Chapter 5 – Internet Famous
Central London, England. 8:42pm, 3rd November 2032.
It's the first time they've seen it, even though it's existence has lasted for less than half a day so far. They had wound down for the night, ordering in some food and had begun to relax for the night, which meant for Matt that it was in front of his computer. He was browsing the internet, looking for something needlessly funny to watch, however his attention was swiftly drawn to a short video shorter than 30 seconds titled 'Epic Parkour in London.' Usually this wouldn't attract his attention but the picture in the thumbnail certainly raised a lot of alarm bells. Looking closely at the video with his headphones on, he watched as a tourist filming his family was suddenly distracted when his daughter pointed upwards at something, or someone. The camera swiftly pans up and then down to street level to watch as a grey furred raccoon wearing a blue shirt and light grey pants jumps from a moving double decker bus to a moving garbage truck before leaping onto a lamppost and climbing up before disappearing out of sight.
"Alex." Matt says, taking off his headphones.
"Yeah." Alex responds whilst watching a football match with Tyson. 10 years ago they probably didn't want to be in the same room together.
"We have a problem. A huge problem." Matt announces over the sound of the TV.
"How bad?" Alex asks concernedly as he puts the TV onto mute.
"You're…" Matt begins, struggling to say the precise correct words.
"Gonna do good?" Tyson guesses.
"Famous." Matt completes nervously.
"But I take it that's not a good thing." Alex answers, mirroring Matt's concern.
"You're not just famous, you're internet famous." Matt says before moving away from his computer to show them what he means.
"Alright, 5 million views!" Tyson congratulates to Alex, even thinking about putting a hand up for a high five. But he quickly realizes from the looks on both of their faces that this is not a time to celebrate.
"Can't you take it down or something?" Alex asks.
"With 5 million people having already seen it? Chances are some would have got a copy for themselves and besides, it would be impossible to truly erase it from the Internet after this much exposure." Matt explains as he scrolls down to look at some of the comments, the highest voted one being 'Someone find him and get back the Mona Lisa'.
"You didn't steal the Mona Lisa did you?" Matt asks, just to be 100% sure.
"Nah, that's something my dad did." Alex casually answers.
"Hold on, they think that it's your dad." Matt realizes.
"Yeah but he's in prison." Alex answers. Matt instantly goes onto a news website to check to see what the news have been reporting. A headline reads 'Police quash video depicting escaped thief' just below the main deadline of America's looming debt ceiling deadline.
"Obviously law enforcement doesn't have the same view as the crowd." Matt notes as he opens up the full article, which even contains a video of the press conference to dispel rumours of a breakout.
"…The video in question does not depict the notorious thief Sly Cooper, he is currently locked up in prison and has been for the last 10 years, serving multiple life sentences for his crimes." The police inspector answers.
"If not, then who is it?" A journalist asks.
"The video doesn't contain any material that we would launch an investigation into. The purpose is of this press conference is to reassure the public that one of the worlds most dangerous criminals is safely behind bars." The inspector answers.
"Is it true that…" another journalist asks but stops as she sees someone, not in police uniform, come from the side and whisper something in the inspector's ear.
"I'm sorry, but this press conference is over." The inspector says before he gets up and walks away from the press as some journalists try to ask questions about what was whispered in his ear. As he walks into the secure rooms away from the press, he is met by a single Interpol agent who stands opposite him, holding only a piece of paper in one hand and a pen in the other.
5:07pm
"Sign this." She commands.
"What for?" He asks to the young Fennec fox standing opposite. Despite her being significantly skinnier and shorter than the beefy officer and looking like she belongs in a school rather than in law enforcement, she seems to be the more determined and confident of the two.
"Confidentiality. Interpol will take over this case and you won't mention anything about this to anyone from now on." She explains as she stares with her intent blue eyes into his, offering up the pen and paper at the same time. Despite the major reduction in the use of paper recently in favour of electronic tablets, a paper and pen seems to have more permanence; making it better for important documents that need to be signed.
