added with a wicked grin as she went to answer it.

  Yes, there were going to be a lot that James was not going to like about this plan.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I hate the whole plan.”

  James yawned, but kept his scowl. He and his five minions had shown up at our apartment early that morning, even before our prearranged 9am meeting time. Mom, Moran and Nazhar were across the Thames at Borough Market getting us all salt beef sandwiches for breakfast.

  I yawned as well. “It’s a good plan, James.”

  “There are too many moving pieces, Sherlock,” James said, staring at my hand-drawn map of the Tate Modern. “I don’t like it.”

  Dad’s phone beeped. He almost dropped it in fright.

  “I should break into the museum by myself,” James continued. “That way, I would not have any distractions, radio transmissions, or the like. Just one clean surgical strike.”

  “Like we’d ever trust you to go by yourself,” Eliza said.

  Wendy snorted from her position on the floor. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have sworn that she hadn’t moved since last evening. She was creating yet another forgery, though she wasn’t as far along on this one.

  “Why are you making a second one?” Bok Joo asked. She pointed to the one that Wendy had already finished, which was hanging on the wall. “This is really good.”

  “I think I can still do better,” my sister answered, squinting at the calligraphy.

  James smirked at that, then stifled another yawn. “Fine, not by myself then. But why does your robot have to come as well? Why do we need so much backup? Surely the two of us with our superior intellect should be able to do this on our own.”

  “I-am-also-wondering-why-I-have-toleavethis-room,” Watson said. “Though-thatshouldnot-be-taken-as-an-affirmation-ofyour-‘ superior-intellect’.” He even made air quotes with his fingers.

  “Only you can turn invisible if something goes wrong, my young Watson,” the dresser in the corner of the room said.

  James and his minions jumped, except for one.

  “Who said that?!” Minion One, clearly the most startled, asked.

  The dresser suddenly stood up and Inspector Lestrade’s head popped out of the top. She was wearing a lamp. Not just a lampshade, an actual lamp. It was quite incredible.

  “Why are you dressed like that?” Minion Five asked, looking confused.

  “Quiet, Minion Five,” James barked. “You’re not allowed to speak any more, remember?”

  “Really, James,” Eliza said. “Is it too much for you to call them by their names?”

  “It’s too much trouble to remember their names,” he said. “It’s easier to just call them by their numbers.”

  “My name’s Mark,” Minion Five said.

  “I’ve demoted you once already,” James said. “Don’t make me do it again.”

  “How many minions do you have?” Jimmy asked.

  James waved Jimmy’s question away, then suddenly, as if something had just occurred to him, whirled around to look at Wendy, still sprawled out on the floor. “Why exactly are you making a second forgery?”

  Wendy’s hand stilled and she looked up at him. “Were you not paying attention, James? I just told Bok Joo.”

  “Who’s Bok Joo? That’s not important. We don’t need a second forgery,” James said, narrowing his eyes. “That one is fine.” He pointed at the painting hanging on the wall that Bok Joo was looking at earlier.

  “In fact, it’s more than fine. It’s perfect,” James added, shooting me a glance. “One would be hard-pressed to tell that apart from the original.”

  Wendy exhaled loudly. “Fine,” she said, getting up. “I think I can still do better, but fine.”

  “You literally cannot do any better than you already have,” James said.

  “That’s enough,” I said, returning James’ glance. “I don’t like agreeing with James, Wendy, but he’s right. We don’t need another painting. But thank you, and I can’t believe you did this in less than a day.”

  My sister nodded. She started to clear up her paints and tools. I could tell Wendy wasn’t too happy about having been told to stop, but she also knew what was at stake. This plan had to go off without a hitch, and we couldn’t afford to make James mad, not if we wanted to catch the Mysterious (or Prata or Hamster) Mastermind.

  Dad’s phone beeped again. He almost dropped it once more. Inspector Lestrade sneaked a look at his screen.

  “Okay, fine, we’ll do it your way, but I want one of my people on every team,” James said.

  “Why, it’s almost as if you didn’t trust us, James,” Eliza said, smirking.

  “I don’t even trust my own people, but needs must. Minion One, you’ll be with the decoy team,” James said. “Help them draw museum security’s attention.”

  “I will need your measurements for your costume,” Inspector Lestrade said immediately, rubbing her palms together. Her eyes had a gleeful glint.

  “My what?” Minion One squeaked. His face had flushed a bright red.

  “It’ll be fun!” Jimmy said, grinning. Minion One gulped and looked even more terrified.

  “Minion Two, I want you with the escape team, to make sure our exit is clear,” James added.

  Bok Joo gave a quick nod. I noticed that she had been surreptitiously sneaking glances at Eliza. Perhaps once this was all over, the two of them could chat. They might even become friends. I decided I would do my best to make sure that happened.

  “Minions Three and Four, I want you on overwatch, helping my original minion keep track of any threats the rest of us have missed.”

  The two minions looked at each other confusedly, then pointed at Mark with identical questioning looks in their eyes. I realised they looked very much like each other—they might even be brothers.

