In Europe’s history books, it’s filled with their beginnings and most significant achievements. A few countries have a few “mistakes” that must be mentioned to prevent a remake. All of them have one thing in common: they have an infamous thief problem that has never been solved. Souris.
Of course, they never officially write it in their books. Whenever their precious historical artifact was stolen, they changed the story. Such as the “Tiara de la Paz” back in 1835, when five-year-old Isabella II of Spain wore the gold and diamond tiara, signifying peace for the children and a new era for the country. Souris sneaks in during a ball, and after giving a toast to the victory of a battle, the tiara was gone. According to the history books, it was taken in a catacomb during an attack on Madrid, never to be seen again.
Many others were lost by the hands of Souris. La Bague de Dévotion, Gioiello di Luce, Crown of Genesis. Everyone knows they were stolen, but only God knows where Souris is. Many religious historians wouldn’t be surprised if Souris has the mythical Apple of Eden.
Nowadays, Souris’ thefts have been censored, fearing paranoia about the truth of their inability to capture the robber for hundreds of years. It’s now been an urban legend for the French. If Souris really existed, why didn’t he/she steal the paintings in Musée du Louvre by now? Is the technology too much for him/her to handle? Is it because everyone is on their phones and can easily expose the disguise before the heist? It’s about to be challenged in San Antonio, Texas.
***
It’s just another day in the big city. The sun is out in the clear skies of the summer. Hundreds of cars stuck on the interstate during the morning rush. The kids are playing in the playgrounds or running around with a soccer ball. And at City Hall, the mayor, Mr. Minna, arrives with his latte and briefcase for his work. Inside the main foyer, the mayor walks by the empty chairs on his left and the TVs on the wall play the sports news.
No complaints is a good day, he thought. When he enters his office, he hangs his suit, places his case next to the desk, and takes a sip of his drink before sitting down.
“Hmm?” The mayor notices a black card on his desk. He sees it blank until he flips it.
The black card reads in white font calligraphy, ”I am going to steal the Black Lion tonight—Souris.”
The mayor knows what the Black Lion is, and knowing the credible threat, he calls his secretary. “Mrs. Verna? Can you please come in for a second?”
“Yes?” She asks.
“What time did you arrive here today?”
“An hour ago, why?”
“Did you go to my office to drop off mail?”
“No, I haven’t had a chance to do that.”
“Any idea who this ‘Sour-is’ person?”
“Sour-is?”
He hands her the black card as he isn’t sure if he said it right. “Yeah, I never heard of this word before.”
“That’s because it’s French. And it’s pronounced ‘La-sou-e.’”
“Really?” And he decides to give it a try. “Hmm. Lass-so-ree.” His Texan accent butchers the language. “How do you know how to say it?”
“I studied in France when I was in college. And you might want to call the Samaritan and the Police Department.”
“Why?”
“This is a bad sign. Trust me.”
The mayor picks up his phone and does so, “…Get me the Sheriff and the Samaritan ASAP.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, they’re on their way, mind telling me what’s the big deal of this lass-so-ree?”
***
In the sheriff’s office, the leader of the police has already received word. As he puts on his blazer, gold badge, belt with the handgun attached, and his black cowboy hat, he puts his phone on speaker as the ringing waits for the other end to pick up.
“Sup, Wheeler.”
“Hey Rod! Where you at?”
“In the locker room. I have to train with the other cops today.”
“Not today, you’re not. Get dressed as the Samaritan, we’re summoned by the mayor.”
“If this is that stupid ‘Heroic Brutality’ lecture again, I’m just going to taser myself in the face.”
“It sounds like he’s in a hurry, so I doubt it. Meet me at the motorpool gate.”
“Got it, Boss.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, the door opens with Mrs. Verna introducing the two guests.
“The Samaritan and Sheriff Daniel Wheeler.”
The Samaritan appears in his unzipped black leather bulletproof jacket with his black jeans and steel toe boots. The city hero wears the voice modifying, A.I. assisting, dark silver crusader mask. The mask is what he’s most known for.
“Gentlemen, I have some bad news. Take a seat.” They both do and the mayor begins. “Have any of you two been to our city museum?”
Both men were silent and didn’t dare to look the mayor in the eyes. Daniel was tapping his fingers on his lap and Rod was scratching his nose, at least where it’s supposed to be when he’s not wearing his dark gray crusader mask. “Really, Samaritan? Don’t you tour all the public places here?”
“I-I’ve been meaning to.” Rod struggles to speak while making contact. “I heard the security there is top-notch, so I never bothered.”
“Our museum has the ‘Black Lion.’ Ever heard of it?”
“No,” the sheriff said as Rod tries to make a connection.
“I’ve seen pictures of a black lion. It’s pretty cool with the all-black fur and mane. I think it’s called ‘Melanism.’”
