My own war game

Chapter 350: Phantom Thief K
National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, London.

When Director John Wilson came to his office, he found a letter lying quietly on his desk.

After checking the cover and finding no obvious markings on the surface of the letter, Director Wilson thought for a moment and pressed the bell on the desk.

A woman in her thirties wearing secretary clothes pushed open the door and came in. "Mr. Wilson, coffee or tea?"

"Ms. Louise, your duties are not just to make coffee. Didn't I tell you that personal letters must be sorted before being delivered to me?" The curator complained somewhat unhappily.

"Sir, yesterday's letters are still being sorted outside, and I haven't finished screening them yet." The secretary adjusted her glasses and explained, obviously she was a little confused about the director's accountability.

"Then what is this?" The curator waved the letter in his hand.

"I'm sorry, but this wasn't from me, and I didn't see anyone enter your office last night."

Feeling a little strange, Mr. Wilson waved the secretary away and opened the envelope in confusion.

A piece of letter paper with only a few words on it: "When the moon is at its first quarter, I will take the water lilies from the lotus pond."

There is no signature on the letter, only a "K" logo with a rose in it.

Was this a prank by someone? The curator frowned unhappily and then threw the letter into the waste paper bin.

That night, the National Gallery's treasure, Monet's famous painting "Water Lilies", disappeared from the exhibition hall!
The London Police Station was in chaos, and the police who came to investigate the case surrounded the exhibition hall.

"It's very strange. There are no footprints around, and no signs of the windows being opened. The six guards in the exhibition hall are very sure that they did not hear any unusual sounds that night."

"How did this guy get out?" The sheriff in charge of the case looked at the scene in front of him and was puzzled. He then looked at the curator and asked, "Do you have any other clues?"

"This..." The curator hesitated for a moment, "I don't know if that is a clue."

The crumpled letter was taken out of the trash can. The detectives gently flattened it and examined the marks on it word by word.

"What a brazen guy! This is clearly a warning letter. He's blatantly telling us that he's coming to steal things!" The inspector slammed his fist on the table and said angrily.

"Sir! Sir!" The secretary came over in a panic and whispered something in the curator's ear.

"What!? Found it! Where is it?"

Visitors to the main hall of the art museum looked up and pointed. A painting was firmly embedded in the glass of the dome.

A staff member climbed up and carefully took down the work. The curator and his people immediately surrounded it. After the appraiser confirmed it on the spot, the other party confirmed with certainty that this was the famous painting "Water Lilies" that was stolen last night.

Stealing something and then returning it is a naked provocation. Every police officer at the scene had an expression of humiliation and anger on his face.

The matter is not over yet. Another letter fell out from behind the water lily frame:

"I will give you back your things, and give back everyone else's things. The Book of Kings will return when the bell rings!"

The signature is still that weird "K".

"Book of Kings, when the bells ring, what does this mean?" The inspector studied the letter over and over again, but found nothing.

However, his doubts did not last long, because two days later, the British Museum was robbed and some fragments of the manuscript of the "Yongle Encyclopedia" that were snatched back by the British invading army were stolen!
There was still no clue at the scene, and this time the other party did not return the items.

The entire London police department was on edge, the mayor personally asked for a deadline to solve the case, and public attention began to focus rapidly. The third letter of warning arrived as expected - "When the throne hangs high, holding a golden mask."

This time the police finally guessed the riddle. When the Cepheus constellation rose to the highest point in the starry sky, a group of police officers surrounded the intruder in white dresses on the top of the Cambridge Museum.

People standing by could not distinguish his appearance because he was wearing the museum's treasure - the Celtic gold mask.

"Don't move! You are under arrest for suspected theft of valuables!" More than a dozen detectives pointed their guns at the thief at the edge of the building. They were sure that the thief had nowhere to go.

The person opposite kept silent, turned his head and looked over here silently, raised his arm high, and overlapped his index finger and thumb.

Snapped!
The crisp sound of snapping fingers echoed in the night sky.

BOOM!!! BOOM!!! BOOM!!! BOOM!!!
Explosions rang out one after another all around, and smoke rose from the scene.

"Ahem! It's a smoke bomb! He set an ambush!"

"Be careful around you!"

"Watch the door! This is the only exit! He can't escape!"

Shouts came one after another in the smoke. When the vision gradually became clear, the place where the prisoner was just now was empty.

"Damn it! Does that bastard have wings?!" The inspector, who was fooled repeatedly, cursed at the air, and finally could only leave sadly with his men.

No one noticed that someone in police uniform had already left the chaotic scene.

In the following week, all major museums in London were in a state of panic as several important works of art were lost in succession.

The Japanese Post took advantage of this momentum to publish a special edition called "Phantom Thief K". The reporter wrote in an inflammatory style:

"Mr. K, the phantom thief, is now a household name in London. He has been involved in six thefts of valuables in two weeks. He has fooled the entire city's police force by himself."

"There are no traces of crime, no witnesses, and the only clues are the letters of warning that appeared at some unknown time."

“However, Mr. K, who was hated by the police, seemed to be a Robin Hood-like thief - the things he actually stole were all important cultural relics that came to Britain in the form of plunder, and all other treasures were returned soon after.”

At the end of the report was a not very clear photo. Under the moonlight, a shadow in a white dress stood on the top of the museum. He did not look like a hateful thief, but an artist enjoying his own creation.

As a result of the continued coverage, Londoners generally believed that "this guy is not bad."

Although their identities are mysterious, Mr. K is not Jack the Ripper. He is just against the government and does not harm civilians.

And when everyone learned how those cultural relics were obtained, many people even changed their stance to support it.

"Those things were never ours in the first place, why can't we give them back?" People often say this, and some women even think that this image of a man in a white dress under the moonlight is very handsome - although they have never seen Mr. K's face.

And under the public's attention, the next preview letter arrived as expected.

"When the blue moon rises, I will take away a treasure of inestimable value."

(End of this chapter)