Chapter Two

It was another hour or more before Ayumi began to fully awaken. She stirred, stretching her arms over her head to grip the top of the pillow. Then her eyes fluttered open and she looked around in confusion and awe, studying the room and the furniture. When she focused on Gin and Vodka, she smiled weakly.

"I'm glad it wasn't just a dream," she murmured, reaching out for Gin's hand. "You're really here, Gin-sama. . . ."

Gin grunted, but finally took her small hand and covered it with both of his, figuring it would keep her calm. "Do you remember what happened to you?" he asked, feeling that her skin was still somewhat cool. Her hair was still damp as well, though Vermouth had dried at it with a hair dryer.

Ayumi shivered. "It was cold," she said softly. "I was running, trying to get away from the man with the plastic arm. . . ."

Vodka blinked, and Gin frowned. "What man?" he demanded.

"He killed that lady," Ayumi answered, "at the building I was going by. He broke a necklace and threw it down, and then he saw me. I grabbed some of the pearls because I thought they might be important, and he chased me when I ran." She looked up at him, and Gin could see the terror in her eyes. "I got away from him, but it was so cold and I couldn't see where I was. I remember slipping and falling, but nothing else. . . ."

"Would you recognize that man if you saw him again?" Gin wanted to know.

Ayumi bit her lip. "It was really dark, and it had already started to rain, so I didn't really see his face. The only thing I really saw well was his plastic arm." She tried to sit up more, wincing as she did and holding onto Gin for balance.

Gin watched her, his expression never changing. "How did you get these?" he asked then, indicating two of the bruises on her arm.

Ayumi averted her eyes, shifting in a bit of a nervous or ashamed way. She gripped a handful of quilt, apparently either not wanting to reply or else being unsure how to go about it.

Vodka, who had been silent all this time while letting Gin handle things, watched the child for a moment before turning his attention to his partner, who was frowning deeply. "You said something about those people from before," he spoke finally, looking back to Ayumi. "How do they fit into this? Are they the ones who hurt you?"

"They're so mean," she responded quietly, and she shuddered again before looking up at Gin. She patted the mattress next to her. "Gin-sama, will you sit up here with me?" she asked then, her bright blue eyes wide and imploring. It was true that he was sitting next to the bed, but there is something of an added comfort when someone held dear is right next to the other person, and that is how Ayumi was feeling at that moment, especially in light of her recent experiences.

Gin gave her a deadpan, pokerface look, and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. But that was how he liked it. Slowly he got up from the chair and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Grateful, Ayumi scooted over to him, snuggling by his side and laying her head against his chest. After a moment of silence, she spoke again.

"That man has been killing a lot of people," she announced then, her voice soft and sad. "One of the people was a lady with a radio show that I liked to listen to. I wanted to find out why she had to die, so I went to the radio station to talk to people there. . . ." She bit her lip. "I didn't really get to find out much. They didn't really think it was important to tell me anything, because I'm just a kid, so I had to go look in the files. But I didn't find anything that looked strange. . . ."

Gin grunted, as if to ask how this connected with Ling Hi Sou. He could see that Vodka looked puzzled as well. Then Ayumi continued her story.

"I did find the names of some other people the lady knew, so I decided to go talk to them." She shifted, looking down again. "One of them was a man who knows Hi Sou-san. . . . I didn't know that at first, but he acted really weird when he was talking to me. It was like he knew my name or something, but he said he didn't when I asked him. When I left I saw he had a letter from Hi Sou-san." She tightly gripped the knees of her pants.

"I was scared that maybe Hi Sou-san would come after you and Vodka-san again, so when I heard that man's telephone ring, I hid under the window to listen instead of leaving. I thought maybe it was Hi Sou-san calling, or one of his friends. And it was! It was Hi Sou-san. . . ." Ayumi shut her eyes tightly, several tears escaping. "I heard that man saying he's going to help Hi Sou-san kill you, Gin-sama! He said he knows you didn't die. . . . He said he knows you're still alive, but that you're still not well, either. . . ." She shuddered, hugging him gently.

