Who: Carmen Sandiego What: Theft. Where: the Hollywood Hills When: Early afternoon Rating: PG Status: Complete
Just as she'd suspected, the sign wasn't bolted down very well and, while that made the whole thing not very fun, it did make it easier. Less time spent up in the hills in her nice shoes was a bonus, in Carmen's mind. She had her drill and she had her 'pocket', as she called it. Everything fit in the pocket, as was the nature of the thing. It didn't matter how big it was, it held everything from the Eiffel Tower to all of the Great Pyramids. It was the reasons she was as good as she was.
Carmen was on the second L in Hollywood when she noted the whirring of a helicopter above her. She tilted her head up and shielded her eyes against the sun, wondering if the people flying had noticed that the famed sign was quickly disappearing. She couldn't resist waving before getting back to work.
She was on the first O when she looked up again and noticed that the helicopter had been joined by a second and a third. This time she saluted with a smirk, holding her drill up with mock respect.
It was a big drill.
And there went the D. She was done, and completely successful in her eyes. Yes, there were helicopters circling above and perhaps she'd been seen, but to be quite honest, this was what she lived for. It was the thrill of the chaseā¦ or being chased, as it were. The thrill of knowing that no one would actually know exactly where the Hollywood sign had vanished off to. It was huge; a rather hard thing to hide anywhere, but Carmen had it attached to her hip.
She passed off one more salute to the three helicopters above before slipping a large but still graspable mirror from her pocket and tilting it up into the sky. The reflection from the sun which she carefully aimed towards the pilots, would keep her somewhat hidden as she made her escape. It was the little things you picked up over the years that kept you alive.
It took some time before she'd made it back down into Los Angeles proper, but the proof of her work still stood in the horizon beyond. She put a hand on her hip when she looked back up at the hills from the little side of road where she'd parked her car. "Damned good job, Carmen," she congratulated herself before hopping into the driver's seat of her convertible.
What a delightful day that had been. Now just to wait until someone noticed. Publicity was only second to theft itself in Carmen's book.