Somewhere in the downtown district of Redington, Number Nine sat in his makeshift office and studied the file displayed on his desk computer. "Hmmmmmmm..." he thought out loud as he focused mainly on the accompanying picture, which was of a young girl with dark brown hair. "She doesn't look like much of a threat, does she, Mojo?" he said, his voice having a trace of an accent.

Near his computer, a small robot with a round body peeked its head at the screen now and then. It resembled a simplified monkey, complete with long arms and a tail. Its eyes flashing, the robot beeped and whistled in response to Number Nine's question. "True, but look at her eyes," Number Nine said, closely examining the girl's blue eyes. "You can see the curiosity in them, Mojo."

Mojo beeped and whistled while Number Nine stroked his dark upturned mustache, which was located underneath a pointed, elongated nose. "Mr. E perceives this girl as a threat to ENIGMA's existence." He adjusted the monocle over his left eye and looked over the data on the subject. "Considering all that she's done, including what's she's started and recently thwarting Number Eight's assignment in this area, it's a sound hypothesis."

Number Nine heard the door open behind him. Mojo turned around and watched as an ENIGMA agent in full uniform entered the room. "Sir, I have..." The agent froze, realizing that Number Nine was not wearing his mask.

Number Nine kept facing the computer and took out a rod-like object as he spoke. "Agent, haven't you heard of knocking?" he asked.

The agent spun around quickly. "Your forgiveness, sir! I...I...in my rush to deliver my news, I forgot about knocking," he said, keeping his eye on the door.

Hmph. Probably a new agent, Number Nine thought. He extended the rod in his hand, a telescoping pointer, to its full length. "You do know the penalty for seeing the face of Mr. E or another member of High Command without authorization, don't you, agent?"

"Y-y-yes, sir," the agent replied.

"Then what is it?" Number Nine asked, still keeping his face to the computer.

"Death, sir," the agent answered nervously.

"Exactly," Number Nine said as he pointed the pointer behind him.

The agent heard noises coming from something large covered by a white tarp on his left. The object moved, and the tarp fell off, revealing a robot that resembled a bear. Its hands had long, razor-sharp claws and its face held a not-so-friendly grin. The agent gulped as the bear robot advanced slowly on him, its claws outstretched towards him and a emitting a computerized growl. The sight of its glowing yellow eyes added to the agent's terror.

Mojo seemed to be laughing as he watched the towering bear robot march on the agent. "Please, sir! It won't happen again! I swear it!" the agent begged as he backed away from the robot, his eyes wide-open behind his dark goggles. He dropped a computer printout that was meant for his superior.

Number Nine silently watched the computer screen as the agent found himself backed up against the wall with no place to go. The bear robot had him cornered. "Mercy, sir! Mercy!" he pleaded as the bear robot got closer, snarling and ready to strike. He shielded his face with his arms and waited to die.

Number Nine smiled coldly, then addressed the bear robot. "Teddy, cease and desist!"

To the relief of the agent, the bear robot stopped in its tracks. "Teddy, back to your corner and stay there," Number Nine ordered further.

Wiping the sweat on his forehead through his mask, the agent let out a large sigh as Teddy marched back to his corner and resumed standing still. "Thank you, sir. Oh, thank you..."

Number Nine help up his hand to silence the agent. "Do this again and I'll allow Teddy to rip you to shreds, understand?"

The agent nodded quickly. "I understand, sir," he said.

Number Nine pointed the pointer to his right and pressed the button again. A four-wheeled robot with a covered serving tray moved towards his desk. "Keep your eye on the door if you value your life," he warned the agent harshly as he reached for the cloth covering the tray.

"Yes, sir!" the agent exclaimed, turning around to face the door as Number Nine donned what was on the tray.

"You may turn around now," Number Nine said, getting up from his seat and sending the serving robot away.

The agent turned around and faced the now-masked Number Nine. The master agent was dressed entirely in metallic gray with a necktie that had a gear drawn on it. His hands were covered by gray gloves. His mask matched with his suit. Its eyes were yellow, with the right eye being rectangular and the left resembling a large gunsight with a black gear around it. The mask's mouth was a yellow rectangular grin, and its nose was long and pointed to accommodate its wearer's large nose. On top of his head, he wore a white powdered wig with curled sides and a hat that resembled a mortarboard. The agent stared at this unusual apparition, but he knew better than to laugh. That was punishable by death as well, if the offended superior felt like it.

Managing to get almost everything together and picking up the printout, the agent recalled protocol when facing a superior. He quickly saluted Number Nine by pounding his right fist against his heart and outstretching it in the air. "ENIGMA forever!" he declared.

"Well, what is your news?" Number Nine asked as soon as the agent was done, his voice modified by his mask to sound more mechanical. He brought his pointer down into his other hand. Mojo leaped onto his chair and shrieked at the agent.

The agent gathered whatever nerves he had left and addressed his superior. "We've managed to hit the designated target a few minutes ago."

"Excellent," Number Nine said, satisfied. "Damage to the target?"

"According to Number Nine-Nine, there was extensive damage due to the crash," the agent answered, handing his superior the printout he had dropped.

"Did it accomplish its task?" Number Nine asked while looking over the printout to get the specifics of the night's events.

"It did, sir," the agent said, understanding what Number Nine meant.

"Good. Ah, what precision and accuracy. Typical of all my toys. Any damages to it?"

"No, sir. It came back here with no damage." The agent recalled something quickly. "It left too quickly for anyone to follow it, so this location is still secret. That's what Number Nine-Nine reported."

"Good," Number Nine said, nodding. "Were there any witnesses?"

"Yes, sir. I believe the police are on their way to the site."

"Very good." Number Nine folded his arms behind his back. "All goes according to plan, then."

"Sir, permission to speak freely," the agent asked nervously, eyeing the now-immobile Teddy.

"Speak, then," Number Nine said.

The agent gulped and kept a close watch on Teddy. "If you don't mind me asking, but why is a member of the Elite Eight in charge of such a standard operation in a city that holds no significant importance?"

Number Nine chuckled. "Agent, you are aware of the Red Zone Directive that has been passed by ENIGMA High Command, are you not?"

"The Red Zone Directive?" the agent asked, puzzled.

"Tsk, tsk, as the original supervisor of this operation, you really should keep up with decisions made by High Command," Number Nine said, shaking his pointer finger.

"I'm sorry, sir, but this is my first time I've been in such a high position for an assignment," the agent admitted with hesitation.

"I understand. I'll enlighten you, then." Number Nine stepped closer to the agent so that he could stare into his eyes, making his subordinate feel uneasy. A little closer, and the sharp nose would have stabbed the poor underling. "You see, agent, Mr. E and High Command recently decreed that any mission in the vicinity of the city of Redington, code-named the Red Zone, is to be under the command of a member of the Elite Eight no matter how small it is."

"Why, sir?" the agent dared to ask. His curiosity was getting the better of him, another mistake that could also be punished by immediate execution.

"Because of this," Number Nine answered, aiming his pointer at the back wall. A projection screen came down, and with another button push, the screen showed what was on Number Nine's computer. "Do you recognize this girl, agent?"

After searching his memory quickly, the agent answered Number Nine. "Yes, sir. That is Shirley Holmes, the daughter of one of the British diplomats stationed here."

"She is considered a great threat to our organization," Number Nine stated. "Mr. E has ordered her execution to be carried out as discreetly as possible."

The agent studied the picture of Shirley Holmes closely. "Sir, she's just a regular teen-age girl."

"Napoleon Bonaparte was known for his short height and was not considered by some as a man destined for greater things, but as emperor of France, he nearly conquered all of Europe," Number Nine noted. "This girl is carrying out the legacy of her great-granduncle Sherlock and has been linked to Inspector Christopher Hewitt, who is being seen as an expert on ENIGMA. Mr. E wants her dead and has authorized the Elite Eight to use any means to accomplish this goal. Naturally, we must also make sure that we're not connected to her death."

"I see, sir," the agent said, nodding.

"So, has your curiosity been satisfied?" Number Nine inquired as he aimed the pointer at the projection screen and made it roll up.

"Yes, sir," the agent answered immediately.

A beeping came from the computer. Mojo started jumping up and down in the chair, making electronic noises with great excitement. Number Nine looked at the computer screen. "Ah, Mr. E wishes to speak to me." He turned to the agent. "Leave me and begin preparations for tomorrow," he ordered. "Make sure Number Nine-Nine is ready for his part."

"Yes, sir!" the agent said, knowing better than to stretch his luck. Eyeing Teddy, he exited the room as quickly as he could.