"And he caught you?" Gin asked darkly.

Ayumi hesitated. "Not then," she replied quietly, "but he saw me running away. I knocked over a plant and he heard. . . . He yelled, but I just kept running. . . ." She looked up at him, the emotions glistening in her eyes as she snuggled against his blue sweater. "I was so worried! I wanted to find you and Vodka-san and tell you both, but I didn't know where to look. . . . I was scared they'd find you first!"

Gin looked back emotionlessly. "Did that man tell Hi Sou about you?" he queried.

Ayumi nodded weakly. "Some of Hi Sou-san's friends took me today, after the third person was killed," she said softly. "They hurt me. . . ." She did not elaborate, but she shuddered and continued to hug Gin close. Her sleeve pulled back, revealing several more dark bruises. Vodka winced.

He had seen many people hurt far worse than this, but still, this was a child---a child who unconditionally loved both of them. Vodka did not want her to be harmed, and he especially did not want to see it happen because of them. From the way Gin was tensing, Vodka was certain that the blonde felt the same way---though he was probably also uncomfortable with all the affection he was being shown. Gin did not know how to deal with that.

"I got away from them and ran, and that's when I saw that man with the plastic arm," Ayumi said then.

Gin frowned a bit. "Two murders in one day?" he muttered.

"I thought that there were four days between the other killings," Vodka remarked, remembering reading about the crimes in the paper. The police had been trying to determine the significance of the four day interludes, the blood-red pearls, and the specific women killed, but so far they had not had any luck.

"There were." Gin leaned back. "The fourth murder may have been done by a copy-cat." And he wondered what Hi Sou's involvement with the other victims had been. Gin was not in the habit of paying attention to such incidents normally, but this time he was deciding that he needed to make an exception. He would have to stay one step ahead of his nemesis.

He looked back to Ayumi. "Do you know for sure that the man with the plastic arm killed all of the people?" he asked.

She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I guess I just thought that he did. . . ."

She felt Gin tense further as her arm hit a certain place on his chest, and she wondered if she had accidentally hit one of the spots where he had been wounded before. It always filled her with such horror, when she remembered seeing him laying on the docks in the pool of blood, nearly dead. Quickly she pulled back, looking up into the dark eyes. "Are you better now, Gin-sama?" she said softly.

He grunted. "I'm fine," he answered, and Vodka knew that was the most she would get from the blonde.

Vodka wondered what Gin was planning to do with Ayumi now---whether he would keep the child there for a while until she was healed, and until Ling could be brought down, or if he would take her back to her home. The problem was that Ling could easily strike again, if he wanted her. The other problem was that she really could not stay at Vermouth's home for very long. A third problem was that people would definitely be looking for her. They probably were already, in fact, since she had been gone for at least several hours.

Vodka looked up at his partner searchingly, but Gin met his gaze coldly and without answers in his eyes. Apparently he was also unsure of what would be the best thing.

The hotel suite was mostly dark, the only light being cast by a dimmed lamp and the occasional flicking of a cigarette lighter. The shadows cast their various ominous and strange shapes upon the walls, making their subjects appear more disturbing than they actually were, at least physically. Their souls, perhaps, were as twisted as the shadows foretold.

The one who was renting the hotel room was in his late twenties or early thirties, and he was leaning forward in a wheelchair as he rested his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands in front of him. Black hair reached his shoulders and fell against the sides of his face, but did not conceal his violet eyes. A pleased smirk graced his features as he looked at the man seated opposite to him on a plush chair.

His guest was dressed in black, with an eerily familiar fedora tilted on his head. His long blonde hair tumbled down his back, but his eyes were not hidden by shaggy bangs. He was around the same age as his raven-haired host, and he was smirking as well, apparently pleased over what they had been discussing.

The man in the wheelchair leaned back, lighting a cigar as he watched his visitor. "It's very satisfying," he commented smoothly, his violet eyes glimmering, "that I happened to meet up with you, or that you found me, however you want to look at it." He started to smirk again. "And honestly, what better way is there to get back at an old enemy than this? You look so much like him, it's astonishing."

