Chapter 11, Episode 09: I am an i-person
Episode 09 I am an i person
London, however, remained cold and ruthless in its refusal.
It seems my sweet talk wasn't enough.
But I don't mind, since I don't expect it to help anyway.
I just like to joke about it.
Besides, if it keeps grinding like this, it will eventually give in.
I expect that one day it will bow down to me.
I withheld Michael's emails and asked Herbs to investigate another matter for me.
There was only one leather goods store on the entire street, "Le Sac," which was undergoing internal repairs, and it was clearly my target.
Digging tunnels to rob banks sounds like a stupid and funny thing to do.
However, many bank robberies have proven that digging tunnels is the safest and most effective method.
Whether renting a house two blocks away from the bank or a shop near the bank, the goal is the same: to avoid all eyes.
The mastermind behind the infamous Argentine bank robbery was so impressed by the proximity of the sewers to the Rio bank that he conceived the idea.
"I need to find out who the current tenant is."
Hebers listened to everything I said.
London began, "You're investigating what connection this tenant has with your show?"
"Who wouldn't want to watch a documentary about a robbery that shocks the entire nation?"
London scoffed at my business acumen.
"Criminal documentaries are a niche subject with very limited appeal, and their returns are nowhere near as good as those of movies and TV series."
"That's because there's no buzz here," I said, waving the email in my hand. "This is a scandal involving a royal princess."
"You mean people will come to watch because of this gossip and sensationalism?"
I corrected London, “This isn’t gossip or sensationalism. It’s suspense, humanity, crime, and justice—themes that transcend language and culture.”
London: "...So, you want to rent Le Sac and hire people to dig the tunnel yourself?"
I continued to wave the documents in my hand and said, "No need, someone is already taking action. We can sit back and reap the benefits."
London looked puzzled by my confident tone: "How do you know someone's digging?"
I certainly won't mention the Baker Street robbery, but I can at least make one judgment: "London, you see no future."
London: "Can you do that?"
I replied, “Of course. There is an ancient Chinese saying, ‘Knowing the signs is divine.’ Successful people can discern the patterns of development in things when they are just beginning to sprout.”
"Two weeks ago, someone told Milwaukee that he had private photos of the royal princess."
"I was just going to Lloyds Bank when I was targeted. They went so far as to stage a car accident to get my attention, hoping to distract me."
"And the reason they're so eager to divert my attention... is simple: their private photos are hidden inside Lloyds Bank."
“If the Le Sac leather goods store happens to be rented out and there’s renovation going on inside,” I paused, then said, “it’s very likely that they’ve already started making moves. And all I have to do is wait and see, and then reap the benefits.”
London didn't deny what I said. "If it really was a royal scandal, do you think you had the opportunity to share it with anyone? First of all, that would require your program to be taken down. Secondly, the fact that you were able to film the crime means you foresaw it happening. Wouldn't people think you orchestrated it yourself? Aren't you afraid of being held accountable?"
“I’m just not smart,” I said, waving my hand. “I’m not really stupid. My show can’t possibly be that straightforward.”
London remained silent.
"What I want to do is a poverty alleviation program with social significance."
"Currently titled 'The Rise and Fall of Restaurants,' it mainly focuses on transforming low-rated restaurants in London, involving elements such as food, renovation, management, and human emotions. The strong contrast and narrative between 'Before' and 'After,' coupled with the owners' stories, continuously satisfies the audience's curiosity about low-rated food."
“One of the poverty alleviation sites is located right next to Le Sac.”
Well... to be honest, their food is really bad.
No, that's not right!
It must be that the fried chicken, transformed by the owner's divine touch, was like a product of enlightenment, refusing to compromise with the ordinary, exuding a sense of freedom and rebellion from the inside out, mocking the mediocrity of ordinary diners.
London: "How did you know that fried chicken shop would cooperate?"
"Free advertising, free customer acquisition, plus expert guidance on business strategies and restaurant improvement methods—who would refuse?"
London: "What if someone refuses?"
"That means the money wasn't enough." I have nothing now, except for a lot of money.
London: "I don't think you need my help at all."
No sooner had I said that than Herbers handed me the latest information: In May of this year, a man named Benjamin rented the shop Le Sac at 189 Baker Street. It's August now, and it's still under renovation.
