"The question now, however, was would she be arrested before she concluded her thesis, or after?"
Playing with the World
By Andrea Chia
"The world-class thief, Swiper has stolen yet another Raphael painting located in the National Arts Museum of London, this time leaving a note reading 'Salvation for all but the wealthiest of men' in Greek. Linguistic interpreters have determined based on the note that it was written by a left-handed woman. Officers have speculated for awhile..."
The television droned on and on about another art theft of the century. Meanwhile, Artemis, an Asian woman with a messy ponytail in a neon shirt that read 'Dumb B---, but a Bad B---' in block letters, sat at her window-facing desk, staring at her laptop in a struggle to finish her thesis on the intrinsic value of money as a worthless commodity in first world countries. The title of her thesis was 'In for a Penny, Out for Nothing' which she found amusing, but doubted anyone else would agree.
It wasn't that the subject itself was boring - actually the concept of money had always been appealing to her in an abstract sort of way - it was finding the right words to put that excitement to paper so her brilliance wouldn't be mistaken for naivety. She wasn't an economics graduate just to make herself look obtuse.
The question now, however, was would she be arrested before she concluded her thesis, or after?
Right as she'd pondered the question, there was a knock on the door.
"This is the FBI. Ms. Sandoval, please open your door or we'll be forced to tear it down." A stern voice said on the other side of the door.
Polite for a couple of law enforcement officers. Still, Artemis didn't want them to think she had anything to hide, or worse, trash her apartment. "Come in!" She called out, her eyes never leaving her laptop screen.
They entered, heavy footsteps trampling around the bare living room where Artemis sat with the TV now showing video footage of a sudden car chase from a robbery three streets over.
When the captain approached her from behind, she held up her right hand while typing with her left. "Give me a minute, I've just had a wave of inspiration to write the last paragraph."
The officers stopped in their tracks. "Ms. Sandoval--"
"Yes, I know. You're here for my arrest. Just shut up for two minutes, yea? I have to email my professor in less than an hour or I risk my whole career going down the drain."
The officers were warily shifting the grip on their guns, ready to take the orders from their captain, who was bristling from head to toe at the dismissal. No doubt smothering the urge to smack Artemis off her chair.
Artemis smirked at the image of the professional misconduct that could very well get her out of jail in an instant. She had to credit the disastrous legal system. It always gave the wolf-crier the illusion of power.
"Ms. Sandoval--"
Again, Artemis put up her hand. "For God's sake, I'm not resisting arrest or anything. If you decide to manhandle me, my lawyers will not hesitate to make you the bad guys in the court case. Just read me my rights from where you are, and by the time you finish, I'll have done all I needed to do."
The captain cleared his throat. "Ms. Sandoval please put your hands up, or we'll be forced to shoot you."
Artemis cackled, looking back at the captain for the first time since his arrival with a deviant grin. "Since when have more weapons meant more power?"
The captain began to speak, but held his tongue to avoid a misstep in the arrest.
She glanced back at her laptop, shrugged, and pressed three keystrokes before finally putting her hands up. "I'm finished anyways. Go ahead boys. Do your job."
The captain looked relieved, stepping forward to put the cuffs on Artemis. However just as he'd secured one arm, he was shot through the back of his head. The blood splattered over Artemis in a colorful splash of red and pink bits of flesh.
The other officers were startled, shocked by the sudden death, and were too slow to react to the surefire shots from a masked stranger creeping in behind them.
By the time the last man dropped, Artemis had recovered enough to clean herself of all the bits and blood covering her person while the masked stranger reloaded his gun. "This was not what I had in mind Holmes." She said at last, glaring at the masked man in contempt.
Holmes took off his mask, and smiled ruefully. "You did say you needed them gone, and I delivered. Shouldn't that be enough for you Ms. Adler?" He asked, his Haitian accent peeking out in a musical lilt.
"It's a good thing I scrambled their listening devices the minute they walked in. Do you have a towel on you?"
"I do not, no."
"Oh, alright then, give me a minute in the bathroom."
"You barely have thirty seconds before backup arrives."
Artemis grimaced, shucking her shirt off, to reveal the dark tank top underneath. The tediousness of being at the top of any list is having to watch your back for any and all hands that are willing to throw you out. "Front or back?"
"Front. They'll be expecting the back."
"Let's use the window." Artemis suggested, ripping up the hem of her shirt to make a headband. The label 'Bad' tied to the front of her forehead. As she picked up a dead man's pistol and took his belt, she felt Holmes' confusion on her, "Making myself an easier target." she said by way of explanation as she secured the belt on herself.
Holmes knew not to question it, and moved to the window looking how far down they had to go. "You're sure you can handle it?"
