Part V: Trouble, and the Nosy Detective…

I didn't used to have to sneak out of windows to investigate clues. Back before I became Conan Edogawa, when I was still Shinichi Kudo, I had the run of my own house and could come and go pretty much whenever I wanted. My parents have to travel almost constantly for their work – all the endless touring and publicity that comes with being world-famous for their mystery book series and so on – so they used to let me stay at home during the school year. It was a great life and, with the police department finally beginning to take my detective skills seriously, it had promised to only get better.

Until that fateful night…

The night two goons from the Black Organization, codenamed Gin and Vodka, clocked me over the head and force-fed me an experimental drug they believed would kill me.

Instead, the drug shrank my body, but left my mind intact.

Gin and Vodka may have bungled my murder, but they managed to steal my life just the same.

I have never forgiven them for that.

It was easy enough to sneak out of Ran's house without anyone noticing. Little Conan's bedtime was 'officially' 8:30pm, and most nights it was pretty unusual for Ran or her father to check in on me after 9pm...especially when Ran's dad, the famous "Sleeping Detective," had had a few beers with his dinner...

That meant I had most of the night to pursue my own leads on this case.

My drive to prove myself to myself had not diminished since that afternoon. If anything, getting kidnapped like that had only strengthened my need to solve this mystery on my own, just the way I used to. As I knotted a rope around my writing desk and used it to climb down to the street from my bedroom window, my kidnapper's voice kept turning around and around in my mind:

"This plot goes deeper than you know, Silver Bullet. That financier wasn't the first to die. And you can believe he won't be the last."

"I already suspected as much," I'd said. "I know of another case, from some time ago – another Tokyo business man found with his lungs full of sand. But, why? Who is behind all this?"

"You should know better than to ask me that. We illusionists never reveal our secrets to the uninitiated."

"Well, what can you tell me?"

"Only that the Sands of Fate are never arbitrary. They claim each victim for a reason. Be careful they don't draw you in…"

The streets and trains of Tokyo can be dangerous at night, especially for a little kid on his own. But, I had learned how to hang just close enough to a nearby adult or two to give beat cops and passersby the impression that I was part of a group. I kept that up as I left the subway station and headed into the trendy neighborhood of Shimokitazawa, known locally as "Shimokita."

It wasn't as hectic there as in nearby Shibuya, Tokyo's "Times Square," but it could still be pretty disorienting for someone who didn't know their way around. Shops were cramped and close together and intricate street art colored their gates, made eerie by the late-evening dimness. Crowds of young people clustered in and outside of the many bars and restaurants. Everywhere, musicians, performers, and artists mingled with foreign hipsters, the scent of fried foods and curry filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and live bands poured out of almost every door.

I'd been there before, of course, but I had been a lot taller then, and it had been during the day. At night, bright signs and neon lights highlighted the shadows under the shop awnings and along the narrow alleys, and it took me a few moments to get my bearings.

Still, with all the clues my kidnapper had dropped, I believed I knew what I was looking for.

Illusionists…

Secrets…

The Sands of Fate…

What could it be, but a magic show?

And, where better than Shimokita, one of the closest things Tokyo had to a theater district, to start looking for it?

Many of the bars with live music featured walls and windows plastered with posters advertising local acts, plays and musicals. Sure enough, it was there, at the third bar I passed, that I found the poster that seemed to confirm my theory: a tan-colored ad covered in golden glitter that sparkled as I walked near enough to make out its artistic, English script:

Can You Survive The Sands Of Fate?

Come to the Restored Belasco Theater, and Experience a Magic Show Like No Other

One Week Only!

Seating is Limited

The theater's address and show times were in much smaller, Japanese print. I checked my phone's digital clock, and smiled.

The last show of the night was due to start in just under eight minutes. I quickly looked up a map on my phone and dashed through the crowds, making it into the tiny theater's tiny lobby just as the doors were closing. Fortunately, the girl behind the ticket counter was easily charmed by my 'lost little boy' routine and, before long, I was seated between my 'parents' (two absolute strangers who probably didn't even know each other, let alone me) near the end of the second row, right in front of the stage.

I have to admit, I wasn't really sure what to expect. Magic shows have never really impressed me. After all, when your entire life is dedicated to honing your observation skills and solving mysteries, unpicking a performer's practiced prestidigitation and legerdemain doesn't usually present too much of a challenge.

This particular act seemed pretty standard fare - at first. The featured magician was Vinny Vino, a dapper European man in a tuxedo and tails who spent the first fifteen minutes or so turning silk handkerchiefs into flowers, flowers into doves, and white rabbits into piglets. I was getting pretty bored, and a little worried I might be in the wrong place.