  “My original minion is Moran, the other robot,” James said. Minion Five will be here at the command centre, keeping track of everything. Perhaps you can redeem yourself, Minion Five.”

  “And-you-will-be-with-me-and-Sherlock,” Watson said, “where-I-can-keep-an-eye-on-you.”

  James scoffed.

  “Actually, Master James,” Mark said. “If it’s all the same to you, I would rather be helping the escape team. I’m pretty good in tunnels and I love maps.”

  “It’s not all the same to me, Minion Five,” James said. “I’ve chosen you for the positions that suit you best.”

  “Master James?” Bok Joo said. “I would not mind switching with Ma—Minion Five. I’m claustrophobic, and it might mess up the mission if I panicked underground.”

  James looked like he might shout, but sighed heavily and then broke into a yawn instead. “An irrational fear, Minion Two. I’m disappointed. But I can’t do anything about that at the last moment. Very well, Minion Two will be in the command centre, and Minion Five will be with the escape team. Everybody happy now?”

  The minions nodded vigorously. I smiled at Bok Joo and she nodded in return. Minions Three and Four gave me four thumbs up (combined), which I returned with my two thumbs.

  “Welcome to the team, Bok Joo,” Dad said smiling. “Apparently, I will be overseeing the command centre.”

  “But-do-not-worry,” Watson said. “He-willhaveplenty-of-back-up.”

  Mom gave Watson a look.

  “Which-Dad
-will-not-need,” Watson added.

  I yawned again, then immediately tried to cover my mouth.

  “Why do you and James keep yawning?” Bok Joo asked, looking suspiciously at us.

  Dad’s phone beeped again. He did not drop it this time.

  “Uncle, please put your phone on silent mode,” James said. “We’re trying to plan a complicated heist here.”

  “It’s…work. It’s work…texting. I’m an adult. I have work texting. This is a work text.”

  Dad’s eyes darted from James to me, then back to James. “Let me go take care of this… work texting…situation.” He walked to the kitchen, then spun around 180 degrees and headed to one of the bedrooms.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a sigh that turned into a yawn. I rubbed my eyes. I could really use a hot cup of Milo with extra milk right now. No, perhaps not—that would probably put me to sleep immediately.

  “I’ve noticed your father has stopped texting you, Eliza,” James said, raising an eyebrow.

  “He hasn’t, actually,” she said. “I just put my phone on silent mode since it seemed to be bothering you so much. But do you know what I’ve noticed?”

  She walked right up to James, her fists balled. “Your father hasn’t contacted you, not even once, since we got here.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” I said, stepping between them. Only then did I realise that if this had turned physical, I would have been in the worst place. I turned to look at Bok Joo, but she was deep in conversation with Wendy. They were both staring at the painting that Wendy had completed.

  “Are we interrupting something?” Mom said from the hallway. She, Moran and Nazhar had returned from Borough Market just in time.

  “Just making sure James and his people know the full plan,” I said quickly. “Is it time for breakfast?”

  Mom eyed me suspiciously, but decided not to press it. “Yes, we have salt beef sandwiches, and raclette cheese on potatoes and pickles for everybody. I also have a few quinoa salads, in case there are any vegetarians or vegans amongst your friends, James.”

  James and Eliza both stepped away from each other. I yawned again, but the delicious salt beef sandwich with pickles and spicy mustard was quickly making me less tired. The raclette cheese smothered on potatoes, gherkins and pickled onions made me almost forget about the late night I’d had.

  “What was that about?” Nazhar asked. “When we walked in?”

  I just shook my head. We just needed to not strangle each other until tonight. Then we needed to survive the actual heist.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “You are much heavier than you look,” I said.

  “You’re one to talk,” James snapped back.

  “Boys, behave,” Mom said in our earpieces. Thanks once again to Inspector Lestrade, we were all equipped with hidden microphones and stealthy earpieces.

  James was on my shoulders, attempting to climb up through a vent that would take us inside the museum. I was trying very hard to keep him steady and not dump him on the street, though that second one was more a mental battle than a physical one. We were dressed in black to better blend into the shadows, and I had the fake version of Hé Píng rolled up in a tube on my back. Watson was standing nearby, watching our backs and waiting his turn to climb up after us.

  It was my second late night in a row, and the Tate Modern had been closed to the public for a few hours. Even the staff, except for the night security guards, had left—we made sure of it. James finally found something to grab on to and pulled himself up. My shoulders were very thankful.

  “You are still clear, Master Sherlock,” Moran said in our earpieces. “And your two colleagues, Liam and Noel, are quite cold, Master James.”

  “Tell Minions Three and Four to grit their teeth and do their duties,” James said as he extended his arms down for me to grab.

  “Watson, I need you,” I said. “Stand here so I can step on you and reach James’ arms.”

  “I-am-a-robot-not-a-stepstool,” Watson replied. “And-your-shoes-are-not-coming-anywherenearmy-very-clean-and-shiny-exterior.”

  “Watson, we don’t have time for this,” I said.

  “You should really rethink that obedience chip,” James said, his voice echoing in the vent, his arms still dangling. “I know I liked Moran a lot better when his was still installed.”