Number 189... that's at most a 2-3 minute walk from 221B.
Should we go for a drive around?
Intrigued by this information, I pondered it while replying in a completely flat tone, "Because I just wanted to get your attention. After all, you don't have me in your heart right now, and I'm still quite desperate."
London: "..."
If I go there for a while, I might lose my chance to perform.
Personally, I prefer to keep the royal scandal under control. By controlling the royal family, we can control government officials, which would also temporarily render Mycroft Holmes immobile.
Although this is undoubtedly dancing on the edge of a cliff, with enough chips in hand, even a madman would have to think twice before flipping the table.
Even Sherlock Holmes would have to think twice before killing me.
The next day, after I assigned the program tasks, the program producer, director, and screenwriter formed a small group in the morning.
As I was drinking my coffee, I glanced up and caught sight of Albert again.
Yesterday I guessed he was Michael, the guy who came to make a deal with me, but London laughed at me.
That means he is not Michael.
Under normal circumstances, this person would not dare to see me again, or would contact me with someone else.
This person is bolder than I imagined.
Now, who would worry about those photos accidentally falling into my hands?
A public relations professional associated with the royal family?
Or MI5 or SWAT?
If he focuses all his attention on me, does that mean he doesn't know that a group of people are digging a tunnel to the bank?
Or perhaps he was deliberately trying to distract me and prevent me from having any contact with Lloyds Bank.
I leaned back in the bar stool in the first-floor café and gestured with my chin toward Albert. "You have quite the courage to come looking for me again after I've exposed your true intentions."
The brown-haired youth was not intimidated by me at all, and instead asked, "Aren't you curious why I keep coming to find you?"
People who know they've already lost but still act nonchalantly are the type I hate the most.
Because this doesn't look like a loss at all.
So I stared at him, a slight smile playing on my lips, a defiant glint in my eyes.
“You should be wondering,” I drawled, “why I’ve allowed you to get close to me time and time again, Al.”
I emphasized the last word.
It's fair to say that Albert's brow furrowed slightly as soon as the nickname appeared.
It seems this is his real name.
I actually enjoy seeing him unhappy.
London: "...Do you want to find out his true family background?"
Me: "It's just basic stuff."
I continued, "Come here, I'll tell you."
I beckoned Albert to come to me.
He was tall and slender, while I was inexplicably a head shorter than him.
"I don't like talking with my head up."
Albert bent down, and in the brief pause between movements, a sharp glint flashed in his jewel-like green eyes.
I said, "I've been recording the whole thing. The closer you get to me, the easier it is for me to catch you red-handed."
In that instant, Albert straightened up like a spring.
"Delete it," he ordered.
"Don't worry, I'm a privacy-conscious person and I really dislike posting my videos on public platforms. But—"
I changed the subject casually and said, "I suddenly have a craving for Old London Noodles with Soybean Paste. Do you want to go buy some for me?" As I said this, I looked up at him.
The meaning in their eyes was self-evident.
If he dares to ask me for something, I dare to make him keep asking me.
I said smugly, "I'm about to get a free soldier to use as my tool."
London cautioned, "Not everyone can be tamed."
I laughed instinctively: "So you can do it?"
Refusing to be teased, London said, "You can shut up now."
Before I could imitate it, London's voice suddenly dropped half a degree, and that systematic coldness sent shivers down my spine.
"The person in front of me..."
It paused for half a second.
For half a second, it felt like someone had sucked the air out.
"It's Moriarty."
My smile was wiped clean, as if someone had erased it from my face.
London continued, "He was the central figure in the entire London criminal network."
At this moment, all the ambient sounds of the coffee shop faded into background noise.
Albert stood before me, his shadow falling at my feet.
As London finished speaking, I suddenly felt that the shadow had inexplicably become huge, dangerous, like an animal poised to pounce.
It turns out I wasn't teasing a fearless honey badger.
Instead, I was teasing a monster in human skin.
My eyes flickered slightly, and my fingertips gently tightened around the handle of my coffee cup.
The gesture was so subtle that only London could pronounce it.
Good grief, what do we do?
The more dangerous something is, the more I want to hold it in my hands.
Just like a gun, once you hold onto it firmly, it becomes your lifeline.
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