Long A/N: A good mystery is always a balancing act between being too easy and too hard. Too easy and it becomes boring. Too hard and people lose interest out of frustration. Since I've been stringing you guys along for the last couple of chapters, it seems due time to do some explaining. With that being said, copious amounts of explanations imminent! If you've gotten lost somewhere along the way, or have no idea what the heck is going on anymore, think of this chapter as a reset button! But, if you want to figure things out on your own first before reading Conan's deduction, stop and go back to the previous chapters! Don't sell yourself short and read this one yet! I've left a couple of breadcrumbs here and there! =P

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Detective Conan.


Dong. Dong. A faraway clock chimed twice before returning the air to an eerie stillness.

Conan looked down and took a quick inventory. His glasses were gone, though that was no surprise. It was Them, after all, Conan thought silently. All his clothes had been changed too, into some generic kids' clothing comprised of a sweatshirt and khakis, probably sold at a dozen or more stores around Tokyo. Another dead end. Looking up, Conan saw the man was still towering over him, a grin plastered onto his face. "So you're up, little boy. Looks like you've made quite a mess," the man said (Mess referring to…anyways).

After speaking, the man waited, waited for Conan to react, waited for a response. Conan just stared back defiantly. 5, 4, Conan counted in his head.

The man's grin slowly became a scowl, but Conan never wavered. 3, 2, 1…

"What?!" the man growled angrily, any trace of humor gone from his face. It was Conan's turn to smirk; the man's reaction was exactly what he had expected.

"Let's cut the crap," Conan said, dropping the child act altogether.

The man seemed to be caught off guard by the strong language. It took him a moment to recover, but all he could manage was, "What did you say, brat?"

"C'mon," Conan said, staring directly at the man, "We both know what this is about. You must have a codename too, right? Let me guess, Brandy?"

Conan could see that the man was struggling to resist lashing out, but he was fuming. "Brat, I don't think you realize the position you're in," the man said through gritted teeth.

"Empty threats? That's pretty weak," Conan prodded. Successfully, as the man lunged at Conan, a strong grip around the boy's throat. Conan squirmed and wheezed; he could feel his eyes begin to roll back.

Just before he lost consciousness, Conan felt the man suddenly loosen his grip. "Remember, I'm the kidnapper," the man growled.

Conan panted, trying to catch his breath. Adrenaline was rushing through his body; his trachea was also starting to swell from the bruising. "Ojisan?" Conan half whimpered, half croaked, his demeanor turning on its head. Conan's voice sounded terrible, the damage to his trachea worse than he had anticipated. The man just glared at him. "I-I don't want to play this game anymore," Conan croaked out.

"Game? What the hell are you talking about, brat?" the man spat out. Conan could tell his mood swings were confusing the man. Good.

"I-I thought you were pretending to kidnap me. That's why I said all those things I heard on TV," Conan managed. Somehow, that sounded so much more believable in my head.

The man seemed to buy it though, "I don't know what you're talking about, brat, but this is no game."

"B-but," Conan said, on the verge of tears, "I don't understand. Ojisan was so nice at the restaurant."

The man made no reaction to Conan's statement, instead saying, "Shut up, brat. We're done talking." The man bent over and scooped Conan up, throwing the boy over his shoulder.

Conan began to squirm in the man's arms, crying, "I want to go home."

The man smacked Conan over the head, "I said, 'Shut up'." Just as well, Conan thought. He had gotten all he needed from the man. Though Conan's plan of provoking the man had hurt more than he expected, he had gotten the man's handprint when the man choked him. And the bruising on his neck would heal sooner or later. More importantly though, Conan confirmed his suspicion that the man dressed in black was not actually a member of the Black Organization. There was still work to be done, but, it was a start.

Ever since the man had popped open the trunk, Conan had managed piece together quite a few things. And with the new information he just gleaned, his deduction seemed even sounder than before. Conan mentally reviewed the facts he had so far:

One: the kidnapping was not just premeditated, but highly premeditated. The man in black had obviously known that Conan was going to follow him. That's the only way Conan could have ended up in the man's possession right now.

Two: the man in black wasn't working alone. That much was obvious. It had been a double pursuit. He had a partner, the one who had snuck up on Conan and attacked him.

Three: and perhaps the most important fact, was the bait used. A black attire, an alcoholic beverage. His captor was clearly trying to represent himself as a member of the Black Organization. Conan almost hit himself for not realizing how obvious the bait had been. But that forced conclusion four.

Four: the kidnapper would only use such a bait if he had known Conan would follow men dressed in black who drank alcoholic beverages. And men dressed in black who drank alcoholic beverages didn't usually scream, "Follow Me," to children. "Run away!" was more like it. Thus, at least one of the two culprits must have known that Conan wasn't a normal child, but rather, someone with a special interest in chasing after members of the Black Organization. And if they still had Haibara's experimental data, well, it wouldn't be a stretch to assume that the organization knew he was Kudo Shinichi. That was the only conclusion that made sense, given the bait. And given the Black Organization's involvement, Conan had concluded point five.

Five: the motive behind the kidnapping. It was obvious, after all. If the Black Organization knew that he was actually Kudo Shinichi, they'd naturally want to interrogate him to see what he knew. And six went along with five.

Six: they'd naturally investigate those around him. Ran was probably safe for the time being. There was that woman, after all, Conan had thought. But Haibara was in serious danger. If the organization found out about Conan's identity, it wouldn't take a genius to find Haibara. And the organization had geniuses.

