When George finished speaking, the air inside the office seemed to freeze for a moment.
Russell and Charlotte exchanged glances, each sensing a faint trace of unease in the other's eyes.
This George is much more difficult to deal with than I had imagined.
"Mr. Adler," Charlotte began. "I understand your caution, but official documents from Scotland Yard are not tabloid papers sold for three pence on street corners."
"However, Moriarty's skill at disguise is clearly not something that can be bought for three pence," George replied without budging an inch. He shifted his gaze from Russell back to Charlotte's perpetually calm face. "Miss Holmes, you are a recognized genius. I believe you know that better than I do.
"Just how terrifying must the abilities of a criminal who can sneak into Buckingham Palace unnoticed be? For him, forging documents would be as easy as breathing. Moreover, it's not without precedent. That man named Tommy was also deceived by a false identity."
His tone was polite, but his words formed an invisible wall, blocking every possibility.
"Last time, he successfully impersonated an internal auditor dispatched by the board. This time, he might impersonate someone else?"
As he spoke, he looked at Russell beside him and smiled faintly.
Why is he staring at me?
Russell frowned.
"Please call Lestrade right now. He can confirm the authenticity of this approval," Charlotte said.
"Or are you worried that Moriarty might impersonate the switchboard operator and intercept the line?"
"That won't be necessary, madam." George spoke slowly and carefully. "I have doubts about the credibility of this approval, but that doesn't mean I must approve a legitimate request."
"Is there no room for negotiation?"
"If you obtain permission from the board of Supervisors or a higher institution, the door to the underground vault will naturally open," George said, showing the two a perfect smile. "This is a regulation designed to protect the interests of all our customers."
"I see." Charlotte stood up without saying another word.
Seeing this, Russell also stood up.
Just before leaving the office, Charlotte suddenly stopped and turned back to George.
"Pardon me for asking, but what exactly does 'higher-level' approval mean?"
"Well… for example, an official permit from Buckingham Palace, or authorization from the Fifth Department?" George said.
Charlotte nodded and looked away.
The two left the office.
The door behind them closed quietly, cutting off the unpleasant atmosphere.
"Looks like we've hit a dead end, great detective?" Russell couldn't help but say sarcastically.
He was immediately silenced by the girl's intimidating glare.
She descended the stairs briskly, passed through the luxurious hall, and exited Lloyds Bank without looking back.
Russell shrugged and silently followed her.
The sunlight on the street was warm but not glaring—yet it couldn't dispel the heavy atmosphere surrounding Charlotte.
"What do we do now?" Russell asked. "Force our way in?"
"Are you Moriarty?"
"No."
"If not, why ask such a meaningless question?" Charlotte glanced at him. "Or do you seriously think that you and I, even with at least ten fully armed guards, could break through a tightly sealed alloy door that even clay bombs couldn't open?"
Russell wisely kept silent.
The two continued walking and stopped at the tram stop.
"If all else fails, how about asking Mycroft for permission?" Russell said. "I don't think Mycroft would refuse."
"I think so too," Charlotte nodded, "but unfortunately, we'll have to wait until next week." She added, "This afternoon, I'm scheduled to go to Buckingham Palace and probably won't return until the morning after tomorrow."
"Then let's talk next week," Russell said, as if he didn't mind at all. "Next week, after getting permission from Buckingham Palace, I'll slap that guy's face."
Hearing this, Charlotte couldn't help but smile, seemingly amused by Russell's words.
"Childish."
"But it would be satisfying," Russell shrugged. "Don't you think seeing that guy's sour face would relieve some stress?"
Charlotte didn't answer, but the slight upward curve of her lips revealed her true feelings.
The tram arrived at the stop on schedule, and the two boarded one after another.
The carriage was crowded, and they barely managed to squeeze into seats near the door.
"Isn't George hiding something? That's why he's afraid to let us in for the investigation?" Russell asked.
"His eyes didn't waver from beginning to end. From a psychological perspective, he didn't seem to be hiding anything," Charlotte shook her head, denying the speculation. "It's to avoid causing more trouble. In any case, those items were only stolen by Moriarty and later returned to Duke Morstan. Lloyds Bank has already suffered a reputational loss once because of this incident, and for them, the matter is essentially over. Now someone comes along wanting to continue investigating the case—who wouldn't refuse?
"What I fear isn't the investigation itself, but the possibility that something might actually be discovered."
"Seems that way," Russell said vaguely.
He gripped the handrail tightly, his mind wandering through various memories.
That night, which storage room did I break into…?
At the time, he was using the teleportation effect attached to Mist Array, so he paid no attention to this point at all. All he remembered was that the stacked safes at the time had no labels indicating whose safe they belonged to.
So how do the bank staff guide customers to the rental safes? Based on memory? That seemed unrealistic.
In that case, only a list could exist.
Theoretically, if the list were stolen, there would be no need to enter the underground storage room. The problem was how to hand over the list to Charlotte in a reasonable way even if it was stolen.
Just because someone deposits money at the bank doesn't mean they've given money to someone else.
As Russell pondered, the flow of people inside the tram suddenly shifted, making the already crowded space feel even more cramped. Russell had to move closer to the carriage door, and the distance between the two instantly shrank.
Why are there so many people today?
He couldn't help but complain inwardly.
Just as Charlotte was about to speak, they heard the driver's angry shout.
"Damn it!"
The moment he uttered those words, the tram slammed on the brakes.
With tremendous inertial force, the passengers nearly got thrown out of the carriage. Amid the surrounding cries of surprise, Charlotte suddenly lost her balance and fell backward uncontrollably.
In the sudden sensation of weightlessness, she instinctively closed her eyes.