Mr. Minna rolls his eyes before yelling at the city’s hero.
“It’s a black diamond in the shape of a lion, you idiot!”
“…Yes sir.”
The sheriff jumps to the purpose of this meeting.
“So someone’s trying to break in and steal it?”
“Not just someone: a legendary thief. Mrs. Verna?”
His secretary takes the center and explains everything.
“In all of Europe, spanning over two-hundred years, was Souris. You won’t find him on any official history books, but he’s still talked about today. He has stolen many artifacts, prototypes, rare animals, you name it.”
“Prototypes?”
“It’s been said that Italy was creating airplanes before the Wright Brothers, although the blueprints and prototype were stolen overnight.”
Sheriff turns to his battle buddy.
“How come you never heard of this, Samaritan? You lived in Germany for a year. You should’ve heard something.”
“I was in and out of the U.S. Army hospitals. I never had any time to fully embrace Deutschland culture.”
“That makes sense. Nice to see that your arm hasn’t been broken since.”
Mayor Menna asks for politeness, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Can she continue?”
They both look back at their history teacher.
“According to the legends, Souris leaves a card to reveal where he’s going to strike next and what date. Looks like it’s true.” She hands the Sheriff the proof, and he reads the supposed date out loud.
“Tonight?”
“But Game Seven is tonight.”
The mayor asks why this correlates with the situation.
“Why? Texas was eliminated in the playoffs.”
“The two teams never won a championship in over seventy years. And sheriff and I are from Illinois so—”
“Shut up.”
“…K…”
Mrs. Verna informs them of the skills of the mysterious thief.
“The last time Souris has stolen was during World War II in Berlin. Nazi artifacts before Hitler’s suicide.”
“I definitely remember not seeing any Nazi memorabilia in the museums. I figured they were destroyed. But stealing them? And when Hitler was alive? That’s unheard of.”
“Some historians say that was the omen of their imminent defeat.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I studied in France when I was in college. There was a class all about Souris.”
“Is there any way to stop him?”
“If there were, he would’ve been stopped by now.”
The masked hero crosses his arms to think of a plan. Mayor Menna finishes with their briefing.
“Well, Samaritan, this is your biggest mission yet. Stop Mouse at all costs. The fate of American treasures is on your hands. You know I don’t have much faith in you, but you’ve always proved me wrong.”
“Thanks…who’s Mouse?”
“The Thief. Were you not paying attention?”
“She was talking about Souris.”
“That’s the English word of lass-so-ree! Mouse!”
“How was I supposed to know? I never took French!”
“Alright, both of you calm down!” Sheriff Wheeler shouts to stop their argument. “Mr. Minna, I can assure you the Samaritan will rise up to the situation. We’ve seen it happen and damages were at a minimum. We’re going to recon the museum and look for weaknesses. We will plan accordingly.”
Mayor sighs and grants them permission.
“Do what you have to do. That includes your Heroic Brutality.” The meeting ends and Rod and Wheeler leave the office. Mr. Minna gives an order to his secretary: “Get me aspirin.”
***
The Samaritan and Sheriff walk their way to the car with questions they should’ve asked sooner. When no one was looking, the hero quickly changed into the police uniform to blend in, without the cowboy hat, unlike his friend.
“Did Mouse ever say what time he’ll strike?” Rod asks.
“Tonight,” he said after reading his notes. “Nothing specific.”
“So, how are we going to make this work?”
“We’ll have patrols.”
“We can’t have the public think that police are going to do something big. They figure it out and they might help Mouse.” Wheeler stops walking, realizing how big of a problem it could be if the media gout a hold of this.
“You’ve seen this happen before?”
“…In La Máscara de Zorro.”
“Is that a movie?”
“…Yes.” He was just trying to help out and apparently failing. Wheeler began walking again as Rod followed. “It could happen, you know. We need the cops to go undercover so they can spot out the ‘new guy.’”
“I like the plan so far. But before we go too deep into this, let’s go check it out. Maybe it’s too big to steal by hand.”
A half hour later, they both changed into civilian clothing and gazed upon the black diamond for the first time. It turns out to be masterly crafted and the size of a water bottle. The sign below says it’s over 25,000 carats and worth over $100 million. Just looking at it for a few seconds, it made both men agree on their future threat.
“…I’d steal it,” Rod said, knowing how valuable it is to the world. Wheeler agrees.
“I know, right? How did we not show up here sooner?”
“We never had anything happen here?” Rod assumes.
“But how is that possible? This thing is worth over a hundred million. We should be getting arrests every week here.”
“Maybe it’s because they know what the Samaritan could do?”
“And the mayor complains about ‘Heroic Brutality.’”
***
Knowing what it looks like and how valuable it is to the city, they need to come up with a better plan than just having policemen walking around the museum undercover. The two are sitting on a bench, within eyesight of where the treasure is. Rod is typing on his DOS laptop he brought for the trip.
