Sherlock Sam and the Mysterious Mastermind in Seoul Page 5

“About what?” Jimmy replied.

  “You said Bok Joo’s friends said something? Why did you say that?” I said. “What made you think she has friends with her?”

  “Oh! That! Well, Auntie Kat said that it was hard to hear Bok Joo and it was because there were a lot of people talking in the background,” Jimmy said.

  “He was right next to Watson…I mean, Moran, so he could hear better,” Mom added.

  “And you heard them talk about clocks and books?” I asked.

  “Yes, someone said something about a second hand, and then something about books,” Jimmy said. “It was in English so I could understand what they were saying.”

  “The second hand of a clock?” I asked. “Did they—”

  “Your scones and cream are ready, Master Sherlock,” Moran-in-Watson said. I turned and almost fell over.

  Watson’s form was politely holding out a tray of snacks for us. I don’t think, in his entire existence, that Watson’s expression had ever looked so pleasant.

  “Does anyone have a camera?” I asked and ducked when a scone flew straight at me.

  “Drat-my-aim-in-Moran’s-body-is-not-as-good-as-it-should-be,” my robot said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The driver parked just outside of Myeongdong, near the Myeongdong subway station. As Nazhar had informed us earlier, Myeongdong was the Orchard Road of Seoul. It was a shopping heaven for tourists and Koreans alike, and it was a mostly pedestrian area in the evenings. There were lots of Korean beauty shops (also known as K-beauty, as Dad had once explained), clothing and shoe stores, music shops, and convenience stores. Most of the shops were blasting K-pop music. I immediately recognised songs by super popular bands like BTS, EXO and Twice because Dad was always playing their music in the car. But the best thing about Myeongdong was that it also had a lot of restaurants and food carts lining the streets. It seemed like everywhere we turned, we ran into a food cart selling a different kind of food. I saw items that I had never seen before. There was a cart selling rectangular white pieces of something that smelt like a combination of cheese and condensed milk, but was being grilled on a pan! I didn’t know what it was but I knew I had to have a bite. Another cart was selling corn-on-the-cob covered in grated cheese and chili powder! I had never thought of eating corn like that before. It was genius. There was also mandoo everywhere! The pan-fried kind, my favourite!

  We wandered around, looking closely at the food carts and trying not to eat everything in sight. Well, that was mostly me. Mom, Jimmy, Watson and Moran seemed to have their tummies under control. Moran-in-Watson was taking notes of new and interesting items that he would presumably attempt to make once we were back in Singapore. That was yet another reason why I needed to make sure that he was back in his own body soon.

  “What do you think she wants us to do, Sherlock?” Jimmy asked, spinning around in circles trying to take everything in.

  “I think she might want us to try all the food at the carts, Jimmy,” I answered, making a beeline for the cheese-milk scent of deliciousness. Was that condensed milk that the auntie was dripping into the container? Inquiring minds had to know. “And maybe that famous sandwich shop here, too. I believe it’s called Isaac Toast.”

  “I-think-it-might-have-something-to-do-with-that-giant-egg,” Watson-in-Moran said, pointing at a man in a giant egg costume. To be precise, a giant, halved, hard-boiled egg costume. The yolk was where his tummy was. That was...curious. But not as curious as that little baked bread with an actual egg in it. What was that?

  “Is that Inspector Lestrade?” Mom asked, squinting at the incredible sight.

  “I don’t think so, Mom,” I replied, taking a quick look, still distracted by an entirely different kind of egg. “That person looks too miserable. Also, too obvious to be inconspicuously conspicuous. May I have 10,000 won? I’ll get the cheese thing first, then the little bread with the egg, and the mandoo last. This is just to start, of course.”

  “We-must-hasten-to-the-man-in-the-giant-egg-costume,” Watson-in-Moran said.

  “What? Why? There’s nothing to indicate that he’s part of Bok Joo’s game, Watson,” I said, inching closer to the cheese. “Oooh, I think that’s tteokbokki with the cheese, Mom! It’s alternating! It’s cheese, tteokbokki, cheese, tteokbokki and cheese again! On a stick!”

  “Sam. Really?” Mom said, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

  I sighed deeply.