Then, I caught a glimpse of a figure standing under the light of the EXIT sign.

A tall, lanky man with long hair, and a hat pulled low over his face.

"Gin!" I whispered under my breath, my heart pounding with alarm.

I looked back at the stage, where another man – shorter, darker, but no less familiar – was pushing a very large, wheeled, glass container into the middle of the stage.

"And that's: Vodka! What the hell are they up to…?"

"Now, for our featured act, I'd like to introduce a brave volunteer from the audience!" the magician announced, gesturing grandly as a grinning, rather intoxicated-looking businessman trailed Vinny's attractive female assistant toward center stage. "Mr. Kobayashi, are you ready to face The Sands of Fate?"

Mr. Kobayashi smiled and waved, and the audience broke into approving applause.

All, except me.

While the rest of the audience watched, transfixed, as Vodka and Vinny's assistant strapped the unwitting Mr. Kobayashi into some kind of harness, my eyes darted around the small, darkened theater. The old, wooden stage was flanked by two narrow doors that led backstage, and I spotted a small, sliding door that presumably opened to a storage space under the stage. As the magician continued to speak, I scooted to the very edge of my seat, ready to sneak toward the stage or jump up and make a distraction - whatever it took to make sure this "volunteer" wouldn't be the next body the cops found washed up on the beach...

But, before I could move, Mr. Kobayashi was hoisted high into the air. A low rumble preceeded Gin driving a surprisingly large cement mixer right onto the narrow stage. He positioned the machine's spout over the glass box just as Mr. Kobayashi was lowered down into it - then proceeded to pour sand in over him.

The audience gasped and murmered as the sand rose higher and higher around Mr. Kobayashi's struggling form. Within moments, it had reached his chest, then his neck, and anxious cries of "Pull him out!" and "Oh no - no, he'll suffocate!" were getting increasingly louder.

I sat frozen, terribly torn between my need to do something, and the awful knowledge that there was really not much a kid like me could do. I had no way to break that thick glass, and no hope of wresting control of the cement mixer from Gin.

But, the sand in the box was still rising, rising over the top of that poor man's head...

I jumped to my feet and started toward the stage -

Only to stop short at the magician's sudden, terrible shout.

"Basta!" he exclaimed, raising his arms dramatically over his head.

Gin obediently backed the cement mixer back into the shadows, and the engine's rumble died.

"Adesso!" the magician cried, and his female assistant knocked her fist twice against the thick, transparent glass. The front pane lifted about half a foot, and a wave of sand poured out, waterfalling down past the raised wheels where it was, presumably, being collected under the stage.

The opening clearly wasn't wide enough for a man of Mr. Kobayashi's size to squeeze through yet, as the sand emptied from the container, it quickly became obvious that the businessman was no longer there.

And, neither was the harness.

That harness had been connected by strong wire to a complicated rigging system hidden high above the stage. If those wires had been detached at any time during the performance, I was certain I would have spotted it.

Yet, I'd seen nothing. And now, both the harness and Mr. Kobayashi, were gone.

The audience gasped and clapped, but I frowned and edged slowly back toward my seat, just waiting for the other shoe to drop...

The magician's female assistant wheeled the now empty box around the stage, then settled it down in front of the magician. Vinny circled it twice, then commanded: "Apparire!"

A flash of light forced me to blink. When my vision cleared a moment later, a man stood inside the glass box. A man wearing the same rigged up harness, the same (slightly sandy) business suit, the same rimless glasses as Mr. Kobayashi. In fact, in almost every way - height, weight, hair, smile - the man in the box was an exact match for the man who had so recently, and so inexplicably, disappeared.

The audience shot to its collective feet, applauding for all they were worth as the harnessed man was hoisted out of the box and onto the stage, where the magician's assistant helped him out of the harness and down the stage steps to join Mr. Kobayashi's cheering friends. None of them seemed to suspect that anything was wrong.

But, I wasn't satisfied.

I had looked at Mr. Kobayashi's bloodshot eyes, seen his flushed face. That businessman had clearly had a few drinks before heading onto that stage.

The man who had walked off, however, was clear-eyed and sober.

Beyond that, the show wasn't over, and Gin and Vodka were nowhere to be seen.

"They've got him," I muttered to myself, taking advantage of the audience's enthusiasm for the magician's 'trick' to slip unnoticed into the wings of the stage. "That man is either dead or tied up somewhere. And, I am going to find out why."

To Be Continued…


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