Number Nine shooed Mojo out of his chair and sat down. The robot monkey jumped onto his shoulder. The ENIGMA master agent moved his mouse to a flashing light in the corner of the screen and clicked on it. The file of Shirley Holmes was replaced by the sinister figure of Mr. E, the supreme leader of ENIGMA. Wearing his usual dark glasses, uniform, and cape, he sat in a large chair. On his lap lied Chimera, a black cat with piercing yellow eyes, whom he stroked regularly with his gloved hand.

"ENIGMA forever!" Number Nine said, standing up and saluting his leader.

"Report," Mr. E said as Number Nine sat down again. Chimera purred as her master petted her.

"I'm happy to report that I have initiated my plan," Number Nine said. "I've just been informed that part one has been completed. My little toy did its designated function, so it's ready for the little job it's been assigned to."

"Good. Are you positive that Holmes will notice?" Mr. E asked.

"According to my calculations, there's a good chance she will, sir," Number Nine answered. "If that fails to pique her curiosity, what I have planned for tomorrow will."

"Good, Number Nine. Very good," Mr. E complemented. "Have you taken in account those special variables?"

"I have," Number Nine answered. "I guarantee that my toys will deal with them."

"For your sake, you had better be right, Number Nine," Mr. E said. Chimera meowed loudly at Number Nine. "My Elite Eight has already lost once thanks to Holmes, in addition to the other two defeats she's handed us directly plus the trouble she's caused us indirectly thanks to Interpol. Our clientele are not pleased with these recent failures, and quite frankly, I'm getting tired of arranging accidents to silence the complainers."

"I understand, sir," Number Nine said. "I assure you that my plan will work and not only will our client be satisfied, but the Holmes girl will be eliminated as well."

"I certainly hope so, Number Nine, or I'll be displeased. Very displeased," the ENIGMA leader said, while Chimera let out a loud meow that sounded almost like a roar.

"Yes, sir," Number Nine said, bowing his head solemnly. Mojo bowed and chattered something in its electronic sound language.

"Proceed with your plan, Number Nine. I wish to hear of our client's satisfaction and of Holmes' demise in the next few days."

"As you command, sir. The Elite Eight won't fail you again," Number Nine assured his leader.

"Let's hope not, Number Nine." Looking thoughtful, Mr. E stroked Chimera's back, eliciting a purr from the black cat. "Riddle me this. What's the only good detective?"

"A dead one, sir," Number Nine answered.

"Makes sure that happens." With that, Mr. E ended the transmission, and Number Nine was left staring at the file on Shirley Holmes.

Number Nine clicked the "print" option. The printer hummed to life and produced a copy of the file page he was viewing. He took the printout and stared at the picture of the girl whom Mr. E saw as a threat to ENIGMA. The master agent knew his leader's other reason for authorizing the execution of the girl, and he could not blame him. The name "Sherlock Holmes" was despised widely by the criminal element, and a descendant of the famed detective who was carrying out his legacy became a potential threat to all criminals. Number One and the Elite Eight, the people who made up the High Command of ENIGMA along with Mr. E, had become alarmed when the ENIGMA leader informed them the Mona Lisa fiasco was caused by a teen-age girl. When it was learned that the girl was a descendant of Sherlock Holmes, the matter became more serious, for the other members of the Elite Eight knew of the Holmes legacy. They also knew the reason why Mr. E hated the girl named Shirley Holmes so intensely, and they did not blame him, either. Besides, disagreeing with Mr. E was bad for one's health--dangerously bad.

"Mojo, the usual," Number Nine told the robot monkey, waving his hand in front of the screen. The computer shut down automatically.

Mojo leapt down from Number Nine's shoulder and went for the bottom drawer of the desk. It pulled out the drawer and took out a piece of white cardboard that matched the size of the printout and a jar of rubber cement. Mojo closed the drawer and laid the items on the floor. Number Nine handed it the printout, and the robot monkey laid it next to the cardboard. Opening the jar of rubber cement, Mojo used the brush attached to the lid to spread the sticky substance all over the cardboard. After examining its work, Mojo pasted the printout, with its blank side down, onto the cardboard. It handed the paper to Number Nine after a minute of drying.

Number Nine looked at the printout. He studied the picture of the girl to whom his leader had issued a order of execution. The killing of children was not new to him; besides designing the various weapons and devices ENIGMA used in its crimes and overseeing their development, he was also an expert assassin, and his targets ranged from the very young to the very old. He knew all people had to die; he just made death come to them sooner. As he looked at Shirley's picture, he examined the eyes he noticed curiosity in. Her file said that she was naturally inquisitive and was attracted to mysteries; she would not stop until she had solved one. Mr. E and the rest of High Command knew that she considered ENIGMA another mystery to solve, but they were determined to make sure she failed in her mission to find out more about it. Number Nine clearly saw determination in the girl's eyes as well.

"Why couldn't she just stick to normal girl things, like makeup and shopping?" Number Nine asked, addressing his synthetic simian, who responded with more of its electronic sounds. "Ah, but that wouldn't fit the profile of a budding detective, much less one who is carrying out the legacy of the greatest detective of all time." Mojo beeped its agreement while jumping up and down.

"Well, we can't have her running around contributing to ENIGMA's problems, now, can we, Mojo?" Number Nine asked, looking at the picture. The robot monkey chattered its agreement again. He stood up and walked to the center of the room. With one last glance at the printout, he tossed it in the air. Mojo watched as its master and creator looked up and a laser beam fired from his left eye. The printout was cut in half and its pieces fell to the floor.

As Mojo danced around doing its electronic chatter, Number Nine stared at the halves of the printout. "And now, ma jeune detective, it's time for me to join the game," he said, smiling evilly behind his mask.

END OF PROLOGUE

The Case of the Gold Thief : Part #1

"As of now, speculation runs rampant at the railroad tracks near Redington as the police attempt to find out what caused a nearly fatal train crash," the desk reporter on the TV said while footage of a train wreck was being shown. "The police are calling it a miracle that no one was badly hurt."

Shirley Holmes' ears perked up as she ate her breakfast in the kitchen with her parents. Her grandmother had gone out for a morning jog around the neighborhood. While having his coffee, her father was trying to read his newspaper, which was full of holes as usual thanks to Shirley. Like Shirley, her mother was paying attention to the morning news.

"According to the police, the train was carrying a shipment of gold bars meant for the Bank of Redington last night when it was reportedly attacked and forced off the tracks," the reporter continued. "We asked the engineer, who is recovering from his injuries at a local hospital, about what happened. He declined to be shown on camera, but he did say that he heard something fly by the train and shoot out some of its wheels, causing it to steer off the tracks and crash."

Shirley rubbed her chin. Things were getting interesting for the great-grandniece of Sherlock Holmes.

"The police are not confirming this story, but they did confirm that nine of the train's wheels were shot by what appeared to be a laser. They also confirmed that the car carrying the gold has a hole burnt into the side, also apparently the work of a laser. As for the gold, it was shipped immediately to the Bank of Redington." The reporter stopped as he heard something being whispered to him from off-screen. "I've just been informed that the bank has confirmed nine gold bars are missing from the shipment. I repeat, nine gold bars are missing from the shipment."

Mr. Holmes shook his head upon hearing that information. "Rather dumb of the crook to just take nine out of so many bars of gold."

"It does sound strange," Dr. Holmes said. "Why make a train crash and just make off with a small amount of gold?"

Shirley thought harder. Things were really getting interesting.

* * * * *

"No offense, Shirley, but that sounds really dumb," Bo Sawchuk commented. "I mean, someone just attacked a train with a lot of gold and just made off with nine bars?"

"You sound like my father," Shirley said to her best friend.

"It's a strange crime, though," Blake Hewitt acknowledged.

The three friends were on their way to Sussex Academy, a prestigious private school that included the children of diplomats and local businesspeople. All were wearing the school uniform, which was mainly green and included a striped tie. Bo and Blake wore gray trousers while Shirley wore a skirt.

"Yes," Shirley said in agreement. "All that effort for a few measly bars of gold?"

"Boy, whoever did this has got to be the dumbest man on Earth," Bo said, laughing a little.

"Or may have a claim to being the smartest," Shirley said.

"What do you mean, Shirley?" Blake asked curiously.

"Well, if someone wanted to get my attention, he or she succeeded," Shirley said.

"Huh?" Bo said, puzzled. "Who'd want to get your attention?"

"My best bet would be the ENIGMA organization," Shirley stated.

Bo groaned. "Not again."

"Are you sure, Shirley?" Blake asked, concerned. "No riddle was found at the wreck, I think."