Given the Black Organization's involvement though, one piece hadn't made sense to Conan, until just now. That was how careless the man in black had been. Sure, letting Conan put the tracker on him might have been part of the plan, but not taping or gagging the child's mouth shut? That was kidnapping 101. What if Conan had started yelling in the trunk? And while he hadn't realized in the trunk, because it was so dark, there was the matter of the bindings…

Also, despite the two of them being alone, the man still kept calling him little boy. He was obviously not aware of Kudo Shinichi.

To test his suspicions, Conan had directly engaged the man, asked if he was an organization member. Certainly, the man could have lied, but his visceral reaction only furthered the conclusion that he really was in the dark about the whole situation. And thus, after confronting the man, Conan had his fact number seven.

Seven: the man in black was probably a hired thug. One could see why a normal organization would use an amateur. The man was disposable; he'd probably be eliminated as soon as the job was done. No loose ends, right? Conan thought. But what bothered Conan was why the Black Organization would take such a risk. The Black Organization wasn't a normal organization; They had to have known the risks of using amateurs. And yet…Conan moved the thought to the back of his mind. For now, Conan just had to hope the handprint would be able to tell him where the Black Organization and the man in black intersected. Of course, that was contingent on him escaping from the hired thug. The thought of escape brought Conan to an unsettling fact eight.

Eight: the real problem, the assailant. "Mr. Detective," the assailant had said, hinting that he may be the one who actually knew about Conan's identity. It would also mean he was the one who was actually a member of the Black Organization. Moreover, in seeing the man in black, Conan had realized who the assailant must have been.

Nine: the Black Organization member was the victim's younger brother, Honto. Knowing the Black Organization, they'd have put a tracker on Conan and the only one who had an opportunity to, the only one to get close enough to him that day, was Honto the one time the man had picked the child up off the ground.

All nine facts led Conan to the following conclusion: the Black Organization, of which Honto (no, rather, whoever was disguising as Honto) was a part, had kidnapped him after discovering his identity as Kudo Shinichi in order to interrogate him about what he knew. The man in black was just a pawn to the whole thing.

Yet despite the conclusion, Conan was not satisfied with his deduction. Two final questions lingered in the front of Conan's mind, perturbing the child. First, how did they know I would be at that restaurant today? For such an elaborate plan, everything must have been accounted for. Had the Shonen Tantei been manipulated somehow? Or maybe the murder was the real bait to lure him to the restaurant? Conan didn't know.

And then there was the second question: Why did they use such an elaborate ruse to kidnap a child? Sure, they may have known he was Kudo Shinichi mentally, but physically, he was still a child. He was small enough that a snatch and grab would have sufficed. It was fairly easy to snatch a child, muffle the child's protests by carrying him, and play it off to onlookers as a child in a temper tantrum. So, why did they use such a scheme?

Conan's thoughts were interrupted by the creaking of a door. By the looks of things, it was an abandoned factory. The man pulled out a flashlight, shining the light to and fro in search of something. Locating what he was looking for, he proceeded. It was the manager's office.

The man took a key out of his pocket and fumbled with the lock. It took him a bit before he finally unlocked the door, opening the way to an extremely dusty, and spider infested, room. The man searched with the light again, before spotting a vault on the far side of the room.

With Conan still over his shoulder, the man began turning the dial for the combination; Conan strained his ears to listen. Quarter turn. Pause. Half turn. Pause. Half turn. Pause. Half turn. Click. Four digit combination, Conan thought, First and third digit the same; second and fourth digit the same.

The man swung open the door and tossed Conan inside. Conan hit the ground with a thump.

"Ow, ow, ow," Conan groaned, his throat still sore, "Ojisan, what are you doing?"

"Getting rich, you brat," the man spat out. "I heard your old man is loaded with cash. I guess it makes sense, being a famous detective and all." The man had one hand on the door, ready to swing it shut again. Conan squirmed his way towards the door, trying to escape. "Cut it out," the man said angrily, kicking Conan in the stomach. That sure knocked the wind out of the boy. Conan balled up, gasping for breath. Guess he's still mad about before. The man went back to shutting the vault door.

Just before it closed, Conan managed, "Ojisan! Please don't leave me here! It's really dark!"

"You won't have to worry about that for long," the man said, before the door shut with a click. Conan heard the gears turning as the vault re-locked.

"Neither will you," Conan said, pausing as he suddenly heard the man talking outside the vault. It sounded like he was on his cellphone, but the vault door muffled the voice.

"Mhm, mm mere," the man said, followed by a pause. Then, "Mmen mm m mmm m mummy?" Another pause. Finally, "Mmm!" The man hung up and slammed the door as he left the room. Now, Conan thought silently. He wriggled on the ground a little, and then stood up, the ropes that bound him falling to the ground in a tangled mess.

"Good thing he's an amateur," Conan muttered to himself. He flexed his hand a few times, just to make sure it still worked. Fortunately, it did. That was good.

But he was still in a crap-load of trouble. While the man in black was probably not coming back, ever, Conan did not want to be in the vault still when Honto came around. He had to get out somehow and warn Haibara.

Conan made his way around the small space, following the wall with his hands. The metal of the wall was cool to the touch and remarkably unremarkable. Hold on, he thought, pausing as his hands suddenly brushed over a dial. Now, if only I knew the combination. In the dark, Conan grinned.


Post Story Notes

So. Lots of explaining happened as promised. Hope it wasn't too anti-climactic but it should have caught everyone up to speed. Now that Conan knows who kidnapped him and why, the question is, can he escape? The confident grin on our little detective certainly seems to suggest as much. And what will become of Haibara? Can Conan warn her in time?

PS. As to why the deduction is in list format, it's because poor Conan didn't have an audience. It wasn't like he could tell his deduction to the kidnapper!