A Question of Principle

Amsterdam

The Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam, The Netherlands (GMT +3)
The cool night air seemed to wrap everything in a blanket of mist amongst the
dim lights of the city. Everything appeared peaceful and deceptively quiet.

Carmen let out a bored yawn as she glanced at the chronometer on the control
panel before her. Ten more minutes until the shift change.

The recent theft had been uneventful, and within this a revelation. It was
almost as if some personal terror remained hidden, submersed beneath a thin veil
of secrecy. Had this avenue of risk become mundane, too predictable and
therefore obsolete? Something about it didn't seem right, as if some irritated
fear premeditated another expected outcome.

Today, the chase no longer held the mystic quality it once had. Her thoughts
lingered on the irrelevent issues that temporarily took hold in her mind. Maybe
she had taken this theme too far, it seemed that the underlying message
originally intended was missed completely, brushed aside and forsaken in the
intrest of an overrated thrill. Yet the usual suprises seemed secondary. The
usual suprises? She had to think a moment on that one...

Carmen took a moment to reflect on the calm serenity of the surroundings,
breathing deeply and concentrating on the soothing effect of a few minutes of
uninterrupted peace. Although time was running thin, she made sure to take a few
minutes to clear her thoughts and prepare for the task at hand. Such tactics
were necessary, for everything that happened within the next few hours was
crucial and one wrong move would lead to failure. It was easy to plan and expect
those factors which were in your control, the rest were left to chance. The
rules of this game were always different, but the one element that never changed
was the legitamite circumstances that bound such activities as criminal.

"Remove the defined object outside of a set boundary within a spatial time limit
and avoid interception..." It hardly sounded illegal...she smiled and suppressed
a small laugh.

That was better, more suited to the thoughts of the greatest thief of all time.

The digital beep of the timer began to chime. She switched it off with a casual
gesture and set the radio to a predetermined clear channel and said,

" Give me a report on operative status."

A male voice reported matter of factly,

"The new guard was five minutes late. He hasn't even started his rounds yet.
Should we wait?"

The element of chaos was at work again, but she had always
prided herself in the abiltity to adapt,

"Temporary delay in operative status. I want to know the second the first check
is complete."

"Will do, boss." The radio let off a static filled click before going silent and
Carmen let out an annoyed sigh. Such unforeseen changes were far from uncommon,
but she had no real patience to deal with them tonight.

Was that right? Could she really want to rush through this and just get it over
with? Something was plaguing her, but she couldn't figuire out exactly what
caused her to react in this manner. Then again, there were times when a
restlessness settled temporarily inside her soul, and set of a chain reaction of
irrational thoughts. It would pass soon enough.

After this plan had found conclusion, she would take a well needed break from
whatever monotony had crept into this once grand avenue of risk. Her own
irratability was more with herself than the events which currently unfolded.

"Okay, all is clear."

"Excellent. Proceed as planned."

It was then that something else overtook her, and it began to take control of
her actions. Although premeditated, everything ran as if automated to
perfection, lacking any amateur clumsiness. Instead, there was a fluid
methodical intent imprinted upon every movement, a silent feminine elegance that
transformed the simple acts of criminal mastery into a sublime art in itself.
Shadows converged long enough to synchronize times, and disperse into the
darkness. Morning would soon begin to break this one last hour of concealment
and the pressure began to close in. Carmen waited with a tireless patience as
she clipped a small handheld device to the automated lock of an emergency exit.
Such exits were set on a timer, deactivated once the main system switched onto
normal status during business hours. It was only for a few brief seconds before
the device stated in a barely audible tone,

"Locking Mechanism Deactivated."

Two metal rods emerged from the sides of the device and Carmen grasped them and
pulled the door open. A slight hum could be heard for a moment before it died,
and she was certain that the motion sensors were inoperative. She entered the
museum and remapped the scene in her mind, remembering the path she had
personally set in daylight. It was then that she heard a noise nearby, her
entourage scattered and she found herself holding her breath and pressing her
back against a cold painted cement block wall.

As she waited for the sound of footsteps to fade into the distant hallway, she
silently slide from her position toward the gallery where her intended object of
theft awaited. A new found surge of adrenalin and a steadied sensation not
unlike nervous anticipation filled her and there was a release of a deeper
intensity. Her mind focused completely on this one task and it alone. She
quickly approached the painting, and knew something was amiss. Something was
different, and experience had taught her that different in these instances was
not synonymous with anything pleasant. As she drew closer, her footsteps growing
lighter and more cautious, she could see the Van Gogh, with what appeared to be
a black envelope affixed to the edge of the frame.

In an instant, the possiblities flooded into her mind. She was startled for a moment . Deep rooted suspicion dictated her actions now as she once again scanned the room for a sign of compromise.

Nothing followed, the silence grew steadily more and more unsettling.

After a few moments, which seemed to stretch for an eternity, she turned fully
around. Two henchmen who stood to each side of her exchanged puzzled glances at
first, then began to show true concern. She motioned with a simple hand gesture
for them to move away, and secure the area.

She plucked the envelope from it's place and stood motionless for a moment,
still unsure as to why it had been placed there.

This had happened once before. She remembered how she had let her obsession for
competition overrride her usual insight, only to discover she had been baited
for a trap. They had already played out the scenario with the Tigress. Really,
they wouldn't be so foolhardy as to expect her to fall for the same ploy
twice?...

Carmen opened the envelope and pulled out a violet piece of fine linen paper,
carefully folded and affixed with a gold seal. She stared curiously at the
emblem set within the soft wax before carefully opening the edges. Gold
caligraphy letters glittered faintly and she turned the paper slightly toward
the dim light to read them.