“Find anything?” Wheeler asks while drinking coffee. The hero is looking at the blueprints of the building and picturing scenarios of how he would steal it.
“I can think of a few escape routes Mouse could take,” he said, highlighting the possible exits before showing Wheeler. “This can be prevented, but it relies on your men’s awareness and if they can work in the dark, or in air vents.”
“Don’t remind me.” With their recent unappealing track record, he doesn’t have that much confidence in his men. The Samaritan is the opposite, as he always stops the crime by a miracle.
Rod speaks about a hypothesis.
“Mouse has to be from the circus; no special military would ever teach this stuff. On the other hand, France does have parkour schools. He’s gotta be a teacher or something.”
“Are you going to need Phoebe for this?” Wheeler asks about Rod’s own parkour teacher.
“She’ll be late, but she knows the situation we’re in. She said she’s bringing traps of her own.”
“Good. We can also use her as bait and get her to lead Mouse to us.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Daniel stands up so he can throw away his cup. Rod remains in his seat, still looking around for a counter attack.
“I’ll be checking the perimeter,” Wheeler says. “I’ll send you pictures of what I see.”
“I’ll be here.” He taps the letters on the laptop. Daniel walks off as Rod does a quick and informal salute with his right hand. “I mean, it’s not like he can steal it right now in broad daylight.”
***
A minute later, Rod’s phone beeps with a message.
“Hmm?” He looks at the notification and it wasn’t from Wheeler or any of the police squad. He rotates his hand to remind himself which of his two phones is it. It was his work phone; no one else should know his work number.
“I’ve heard of you.” The message says. Rod looks around to see if a cop is nearby and wanting to play a prank on him. It was just him and a few others who are on their phones calling or taking selfies.
Suspicious of the message, he decides to go with it. He texts back, “And?”
Soon enough, another message comes by, with the sender being blank on the top of the screen.
“Your name is Rodrigo Sanchez, a veteran from the armed forces. You live on 531 Aurora Lane with your cousin. You’re ‘The Good Samaritan of San Antonio.’ You’ve saved the day from countless acts of terror thanks to your ‘God.’ You have some fascinating technology that greatly assists you. You own a black Mustang with a supercomputer installed named RANGER, and you have an A.I. mask and a grappling device on your left arm. I must say, I’m a bit disappointed on your ‘cutting edge.’”
Rod now realizes this isn’t a trick. He fears that using the Internet off of his hotspot from his personal phone may have caused the connection.
Could I’ve been hacked? RANGER would’ve notified me. There’s no way he could’ve lost.
His phone rings with the ID reading “Souris.” He swipes to answer, but several voice modifiers were heard from the unknown end.
“Do I have your attention now?”
“What do you want?”
“You’ve heard of me by now. You know where I’m going to strike next. I know you’re near the Black Lion. You wouldn’t be there if that weren’t the case. I would like to play a little game with you.”
“…And that is?”
“Where’s the Black Lion?”
“!!!” He gasps, quickly looking up to see the diamond still intact from its case. It’s still there? He closes his laptop and walks to the glass case, carefully inspecting the artifact. Nothing’s…changed?
“That’s all I needed to know.”
Rod’s phone beeps, alerting that the call was dropped unexpectedly. He tries to call back but the automated machine informs him that the number does not exist.
He got me. He thought. That was a reflex test.
Rod begins to question if he could stop the legendary thief. He has stopped plenty of masterminded criminals, including scientists and complete sociopathic bombers, all by sneaking in and attacking from behind. He could blend in with the public as no one would notice; he could escape thanks to the technology on his left forearm and mask. He has no fear of jumping off from high heights or freefalling. He can always get away to go back into everyday Rodrigo Sanchez, some random dude with glasses.
Now he knows why Souris chose this city. It wasn’t because of the diamond, to strike overseas in the West, or to steal in a modernized first world nation. It is because Rod is unknowingly an American adaptation. The legend wants to challenge the hero with the same talents.
He makes another call, this time to his supercomputer.
“Yes, Rod?”
“RANGER. Instruction. Give me any anomalies in your system in the last 24 hours. Include sign-ins. Notify me immediately.”
“Searching…”
He makes another call to Wheeler, who he reacts by hoping the worst didn’t happen.
“Please don’t tell me he already stole it.”
“No. But I think I know why the history books keep him out.”
“No anomalies detected.” The text read.
Raphael Garcia has served honorably in the Marine Corps for six years. He retired as a sergeant and has been deployed to Lilongwe, Malawi (Africa) and Frankfurt, Germany for embassy security. He is taking college classes and currently aiming for an associates degree in Arts before transferring to a four-year college somewhere in Illinois. He has been told repeatedly by his fellow Marines to try getting his short stories (and a novel) published. This is his first attempt.