The other grunted, taking out a cigarette and lighting it in the dim room. "I have nothing against him personally," he responded. "You're the one with the grudge."

"Oh, I know." The raven-haired man sighed, shaking his head. "You know, I am curious about one thing. When you were arrested in the past, after a failed attempt to kill a useless informant with a bomb on a train, you said that you had been bettered by a child. How did that happen?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to talk about it," grumbled the blonde. His beady eyes gleamed out from the shadow of his hat, his nose was large and looked as though it might have been broken in the past, and his face was lined with wrinkles. Up close, he did not resemble Gin at all. But from a distance it would be hard to tell, especially from behind. And his job was solely to incriminate the assassin in whatever way his invalid employer requested.

"What's really the purpose of making it look like this Gin person was involved with these things, especially taking the girl?" he asked now, with a frown.

The other shrugged. "Honestly, can't you figure it out? The girl's friends will get highly upset. After all, surely they're not pleased anyway about Ayumi thinking so highly of such a person. Give them some more justification for their fears and you have the beginnings of an all-out disaster." He grinned wickedly. "Maybe even, the news will reach into . . . certain circles that will make Agent Gin all the more furious and may elicit more trouble and heartache than he thought possible." He did not elaborate, but it was obvious from his eyes that he had something specific in mind. This was not a random plot. It was being carefully thought over every step of the way.

The blonde did not look impressed. "Just as long as you give me the amount of money we agreed upon," he grunted, "with advance payments."

"I'm a man of my word," the wheelchair-bound man sniffed. "And tell me, do you still have that friend of yours, the one who resembles Agent Gin's friend Agent Vodka?" A nod was his answer. "Good. I'll want his services too, just to make it all more . . . authentic."

His guest stood. "I'll talk to him about it," he replied. "The next time we meet, I'll bring him. And in the meantime, I'll continue working at getting Gin implicated in whatever I can. I've already started, as you requested." He stepped closer to the other man. "I expect payment."

"And you have it." The dark-haired man reached for a briefcase to the side of his wheelchair and lifted it up. "Count it if you wish. It's all there."

The blonde reached for it, setting on the nearby table and clicking it open as he leafed through the contents. Then he nodded in satisfaction and closed it again. "I'll be in touch," he said as he took it by the handle and lifted it down, then turned and headed out of the room. He shut the door firmly behind him.

The wheelchair-bound man stared thoughtfully at the door for a long time afterwards, puffing on his cigar.

It was the middle of the night, but Ai was still awake, looking over the printouts of information about the four murder victims. She was certain that at the Mouri Detective Agency, Conan was doing the same. But it almost seemed hopeless. There were not any connections between the four. They had never met, nor were they in any of the same clubs or organizations. Ai rubbed her eyes, ready to give up.

She wondered what connection Ayumi had to any of this. Had she just been an innocent passerby, abducted because she had witnessed the crime or had seen the man responsible? Or was there a deeper reason for her disappearance? Could Gin have been involved?

She narrowed her eyes. Gin did not know Ayumi had any connection to her. He could not know. But . . . would Ayumi have ever had occasion to tell Gin about the people she knew? If she had ever described Ai, or Heaven forbid, shown him a picture . . . he would know. . . . How could he help but know? They had grown up together. He would recognize her, even in this form. He might not understand, but he would know it was her.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the ringing of the telephone. Quickly she snatched it up before it would wake Dr. Agasa. "Hello?" she said in hushed tones.

"Haibara!" It was Conan, as she had suspected. No one else would call this late.

"What is it, Kudo?" she asked, instinctively reaching again for the printouts. "Did you find something?" Knowing him, he would. If there was anything to find, no matter how well hidden, he would somehow discover the secret.