Artemis rolled her eyes. Trust a man to assume she didn't think this through. "No, I plan on dying in style." She said sarcastically, holstering the gun to her hip, and climbed out into the cold evening air.
It took longer than twenty minutes before somebody finally figured out what was happening. The helicopters had somehow ignored them for the most part of their search, though Artemis suspected it was deliberate as she let herself fall from the second floor window, landing on the balls of her feet, and rolling the rest of her body forward to release the tension off her knees. Holmes followed after her, though he fell like an apple and nearly twisted his ankle on the landing.
"I hate doing that." Holmes grunted, following after Artemis in a sprint.
She laughed, "Didn't you have to do this in your military days?"
"With rocks, Ms. Adler."
Artemis continued snickering, but was interrupted by gunshots pelting at her and Holmes. She instinctively ducked during her run while shouting, "It took them just three minutes to reach us?! They're supposed to be clumsy!"
Holmes said nothing, simply raising an arm to shoot back blindly, but with astounding accuracy.
"Save your bullets, Holmes." Artemis pulled Holmes by his forearm to turn into a backstreet heading for a highway tunnel to lose the cops by slipping through a sewer entrance she knew was kept open by the homeless network.
She and Holmes dashed through the tunnel as fast as they could, but were stopped by silhouettes running towards them from the other side of the tunnel. Artemis wasted no time in pulling out her pistol and clicking the safety off.
Despite knowing how to pull the gun into play - anybody could do that if given the basic instructions - Artemis sucked at trajectory and aim. Though she would never admit it, and Holmes had never expected anything less.
"Holmes, 21-2. My back?"
"Always, Ms. Adler."
"Thank you." Artemis smiled, pressing her back against Holmes as she observed the people running up to them.
It took a moment for her to realise the people running up to her weren't in law enforcement gear. They looked more like... gang members?
"I don't recall angering the Russian Mafia, do you?"
Again, Holmes remained silent, only shifting his feet in response.
Artemis held her weapon steady, her eye twitching impatiently as the men surrounded them, but none had their weapons out.
Odd gesture.
"Gentlemen. Lovely evening for a standoff. To whom do I owe this pleasure to?" Artemis called out, clicking the safety back on.
A man in a pressed shirt and tie stepped forward from the rest. "Lower your weapons, and we'll talk. Civilized, can we agree on that?"
Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Is this a joke?"
"No, not a joke. I can assure you--"
"Shut up. I know what your purpose is. I'm just surprised they thought you wanted to be the one to take the charge. Excuse my bluntness, but you just don't seem like the type to handle more than your posse of glorified gangsters."
The man's expression hardly changed, though he did give pause. "They said you were smart."
"And Holmes is observant. What else is new?"
"How about lowering your weapons, and we escort you and your associate away before the coppers notice they've been chasing a dummy trail." The man said hurriedly, his lips were nearly curled in a snarl, but nonetheless remained in a controlled neutral expression.
Artemis categorized all of her options as fast as she could, then decided to holster her weapon. "Holmes." she simply said.
Holmes withdrew his weapon and clipped it to his own belt. He still didn't speak.
Artemis understood at once Holmes had no disagreements, but would not hesitate to bust a move out without her asking if he suspected danger. She smiled at the others. "The floor's yours."
The man curtly nodded, and Artemis and Holmes were herded away through a maintenance tunnel she didn't know ran through the highway. They quickly jogged their way around and emerged outside via a small door that led to an open field blocked by a barbed wire fence. The helicopter blades whirring in the distance in search of them.
Coincidentally, there were black cars waiting for them, so they didn't have to do anything physical except clamber inside. As they drove off, Artemis looked up to the evening sky. Unfortunately no stars were out which made the viewing rather boring.
Holmes nudged Artemis's shoulder, discreetly handing her his handkerchief.
Artemis shot Holmes an annoyed look. "You said you didn't have one."
The Haitian gave the smallest of smiles. "You asked for a towel."
Oh, now he's a lawyer. Cheeky bastard. Artemis scoffed in response, but gladly took the handkerchief to wipe her face. She scrubbed along her neckline, and behind her ears as well. When she felt satisfied, she asked, "How do I look?"
Holmes didn't even look at her. "Like a bloody princess."
She snorted a laugh, handing the handkerchief back. Artemis grinned, leaning her head on the window, and closed her eyes. "Wake me when we arrive."
They rode on in silence for a good half hour with Holmes glancing back at Artemis's slumped figure every so often with a minute eye crinkle that nobody but the trained eye could see.
In another world, in another life, Artemis and Holmes might have lived their lives in average homes, living out average lifestyles. Holmes was born and raised on a farm in Haiti where they lived their everyday lives worried about the harvesting of their fields and the day to day spokes wheel of the weather, their neighbors, and the upkeep of their home.