"True, but who else would use lasers on a train?" Shirley asked.

"Some other guys?" Bo said. "ENIGMA doesn't exactly have a monopoly on lasers, you know. There's got to be other bad guys with lasers out there."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Shirley said. "I don't want to establish a hypothesis without further proof. Still, they are at the top of my list."

Blake nodded in agreement. All three had managed to survive three encounters with the evil organization so far. They knew ENIGMA was determined to kill Shirley when it had the chance, but fortunately, success eluded it. The last encounter with ENIGMA served as a reminder to the junior detective and her friends that it would do anything to accomplish its sinister goal and hinted at its true power.

They arrived on school grounds early, much to Bo's amazement. "Hey, we're pretty much on time," he said, smiling.

Blake checked the time on his watch. "Yep. Maybe under ten minutes to spare."

Bo grinned. "We should do this more often."

Shirley spotted something parked near the administration building that got her attention. It was a long, white limousine with a logo on its side. A uniformed driver was waiting outside the car. Shirley looked at the logo from where she was standing and recognized it. "The Knight Foundation," she said, focusing on the white knight chess piece in a black circle.

Bo and Blake joined Shirley in looking at the white limousine. "What are they doing here?" Bo wondered.

"Maybe they wanted to talk with Ms. Stratmann regarding Mr. Knight's financial aid to the school," Blake said.

"Perhaps," Shirley said. A conglomerate based in Redington, the Knight Foundation had donated generously to the occasionally strapped-for-cash Sussex Academy, much to Ms. Stratmann's relief. Shirley had her suspicions about the Knight Foundation, but she had not come up with any proof of any potential wrongdoings by the company.

"Come to think of it, Bart went on a Knight Foundation Scholar trip somewhere in the northwestern United States," Blake remembered.

Bo pointed to his watch. "Um, guys, we'd better get going. I'm really not in the mood to be late for class."

Shirley was too busy paying attention to the limo. She watched as a man in a gray business suit stepped out of the administrative building. He was elderly and short, with a balding head and a white mustache and goatee. He was walking with a cane, but there was something about him that reminded Shirley of her grandmother. He walked as if he was younger despite the cane, with a light spring in his step. Shirley saw that he was speaking to himself in a jovial tone. The limo driver opened the door for him. After helping the man in, the driver went back to his seat and the limo pulled out of the driveway and left the school grounds.

"Hmmmmmm..." Shirley said, going into deep thought. Her trance-like state was broken by Bo tapping her on the shoulder.

"Hello," Bo said, pointing to his watch. "Almost time for class."

Shirley blinked, then watched as the limousine drove away. Answering Bo with a brief nod, she followed her friends into the school building.

* * * * *

Shirley and her friends settled down in their seats, ready to start the day. "Another day of school," Bo lamented. "Why?"

"Because we need to learn," Blake said.

"No, because our parents make us come here," Bo quipped. "And it's such a beautiful day. We shouldn't be cooped up in here."

"Ah, so you would prefer working at your parents' fish store than come here," Shirley said to her best friend.

"I stand corrected," Bo said with a grin, knowing how pungent the smell was over there. Blake laughed in a low voice. Shirley smiled a little.

The class was about to begin when Sussex Academy's headmistress, Ms. Stratmann, appeared in the doorway. "If I may have your attention, everyone," she declared.

All eyes were on the school headmistress. Dressed in conservative attire, Ms. Stratmann had that type of authoritative voice that demanded attention to its speaker. Her authority weas symbolized by the medal on her chest. Shirley noticed two girls standing behind the school headmistress. They were wearing the Sussex Academy uniform. Her blue eyes widened when she recognized them.

Bo and Blake also recognized them. One was Asian, with long black hair. A backpack was slung over one shoulder. She was normal-looking; her companion was the one getting the most attention. To be more specific, stares. Shirley saw the teacher's mouth almost agape. Deathly pale and with silver hair done in large, long pigtails, she looked at the class through half-opened eyes.

"Is that...?" Bo whispered to his friends.

"It is," Blake whispered back.

"Indeed," Shirley said, looking at the newcomers, especially the silver-haired girl.

"Everyone, please welcome the latest additions to the Sussex Academy student body, Rika Tamura and Katrina Mansfield," the headmistress announced, motioning to the girls. She seemed not to notice the color of Katrina's hair. "I'm sure you'll all make them feel welcome here."

Rika bowed to the class. "I'm happy to be part of this well-known institution," she said.

"As am I," Katrina said emotionlessly. She seemed to ignore the intense stares from her new classmates and teacher.

"Hoo boy," Bo remarked.

Shirley watched as the newcomers took empty seats next to her. *Things are really, really getting interesting,* the amateur sleuth thought.

END OF PART ONE

The Case of the Gold Thief : Part #2

As soon as class was over, Shirley approached Rika and Katrina in the hallway. Bo and Blake tagged along with their naturally inquisitive friend.

"Well, they've gotten themselves a lot of attention," Blake said, noticing how everyone was staring at the newcomers, especially Katrina.

Shirley was positive if the other students knew the newcomers' membership in the Strangers' Club, their curiosity would extend beyond Katrina's appearance and mannerisms. The group was made up of kids dedicated to investigating all things out of the ordinary, like ghosts and aliens. Shirley encountered it recently, and together they managed to thwart ENIGMA's recent crime in Redington. She noticed how some of the members were out of the ordinary, like Katrina. Not many girls were psychics, after all. Although the Strangers vowed to work with Shirley on her cases if they had the time, she was still suspicious of them. The group had many secrets and she was determined to learn them. Bo and Blake shared her attitude, although Blake was less suspicious than Bo.

"What are they doing here at Sussex?" Bo asked the young detective in a low voice.

"I'm about to find out," Shirley said.

Before Shirley could ask, Katrina said, "All will be revealed at lunch."

Shirley nodded, deciding not to pursue the matter further until then. She reasoned she could wait and with her record, could not afford to be late for more classes. Her real motive to agree with the silver-haired girl was emotionally-based, a rarity with her. Her past experience with Katrina told her she could read minds, among other things. Privately, it creeped out the great-grandniece of Sherlock Holmes, but she managed to stay calm.

"We'll talk at lunch, then," Rika said, looking at her watch. "I need to go to my locker, then to my next class." She sighed. "Why did I get assigned a locker so far away from my classes?"

"I'd go for dumb luck," Bo said, smiling.

"I guess you're right," Rika said. She turned to Katrina. "You'll be okay on your own for one period?"

"I will manage," Katrina answered in her usual dead calm tone.

"That's good to hear," Rika said.

Before Rika could leave, Bo said, "Wait, where's Bart? He went on one of your field trips. Is he back yet?" In addition to being a Knight Foundation Scholar, Bart was the newest member of the club. Like his friends, Blake had a good idea Bart was participating in one of the club's cases.

Rika stopped. "He should be. His group came back last night."

"We haven't seen him since we got here," Blake said.

"Must be jet lag. Don't worry, he'll be fine," Rika assured him. "See you at lunch."

Shirley watched as Rika left. "Indeed," she said.

"So, what's next?" Blake asked.

Shirley saw Katrina open her locker. "We go to class and talk to them at lunch," she answered.

Bo was a little surprised at his friend's reluctance to confront the Strangers. "If you say so, Shirl."

They left Katrina at her locker. She placed her book from her previous class and started removing other books. She got what she wanted, then paused.

"Hello, Molly," the silver-haired girl said, closing her locker.

Behind her, Molly Hardy gasped. She had been watching Shirley and her friends talking with the new students. When they left, she took the opportunity to confront Katrina. Unfortunately, nothing was going according to plan. As Katrina locked the door, Molly did her best to supress her surprise.

"You have a question," the Stranger stated matter-of-factly, turning around to face Molly.

The blonde regained her composure and glared at Katrina. "Why did you say I was weak? That I was afraid of the dark a while back?" she demanded.

Katrina stared calmly into the blonde sociopath's eyes. "Because it's true."

"I'm afraid of nothing." Molly's blood was almost to full boil. "I have a lot of clout here. I control everything and everyone, you silver-haired freak. You'd better not cross me or else."

The threat failed to produce its intended effect. "You have no power," Katrina said.

Molly was furious. "You're an idiot and a fool," she said through clinched teeth.

"And you're afraid of the dark," Katrina said calmly.

"I am not!" Molly shouted, stepping closer to Katrina. "I'm strong! Strong!"

The tardy bell rang.

"You're weak," Katrina said. "Accept the truth. You still have time."