  Watson finally moved towards me. I was getting ready to step on him, but instead he extended his arms and grabbed hold of James, surprising him.

  “Wait, wait, I’m not anchored prop—”

  But it was too late. Watson’s arms began to retract, lifting himself straight up into the air. I heard James grunt. His body squeaked as it slid along the vent, and his black baseball cap nearly fell off. He must have anchored himself firmly enough as neither he nor Watson fell back down.

  “Why didn’t you extend your legs?” James asked angrily. “Or fly, for goodness’ sake!”

  “Because-I-do-not-have-an-obedience-chip,” Watson replied. “And-this-was-more-fun.”

  I chuckled to myself as Watson extended his arms for me to grab on to.

  “Wait,” he said. “How-many-salt-beefsandwichesdid-you-have-this-morning?”

  I stopped chuckling. “Quiet, you, and pull me up.”

  The three of us were finally crawling through the vent.

  “Hey Dad, have we tripped any alarms yet?” I asked.

  Back in the serviced apartment that had become our command centre, Dad, Wendy and Bok Joo were using a police scanner that Inspector Lestrade had provided to make sure that the Metropolitan Police Service were not called to the Tate. The command centre was also tapped into the museum’s CCTV cameras, thanks to Moran, and the team there was helping him keep watch.

  “No one’s been alerted to your presence as far as we can tell, son,” Dad said.

  I could tell from his voice that he was quite nervous, though I wasn’t sure if that was because he was worried about me becoming a thief, or about having to keep track of so many things at the command centre. Fortunately, I knew Mom had packed a packet of Red Vines in their luggage. Dad always needed the tasty liquorice snack to think clearly.

  “Kat, you and your team are clear as well,” Dad said.

  “Well, that’s good,” Mom said, “because I think we’re a little bit lost.”

  Wait. What?

  Mom, Nazhar, Eliza and Mark were crawling through the tunnel network underneath the museum, making sure our exit path was clear.

  “Nazhar, I thought we agreed that Eliza was going to be the one holding on to the map,” I said.

  “It’s not my fault!” Nazhar said.

  “It’s really not,” Eliza confirmed. “The maps we found at the National Archives don’t match up exactly to the actual architecture down here. They might be outdated, or maybe renovations were done at the Tate Modern recently that haven’t been reflected on the maps. We’re going to need to find you guys an alternative route. We’re making notes on our maps so we can guide you out later.”

  “It’s a lot smellier down here than I thought it would be,” Mark said.

  “Great,” James sighed. “Sherlock, why don’t we just do what—”

  “Do your best, guys,” I said, cutting James off. “But try to be quick, okay? Once we’re in the museum building itself, we’ll be past the point of no return, and we will need that exit route as soon as possible.”

  James stared daggers at me, but he knew exactly why he couldn’t finish what he wanted to say before.

  “Inspector, are you ready?” I asked.

  “Jimmy, Rupert and I are ready,” Inspector Lestrade said. She and her team were right outside the museum, hidden, until it was time for them to perform. “And our costumes are amazing.”

  “Oh-they-truly-are-amazing,” Watson said.

  “What? How can you see them?” I asked, turning to look at my robot.

  “I-am-tapped-into-the-same-CCTV-camerafeedsthat-Moran-and-Dad-are,” Watson said.

  Dad a
nd Wendy started laughing over the earpieces.

  “Please take photos for us!” Mom said.

  Then I remembered Watson’s new upgrade (the one that didn’t involve hair).

  “Watson, show us, please,” I said.

  He projected a miniature version of Inspector Lestrade, Jimmy and Minion One— whose name was actually Rupert—dressed in Beefeater costumes, and which were, in fact, quite glorious. Using Uncle David’s (previously known as Uncle Baad) much more advanced holographic projection technology, we could see that the three of them were walking up the museum steps. They arrived right at the closed glass doors. It was almost time for us to drop in, so we stopped watching Watson’s projection and crawled more quickly along the vent.

  When we arrived at the previously agreed upon location—right above the main entrance lobby—we saw four museum guards patrolling immediately below us. I knew that even if they looked up, they would not be able to see us through the vents, but I was still nervous.

  “Decoy Team,” James said, “you’re up.”

  “’Ullo, guv’nor!” Inspector Lestrade shouted so deafeningly that James and I both had to momentarily remove our earpieces. Two of the guards closest to the entrance jumped in fright and swung around to look at source of that shout. She was that loud; they could hear her through the thick glass doors.

  “What is she doing?” James hissed.

  “A terrible cockney accent?” I guessed.

  James looked stunned, like he had been hit by a Star Trek phaser on its lowest setting.

  “Could you give us an ’and then, luv?” Inspector Lestrade continued. “Me mates and I are a bit lost.”

  “Ma’am, you and your…mates…shouldn’t be here. The museum is closed for the day,” one of the guards said. “Are you—are you tourists?”

  A second guard was trying not to laugh, and was gesturing for his fellow guards to come over.

  “Why not? It’s a free country, innit?” Inspector Lestrade was on a roll.

  “This lady is behaving very oddly, and we’re going to prison,” Rupert whispered.