"I did," he answered then. "More than one thing. . . ." There was a pause, and the rustling of papers. "Look at the guest list for the Blue Parrot, the nightclub that the fourth victim belonged to." He waited for a moment, until he was certain that Ai had the list before her. "I knew that some of the other names looked strange, but I didn't stop to think much about it at first. But look at the second, twenty-third, and fifty-fourth names."

Ai did this, frowning as she skimmed over them. At first she was not certain what she was supposed to be looking for, but then her eyes widened briefly in realization. "Kudo, are these supposed to be mixed up versions of the other victims' names?" she demanded.

"That's right," Conan answered grimly. "So that means that they did have a connection after all." More rustling of papers. "And the Blue Parrot itself is a suspicious place," he added then. "It's a very private club, and the names of several suspected criminals are on the guest list. The police have never been able to prove anything, but they've believed for a while now that the Blue Parrot might be a front."

His eyes narrowed when he suddenly heard Ai give a quiet gasp. "What is it, Haibara?" he asked urgently, coming to attention.

There was a silence. "Ling Hi Sou is on this list," Ai said at last. She gripped the paper tightly. "He was that man whom Ayumi said kidnapped her before, and ended up seriously wounding Gin." She hesitated. "Kudo, could he be involved with the killings, and with Ayumi's disappearance?"

"It's something we should look into." Conan sounded distant, as if he was occupied with something. At last he took a deep breath and spoke again. "Haibara . . . I talked to someone else who also saw Ayumi running away," he said quietly and seriously, as if he was leading up to something that he did not think Ai would like.

Without realizing it, she tensed. "What did this person say, Kudo?"

Conan sighed. "There was a man nearby, using a cell phone, unnoticed by Ayumi. When he saw her run off in the opposite direction, he followed her."

"And he looked like Gin?" Ai finished for him.

"Yes. . . ." Conan hesitated. "I don't know what he did then, but it seems likely that he could have taken her." He took off his glasses, running a hand over his face.

Now Ai sighed. "Even if he did, it could have been to protect her from the killer," she pointed out. "He's been good to her. Even though it doesn't make sense to us, he's saved her life more than once." Still, she could not deny that part of her wondered if it was even logical to come to the conclusion that Gin would not harm the child. If Gin had somehow learned of Ayumi's connection with Ai. . . . But then she narrowed her eyes. She might worry about it, but she still did not see how it would be possible for him to actually know. And Gin would not hurt Ayumi. She had to believe that with all of her heart. And yet, how could she actually trust him? In spite of what he had done for Ayumi, she could not forget what he had done in the past. He could not be trusted.

"I know he has, Haibara. . . ." Conan was speaking again. "But still, what if all along it's been some kind of a plot? Maybe he's been working all along at getting close to Ayumi because he wants her to lead him to us . . . to you. . . . She trusts him so much. . . . He might think that if he manipulated her, he could get what he wanted. If he asked her to let him meet her friends, she would innocently bring him to us."

Ai gripped the phone, the words she wanted to say catching in her throat. "I'm sorry, Kudo," she said quietly after a long moment. "I have to go." And she gave a soft sigh, placing the telephone into the cradle. Then she leaned forward on the desk, running a hand into her red hair.

Why had she done that? She had thought things similar to what Conan had just now suggested. It was not as if he was suggesting something new, or something that she did not believe possible. And in any case, it was not like her to abruptly break off a conversation like that. Perhaps . . . perhaps she was afraid that hearing the words spoken would somehow make them become more real, or to assuredly come to pass. But she frowned, knowing that was absurd. She had simply not wanted to hear her own fears voiced. She did not want them to be true.

She would wait and see if they heard anything from Ayumi in the next few hours. If they did not, maybe then they would need to fully consider the idea that Ayumi had been kidnapped by someone, and not necessarily Gin. If Gin was trying to lure Ai out, he would do something so that she would be certain it was him. He liked playing his games with people.

Sighing again, Ai stood up and turned off the light. She would not be sleeping for a while yet. There was something else she had to work on first. Something that she had not even told Conan about yet. And if she found that it would not work, she did not plan to ever mention it.