Molly could not take it anymore. "Who are you?"

Katrina met Molly's intense stare with serene eyes. "Who are you?"

"Molly?"

Molly turned around and saw Ms. Stratmann. "Ms. Stratmann, what a pleasant surprise," she said with a fake smile.

"Molly, that was the tardy bell. Why are you still here? Who were you talking to?" the headmistress asked her prized student.

"Oh, I was saying hello to one of the new students," Molly explained, gesturing behind her. "You know, Katrina Mansfield."

Ms. Stratmann looked puzzled. "Molly, no one is with you."

Molly looked behind her. Katrina was gone.

Ms. Stratmann watched as Molly searched for the silver-haired girl. "Molly, perhaps you should go to class right now. I'll explain everything to your teacher."

"But, Ms. Stratmann, I swear..."

"Go to class, Molly." The headmistress left for her office, wondering if Molly was still suffering from her earlier ordeal. ENIGMA had kidnapped her in part to get Shirley. When the young detective and her friends found her, she was a hysterical wreck. Only a visit from a renowned therapist/hypnotist restored the scheming sociopath back to normal.

Molly looked around, but she was the only one in the hallway. Frustrated, she gave up and started on her way to class. To her annoyance, Katrina's words echoed in her mind.

* * * * *

At lunch, Shirley and her friends ate in the cafeteria. Rika and Katrina joined them. Rika had her backpack with her.

"I see you've dared to sample some of Sussex's famous cuisine," Bo said half-jokingly. Like the others, the newcomers bought a hot lunch: chicken schnitzel, macaroni and cheese, a carton of milk, and a bowl of green Jello.

"Yep," Rika said with a smile as she and Katrina sat down.

"So what brings you to Sussex?" Shirley asked.

"Ah, taking the direct approach," Rika said.

"Yeah, what are you doing here?" Blake asked.

"Spying on us?" Bo asked.

Katrina started eating her lunch, leaving Rika to answer. "Well, Arthur at least needed one of us to enroll here in order to give Bart and you guys a contact with the club," she explained, keeping her voice low. "Someone to keep him posted on assignments and to keep in touch with you just in case you need our help."

"Why you two?" Bo asked.

"Most of us attend public school. Katrina is home-schooled, so she could do it. As for me, my aunt has tutors handle my education," Rika said. "She's very protective of me, so she wasn't thrilled I decided to attend an institution. On the other hand, my grandfather was supportive."

"Your grandfather?" Blake wondered.

"The man who dropped them off," Shirley said. "He's a employee of the Knight Foundation," she added, remembering the Knight Foundation limo.

"Correct, Shirley," Rika acknowledged. "He's on the board of directors and a good friend of the Knights."

"He reminds me of my grandmother," Shirley commented. "He seems active for his age."

"He is," Rika said. "He once climbed Mt. Fuji without assistance. He has the walking staff to prove it."

"He was once head of his own company," Shirley said.

Rika was amazed at Shirley's deductive skills. "That's correct, but how...?"

"His suit was made by a prominent Italian designer. I recognized the look. Only the very wealthy can afford such a suit," Shirley pointed out.

"So your grandpa once ran a company?" Bo said. "How come he's here in Canada?"

"Grandfather was once head of a major electronics company, but after a while, he felt bored and lonely." Rika paused before continuing. "You see, my parents died while I was very young, and Grandfather was the only family I had in Japan. He had his hands full with me. Although I brightened his life, he still felt lonely. He was already a big success, yet he wanted more from life. So he sold his company for a good price and we moved to Redington, where my aunt was working in the PR department for the Knight Foundation."

"Whoa," Blake said. "How much did the company sell for?"

Rika drank her milk. "Grandfather got $5,000,000 from the sale, and with his savings, we have a small fortune."

Bo whistled. "Impressive."

"Indeed," Shirley said.

Blake spotted someone familiar. A boy with brown hair and glasses walked up to the small group with a lunch tray. His uniform seemed disorderly; the tie was barely hanging on to his collar and one pants pocket stuck out. "Hey, Bart," he greeted.

"Hey, Blake, everyone," Bart James, amateur investigator of weird happenings, answered. He noticed the two newest students of Sussex Academy. "Hi, guys."

"Hi, Bart," Rika said, trying to sound cheerful.

Katrina nodded without a word.

Bart looked at Rika and Katrina. "So Arthur made you two my contacts, huh?"

"That is correct," Katrina answered.

Shirley noticed Bart's sluggish manner. "Jet lag," she concluded.

Bart yawned. "Yep. My body's still getting used to the time."

"And your clothes," Bo said, pointing to his friend's uniform. "I'm amazed Ms. Stratmann hasn't run you down for that."

"Well, I came back late last night," Bart admitted. "I slept in, and I missed my first class." He yawned again.

"Don't worry about it, Bart," Rika reassured him. "Your status as a Knight Foundation Scholar excuses you from missed classes most of the time. In fact, you really should rest today. You've been through a lot."

"Tell me about it," Bart said, taking a seat. "I'm fine, though. Really."

"Not really," Katrina said. "You need to rest."

Shirley studied her friend. "Perhaps you should get more sleep. One of us can get your assignments."

"Speaking of assignments..." Blake decided to talk about Bart's new status as a Knight Foundation Scholar and latest member of the Strangers' Club. "How was your trip?"

"Actually, I'm not really in the mood to discuss it," Bart said.

"Oh," Blake said. "Another time?"

Bart nodded and started eating his lunch. In mid-bite, he yawned again. Shirley watched him carefully and wondered what happened on his first case as a Stranger. She was sure it was not the jet lag bothering him.

"I don't blame you," Katrina told Shirley. "However, he will come around."

Shirley stared at Katrina, then returned to her lunch. She was about to eat more when she froze.

"Shirley, what's wrong?" Bo asked, looking up from his food.

"If I recall, dessert was green Jello," Shirley noted.

The others looked at Shirley. "So?" Blake asked.

Shirley pointed to her dessert. "Then how did yellow Jello get on my tray?"

Everyone looked at Shirley's Jello. It was indeed yellow.

"What the...?" Bart's eyes widened at the sight of his green Jello. At least it was green. Now it was a bright yellow, almost golden.

The same was true for all the Jello at the table. "Talk about weird," Bo remarked, poking his dessert with his spoon. It responded by wiggling.

"That's our business," Rika said, examining her Jello closely.

"Apparently we are not the only ones who are experiencing this strange phenomenon," Katrina observed, looking around the room. All the kids were staring at their now-yellow Jellos.

"Hey, what happened?"

"Whoa, cool."

"Maybe it's some new color changing Jello?"

Bart looked around the room. Suddenly, his eyes widened in surprise when they reached the exit of the cafeteria. The others, especially Shirley, did not miss this and followed his gaze. They all saw a boy with platinum-blond hair standing there. He was probably about to leave, but he seemed to be watching everything.

"No," Bart said in a low voice, sounding shocked. "It can't be..."

"Bart?" Shirley asked. She noticed the look of surprise in his eyes.

"Hey, is that a scar?" Bo asked, seeing the boy's right cheek. "Wonder how he got that. Must have been painful."

The boy smiled and waved, then exited the cafeteria. Bart rose out of his seat.

"Bart, what's wrong?" Blake asked.

Before anyone could stop him, Bart dashed after the boy.

END OF PART TWO

The Case of the Gold Thief : Part #3

"What the...?" Bo asked as Bart ran out of the cafeteria.

"After him!" Shirley ordered. Her friends and the two Strangers joined her getting out of their seats and running after Bart, leaving their schoolmates to ponder how their Jello changed colors. No one tried to stop the young detective and her friends. The lunch monitors were trying to stop the students from eating the Jello.

Meanwhile, Bart was running after the boy he saw. The boy turned a corner and Bart followed suit. He found himself at the back of the school. The boy stood there and smiled, his hands in his pants pockets.

Despite the Sussex Academy uniform, Bart knew the boy was no student. He spotted the long scar on the boy's right cheek. "It is you," he said.

"But of course," the boy said with a sneer.

"How...?"

The boy wagged his finger. "Never underestimate us, Bart. Never."

"You're the one who did the Jello color change," Bart declared.

"Good guess," the boy said.

"Why?" Bart asked, reaching into his pocket.

"Oh, that's for me to know and your detective friend to find out," the boy answered. "I think she'll be catching up with you any moment now." He started to pull something out of his pocket. "In the meantime, we should try to settle our little score."

Bart found what he was looking for and started to pull it out. "We don't have to do this," he said, pulling out a pen-like object.