Artemis grew up on the streets of Cambodia, scamming tourists and working hard to afford an education in the big cities. She lived on scraps, worrying about her next meal, all while scheming on the day she could finally move away from the simplicity of it all.
Both lives were simple, plain, and nothing to write about. Their livelihoods were hardly a blip on the map of over seven billion people to be of any notice.
Holmes absolutely hated those times from way back then. Anyone could live like that, living in motion, but it took real strength and passion to find another way to live. A way to seek out more than just yourself out in the world.
When Holmes looked at Artemis, asleep and completely vulnerable to the world, he saw what she had told him the first time they met.
"So what brings you to my part of the world?" Artemis spoke in casual French, placing a bowl of delicious Cambodian cuisine in front of the Haitian.
Holmes, a young man at the time, had looked up to see a starved child, lean and wiry, grinning at him mischievously.
Holmes smiled politely and said, "Just a tourist."
"Really?" Artemis chuckled wryly, jerking her head to a table behind Holmes. "Fella two tables over said you've been eyeing him for ten minutes. Says you've been stalking him for awhile, is that true?"
Holmes had yet to mask his open expressions, as he was still fresh, and silently sipped at his water.
"It's not really my business to pry, but I can make it my business if you want."
"It's nothing a child needs to get involved with." Holmes finally replied, picking up his utensils to chow at his food.
"How much are you getting paid to poison your client?" Artemis asked bluntly.
The Haitian sharply looked up to Artemis's baby faced smile. "You can't possibly know that."
Artemis hummed in agreement. "I didn't know that until you told me." She leaned in and muttered, "you should work on your body language."
Before Holmes could give a reply, Artemis had walked off to the kitchen yelling for sesame oil. Holmes didn't think much of it until she came back with a pitcher of water and sat across from him looking excited. He was about to speak, but the girl shushed him.
"Your client's about to have a severe allergic reaction." Artemis said in childlike glee.
Sure enough, she was right. The client Holmes was watching couldn't eat shrimp, and the sauce he had dipped his rolls in used bits of shrimp in it. The man started choking, his throat closing up as he desperately scrambled for his phone and an EpiPen in his pocket.
Holmes got up to help the man, or at least, he looked like it with an EpiPen in hand. He stabbed the needle through his client's thigh but the swelling wouldn't go down. If anything, it actually made it worse, but Holmes pretended to be surprised and shouted for someone to call an ambulance.
"Is he okay?" Artemis had asked, feux concern in her voice.
"He's not responding." Holmes said, looking up at Artemis with a raised brow.
Artemis shrugged, gesturing for Holmes to follow her out back when he was done.
The paramedics arrived and Holmes took his cue to disappear through the restaurant as they looked over the man, but didn't really try to do anything. The man was dead long before they could see him anyways.
Holmes stepped out to the back and found Artemis leaning back on a crate counting bills in her hands. He took a crate lying around and dragged it to sit next to her.
Artemis shoved her bills on the man's lap. "Here. It's all I have."
Holmes gingerly picked it up, flipping through it. In his hands were five hundred dollars rolled in twenty dollar US bills. Confused, he looked at Artemis and asked, "Are you trying to buy me off?"
"I want you to work for me." Artemis said adamantly, crossing her arms over her chest.
The Haitian didn't want to laugh, he was sure the child was being serious, but just the absurdity of it made him burst in a fit of giggles. "You cannot possibly think this is enough to retain me."
Artemis shot him a look and said, "I can get more, I just need time."
Holmes cleared his throat, sobering up immediately. "Why do you need me?"
"I don't."
The man remained silent, waiting for an explanation.
"I know I don't look like much. I'm a poor girl in a country that's barely thriving on its own. But one day I'm going to have the world into my hands whether they want me or not. That is a fact." She sucked in a deep breath and stared intensely up at Holmes, "If you work with me, I promise you, the world will be yours too."
Holmes listened, evaluating the honesty of Artemis's statement. Then, he nodded, and pocketed the five hundred dollars with a smile. "You're awfully ambitious." He said after a few minutes of silence.
Artemis scoffed, but grinned back. "Thank you."
That was over six years ago, and Artemis had grown up, gone to university, and had travelled numerous countries under diplomatic representation in that time.
"You two look comfortable." A voice from the car radio up front mused, breaking Holmes' reverie.
Holmes, as usual, remained silent. He knew whoever was speaking had no actual authority over him. This was a simple test to see if he would be hyper-aware and tense up. It amazed him how people underestimated the partnership of both Holmes and Artemis.
True, Artemis took the lead when it came to pawning the people of power, but when it came down to the strategy and organization, Holmes took the reins and set out the dates, the information, and the location all in one.
"What's with the stoic attitude? Are you mad I hijacked you?" The voice on the speaker continued, their tone practically leering over Holmes.