  Fine. The cheese-tteokbokki could wait. But I wouldn’t let it wait for me for too long. I promised. Yes, I made a promise to cheese. I took my dairy seriously.

  The four of us made our way towards the giant egg person who was attracting a lot of attention—people were starting to form a queue to take a photograph with him. All that did was make him look even more miserable.

  As we approached, the egg-man’s eyes suddenly lit up and he dashed towards us, waving a sign that he pulled out from his backpack, which looked like an eggshell. The sign said: “Follow Me, Sherlock Sam.”

  Drat. He was part of Bok Joo’s game.

  We followed the odd egg-man into a quiet lane where most of the restaurants and shops were still closed. He gestured for us to wait and disappeared into one of the closed shops.

  “It was far harder than I had thought it would be to find a giant egg costume,” Bok Joo said, appearing out of thin air from Moran-in-Watson’s single eye once again.

  “I’m presuming that there’s a point to what he’s wearing?” I asked.

  “Of course, Sherlock,” she replied. “There are reasons behind everything I’ve done.”

  The door to the shop that the egg-man went in opened, and he re-emerged, still in his costume, but this time carrying two cartons of eggs. He carefully passed them to Watson-in-Moran, who reluctantly held on to them.

  “What now? Do Jimmy and I have to race through the streets of Myeongdong throwing eggs at each other?” I asked.

  “That would be fun, but undignified, don’t you think?” the Mysterious Mastermind replied. “Also, it would create a mess for people to clean up. I’m nothing if not considerate.”

  I tried really hard not to roll my eyes, but didn’t quite succeed.

  “No, Sherlock, this last game will be far less...strenuous,” she said. “All you and Jimmy have to do is take turns smashing an egg on your heads. Most of the eggs in the cartons are hard-boiled, but there’s one in each carton that’s still raw. The first person to pick a raw egg loses.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” I shouted. Of all the games, this one had nothing to do with skill or intelligence, it was just pure luck! If I lost, Jimmy would be alone to outwit the Mysterious Mastermind!

  “I can’t be the last one left, Sherlock,” Jimmy whispered, looking horrified. “I’m a wild duck! I’m not a genius!”

  “A wild card, Jimmy,” Mom said, patting him on his shoulder. “And you’re very intelligent—don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “See, this was why James failed, Sherlock,” Bok Joo said. “He tried to outsmart you, but you were just too clever, especially when you had your team with you. Whatever you lacked, they made up for it with their skill set. But now that you’re almost alone, and with nothing but pure chance to determine the outcome, what will you do?”

  We didn’t have a choice. We had to play her final game.

  “Let’s do it, Jimmy,” I said. I could figure it out. A hard-boiled egg would weigh more than a raw egg and feel far firmer. All we had to do was gently rock the egg when we picked it up.

  He nodded, still looking worried.

  “And remember, no shaking the eggs to test their weight or density or whatever it is you’re thinking of. The moment you touch one, that’s your choice,” Bok Joo added. “I’m watching.”

  This time, unlike the other times, her projection did not disappear.

  I approached Watson-in-Moran, who was still holding both cartons of eggs. Reaching out, I picked the second egg from the second row and immediately knocked it against my head.

&
nbsp; “Ouch!” I exclaimed. It didn’t hurt that much, but it was still harder than I thought it would be.

  “That’s a hard-boiled egg, Sam,” Mom said, breathing a sigh of relief. She took the egg from me and handed it to Moran-in-Watson.

  Jimmy went next. He picked from the other carton and tried to crack the egg against his forehead. It wasn’t raw either. Mom took that from him too.

  “This is such a waste of good eggs,” I muttered.

  “Do not worry, Master Sherlock,” Moran-in-Watson replied. He was peeling the two eggs and carefully putting them in a container that he had removed from Watson’s hidden compartment. Oh, right. I forgot I kept that in there for snack emergencies. Foresight is an important skill for any intrepid detectives.

  “You’re next, Sherlock,” Bok Joo said, crossing her arms.

  I hesitated. My brain tried to calculate the probabilities of picking a raw egg, but I realised how useless it would be. I just had to chance it. I closed my eyes and grabbed the first egg my hand touched. I hit it against my head—it was hard! Whew!