"But we have to. Defend yourself!" The boy took out his weapon. After a moment of inaction, Bart fired.

* * * * *

It was Shirley who first heard the strange noise in the distance. "Huh?"

"Sonic boomer fire," Rika concluded.

"Sonic boomer? You mean that pen-like thing?" Bo asked. He knew what one was. He saw one in action.

Rika nodded. "It came from there," she said, pointing

"It's definitely Bart," Katrina said. "His thoughts are distinct."

"What exactly is he thinking?" Blake asked.

"He was trying to be rational with someone a while ago," Katrina answered. "Now he is thinking survival."

They ran to where the sound came from. Once they reached the back of the school, they saw two boys rolling in the grass.

"That's them," Blake said, speeding up.

"Wait for me." Bo dashed after Blake.

"You hesistated, Bart," the boy said with a sickly grin, pinning the young paranormalist. He held the metal claw on his hand to Bart's face. "You could've killed me with one shot. All you did was sting me."

"I'm not you," Bart answered angrily, trying to catch his breath.

"But you are. You've got to be mad enough to kill me after what I've done." The boy got into Bart's face, showing the scar. "Look at it! It's your fault I have it! You ruined everything! Everything!"

Bart kicked the boy off him, then got up. "I didn't mean to."

The boy picked himself up and glared at Bart, then laughed. "Come on, Bart! Let's continue our little dance." He charged, his claw ready to strike.

Bart dodged the swing of the claw, then another. "Hold still, Bart! I just want to give you a gift! The same one you gave me!" the boy shouted, still swinging.

Bo tackled the boy from the side. "What's your problem?" Bo demanded, struggling to hold his prisoner.

The boy tried to take a swing at Bo, but Blake showed up and pinned the claw to the ground. "Better answer the man," he suggested.

"Why don't you ask Bart?" the boy said, grinning. He slipped his hand out of the claw and cold-cocked Bo in the face. Bo fell back and before Blake could subdue the boy, he received a sweep kick, sending him to the ground. While Bo clutched his head in pain, Blake and the boy got up and faced each other.

Blake made the first move and threw a punch. The boy sidestepped it and grabbed his arm. He delivered a punch to Blake's stomach. As he clutched his stomach, his opponent knocked him down with a kick to the face.

Bo and Blake groaned and tried to get their bearings back. The boy looked at them with disgust. "Pathetic," he said, almost spitting the word out. He looked at Bart. "You mean you never told them, Bart? They're your friends, right? Don't they have the right to know about that little swim you took? Don't they want to know what I did to Daddy?"

Enraged, Bart aimed his sonic boomer and fired repeatedly. The boy dodged all the shots, then pulled a laser gun out of his pocket. He returned fire, which Bart dodged.

"I'm surprised you didn't use that first," Bart said.

"I wanted to cut you first, Bart. Guess I'll just have to kill you the easy way." The boy was about to fire again when the gun flew out of his hand. "What?" he exclaimed.

The gun flew into Katrina's hand. Shirley and Rika ran to the fallen Bo and Blake. "Are you two okay?" Shirley asked.

"Besides the small headache and the pain in my body? I'm fine," Bo quipped as Rika helped him up.

"I'll live," Blake said as Shirley helped him up. Bo could not help but glare at him.

"So, the detective's here," the boy said, seeing Shirley. "The one Mr. E wants dead."

"Mr. E?" Blake said.

"You're an ENIGMA agent?" Shirley asked, surprised at his youth.

"One of ENIGMA's best," the boy boasted.

"Guess that explains the train," Bo said.

"Oh, that's just the beginning," the boy said, grinning. He looked behind him, then at the other kids. To Shirley, it seemed he was waiting for someone. "When we're through, you'll wish you kept your nose out of our business, little girl."

"You're really cocky for a guy who's clearly outnumbered," Rika pointed out.

The boy looked behind him again. "Where is he?" he fumed.

Bo managed to look at the boy. "What's wrong? Your ride not here yet?"

The boy growled at Bo. Rika started walking up to him, ready for a fight. "Be careful! He's stronger than he looks!" Blake warned.

"Tell me about it," Bo said, wincing from the pain and hoping nothing was broken.

"I can handle him," Rika said.

The boy faced Rika, then saw a gray car drive up at a quick speed. "Another time, I'm afraid," he said, reaching into his pocket. "My ride's here."

"Get back!" Shirley shouted as the boy pulled out something small.

"I'll kill you and your detective friend later, Bart!" the boy shouted, throwing the object to the ground. It exploded and released a large cloud of dark gas. Everyone coughed and gagged. Shirley heard a car door open and slam shut, then the sount of a car engine at full speed. The smoke cleared long enough for the young detective to see the car take off.

"Is everyone all right?" Shirley asked as the gas dissapated.

"We are all right," Katrina answered.

"We're still here, so we're okay," Bo answered, waving away some smoke.

Blake saw Bart watching the car make its high speed getaway. "Bart?" he asked.

"That was him?" Rika asked her fellow Stranger.

Bart kept his intense stare at the car. "That was him."

Rika pulled out her comlink. "I'm telling Arthur." She dialed the right number.

Bo saw the claw the boy left behind. "At least we have a clue," he said, reaching down for it. He failed to notice the flashing light on it.

Katrina noticed. "Get away from that!" she shouted. With a wave of her hand, Bo was flung a safe distance away in time, for the claw exploded. Seeing the same thing on the gun, she tossed it skyward. The weapon exploded in the air harmlessly.

"Bo!" Shirley ran up to her friend, who picked himself up from where Katrina flung him. "Are you all right?" she asked with concern.

Bo brushed himself off. "Well, my mom's going to wonder why my jeans are so dirty," he replied. "You could've just thrown the rigged weapon instead of me," he said to Katrina.

"I'm sorry, but saving you came first to my mind," Katrina said.

Shirley watched the smoke clear in the sky and on the ground. "Apparently ENIGMA doesn't want any of their little toys to fall into enemy hands."

"That's a definite," Rika said in agreement.

"Bart, who was that guy?" Blake asked, facing the young paranormalist. "He seemed to know you."

Bart said nothing to his friend. "Well?" he asked Rika, who was finished talking on her comlink.

"Arthur's informed everyone who's not off on a case," Rika replied. "Problem is, almost everyone's off on a case. We got two of the Think Tank still in Redington, but not much."

"Is Susan on a case?" Bart asked.

"Yes," Rika answered. "She's went with Lucy to investigate a ghost sighting in Texas."

"When did they leave?" Bart asked.

"An hour ago," Katrina answered, checking her watch.

"That's good. At least she'll be safe," Bart said. "Better to face a ghost than him."

Shirley and Bo walked up to Bart. "What's going on, Bart?" Bo asked. "Who was that guy?"

Recalling something, Bart gave Shirley a serious look. "I have information on ENIGMA that you'll like," he said. "It's very important."

"Information on ENIGMA?" Blake asked. "My dad would be interested."

"Um, can it wait?" Bo said urgently. He saw people heading their way. He recognized the forms of Ms. Stratmann and two other teachers. "I really don't want to explain what just happened here."

"You won't," Katrina said. The silver-haired psychic closed her eyes, then opened them after a minute. "Problem solved."

"What do you mean by that?" Shirley asked.

"You'll find out," Rika said, grinning.

Ms. Stratmann arrived on the scene. Standing in front of the kids, she spotted the burnt spot where the claw was once. "What in the world?" she exclaimed. "I guess that's where the explosions happened." She scanned the area. "And no one in plain sight. How typical. They always leave the scene of the crime."

Bo blinked. "'No one in plain sight'? What is she talking about? She's standing right next to us."

"Maybe it was some juvenile delinquents with firecrackers?" one teacher asked. Shirley noticed he was unaware of their presence.

"Could be," the other said.

The kids watched as Ms. Stratmann huffed and paced. "First all the gelatin turns yellow, then this. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a normal day."

"We should leave," Katrina recommended.

"We should," Shirley agreed.

"Good idea," Bo said, a little creeped out. "Let's go."

As they left Ms. Stratmann and the two teachers to ponder what happened, Blake looked at Katrina. "What did you do?" he asked.

"I clouded their minds so they couldn't see and hear us," Katrina answered without looking into Blake's face.

"You what?" Bo exclaimed.

"She placed a thought in their heads to make them believe no one was here," Rika explained.

"It isn't the only time she did this," Shirley pointed out.

"Huh?" Blake said, confused.

"Ms. Stratmann is a stickler for order, and I doubt she approves of your real hair color," Shirley said to Katrina. "I've observed how normal she acts around you while everyone stares. Therefore, you planted a suggestion in her mind your hair color is normal."