Forever in marble, frozen in place
The proud lioness falls from her grace.
Behold a match of epic measures
Seek possession of Layard's treasures.
Or
Allow me to continue this little dance
As you accept the blame of my consequence.

The room almost felt ten degrees colder, this was obviously not the work of
ACME. But who else would know of her plans to steal this particular painting?
She rubbed the lettering a moment and could see the writing barely smudge. It
was written in genuine gold...

The clue had been left exclusively for the Agency, yet it was apparent someone
else had discovered it also.

Discovered it, figuired it out and still somehow managed to beat the detectives
to the crime scene, write a clue in response and in gold on expensive
stationary. She quickly surmised that given the amount of time which had passed
between the time she had escaped from the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New
York, to the time she had arrived in the Netherlands there was only one
possibility. She had not been alone on the second floor of the museum. But
who?...

No, there was no time for that now. She had come here to take care of business,
not waste time contemplating.

She took great care in removing the artwork from it's position, a series of
bolts holding it in place. Once that was done, she cautiously removed the the
backing from the frame and gently placed it into a slim silver case. Once she
was certain that the soft rubber clamps which held the canvas were firmly in
place she closed the case with a distinctive metallic click. Then she reached
inside her side pocket and pulled out a ceramic tiled box upon the a fine
coating of dust on the floor before the display.

The sudden awareness became undeniable, the excited urgency now dulled by a
harsh bitter sense of inherent danger.

There was always a chance that she had been followed here too. The air grew
heavy with an unpleasant caution.

Without a second thought she slapped the alarm mechanism noting the basic wiring
path which ran along the conduit piping, ill hidden by ceiling tiles and white
paint.

Nothing.

There was a twisted joke in this, and if Carmen had the time to truly appreciate
it, she would have found a delicious irony.

Carmen let out a sigh and a small unamused laugh as she hit it again and twice,
just in case...

Within seconds, the wail of a siren could be heard throughout the room. It
echoed inside the eardrums with such an intensity that it threatened to drive a
sane person mad.

A security circuit that malfunctioned. A possible sign that someone else had
tampered with the system. Usually she waited a few seconds for the astonished
glare of the local authories. She turned momentarily toward her cohorts who
understood fully that her task was complete and that they were on thier own.
They waited only long enough to watch her swift exit before they followed.
A uniformed man stepped from the shadows and shined a flashlight toward the
place where the painting had been. He swiftly approached where Carmen had set
the small tiled box and placed it carefully inside of his jacket as others
quickly descended upon the scene and he cried out in flawless Dutch as he
pointed toward the route of her escape,

"It's Carmen Sandiego! She took the Van Gogh! Stop her!"
Several people scattered as the lone guard stepped away in the midst of the ensuing confusion.

Once he was certain that he was alone, the sound of the alarm growing in the
distance he retrieved a cell phone from his jacket pocket and hit redial,

"Ya? Jerard? She took the bait."

********************************************************************
One thought stood apart from all the others.

Where had Zack and Ivy been through all this? It wasn't completely out of the
question that they had guessed wrong, in fact, it wouldn't be the first time.
But with the recent development concern had etched itself deeply in her mind.
She knew something inside compelled her to leave the scene of her last crime as
quickly as possible. She had felt more than just pressure and the excitement of
the possibility of being interrupted. For that matter, she had planned on being
interrupted, that really was the point of leaving clues behind. No, it was more
like a paranoia of being watched. As though some unseen force had been at work,
analyzing her every move, eyes burning through her flesh and singeing every
nerve. Nothing felt right about any of this.

Carmen removed the hat from her head and tossed it carelessly to the floor
beside her. She ran her hands through her hair and gave a bemused look at the
reflection in the monitor screen before her. What a mess, wearing a fedora for
hours on end did horrible things to one's hair. She was thankful for once to be
alone.

But the question of who would possibly bait her with a clue still puzzled her.
It was time to find some answers. Carmen pulled up the main screen and began to
type. The best idea would be to access Crimenet and check the progress of her
current crime spree. She often checked the progress of the chase, not completely
out of the need to stay one step ahead but often out of curiosity. There was
always a feeling of nostalgia everytime she began, although things had changed
drasticly since she had left. Every new system change, update, nuance she added
to her mental notebook. Over the years, it had been slow, but recently
everything had been changing.

Everything had changed.

It was then that she saw the veracity to her suspicions. A summary displayed
information on the recent theft of the Ninevah Marbles from the Metropolitan
Museum of Art. The theft of the Monet was mentioned but the focus was more on
the marble friezes. Both heists were currently believed to be the work of.Carmen
Sandiego...

Now if that wasn't an intresting twist of fate. It was becoming an alarming
trend, everytime something came up missing...she smiled in spite of herself.
No, she wouldn't correct them, just yet.

The stolen Van Gogh was mentioned as the most recent item taken. Authorities
were baffled as to what the next move would be as no clue was discovered at the
scene...

So, Zack and Ivy had made it there after all. They had arrived just as she had
fled from the museum. Yet nothing had been found? No, that wasn't right...

Someone was trying very hard to get her attention. Carmen leaned back and pulled
the note out once again, examining the details of the envelope and the broken
wax seal. The ruined impression of a scorpion caught her eye, she had seen it
before. Yet from where? Her memory refused to clarify such an obsure detail.
The clue followed a theme. She faintly remembered the discoveries of Henry
Layard, his excavations of ancient Assyria. The Ninevah Marbles from the Met
were only one half of the collection he had pillaged from his journeys into the
cradle of civilization, if she was right, the other half had been donated to the
British Museum in London. A quick infoscan confirmed her deductive reasoning
once again, and she smiled at the ease with which she had solved the first
attempt of her competition.

It was just as well that the clue had not been found. There was a last minute
change in plans.