It neither bothered nor fazed him. "Please use your inside voice. Ms. Adler needs her rest." He said quietly.
"How about I wake her then?" The voice growled, sounding menacing.
"Stop." Holmes' voice barely went above a calm whisper. "Your masks are too obvious. Neither Ms. Adler nor I care for these games."
"Then I might as well shoot you now." The voice threatened.
The man on the right passenger seat cocked his gun on Holmes, but hesitated on the trigger.
He didn't flinch, just inclined his head on the gun and spoke louder. "While I wouldn't be surprised of my immediate death," Holmes jerked his head towards a feral Artemis pointing her gun at the driver. "I do believe Ms. Adler has the upper hand here."
Artemis pressed her gun to the nape of the driver's neck with a growl. "Hiding in plain sight can only get you so far Mr... Should I call you Swiper, or do you have a name?"
The driver, an unremarkably large man in dark clothing remained at the wheel, glaring through the rearview mirror. "You're both such party poopers." He said. His voice was surprisingly high-pitched for a man his size.
Holmes shrugged, looking at Artemis to see what she would do.
"I'm not sitting around for some loafer whose only play is to pretend he's clever enough to get behind a criminal organization with hardly any pull in it." She said, gun cocked.
"I am the one driving the car." The driver pointed out, his own tooth mangled face pulled down in a pout.
"You've already parked. We're underground."
"You wouldn't dare."
"Let's not find out." Artemis said dryly, regarding Swiper with a thin smile.
Swiper muttered something incoherent under his breath, and waved a hand with a sigh. "Stand down Francisco. If you and your men could give us some privacy?"
The man on Holmes' right nodded curtly and unlocked the door on his side.
As soon as he left, Artemis pinned the safety back onto her gun.
Swiper blew a raspberry, turning to his guests. "Step inside, will you? We've much to discuss." He leaves, expecting the other two to follow.
Artemis and Holmes give each other a look and head out after him. They hung back side by side behind Swiper, wary of what's to come next as they took a gander to their surroundings. They were in a facility that looked more like a corporate building than some sinister mob's dwelling. It made Artemis have to smother a snicker during their walk through the bland lobby. She elbowed Holmes and quirked a side smirk up at him. Holmes responded with a cough disguising his amusement.
Swiper turned back to glare, "If you two are done insulting me, perhaps you'd like to take a seat?"
Artemis took the seat directly opposite Swiper over a long conference table while Holmes took the middle seat on her right. "Nice place you got. Who owns it?"
"I do."
She snorted, "Okay, let me rephrase. Who'd you steal it from?"
The man scowled, leaning back in his office chair and a screen lit up behind him. "For your information, I bought the building."
"Ah, you invested."
"We're getting off topic. I didn't save you just to have a chance for small talk."
Artemis propped her arms under her chin as the screen lit up with numbers from the stock market appearing behind Swiper.
"What do you know of the black market right now?" Swiper asked, mirroring Artemis in posture.
"Considering the fact that I practically run it--"
"Under an alias. Why not use your real name, Artemis?"
"Right. Because the name Chanlina sparks interest from my competitors." Artemis smirked, but minutely shot a glare at Holmes whose face twitched in amusement.
"Your competitors are getting a leg on you, you know."
"What are you offering, Swiper?" Artemis said sharply, leaning back in her chair, preparing herself to leave. If the man was going to talk nonsense, then she'd rather have been arrested or died in gunfire.
"I've been asked for a favor to contact you. My clients need you."
"Who needs me?"
"The UN leaders from all over have their hands in the black market. They dabble with illegal proceedings to 'fight the good fight' so to speak." Swiper clicked and the screen turned into pictures of various UN leaders.
"... Am I to assume they're trying to find a way to buy power from each other?"
Swiper grinned toothily. "Now you're getting it. They want you to help keep them off the books. Be their mediator."
"How many leaders in total?"
Swiper shrugged, "About thirty to forty countries."
Artemis was baffled, and spluttered, "How do you know of this?"
"You're not the only one playing diplomat in other countries." Swiper said teasingly. He then stood up, and clicked the screen again. "If you agree, the first clients are between Pakistan and India. It seems they want to try something that might not be received well with the public eye just yet."
Artemis didn't respond, furrowing her brows as she contemplated the offer.
Swiper nodded and said, "I'll give you a few minutes to dither, but I need a response in the next ten minutes." He left the conference room, his footsteps receding in the background.
As silence filled the room, Holmes looked at Artemis and was not surprised to see the widest grin he'd ever seen on the child. Watching her grow up for six years, Holmes could admit he felt proud of her accomplishments up to this moment and his chest warmed at the thought.
"See, what did I tell you, Holmes?" She directed her wide grin to her companion and spread her arms up at the screen. "I told you I was going to give you the world, didn't I?"
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