"To be accurate, black," Katrina responded.

"Why not make the entire school think that your hair is black?" Blake asked. "It might avoid all that staring."

"I got used to it," Katrina replied. "Besides, Ms. Stratmann's the main problem."

"Ever heard of hair dye?" Bo asked. Katrina responded with a cold stare. "Um, guess that's not an option," he said, a little unnerved by the girl's icy-blue eyes.

"Let's go," Rika recommended. "Katrina can't keep both illusions up for long."

"I can," Katrina assured her.

"Still, we can't stay invisible to everyone for long," Rika reminded her fellow Stranger.

"True," Katrina acknowledged.

Shirley, her friends, and the Strangers left the scene of the fight. Once out of the area, Katrina deactivated the mental illusion and all of them returned to the cafeteria as if nothing happened. They found their schoolmates still studying the changed Jello. Shirley grabbed a Ziploc bag out of her backpack and dumped hers inside.

"Take-out?" Bo joked.

"Sample for analysis," Shirley answered.

"Let's hope no one got poisoned," Blake said.

Bart looked around. "You and me both, Blake," he said with a seriousness unlike him. "You and me both."

* * * * *

In the getaway vehicle, the boy glared at the driver. "You're late," he said angrily as he put away the self-destruct device.

The ENIGMA agent behind the wheel gulped. "I'm sorry, Number Nine-Nine, but traffic was difficult to navigate through."

"Excuses, excuses," the boy grumbled.

Both heard a beep. The ENIGMA agent touched a button on the panel. "Sir, it's a transmission from Number Nine."

"Patch it in to my monitor," Number Nine-Nine ordered.

The ENIGMA agent obeyed, and the metal-masked face of Number Nine appeared on the monitor before Number Nine-Nine. "ENIGMA forever!" he saluted.

"Did you accomplish your task?" Number Nine asked.

"Oui, Uncle," Number Nine-Nine answered. "The Jello changed color, just as you predicted."

"A little hint for our resident detective. Were you spotted?"

"An old acquaintance recognized me. The detective saw me as well."

"Hmmmmm...you do know the Red Zone Directive, correct?"

"Oui, but I was outnumbered, Uncle. I had Bart all to myself, then his friends had to show up and ruin everything."

"Don't lose your focus, Number Nine-Nine. The detective is a greater threat to ENIGMA than some budding ghost chaser. Rendezvous with me so we can carry out the next part of our plan."

"Oui, Uncle," Number Nine-Nine answered.

"As for the James boy, deal with him after we complete our objectives. Consider it a perk." The screen went off.

"Nnnnnnnngh!" Number Nine-Nine doubled up in pain suddenly. He clutched his chest and increased his breathing. Sweat squeezed out of his pores.

"Sir, are you all right?" the ENIGMA agent asked.

"I'm fine!" Number Nine-Nine reached into his pocket and pulled out a medicine vial. Snapping off the cap, he shook a number of blue pills out. Not caring if he was over the recommended dosage, he tossed them into his mouth and chewed them like they were candy.

"Sir?" the ENIGMA agent asked.

Number Nine-Nine took deep breaths, relieved the pain had subsided. "I am fine," he answered as he gasped for air and wiped his brow. "Take me to my uncle at once."

"Yes, sir," the ENIGMA agent said.

Regaining his composure, Number Nine-Nine stroked the scar, his eyes widening with each touch. "Oh, it won't be long, Bart. We'll get rid of your detective friend and I'll make you pay for ruining my beautiful face. Oh yes, you'll pay dearly." He giggled madly as he continued to stroke his scar.

Unnerved by his superior, the ENIGMA agent tried his best to focus on the road.

* * * * *

"It's called the Red Zone Directive," Bart said to his friends in his dorm room after school. Shirley and the others went there to get the information Bart had. The junior detective listened as the budding paranormalist continued. "ENIGMA sees you as a big threat to their operations, Shirley, so they authorized their top agents to handle assignments in Redington and the surrounding area. That's the Red Zone. They know you love mysteries, so if you show up to interfere, they'll kill you."

"In other words, ENIGMA's painted a big bullseye on Shirley," Bo said.

"They're going to send their best, huh?" Blake said. "Any info about them, Bart?"

"They're powerful and are known as the Elite Eight. They make up ENIGMA's High Command and answer only to Mr. E and Number One," Bart replied. "They're the only ones who know who Mr. E is."

"Well, that's wonderful," Bo remarked.

"That's not the worst part," Bart said solemnly.

"There's more?" Bo said.

"ENIGMA has files on everyone, Shirley," Bart informed the budding sleuth. "You, Bo, Blake, Stink, Alicia, Molly, your family...they have files. Very extensive files. They know everything about us."

"Not a good sign," Blake said.

"You got that right," Bo agreed.

"Who was your source?" Shirley asked. Bart bowed his head and said nothing, which told Shirley all she needed. "It was that boy, wasn't it?"

Bart broke his silence and faced Shirley. "He was bragging to me how the Elite Eight would kill you. How they'd present your head as a trophy to Mr. E at Shadow Axis."

"Shadow Axis?" Blake wondered.

"The code name for ENIGMA's main base," Bart explained.

"That's nice. Now if only we knew where ENIGMA's main base was," Bo said snidely.

"And who Mr. E is," Blake added seriously. "I have a score to settle with him."

Shirley looked at her friend with concern. She could not blame Blake for being angry with the criminal mastermind. ENIGMA did try to kill his father. She returned her attention to Bart. "Who was that boy?" she asked again. Getting no answer, she turned to Rika, who had accompanied them. Katrina had gone home, citing that something needed her attention. "Do you know who he is?" she asked the Stranger.

Rika nodded, then looked at Bart. "Bart, Shirley is your friend. You have to tell her and the others what happened."

Bart hesistated. "Bart, what happened on that case?" Blake asked kindly.

Bart looked at Shirley, then at Blake, and lastly at Bo. He sighed. "I guess I should. Besides, you'll find out sooner or later, Shirley."

"Who was that boy?" Shirley asked.

Bart took a deep breath. "His rank is Number Nine-Nine. My group encountered him while we were helping the Bigfeet."

"Bigfeet?" Bo realized something. "You mean as in Bigfoot?"

"That's correct," Rika said. "Bart and his group helped them escape some hunters looking to exhibit them for their own profit." She smiled at Bart. "He was the hero of that case."

"Bart? A hero?" Bo was astonished. "Our Bart?"

"I did what I had to do," Bart said.

"What happened?" Bo asked.

Bart took another deep breath before starting his tale. "My first case as a member of the Strangers' Club was to assist in helping a family of Bigfeet migrate to the northern mountains. Unfortunately, one of the kids was spotted by a camper, and soon a lot of hunters showed up. One of them was Number Nine-Nine, who was hired to bring at least one Bigfoot to some rich guy in France."

"You succeeded, right?" Blake asked.

"Yeah, but not before things got complicated," Bart answered.

"How?" Shirley asked.

"Well, we were able to get the family out of there and thwart the hunters. We managed to get rid of most of them."

"Most of them?" Bo asked.

Shirley understood. "Number Nine-Nine remained."

Bart nodded. "ENIGMA had a base underneath the nearby lake," he revealed. "Number Nine-Nine wasn't happy he didn't catch a Bigfoot, so he sent out agents to catch one. From what I've seen, he doesn't like to fail."

"How do you know all this?" Blake asked.

"Because I snuck into the base by myself," Bart said.

"And why would you do a stupid thing like that?" Bo asked, amazed Bart would take such a risk.

After a pause, Bart spoke. "Because he took Susan."

END OF PART THREE

The Case of the Gold Thief : Part #4

"What?" Bo responded.

Bart continued. "He took Susan while we were talking outside the motel we were staying at."

"What were you talking about?" Shirley inquired.

Bart bowed his head. The young detective noticed a creeping blush on her friend's face. "Um, anyway, we were talking, then I was hit on the head from behind. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Number Nine-Nine and some ENIGMA agents taking Susan away." He closed his eyes. "I can remember his exact words as he took Susan away. 'Can you save her, Bart? Can you?'"

"So you just went after them by yourself?" Blake asked.

"As soon as I was up," Bart answered. "Hiroshi was the one who found me."

"How did you find the base?" Shirley asked. "I don't think this Number Nine-Nine told you directly."

"Yeah, Bart. ENIGMA agents aren't exactly direct," Bo commented.

"He told me," Bart said. "He used a riddle."

"Do you remember it?" Shirley asked.

