by A. J. Low
“Stick to the plan, Minion One,” James said. “Help her.”
“I hope my mother never sees this,” Rupert muttered. Then, he said more loudly, “We’re in a bit of…uh…a barney.” I couldn’t see it, but I could sense his wince.
“I didn’t tell you to also adopt a ridiculous accent, Minion One,” James said, slapping his forehead with his palm.
“Monster trucks are the bee’s knees!” Jimmy shouted in what was very obviously a fake American accent.
“I think Jimmy might have fallen asleep during the briefing,” I said.
James had no words. I don’t think I had ever seen him this shocked.
“At least you can’t argue against the effectiveness of their performances,” I said. “Look.”
All four guards had gathered at the front entrance to gape at the three ridiculous people in front of them. The guards must have been extremely relieved that they were behind the thick glass.
“We-need-to-go-now,” Watson said. He continued to project a live video feed of what was happening right outside the museum, which we could watch even as we moved.
We carefully popped open the hatch in the vent. Watson extended his arms and legs and easily reached the floor. James and I deployed our ropes and started rappelling down while Inspector Lestrade, Jimmy and Rupert’s terrible accents kept the guards occupied (and deeply confused, one presumed).
James quickly descended and pulled his rope down to avoid leaving any evidence behind. However, halfway through my journey, my descender got jammed on the rope. I couldn’t untangle it. From what I could hear, it seemed as if Inspector Lestrade was running out of things to say in her horribly mangled accent.
James and Watson were waving at me to make my descent, but I still couldn’t move.
“Pull the rope,” I whispered. “I’m stuck.”
Watson and James grabbed my rope, and pulled. The anchor at the vent came off and I landed on my stomach with a loud thud. I had recently had a growth spurt, so there was a lot less tummy than there used to be. Ouch.
I froze, still flat on my tummy, and quickly looked at the guards to see if any of them had heard me fall. One of them was about to turn his head when Inspector Lestrade suddenly shouted, “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” and then immediately launched into a rendition of the popular sea shanty “Blow the Man Down”. After a pause, Jimmy and Rupert broke into a jaunty jig next to her.
The guard’s head snapped back to Inspector Lestrade, and James helped me up. I had had the breath knocked out of me, but I was fine otherwise. We quietly scurried towards the back of the entrance lobby, where the staircase to the storage area in the basement was located. We made our way down the staircase as Inspector Lestrade continued singing loudly— very loudly. I wondered how many verses “Blow the Man Down” had.
“Inspector-Lestrade-is-quite-a-good-singer,” Watson whispered as he started hacking the electronic lock on the door at the bottom of the staircase.
“What happened, Sherlock?” James asked. He looked irritated.
“My rope got stuck,” I replied. “I couldn’t move.”
“We were lucky that display outside the museum was so…” James grasped for a word.
“Amazing?” Watson offered.
“Sublime?” Wendy asked over the earpiece.
“Transcendental?” Moran said from where he was on the roof.
“Ridiculous,” James answered. “It was so ridiculous the guards could not help but gawk. We were lucky.”
Watson finished with his hack and the door opened. We walked into the museum’s archives.
“Dad, Moran, anything?” I asked, rubbing my stomach where I knew a bruise would show up.
“The streets are still empty, Master Sherlock,” Moran replied.
“And there’s nothing on the police scanner, son,” Dad said. “You’re still good.”
“Mom, Eliza, Nazhar? Have you found your way down there?”
“We’ve got good news and bad news,” Eliza said. “The good news is that we found the door from the archives into the tunnels, and you should be able to open it on your end.”
“Okay, great,” I said.
“What’s the bad news?” James asked.
“There are two guards posted outside that door,” Nazhar replied.
I sighed. James looked at me expectantly.
“We stick to the plan,” I said. “We’ll figure out a way to get them away from the door.” James shook his head, but said nothing.
“For now, let’s find that painting,” I said.
“Fortunately, we know exactly where it is,” James said.
“How-do-you-know-exactly-where-it-is?” Watson asked.
“What do you mean you know where it is?
How do you know that?” Nazhar asked. “That information wasn’t in any of the plans I could find.”
Before James could explain himself, we heard a sound from the other end of the archives. We immediately went quiet and squinted in the direction the sound had come from.
Suddenly, a bright light shone in our direction!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Watson, James and I ducked behind some tables and shelving, avoiding the light that was sweeping across the area. I was the closest to the door we had just come through, with Watson behind a shelf next to my table, and James the furthest away, wedged between two shelves on the far wall.
“We have a problem,” I whispered into the hidden mike.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“There-is-another-guard-in-the-archives,” Watson said. “And-he-may-have-seen-us.”
“Eliza, we need the quickest route from the stairwell to the exit that leads to the tunnels,” I said.
“I don’t have the Tate Modern floor map with me,” Eliza said. “It’s at the command centre.”
“What?” Dad said. “It’s here?”
“Find it, Dad,” I said. “We need to get out of here as quickly as possible.”
“Give us a minute,” Wendy said. I could hear things being shuffled about. “There are a lot of maps here.”
