SPOTLIGHT ON TREACHERY
Job 3: Light of the Law
Inspector Fox has been a member of Interpol since 2000, when she was 19. Over the past ten years, she's worked her way from a routine patrol cop to Inspector. She's solved cold cases older than she is and put criminals behind bars in fifty-seven countries. Rookies speak of her in whispers, and every last one of them blushes and stutters and cannot quite believe it when she meets them.
Inspector Fox is a third generation law enforcement officer, even if her uncle turned out to be a bad apple. She has lived her life with the weight of the law over her, a burden she was blessed with.
All of which means, as she stands on an outcropping of boulders and stares at the large open door into the big building, she is decidedly unhappy. "Breaking and entering," she mutters. "This had better not get out, shell boy."
"Believe me, I have no desire for it to," Bentley says. "That would incriminate myself and all the Coopers as much as you. Besides, if we had time to go back for a warrant, you'd have all you need. Just keep that in mind."
It still galls her that she's not going back to get it.
"Now. That building's new and full of electricity, so your shock pistol will be able to take out most obstacles," Bentley says. "It's the most likely location for a robot to be hiding on this island, so try not to attract attention."
"You say that like you think I would," Carmelita accuses, looking around through her binoc-u-com. From here she can see Sly standing on top of a shipwreck, bending down to look (or jump) within. Her heart twists.
"Sly will be fine," Bentley says
Carmelita snaps her binoc-u-com back to the building. "Did I ask?"
"No. Just keep your mind on the job, Inspector. We'll take care of the rest."
Carmelita shoves her binoc-u-com in her pocket and heads for the building, grumbling under her breath. The large, garage-style door is open; lobsters ferry in and out. The ones who leave head out the door towards a path in the cliffs to the beach; the ones returning come from the same direction, large wrapped bundles of something in their claws.
"If nothing else, I might get them on illegal salvage," Carmelita mutters as she slips through a gap in the line. They seem to be placing their boxes on a conveyor belt leading further in, one Carmelita can't follow. She can, however, open the unusually large door to the next room.
There are many, many things Inspector Fox is good at.
Sneaking is not one of them.
Carmelita surveys the room full of lasers, with switches high in the walls above, three sets of conveyor belts moving to different locations, and guards watching each of them, and knows even before Bentley tells her that she'd better not get caught in here. Between the guards, conveyors, and dangling live wires, even moving is going to be difficult.
But there are three bright lights on the far side of the room, all shiny and with large light-up circles flashing on and off around them, begging to be shot. So, naturally, Inspector Fox does.
Shooting the one on the right makes the one on the right and in the center go out. Shooting the one on the left makes the left one turn off and the middle one turn on. Shooting the middle one makes that one turn off and the other two turn on.
Oh cod, it's one of these stupid things. I hate these things. But because Carmelita is smarter than me, she turns them all off in two more shots, making all power in the room turn off: conveyor belts, live wires, laser security... lights. Carmelita uses the light of the guard's flashlights to make her way to the door (again, tall enough for two of her and much wider than most double-doors would be) and into the next room.
Good news and bad news: this room is a lot like the previous one. Looks like the contents of the boxes brought from the ship have been opened and sorted: lights and electronics on that conveyor belt, rice and beans and other nonperishable foods on that one, Expensive Crud on a third. Guards walk around the room, so there's no safe spot to stand and shoot, she'll have to keep moving. Somewhat less extensive laser security, so she can actually move.
And, on one wall, two rows of four lights.
I really hate this type of puzzle.
Of course, because this cursed game doesn't care what I like or don't like, that sort of puzzle is exactly what this is. And because Carmelita is, well, Carmelita, she solves it without an issue and makes her way into the next room.
This one is certainly different. "Do not touch that bulge," Bentley says, referring to the round dome in the center of the room, covered in thick black glass. "It looks like an automated machine-gun nest. It can probably be transported anywhere on the island."
"This has to be dealt with," Carmelita says at once.
"It will be, but not now. You'll have to let me upgrade your shock pistol to make it more powerful, then you can come back and overload the circuits," Bentley says.
Carmelita rolls her eyes. "You'd better make it an adjustable setting," she says. "The shock pistol is supposed to be a non-lethal method of subduing people, increasing the electricity would ruin that."
"I'll make it adjustable," Bentley says, and the eyeroll is audible in his voice. "Don't you need to keep going?"
Carmelita sighs and looks around. There is indeed another door to be opened, and more flashing lights in the wall... but they're out of range. Fortunately, the walls seem studded with decorative platforms. As Carmelita does some fancy jumping, she notes what's on them: gems. Jewelry. Beside each landing is a small opening in the wall, and it seems to be funneling in the precious items off conveyor belts elsewhere.
Carmelita isn't sure which laws are being broken, but she's well aware they're being broken. Though sorting everything like this, taking it up before anything can pollute the water, taking apart the ships for salvage, doesn't seem like it'd break any laws. She has to check what, if anything, is being sold for profit first.
In any case, several platforms (and two falls; who designed these things? They were not made to bear a fox's weight) later, she's high enough in the air to shoot the lights.
They're in a large circle this time, twelve of them. Shooting one turns it off, the ones next to it, and the one across the circle. I have no idea how she manages it, but Carmelita turns them all off, very quickly.
The lights go out.
The door opens.
With the desolate clang of metal on metal, a gigantic moose steps out. Carmelita stays where she is, watching. The size of the doors makes sense now: they have to be oversized to accommodate him. "I suppose it's too much to ask," he says in a heavy Irish accent. "One simply cannot get good help in this time period."
Carmelita holds her breath as the moose strolls in, pauses, and stomps his foot. It leaves a dent in the floor. "Of course, what can one expect in a time where serfs can go where they will?" he continues, glancing around the room. "And lights that aren't made from the fires we create... too much can go wrong. I will fix them."
Two steps takes him to the wall below Carmelita. He slams one hoof against it, shaking the wall, nearly shaking her off; the lights come back on.
The moose turns and leaves once more, the door closing behind him.
And in Carmelita's ears comes Bentley's voice: "Come on back to the safe-house. We're gonna have to team up to deal with this guy.
JOB COMPLETE
Carmelita makes her way down with a leap, and lands with legs that shake.