"I can't forget it," Bart said, then recited the riddle. "'It can give life and take it away. It can change shape and form. It can be comfortable or not. What is it?'" "Water," Shirley answered without a second thought. "It's necessary for people to live, but it can be poisoned or people can drown in it. It can be a liquid, a gas, and a solid. It can be comfortable if hot and uncomfortable if cold."

Bo scoffed. "That was an easy one."

"I believe that was the point," Rika remarked.

"What happened next?" Blake asked.

"Well, I went alone after making Hiroshi promise not to tell anyone," Bart recalled.

"And why would you do a stupid thing like that?" Bo asked. "I think if you're going to storm an ENIGMA hideout, you'll need a few Strangers to back you up."

"On further reflection, that would've been a good idea," Bart sighed. "However, I wanted to prove to the others I could handle myself, especially after everyone else kept saving my life. I wanted to prove what I did wasn't just a fluke. Besides..." He bowed his head and spoke in a barely audible voice. "It was my fault. I should've been ready for them."

"They took you by surprise, Bart," Rika said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have known."

"We can't know the future until it happens," Shirley said to her friend.

"At least not you," Bo said. "I can't say the same for the other Strangers, though."

Bart cracked a smile. "Well, none of us can see into the future. Not even Katrina."

"I presume you were captured," Shirley stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," Bart admitted. "I found the entrance to the lake base. They were waiting for me."

"What did they do to you?" Blake asked.

Bart took a deep breath. "Besides the constant bragging I endured from Number Nine-Nine while I was tied in a chair, I had to watch him torture Daddy with a cattle prod."

"'Daddy'?" Shirley asked, blinking.

"The Bigfoot father," Bart explained. "ENIGMA caught him straggling. They locked him in a cage for transport to their employer." He sighed. "He just kept shocking him. Zap, zap, zap." With each "zap," Bart pretended to thrust something. "He kept taunting him. Laughing at him."

"A sadist," Shirley observed.

"Definitely loves his work," Bo commented.

"What happened to Susan?" Blake asked.

"They had her blindfolded and tied up in a dark room," Bart answered. "They didn't do anything to her. They just left her there. I found her after the other Strangers stormed the place."

Rika rolled her eyes. "Hiroshi was never good at keeping his mouth shut. In this case, it was a good thing."

"So you and the Strangers kicked ENIGMA butt, huh?" Bo asked excitedly.

"Yeah," Bart said. "We freed Daddy and we tried to get out, but Number Nine-Nine tried to stop us."

"By himself?" Blake asked, a little surprised.

"From what I've seen earlier, Number Nine-Nine's tougher than he looks," Shirley recalled.

"Tell me about it. I'm still feeling the pain he dished out," Bo said, feeling the places where he was hit. "How'd you get away, Bart?"

"I didn't," Bart answered gravely.

Bo's ears perked up. "Come again?"

"I became a decoy," Bart explained. "Since Number Nine-Nine hated me so much, I drew him away from the others while they escaped. I lured him to a faraway place, but I was trapped. Then he fired a missile..."

"A missile?" Bo asked.

"Take my word for it. It was a missile," Bart said. "Unfortunately for him, the wall behind me kept the water out. Also, one of the Strangers went back for me and got me out of the way in time..."

"And the explosion broke the barrier between the base and the lake, causing a flood," Shirley concluded. "You were caught in it."

Bart forced the words out of his mouth. "It happened too fast. We tried to get away, but we were overwhelmed." Shirley noticed that Bart was shaking a little. "I felt my lungs fill up with water and I blacked out."

"But someone rescued you and your fellow Stranger," Shirley said.

"The Bigfoot and Damian rescued them in time," Rika stated.

"Damian? As in Lucy Knight's cousin? The creepy guy in black?" Bo asked. He pictured a tall boy with pale skin wearing a black coat and gloves.

"The one and the same," Rika said with a smile. "Good thing Susan knew CPR, right, Bart?"

Everyone watched as blood flooded Bart's face. "Uh, right," he said nervously.

"Well, that was a great way to come back to life," Blake said with a grin.

Shirley looked at Rika, but it was Bo who gave voice to what she had on her mind. "He could have been killed."

"But he wasn't," Rika said reassuringly. "We Strangers stick together and we've never lost a member."

"It better stay that way," Bo said, giving Rika a look.

"I'm fine, guys," Bart said.

"Until you saw Number Nine-Nine," Shirley pointed out. "You thought he drowned in the flood."

Bart nodded. "Some of the other Strangers thought he survived. I sure didn't. At least until he showed up in the cafeteria."

"Why has he exhibited such feelings of animosity towards you?" Shirley asked.

"Did you see the scar on his face?" Bart replied.

"Yeah," Bo said. "It was a nasty one."

"I gave him that scar," Bart revealed.

"You?" Blake said, surprised. During the time he lived in Redington, Blake did not see Bart as being the aggressive type.

"It was an accident," Bart said. He dug into his pocket and showed his sonic boomer "I had this. He had a bigger one. I fired just as he was about to. My shot hit his. His weapon exploded and a piece of shrapnel made that scar."

"So he wants you dead because of an accident," Bo stated. "The guy needs help from a shrink. Major help."

Rika studied Shirley's face. "You don't look surprised about the existence of a boy being an ENIGMA agent."

"Blake's father mentioned once ENIGMA employed young people in their crimes," Shirley recalled.

"Yeah, but they were usually dupes," Blake added. "In the cases my dad researched, he never found any instances of child ENIGMA agents."

"There's got to be a first time for everything," Bo quipped.

A low beeping sounded off. Shirley searched for the source and noticed it was coming from Bart and Rika. Both Bart and Rika reached into their pockets and pulled out their comlinks. Bart was the first to answer. "Bart here," he said.

"Ah, Bart." Everyone recognized the voice of Arthur Kingston. "There's something that might interest Shirley. She's with you, correct?"

"Y-yes," Bart said with some surprise. "She's right here."

"May I speak to her?" Arthur asked.

Bart held out his comlink to Shirley. "He wants to speak to you."

Shirley took the comlink and found herself looking at the bespectacled face of Arthur Kingston. "Hello, Shirley," the president of the Strangers' Club greeted, his red pipe in his hand.

"Arthur," Shirley said with a nod. "What is it?"

"You may want to go to the middle of town," Arthur replied, adjusting his glasses. "There's something there that might interest you."

* * * * *

After thanking Arthur, Shirley and her friends rushed to the middle of town. On their way, they passed backed-up cars filled with impatient drivers. Some honked their horns. Others swore. One yelled at a nearby policeman, "Hey, what's going on?"

Shirley observed the policeman was as baffled as everyone else. "Believe me, sir, I'm trying to figure that out," the teen-age sleuth heard the policeman reply.

"Man, talk about a traffic jam," Bo complained over the noise as he and the others walked on the sidewalk.

"Indeed," Shirley said.

"Reminds me of Tokyo traffic on a bad day," Rika commented as her gaze fell on the long lines of cars.

Blake followed Bart. "Hey, Bart," he said to his friend.

"Yes, Blake?" Bart asked.

"Just out of curiosity, where did you get that jacket?" Blake inquired. The new Stranger was wearing a gray-and-black sports jacket with alien faces on the front and back.

"Susan gave it to me as a welcoming gift," Bart answered.

"You two have really hit it off, huh?" Blake said.

"You could say that," Bart said, blushing again.

"Oh boy," Bo said, rolling his eyes.

Rika pointed to the front. "There's the source of the problem."

The kids hurried to the spot and saw the cause of the traffic jam. "Looks a lot bigger than it did on the comlink screen," Bo commented.

A large platform with a dome on top sat in the middle of the intersection. Cars surrounded it from all sides. The drivers honked endlessly at it without any response.

"I'm seeing a pattern," Shirley stated, noticing the vehicle's golden hue.

"I'm seeing the local law," Bo said, pointing out the number of policemen surrounding the mysterious vehicle. Two men in suits were directing the officers in examining it and keeping onlookers from getting too close.

"Dad?" Blake said, recognizing one of them.

"And Detective Tremain," Bo said, recognizing the other.

"Know him?" Bart asked Bo.

"Yep," Bo answered.

"Come on," Shirley told her friends as she advanced towards Inspector Christopher Hewitt.

A policeman spotted the junior sleuth and her friends. "Hold it right there! This scene is off-limits!" he warned.

Inspector Hewitt spotted them. He looked relieved upon seeing the great-grandniece of Sherlock Holmes. "Let them through!" he shouted.

"Sir?" The officer looked at his superior with a puzzled look.