“We don’t have a minute!” James hissed. He was in the most precarious position, as he didn’t have as much furniture to hide behind as Watson and I did.
“Found it!” Bok Joo announced.
The light source was getting closer.
“Are you almost here, Kat?” Dad asked. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to read this map.”
“We’re heading back now, dear,” Mom said, “but we won’t make it in time. You have to do this. You can do this.”
“Umm… Okay, okay,” he said. He was clearly flustered. “Head to the wall across from the door you just came through. There should be an entrance to a side room.”
“Is there another way out of that side room?” James asked, wedging himself deeper in the recess he was in.
“Yes, there should be two other ways,” Dad said.
I risked a peek over the table I was hiding behind when the light swung away from me. The guard was coming closer. We had to move.
Watson grabbed a chalice of some sort that I hoped wasn’t a one-of-a-kind work of art and lobbed it behind the guard. It clattered loudly, and the guard immediately turned around and said, “Who’s there?”
I scurried as close to the floor as I could and joined Watson behind his shelf. James had moved out from between the two bookshelves and was looking for the door Dad had been talking about. He found it, but didn’t look happy.
“It’s locked,” he whispered.
Watson’s left hand retracted and his lock pick slid out with a quiet whoosh.
We hurried over and Watson niftily picked the lock. The three of us slipped into the room and, as gently as we could, closed the door behind us.
“Assistance needed at the archives. I repeat, assistance needed at the archives,” we heard the guard say. “I suspect we have intruders.”
James and I looked at each other with wide eyes.
“We’re
on our way,” someone said through the guard’s walkie-talkie.
“Dad, where are those other ways out of this room?” I asked. “The archives are about to get crowded.”
“Um… Um… They should be to the left of the door you just entered,” Dad said.
We looked to the left and saw only more shelves with documents.
“There’s nothing there, Uncle,” James said.
“To the right, Dad,” Wendy said.
“Right, right! Sorry, to the right of the door you just entered! I need my Red Vines! Where are my Red Vines?!”
We turned our heads to the right and saw two doors. The first door was bolted shut with a big lock, and a heavy shelf had been moved right in front of it. The second door led back into the main archives room we had just left. Through the frosted glass window, we could see the guards’ torchlights being waved around.
“This is not good,” James said.
“Dad, we need another way out, and we need it fast,” I said.
“There’s no other way out, son!” Dad said in a panic. “It’s just those two doors!”
“I guess I’ll be unmasked before the deadline,” James said. He sounded resigned. I was surprised. I didn’t think the dastardly Fiendish Mastermind would give up this easily.
“I-have-an-idea,” Watson said. He went back to the door we had just entered and opened it a crack.
“What are you doing?” James asked.
Watson looked around and when he was satisfied, he threw the door open wide with a loud bang, surprising me and James.
He then projected an image of Inspector Lestrade in her Beefeater costume near the door at the stairwell.
“’Ullo, guv’nor!” the projection shouted before rushing up the stairwell—the guards had fortunately left that door open in their hurry to come downstairs.
“How did she get in? Hey! Wait! Somebody stop her!” The guards chased after the projection and disappeared up the stairwell, leaving the archives completely empty except for the three of us.
“That was… That was brilliant,” James said.
“I-know,” Watson said. “I-often-have-quitebrilliantideas. It-is-a-by-product-of-beingableto-think-for-myself.”
“I tell you what, I was against this whole ‘Mok’s Eleven’ idea, but I have to say, you’ve all been quite useful,” James said.
“First of all,” I said, “we’re not ‘Mok’s Eleven’. If anything, we’re Sherlock’s Eleven. And secondly, we’re actually Sherlock’s Sixteen, or did you forget about your minions?”
“I didn’t forget about them,” James said. “They just don’t count. They’re minions after all.”
“We-are-not-Sherlock’s-anything,” Watson said. “We-are-Wat-son’s-Watch.”
There was a collective groan from various people over the radio.
“Master Sherlock,” Moran said. “The completion of your mission has now become more urgent. A fresh batch of guards has just arrived at the museum entrance.”
“And they’ve called it in to the police, son,” Dad said. “You need to get out of there as soon as possible.”
“You said you knew where the painting was, James?” I asked.
He shot me a glance.
“You’ll have to explain to us how you know that, but for now, let’s just go get it.”
He gave a short laugh. “Sure, Sherlock. I’ll explain it to you. That’s not a problem.”
He led us to the far end of the archives, away from the door to the entrance lobby. There were a few other paintings by Liu Huimin, which Wendy had shown us previously, that were ready to be displayed.
“This is odd,” James said.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not here,” he said.
“That’s impossible,” I said.
“They must have moved it,” James said. “But why would they?”
“Because there was a break-in last night,” Wendy said.
“What?” everyone said.
“Did the Mysterious Mastermind take the painting already?!” Jimmy asked. He, Inspector Lestrade and Rupert were back in the command centre with Dad, Wendy and Bok Joo. Mom, Eliza, Nazhar and Mark were on their way back there as well. That just left Moran, Liam and Noel on overwatch at the roof, and the three of us in the museum.