"Don't know why you want it so much? That's not Sly Cooper." The officer exclaims whilst he reluctantly signs along the line.
"Now, you will never know." She says as she takes the freshly signed paper away from him and walks away down the corridor towards the exit.
"Keep the pen." She adds from down the other end of the hall before disappearing from his bemused sight.
Her name is Charlotte Slade, Junior Inspector Charlotte Slade. She's 17 years old, and part of a program that takes children who perhaps would have ended up on the other side of the law and transforms them into working officers of the law. Most of them end up working in the police force, some manage to even get slotted straight into higher roles due to their ability and the very few, like Charlotte, get cherry-picked by Interpol to become agents. It helped her case immensely that her past is awash in highly classified documents, meaning she already has most of the required skills and even more specialized skills at hand. But she has to complete this 3-month transition program, which she is doing at the moment and also finishes on her 18th birthday, in order to get qualified and get the junior part of her title taken away. In short, Interpol hadn't seen this sort of raw talent and skill since a certain former inspector now rotting away in an Austrian jail. Most of her elder colleagues, and all of them are older, can't even stand toe to toe with her determination. Almost every situation ended up with her getting her way she has done right now.
But the one thing she didn't like though about this new job compared to her previous occupation is the uniform. Well, not a uniform per se, but the buttoned up light blue shirt and black long pants will always be uncomfortable to her. They had insisted that she wore high heels in order to increase her right to above 150cm, but she had swiftly replaced them with the immensely more comfortable black flat soled shoes that made her way more mobile than in heels, in heels she could hardly without nearly rolling her ankles with every step. Stepping out into the not so fresh city air, she gets into a waiting car driven by her handler, a more experienced agent but he is more like the one being handled in this arrangement. She walks around the car to get into the car with the form in her hand.
"There we go, signed." She remarks as if it was meaningless. Paperwork is, was and will always be a subject of woe for her this new part of her life.
"Good, so now we are going to see someone who knows more about the person in the video." He explains as she puts his seatbelt on. "He's a private investigator and a former employee of Interpol, so don't disrespect him. He may be the only living person who has had any contact with him and is willing to talk about it."
"Just go." She commands.
"You're not going to boss me around again." He says on the defensive.
"Go or I'll drive." She warns.
"Okay, okay. Calm down." He says, reaching quickly for the ignition button to silently turn on the car. He pulls away and navigates the way to the predetermined meeting destination, the international train terminal St Pancras. Their contact had come from France from work and didn't want to waste time with unnecessary travel when he could turn around and go straight back after he had finished. Charlotte goes ahead into the main waiting area surrounded by boutique shops and small take away cafes under the watchful eye of her handler. The only instruction she was given was to sit down on one of the many plush grey benches around the terminal and that he would find her once she was done. She sits on a bench with as few people on it as possible, waiting and watching for the contact. She scans her surroundings constantly for any signs of someone she would suspect to be a private investigator.
"Miss Slade." He says, sitting right next to Charlotte without her noticing. It takes her completely by surprise.
"You're the contact?" She asks the weasel in the trench coat and holding a large coffee along with a leather briefcase.
"Don't ask someone if they are a contact, it makes them jittery and scared." He explains confidently.
"Okay." She concurs, finally someone who she can respect! The contact reaches into the briefcase and hands her an A4 sized letter, which is packed with what she thinks is a thick piece of paper.
"For you." He comments. "Don't give it to him, I doubt he can do any better with it." He says as he points her handler out from the crowd easily.
"Thanks." She says, confused at how well he knows who she is without ever meeting her.
"If you're thinking how I know everything about you, it's my job to know. Much better than being at Interpol and much better paid as well, I can afford the things you can see right here." He explains.
"Anything else I need to know." She asks.
"Just that I met him when he was 8 years old, now he will be 18 and a bit different to the kid I saw 10 years ago." He explains. "Also, another thing you have to know is… that this will be no walkover."
"Please, everyone says that to me about every case." Charlotte dismisses.
"Not this one." The weasel warns before getting up to catch the train back to Paris to continue working as a private investigator, the best decision he has made in his life.