RIGHT AND LAW

Job 5: Volcanic Evidence

Play picks back up with Sly at the bottom of the tower. "You should be near the spot in the moat with the tunnel," says Bentley in his ear.

"I see it, buddy," Sly murmurs back. "Have you met back up with Murray?"

"We've located the bridge and are hiding in some nearby barrels," Bentley says.

"They smell terrible," adds Murray, then takes an audible sniff. "Wooo-ee, that's bad."

"I'm trying not to think about it, Murray. Anyway, Sly, Carmelita's making her way towards us. You should get going."

"Seriously, Sly, this is making my eyes water." SNIIIIIFFFFF "It's just super gross."

"Uh... awesome?" Sly says. He bends down and peers in the water; far below is the tunnel's opening. "I've found the tunnel. I'm going in."

Sly doesn't wait for either of them to respond before diving in. Without the force-field above it, the water is clear and absolutely still.

Aaaand the tunnel is filled with laser security and shark patrols and almost-not-enough pockets of air. Terrific. Why don't we leave Sly to deal with that and wander off to do something else?

REWIND

It takes Carmelita longer to get out of the tower than it did Sly; Carmelita doesn't have a paraglider, so she can't just jump for it and hope. Unlike Murray, she didn't have a clear path to run down when she finished; unlike Bentley, she can't hack her way into an easy way down. No, it takes her so long to get down that Sly's already underwater (and Carmelita's missed an... entertaining... conversation) by the time she's reached the edge of the moat.

"Okay Carmelita, I've put a waypoint on the bridge," says Bentley. "The guards are on high alert now that the force field is down, and there's no cover on that side. You'll need to jump across and stay out of sight of the patrols in the central area."

"All right, Bentley."

"And get some pictures of the mouth of the volcano—I can't see it clearly from here, but what I can see is sending shivers up my shell."

Carmelita doesn't respond, just leaps over. There's a building nearby, and she climbs on top of it for a better view.

Without the force field blocking it, the area has the look of a crowded college or scientific complex: a number of dull stone buildings, some with name placards on them, and walkways between. Everything is handicapped-accessible, with ramps instead of stairs. People will occasionally hurry from one building to another, heads down, white coats gleaming in the dim fiery light; an alert police presence, uniforms and fur dusted in ash, patrol in fixed routes, saluting whenever they encounter each other, and abandoning their routes to investigate every noise, even minor ones like another guard's sneeze.

In the center of it all is a small, steep rise—almost level with the tops of the one-story buildings, and visible from windows of the taller ones—leading to the mouth of the volcano. Lava bubbles enthusiastically, threatening to boil over; every so often, it spits, a wad of it flying in the air and landing with a gooshy sploosh. When it does, every nearby guard abandons their route to check it, leading to a flurry of password-giving... though they do all seem to be using the same passwords used in Winthorp's Holland. Interesting.

Even more interesting is that there's something over the lava pit, something being done, but it's impossible to make out the details from this far away. But there's a waypoint on it, just like there's a waypoint across the area, where Bentley and Murray are hiding.

Whatever they're doing here stinks worse than the volcano, but after years of chasing the Cooper gang, it's the sort of stink Carmelita's used to. She can track it to its source and end it.

But first, she has to get to that volcano. The patrols are tight; the guards look behind themselves and check around corners, even though they're not being followed or going anywhere special. Half the rooftops have guards as well, though these ones have neglected to bring flashlights. Though Carmelita's instincts scream for her to handcuff one, read them their rights, and drag them back to safety to be questioned, it's not an option here.

Not because she doesn't have back-up, not because her companions wouldn't go along with it, but because she'd get caught and there's a gold mine of information she can get legally if she stays quiet and putting away the mastermind first is more important than every one of these sorry, ridiculous excuses for cops who follow them.

So she stays quiet and avoids the guards, er, police on rooftops, scrawny things without flashlights who must not be very high in the ranks. And she stays on the rooftops without thinking about it, in position to see everything but not be seen herself, free from the restrictions of the streets.

It's a thief's way of thinking, and cops should only use the roofs to chase down criminals, guard them, or stake them out. Not travel freely. But it's second nature, by this point.

So even though the patrols are thorough and paranoid, she reaches the edge of the volcano's mouth in record time. The bright light makes it hard to make out details, but she pulls out her binoc-u-com anyway.

There are ladders, rickety metal things that look like one good kick will topple them, on four sides, forming a rough square around the edges of the lava pit. They lead to a series of catwalks over the pit, heavily guarded; every time guards pass each other, patrolling in different directions, their shoulders almost touch. There appear to be three main areas to the catwalk: in one, things—jewelry, gemstones, precious metals, all sorts of treasure that look like it belongs on a beach with Henriette—come out of a funnel and are put into strong iron buckets, sorted by police in white coats in ways that make sense only to them. In the second, the buckets are lowered until they're half-submerged in the lava, melting the contents; in the last, the mixture is poured down a tube, where it snakes away to a building near the edge of the lava pit, for reasons unknown.

Picture after picture, taken and sent to Bentley, and he hums and thinks but can't for the life of him figure out what any of this is for... other than that it's bad. It probably—in fact, almost certainly—has something to do with the mind-control jewelry, he can figure out that much. But anything else... well, once this is dealt with, it won't matter any more.

When Carmelita's taken enough pictures, Bentley lets her know, and she tucks her binoc-u-com away again. Getting the rest of the way across the area, hiding on rooftops and ducking behind chimneys, seems to take half the time getting to the volcano's rim did. Maybe she's getting used to this.

Maybe there's a small crowd of guards at the bridge controls that need to be taken out before they can sound an alarm.

Figures.

"The guards only look so far for any disturbances," says Bentley in her ear. "If you shoot them from a distance, they won't be able to locate you, and won't set off the alarm." Even though their friends are falling unconscious from shock-pistol bolts around them.

Guards. They are just so bad at guarding things.

Being accurate enough from this distance requires using the precision goggles and some fancy shooting techniques, like the lob shot (when hiding behind a sign) and the charge shot (so the bigger ones don't get back up). It doesn't take more than a few minutes before they've all disappeared in puffs of smoke and she can reach the controls.

With the push of a button, the bridge raises. Bentley wheels himself across, followed close behind by Murray, holding a barrel. He shoves it at Carmelita. "Do you want to smell this?" he asks. "It's just the worst."

Carmelita wrinkles her nose. "I'll take your word for it, Murray."

Murray shrugs and chucks the barrel into the moat.

Play switches to Murray as the three make their way through the streets. The location they want, the theater used by the Contessa, is near the center of the area, about two streets away from the mouth of the volcano. Doing a stealth sequence as Murray, navigating around the dozens upon dozens of guards without causing a fight, isn't something we get to do very often.

Bentley and Carmelita can take care of themselves, dodging and ducking and hiding, and Murray gets the job done. Together, the three of them reach the theater, get to the door.

It opens before Murray can touch the handle, to reveal Sly grinning at them. "Ready for the show?"

JOB COMPLETE

(Murray, Carmelita, and Bentley hurry inside; Sly closes the door after them.)