  “My turn,” Jimmy exclaimed. He jumped around, spinning, closed his eyes and grabbed wildly.

  CRACK!

  Shocked, he opened his eyes.

  Yolk was running down his face.

  “I guess the yolk’s on me?” Jimmy said, wincing.

  “And Sherlock Sam is the last kid detective standing!” Bok Joo exclaimed, clapping.

  Jimmy stood there with his mouth still hanging open and yolk dripping everywhere. Mom immediately took out wet wipes from her handbag and proceeded to clean him up.

  “Wait,” Mom suddenly said. She passed Jimmy the rest of the wet wipes, then turned to face the hologram of Bok Joo.

  “There’s no way I’m leaving my son alone in a foreign country,” my mother said in a stern voice that brooked no nonsense. “I don’t care what kind of mastermind you are, but you’re still 12 and I’m the grown-up here. You will do as I say.”

  “I’m sorry, Auntie, but it doesn’t work that way,” Bok Joo replied. For the first time, she looked somewhat uncertain.

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Mom continued. “When your parents turn up, I’m going to have a word with them about your behaviour, young lady.”

  At that, Bok Joo’s eyes hardened. She took a breath and turned away from Mom.

  “We had an agreement, Sherlock,” she said. “It’s your choice. You can leave with your mom, or you can stay with the two robots. But know this, if you choose to leave, I’m not putting your two Humpty Dumpties back together again.”

  I looked at Bok Joo and saw in her eyes that she was serious.

  I turned to look at Mom who was furious, angrier than I had ever seen her before.

  “Sam,” she said.

  “Mom, it’s okay. Moran and Watson will be with me,” I said.

  “Sam, we’re not even in Singapore,” she said, “Officer Siva and Inspector Lestrade aren’t around. And your dad—”

  “Watson and Moran won’t let anything happen to me, Mom,” I said.

  “I-will-not-leave-his-side-no-matter-what-even-if-it-means-I-have-to-stay-in-this-form-forever-Mom,” Watson-in-Moran said, coming to stand next to me.

  “Neither will I, Madam Mom,” Moran-in-Watson said. Bok Joo’s image was still projecting out of him, and she was staring at me, stone-faced.

  Mom exhaled deeply. She reached into her handbag, pulled out her mobile phone and passed it to me.

  “We’ll be waiting for you,” she said. “If anything happens, you call Dad immediately, understand?”

  I nodded.

  “And the two of you,” she continued, looking at the robots, before turning back to look at me, “the three of you, look after each other. I mean it. I want all of you safe.”

  Jimmy gave us each a hug before taking hold of Mom’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

  Mom sighed deeply again and walked away with my friend. She hesitated for a brief moment, but didn’t turn back.

  “Well, that was unnecessarily dramatic,” Bok Joo said. “It’s not as if you’re the first 11-year-old to be left alone in a foreign country. And you’re not even really alone.” She sneered.

  “I’ve had enough of your games, Bok Joo, or whatever your true name is,” I said. “Give me the next clue. I won’t let my family and friends worry about me for any longer than they have to.”

  Bok Joo scoffed, then narrowed her eyes. “The next clue to my location is ‘sports’. Your driver has the next puzzle that you’ll have play alone to get to the final game, and your last chance to save your robots.”

  “Okay, but I’m going to eat some of this food first because I am already here,” I said. “All of it looks incredibly delicious. And if you want me at my best, you don’t want me to be thinking about all the food that I did not have a chance to eat.”

  “Ha. Sure, go ahead. I’ll give you 15 minutes. I recommend the bulgogi steak.” She blinked out of existence again.

  I nodded at the two robots as I typed the last clue into Mom’s phone and sent it.

  I immediately received a reply and we quickly walked back to where the car was waiting for us. The driver was not looking in our direction so I avoided him and walked down the stairs into the subway station instead.

  I was done playing Bok Joo’s games.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You understand?” I asked.

  “Yes, Master Sherlock,” Moran-in-Watson replied. “I assumed this was the case as well.”