"It's my son," Inspector Hewitt said, pointing to Blake. "He's bringing me something I asked for. Isn't that right, Blake?"

"Sure, Dad," Blake said, playing along. "You forgot your...um..." He dug into his pocket and yanked out the first thing he found. "...your lucky...handkerchief!" He held up a green handkerchief decorated with shamrocks.

"Thanks, son!" Inspector Hewitt turned to the officer. "I'll handle this. You help the others keep the passers-by away from this thing."

Once the officer joined the other policemen, Shirley and the others joined Inspector Hewitt. Detective Tremain walked up to the group. "Why is it that you always show up when there's trouble, Princess?" he asked Shirley.

"What's going on?" the teen-age sleuth asked the Interpol inspector.

"Apparently this thing came out of nowhere and landed in the middle of this intersection," Inspector Hewitt explained, pointing to the domed platform. "Witnesses said it just drove up out of nowhere."

"I can see that," Shirley said, eyeing the tank treads on the platform's sides.

"Hold on a minute," Bo said, holding up his hand. "This thing just rolled in here? Why? To tie up traffic?" Bo had to raise his voice over the shouting and honking.

"They're doing a good job so far," Bart said, observing the large number of angry drivers and curious bystanders.

"I assume you know who's behind this?" Inspector Hewitt asked Shirley and her friends.

"Who else would?" Shirley said matter-of-factly.

"Just the friendly folks down at Shadow Axis," Bo quipped.

Inspector Hewitt blinked. "Shadow what?"

"Come again?" Detective Tremain asked.

"Shadow Axis. That's the name of ENIGMA's main base," Blake explained to his father.

"Interesting." Inspector Hewitt rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. "You guys really have to let me know where you get your information."

"No kidding," Detective Tremain grumbled, wondering how a few kids knew more about a secret organization than the police.

"We'll tell you everything, Dad," Blake said. "Right?" he asked Bart.

"Definitely," Bart answered with a nod.

Thanks, guys. I'd appreciate it," Inspector Hewitt said.

"Look!" Rika exclaimed, pointing to the dome.

All eyes watched as the dome rose from the platform, revealing a column with four circles. The top of the dome opened, followed by the column's circles. The sound of turning gears preceded cannons rolling out of the holes.

"I don't like this," Bo said, wide-eyed at the sight.

"I'd better take care of this," Bart reached into his pocket, but Rika shook her head.

For a while, silence dominated the intersection. It was broken by a loud ticking sound. Shirley was the first to hear it. "I think it's time to evacuate," she recommended to Inspector Hewitt.

The police inspector nodded. "Get out of your cars now! It's about to fire!"

"Run!" Blake shouted.

Detective Tremain started waving in the air. "Everyone get back! Now!"

Shirley and her friends did not need a second warning. They ran as far as their legs could take them. Drivers abandoned their cars and bolted off. Pedestrians ran away. Detective Tremain and the policemen tried to maintain an orderly evacuation, but it was no use. Still curious, some people chose to hide behind the cars and anything else that could pass for a barrier.

To Bo's surprise, Shirley stopped running. "Are you nuts?" he yelled to his best friend.

"We have to find out what it is," Shirley said. "This could be it."

"You mean this could be ENIGMA's puzzle?" Inspector Hewitt asked.

"It has to be," Shirley said.

"Behind there!" Rika shouted, pointing to a car located a good distance from the machine.

Shirley, her friends, and Inspector Hewitt stopped running and took cover. The machine stopped ticking. Its side cannons tilted upward.

"This is it," Bart said.

"The moment of truth," Blake said.

"Yeah," Bo said. "I hope we're still around to see it."

The machine's cannons roared to life at once, launching tiny egg-shaped projectiles into the sky. Once reaching a high-enough altitude, they exploded, releasing clouds of gold dust.

The people held out their hands and studied the fine particles raining down on them with awe. "Hmmmmmmmm," Shirley said as she examined the minute golden specks in her hand. "Nothing but gold-colored glitter."

"That's a relief," Bart said.

"Unless they poisoned it," Rika mentioned.

"Gee, thanks for the comforting thought, Rika." Bo started to brush gold dust out of his hair only to get more. "What was that all about?"

"Guys, the dome!" Blake pointed at the machine. The dome's side panels fell off and landed on the street with a loud clang.

"There seems to be some sort of markings on the dome," Shirley said, perceiving something through the golden rain. Before anyone could stop her, she ran towards the machine. Inspector Hewitt followed suit.

"Shirley!" Bo shouted with concern. He ran after her reluctantly. Blake, Bart, and Rika dashed after him without a second thought.

Brushing gold glitter off his balding head and suit, Detective Tremain marched up to the machine. "Stay back!" he shouted to the bystanders. "Let the police handle this!"

Reaching the machine first, Shirley and Inspector Hewitt studied the markings on the dome. "Stick figures?" Inspector Hewitt exclaimed.

"Upside-down stick figures," Shirley stated upon taking a closer look. The drawings in question were engaged in various activities. As Shirley and the inspector walked around the machine, they saw stick figures engaged in running, wrestling, discus-throwing, and other sports.

Bo and the others reached the machine. "Stick figures?" he said upon seeing the dome.

"That's what I said," Inspector Hewitt commented.

"Shhhhhhhh." Shirley's ears picked up a tiny noise from the machine. "Listen."

The machine came back to life, but this time in audio form. Everyone was treated to a loud "Wwwwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Everyone covered their ears. "What was that all about?" Bo asked, wincing.

Before anyone could offer an answer, the machine spoke again. "Wwwwwwaaaaaaahhhh! Why did I lose? I was in the lead, and then that jerk cheated! Yeah, that's what he did! He cheated! Cheated! Cheated!"

As the message repeated itself, Shirley studied the machine closely. "This thing is an interesting clue," she muttered, trying her best to maintain her hearing.

"Weird is more like it!" Bo said, trying to speak over the message. "Whoever came up with this had a strange sense of humor!"

"Wwwwwwaaaaaaahhhh...!"

"This is worse than that banshee we faced in Ireland!" Rika shouted to Bart.

"This is worse than Hiroshi's snoring!" Bart shouted back.

"What are you looking for, Shirley?" Blake asked the young detective.

"Anything extra!" Shirley answered. "With ENIGMA, you have to examine things very closely." She gazed on the drawings and tried to figure out their significance. Around her, people watched as the gold glitter continued to snow down on them.

* * * * *

Number Nine watched the scene from a rooftop. His left eye focused on the young detective as she examined the golden dome while the gold dust continued to fall. "Ah, perfect. Just as I calculated," he said. Perched on the ENIGMA agent's shoulder, Mojo beeped its excitement. "Yes, Mojo. Now we may begin."

"Indeed, Uncle," Number Nine-Nine agreed as he put down his binoculars. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform reminiscent of the Napoleonic wars, white pants, and black high boots. He wore a white helmet with a face mask that covered his eyes. The scar was exposed. "We've got them," he said, rubbing his gloved hands together and grinning evilly. "Bart and Shirley Holmes together. We can get rid of them both."

Number Nine turned to his nephew. "Remember, the Holmes girl is our main target," he told him sternly. "Never forget that." Mojo added its own beeps of disapproval while wagging its little finger.

"Of course," Number Nine-Nine said with his head bowed.

"Is everything in place?" Number Nine asked a nearby subordinate with a remote control.

"Yes, sir," the lesser agent answered.

"Good." Number Nine looked down. "Everyone will be too busy to notice. That is, until it's too late."

"That is correct, Uncle," Number Nine-Nine agreed, studying the people below. "They're too busy wondering about their unexpected rain of glitter."

Number Nine touched the side of his mask, activating a two-way microphone. "Take care of the target now."

Standing unnoticed in a nearby alley, a cloaked figure with a cowboy hat brought out a rifle. It aimed the crowd and got Shirley in its gunsight. Its finger was about to pull the trigger.

Number Nine-Nine looked at the teen-age sleuth through his binoculars. "Bye, bye, Shirley Holmes," he said, giggling.

Mojo beeped with joy. Knowing that Shirley was oblivious to the danger she was in, Number Nine grinned behind his mask. "Adieu, ma jeune detective."

The shooter pulled the trigger.

END OF PART FOUR

The Case of the Gold Thief : Part #5

Bo watched as Shirley continued to examine the golden machine. He turned around to brush off more gold glitter. His eyes went wide when he saw someone in a nearby alley. To be more precise, his eyes went wide when he saw the rifle in the figure's hands. Realizing who was going to be shot, Bo ran towards his best friend. Behind him, the rifle fired.