“No, the police on the scanner said nothing was taken last night, but that the staff had put some of the more expensive and famous pieces in a safe in the museum’s archives,” Dad said. “Maybe the Mysterious Mastermind attempted the theft, but failed for some reason?”
“That’s…possible,” Bok Joo said.
Hé Píng was Liu Huimin’s most famous painting. They would have definitely put that in a safe.
“Where’s the safe, Dad?” I asked.
“Hold on, give me a minute…” I heard papers rustling over the radio.
“I can’t find a safe on these plans,” Dad said.
“Let me look,” Eliza said.
“Oh, thank goodness you’re back!” Dad said. “Never leave me in charge again!” I could hear Dad scramble out of his chair and an “oof” from the person he had most likely tackled in a giant hug.
“You did fine, dear,” Mom said. “Very graceful under pressure.” I heard Wendy stifle a laugh.
“Sherlock, it’s in the southwest corner of the archives, near your exit,” Eliza said. “But remember, there are at least two guards in those tunnels. Possibly more, now that they’ve been alerted.”
We quickly went to the southwest corner of the archives and were greeted by a very large walk-in safe. There were three dials and two knobs, and one imposing looking keypad.
“How are we ever going to open this?” James asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. I wish I could think of something clever to say or do, but I had nothing.
“I-see-you-need-me-to-bail-you-out-again,” Watson said, cracking his knuckles. Well, not really. He didn’t have any knuckles to crack, but he made a cracking noise while bending his fingers.
My robot always had a flair for the dramatic.
CHAPTER NINE
Watson plugged his left hand into the keypad while his right quickly rotated one of the dials. He had extended his left leg so that it could feel the vibrations near the dial he was rotating. This meant he was standing on one leg, and looked somewhat ridiculous. I wished I had a camera with me. Well, I did, but it was Watson.
“Can you go a bit faster, robot?” James said. “I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about the guards pouring into this place.”
“There-are-sextillions-of-combinationspossibleon-these-four-locks-James,” Watson said. “I-have-no-choice-but-to-brute-forcecrackthe-keypad-code. But-at-least-that-only-has-100,000-possible-combinations.”
“Is Watson going to punch his way through the keypad?” Jimmy asked through the earpiece.
“He just means he’s going through every possible combination, Jimmy,” I replied, “to figure out which is the right one.”
“You can’t brute force your way through the dials as well?” James asked.
“If-I-had-a-year-perhaps-I-could,” Watson replied.
“There are 60 numbers on each dial, and each dial requires three numbers,” I said.
“That’s 216,000 possible combinations per dial,” James finished. “I understand the maths. What I don’t understand is why he can’t go faster.”
“He can’t try combinations as quickly on a manual dial as he can on a computer keypad,” I said. “It’s not a digital lock.”
“So-I-have-to-crack-this-the-old-fashionedway,” Watson said. “By-listening-for-shiftingpins. The-first-dial-is-completed-by-the-way.”
“Great, only four quadrillion possible combinations left on the last three locks.” James was very tense, and understandably so. I was too. At any moment, a whole swarm of guards and policemen could come down here and catch us trying to steal some very famous artwork. But demanding that Watson go faster wasn’t going to help.
“Moran, how are
things looking out there?” I asked.
“The police have not entered the building yet,” he replied. “They are currently only checking the perimeter of the building.”
At least one thing was going according to plan.
“The guards seem to be arguing with the police,” Bok Joo said. “Which is odd.”
“Second-dial-is-completed,” Watson said.
“Go go Safecracking Watson!” Jimmy said. “Punch your way through that dial!”
“He’s not punching anything for real, Jimmy,” Wendy commented.
“I’m not sure if we should be proud or alarmed at how good Watson is at this,” Mom said.
“Fear-not-Mom,” Watson said. “I-will-onlyusemy-powers-for-good.”
“At this rate, the keypad might be our biggest hurdle,” I said.
“Keypad-is-completed,” Watson said.
“Or maybe not,” James said.
“It-only-took-me-56,327-tries to get the code of 12114,” Watson said.
I opened the tube, pulled out the painting and unrolled it. We still had to switch the two artworks, and I was certain that the one in the safe was mounted in a frame and ready to hang.
“Third-dial-is-completed,” Watson said. His two hands extended to reach the two knobs. He inserted his fingers into the large locks and picked them at the same time. I made a mental note to train myself to also be ambidextrous.
He turned both knobs simultaneously and the safe finally opened. James darted into the large safe and began looking for Liu Huimin’s Hé Píng on the various shelves inside. I started looking on the opposite end.
“I found it,” James said. He pulled out the framed painting and presented the back of it to Watson. My robot used his screwdriverhand to swiftly remove the screws holding the acrylic frame together while I picked the painting I brought with us off the floor. Once Watson had removed the back of the frame, James quickly but meticulously removed the painting while I substituted it with the double. Watson replaced the frame and put the screws back firmly as James handed me the painting. I carefully rolled it up and put in the carrying tube. Once the frame looked more or less like it had before we found it, James put it back in its original position. I slung the tube over my shoulder again as Watson closed the safe door and spun the dials.
