Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
an excerpt

Prologue

The museum guard was startled out of his light sleep. His head jerked up as two people approached him. One of them, a young redheaded man dressed all in black, flashed a badge and rested an elbow casually on the security desk.

"ACME detectives," he said, "Chase Devineaux."

"Carmen Sandiego," added his partner, a young woman no older than
her late teens, with a cascade of black hair and bright blue eyes, both partially obscured under a wide-brimmed tan hat. The security guard blinked.

"We're conducting a stakeout," Devineaux continued, "We have received information that there will be an attempted theft tonight. But don't worry, we can handle it." He smiled, flashing a row of white teeth. "Nope, no need to panic. Just point us in the direction of Punctuality." The dazed guard silently pointed to a door behind him, and the two detectives walked silently away.

Punctuality was a clock. It was an old clock, made of intricately carved and moulded gold. It sat by itself on a pedestal in the dark museum room, in a glass box. Chase walked up to the display case and gazed down at the top of the clock for a moment. He began to turn around nonchalantly, but never completed the motion – he suddenly found himself flat on the floor with Carmen's booted foot pressing into his chest.

"Oy! What was that for?" Chase asked crossly. He started to push himself up, but Carmen forced him back down with her foot.

"That's how easy it is to get to you when your guard is down," Carmen replied, her voice cold, "If I had been a criminal, that could have been a fatal blow."

"Well I guess I'd better be glad you're working with me then, eh, Carmen?" Chase attempted a casual grin. Carmen glared down at him briefly, then lifted her foot and walked away. Chase stood up and began erecting a security device at the base of Punctuality's pedestal; Carmen busied herself setting motion detectors on either side of the door.

"You need to be more aware, more careful," Carmen said, "Criminals aren't going to stop in their tracks just because you wave a gun at them and start shouting. And there won't always be someone to save your self-important ass every time you screw up."

"Hey, hey, no need to get hostile." Chase started to stand up as a resounding click announced that his device was set up. "No need to worry, Señorita Carmen. In fact, you're lucky to be my partner; I am the most aware, the most alert – Ah, goddamnit, Carmen!" he exclaimed in pain as he felt his arm wrenched and pinned behind his back, and someone else's arm across his throat. He could not see Carmen's face, but he felt her breath hot on his neck, and heard her voice over his left shoulder.

"Listen to me, Devineaux – you," Carmen hissed, "Are MY partner. I don't care that you're older than me; I am the senior agent. I'm smarter than you, I'm stronger than you, I'm faster than you, and I am better agent than you. In fact, I am the best. I am only putting up with you until –"

But Chase never found out what Carmen was waiting for, because at that moment there was a muffled explosion, and smoke began pouring out of a ventilation shaft and filling the room. Carmen began coughing, and released Chase to cover her nose and mouth. The smoke cleared enough for Carmen to see that the clock was gone, but in the process the thief had tripped Chase's security device, which was flashing brightly and emitting loud, useless noises. The lights in the room came on, and Carmen turned around in time to see a small figure in black slip out through the door. She swore loudly to herself and followed at a run.

The corridor lights were turning on as Carmen ran. She could hear Chase's footsteps behind her. Her target was staggering due to the weight of the clock; as he turned out of sight into the foyer, Carmen put on an extra burst of speed. She reached him just as her thief was handing his prize off to an accomplice, a larger man also clad in black. At the same moment, Chase appeared beside her.

"You get the clock," she commanded, "I'll take the big guy." She ran at the big guy, jumped on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. He thrashed around, trying to throw her off, but Carmen held on, jabbing her knees into the guy's back. After a minute he fell over. Carmen held him down and handcuffed him with a set of cuffs she pulled off her belt. She rose and looked around to find that the smaller man had pulled a knife on Chase, who was trying to avoid it. Carmen jumped in and kicked the knife out of the man's hand. Then Chase charged at him, pinned him roughly up against the wall and cuffed him. The two detectives stood breathing heavily for a moment as their two victims writhed on the floor.

"Whoa! That was SO COOL!" Carmen turned around to see the security guard peeking out over his desk, behind which he had been hiding. She was about to tell him that police work was not a joke, but Chase got to it first.

"Hey, my friend, we are loath to actually get into fights with criminals, we only do it when it's absolutely necessary – we don't live in an action movie, you know." Chase laughed. "No, being a detective is not a glamorous job. But we have our moments." He picked up the sack holding the clock and handed it to the security guard. "Now, my good man, could you return this beautiful piece of art to its rightful place?" The guard stood up straight and saluted.

"Yessir, Detective! Keep up the good work." Chase clapped the man on the shoulder, and he set off at a brisk pace. Carmen grimaced. That guy needs some sense knocked into him, she thought to herself, What does he think this is, Law And Order? She looked over at the man she had cuffed earlier, who was still lying on the floor, and nudged him roughly in the side with her foot. "Come on, you, get up." When he was standing, she pushed him up against the wall next to his accomplice and addressed them both. "You have the right to remain silent," Carmen said, "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law, and will probably give me a headache, so please keep quiet. I can't deal with any more stupidity today. You have the right to an attorney–"

"Who've you got for me today, Carmen?" A police captain that she'd worked with before had appeared; he was a good-natured man with a bushy moustache.

"Just those two over there," Carmen indicated the two men, "I was just reading them their rights." The captain looked at them.

"Their faces are intact – they must've been smart and kept their mouths shut." He laughed at his own joke. "You probably want to get outside and check on your partner – someone called the media, and he's eating the camera. I can take it from here." Carmen thanked him and went to the door. As she pushed it open, she was temporarily blinded by the flashing lights. There were trucks surrounded by news equipment, complete with screaming reporters surrounding Chase and pushing microphones in his face. Chase was playing his part well, to her dismay; smiling and answering the reporters' questions with a general bravado, as if he thought he were some kind of action hero. Carmen pushed her way into the circle of reporters.

"Well, that's just what we do –" Chase was answering a reporter's question when he spotted Carmen. "Ah, Carmen, the woman of the hour! My friends," Chase addressed the reporters, slinging an arm around Carmen's shoulder, "This here is my trusty partner Carmen. Quite a spitfire, this one. With us hanging around, crime in this city doesn't stand a snowball's chance–" Carmen pushed his arm away and shoved back through the crowd of reporters. Chase shouted after her, but she did not answer. "Er…I need a few minutes, ladies and gentlemen," Chase said the reporters, "Nice talking to you, though!"

Chase began to follow Carmen, but by the time he had cleared the group of reporters she was nowhere in sight. "Carmen?" he shouted, "Carmen! Come back!"

"She went back into the museum," said the security guard, who was now standing outside, "And she looked angry." Chase nodded at him and ran into the entry hall. The police captain was gone, and the foyer was empty. He shouted Carmen's name again, then ran down the hall, back towards the room where they had been guarding Punctuality, with dread growing in his stomach. But when he got there, the clock was gone. Chase stood in the doorway, staring at the empty display case, and the open window. He approached the pedestal. The glass was still there, intact, but it was empty except for a single sheet of paper.

You let your guard down, Chase Devineaux.
You'll never catch me now.