  “How-sure-are-we-that-she-is-not-monitoring-us-all-the-time?” Watson-in-Moran asked.

  “I guess we’re going to find out soon enough,” I said.

  I wrapped my jacket around Watson’s frame, covering his one eye.

  “Honestly, it was somewhat insulting of Miss Bok Joo to think we wouldn’t realise straightaway that a hologram would not be able to actually see anything,” Moran-in-Watson said, helping me tie my jacket. “She would only be able to see out of Master Watson’s eye, the same place she was projecting herself out of.”

  Once we had realised this, we devised various distractions, like my parents’ semi-fake argument earlier about Goblin versus Hwayugi, to keep her focus away from what we were actually doing.

  Watson-in-Moran and I held Moran-in-Watson’s hands as we went down into main part of the subway station. If Bok Joo weren’t constantly monitoring us, then we would have the 15 minutes she had given me to eat, plus a few more before the driver called her to tell her we hadn’t arrived at the car. That would hopefully be enough time to go the three stops we needed to go.

  We reached the platform and a train arrived shortly thereafter. We got a few odd looks from other folks on the train—after all, it’s not every day that a boy walks around with two robots, one of which was oddly dressed—and I was starting to feel a little cold. If Bok Joo were monitoring us right now, she wasn’t letting on. It was possible she was giving us a false sense of security until the train announcements told her where we were and where we were going.

  “So-far-so-good-Master-Sherlock,” Watson-in-Moran said.

  “Yeah, I think she might not be—” I stopped. “Wait, what did you just call me?”

  We stared at each other in horror. We had to find Bok Joo, and we had to find her now.

  We arrived at our destination, Dongdaemun Station, and stepped out of the train. We ran up the stairs and the full chill of the Korean evening hit me. But I had to endure it for as long as we could keep Bok Joo from figuring out what we had done.

  Dongdaemun was a neighbourhood full of malls and shopping centres mostly selling fashion, but also many other things, such as electronics, toys and stationery. There were shops devoted to retail sales as well as wholesale. There was even a Shake Shack here. The Cheonggyecheon, an urban creek running west to east through Seoul before joining the Han River, cut right through Dongdaemun. It had walkways on either side of it, and while it was all open air, it was still one level below street level.

  I shiver
ed my way to the Secondhand Book Street. A few shops there were open, selling mostly Korean books and magazines, but some also had Chinese and English titles. I was certain Bok Joo would be nearby.

  Suddenly, a dim and blurry version of Bok Joo’s hologram appeared. She seemed to be looking down at something on her lap, but I couldn’t make out what.

  “I gave you 15 minutes to eat, Sherlock,” she said. “It’s been 20. You need to get back to the car—”

  She finally looked up. “Wait, why can’t I—” She stopped. “Sherlock, where are you?”

  “I’m actually quite close by,” I said. “Why don’t you come out and talk?”

  The holographic Bok Joo turned around in her chair and bolted upright. She ran to the window I had seen earlier and looked out.

  I looked up from where I was standing and waved to the real Bok Joo looking out from a window on the second floor.

  “That’s impossible,” I heard her say.

  “We found you, Bok Joo,” I said. “As you stipulated in your own rules, it’s time for you to fix Watson and Moran, and hand yourself over to Inspector Lestrade and Officer Siva when they get here.”

  Since she already knew where we were, I took my jacket from Moran-in-Watson so he could see again, and so I could stop freezing.

  “New rule, Sherlock,” she said. “You have to catch me first.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to be predictable, Bok Joo,” I said, but she had already started running.

  “Moran, use Watson’s flight power and see if you can see where she’s going.”

  “I am not really in the mood, Sherlock,” Moran-in-Watson said.

  I turned to look at him. “I-I am sorry, Master Sherlock,” he said. “That was very rude of me.”

  “Not-that-rude,” Watson-in-Moran said.

  “I will endeavour to chase down Miss Bok Joo,” Moran-in-Watson said. He turned on Watson’s flight power and shot up much faster than Watson ever had before. But he also went much, much higher.

  “I-am-pretty-sure-he-has-no-idea-what-he-is-doing,” Watson-in-Moran said, watching his body shoot up into the sky.