Russell paused for a moment as he sipped his coffee. "Did he kill someone?"
"No... He didn't kill anyone," Lestrade shook his head. "He stole something."
"How novel! Besides theft, what else could Moriarty do? Organized crime?"
Before Lestrade could reply, Charlotte on the opposite side seemed unable to bear it anymore.
"Sometimes I really worry about your ability to express yourself, Lestrade," she chided, tossing the newspaper at Russell. "See for yourself."
Russell took the paper, his gaze catching today's headline. In bold, heavy black letters, the editor's excitement and exhilaration could practically be felt:
[Midnight Phantom: Lloyds Bank Robbed! Legendary Thief Moriarty Unleashes His Magic Again!
Various papers detailed the fierce gunfight in the bank's basement last night, painting Moriarty as a dark hero capable of fending off thousands of foes.]
"These reporters really know how to stir up trouble," Russell commented offhandedly as he munched on his lunch. "They make a thief look like Zorro."
"That's exactly what they want," Charlotte replied, sipping her coffee. "Citizens need heroes, even if they're criminals. Scotland Yard needs enemies to justify more funding. Newspapers need celebrities to guarantee sales. Besides the unfortunate souls he visits, everyone gets something out of Moriarty's arrival."
Russell neither affirmed nor refuted this. Flipping through the pages, he soon noticed a small, unremarkable article tucked in a corner of the social section.
[Former Cabinet Minister Ethan Roy Admitted to Psychiatric Hospital Yesterday.]
Serves him right, Russell thought quietly, closing the newspaper, and glanced up at Lestrade.
"So, Lloyds Bank was robbed last night?"
"The word 'robbed' would be an exaggeration since the losses weren't huge, but it was definitely an attack," Lestrade nodded.
"Last night, while the system was under maintenance, a criminal gang bribed a security guard and sneaked in via the staff passage."
"And then?" Russell pressed, Charlotte listening as well.
"When our team arrived, the shootout had already ended." Lestrade's expression turned peculiar, pinching his temples as if searching for words to describe the absurd scene. "All five gang members were down on the floor. None escaped."
"Are they all dead?" Russell asked instinctively, suddenly wondering if maybe he'd held back too little last night.
"No," Lestrade shook his head, "they're not dead. Two had their limbs shot, three received heavy blows to the back of the head. The worst injury was a concussion—no fatal danger."
"That's pretty professional," Charlotte commented. "Moriarty did this?"
"Except for the spy and one man found drugged and locked in a warehouse, all the police present were dead. So... probably, yes," Lestrade nodded. "He disguised himself as a police officer and slipped into the underground vault. At first, maybe he just planned a theft, but no one expected a full-blown bank assault. It sounds strange, but... honestly, it was almost lucky Lloyds was the target—it turned into a sliver of hope in the chaos."
After a pause and another sip of coffee, he continued, "At first, I never thought this was even possible. Due to the maintenance, the emergency alarm linked to Scotland Yard wasn't working. An emergency call came in at midnight—a resident of the apartments said he'd been drugged. When we woke the man, he turned out to be a Lloyds Bank employee scheduled for the night shift."
"That's when you sensed something was wrong," Charlotte supplied more detail.
"Exactly. After contacting the branch manager, he quickly realized something was off—the underground vault had been breached. By the time we rushed to the bank and opened the vault, the fight between Moriarty and the gang was already over. Kindly, after solving your problems, he'd quietly stolen something and slipped away, right?"
"More or less, yes," Lestrade nodded. "He broke into the Morstan family's safe and grabbed its contents."
"So, Inspector, you've come to ask for Charlotte's help in capturing Moriarty?" Russell asked Lestrade the reason for his visit.
"If Charlotte is willing, I—" Lestrade began, looking to Charlotte without finishing.
But Charlotte simply drank her coffee in silence.
"Alright, seems she's not interested," Lestrade shrugged at Russell. "To be honest, with how much Moriarty helped this time, I'm planning to look the other way for now. He may have stolen some things, but... well, he's Moriarty."
"That man always returns what he steals," added Russell.
"Exactly. The bank manager is pressing hard for the items to be recovered but... to tell the truth, we just don't have the energy now to deal with Moriarty," Lestrade agreed. "Actually, I came here for another purpose."
"What's that?" Russell asked.
"We interrogated the surviving gang members and asked why they attacked Lloyds Bank, and who planned the operation. Their answer: the plan came from a mysterious man codenamed 'the Professor.'"
"Professor?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow with interest. "Go on."
"According to the confessions, the Professor is legendary in London's underworld—a true genius of crime, always planning flawless heists, never leaving a trace. However, he's been missing for nearly a year; no one knows where he went, or if he's even still alive."
"Until last night?"
"To be precise, until five days ago," Lestrade said. "Five days ago, after a long disappearance, the Professor resurfaced and sent the gang detailed maps of Lloyds Bank, shift schedules, info on the vulnerability during system maintenance—a detailed plan for the whole operation. He sent a letter a day, and the last arrived on the fourth day, finalizing the plan."
"In just four days, he nearly pulled off a raid on the biggest private bank in London. If not for Moriarty, he would have succeeded," Charlotte muttered, "Interesting."
She set down her coffee and suddenly stood up to get her coat. "You two, come with me."
"Where to?" Russell mumbled, biting into his egg.
"To the police station," Charlotte said without looking back. "There are some questions to ask."
…