Pursuance: Part 4: Bilge – In which a ship gives up its darkest secret.
A Detective Conan/Hattori Heiji Fanfic
By
Deborah J. Brown

Acknowledgements: All usual disclaimers regarding ownership of Detective Conan and related characters apply. This stuff is copyrighted to Aoyama Gosho.

Much thanks to Icka M. Chif for her beta-read.

HEIJI:

The sound of the ship's engines was a roar in my ears as I made my way through the tight passageway in the bowels of the ship. Beside me, Franky trotted, body moving with an odd sort of nervousness. He wasn't predicting a death, but he wasn't happy either. Something's wrong, I realized, walking past a crewman with a determined stride that – I hoped – said that I belonged there.

"Hey! What're ya doin' down here?"

So much for that idea, I sighed to myself, turning. Inevitable, really. How many teenage boys do you see working aboard a ship, anyway? "Have you seen an older man down here? About half a foot taller than I am, similar complexion, droopy mustache?"

"Yer na suppose t'be here," the crewman complained, latching onto his one thought with annoying tenacity.

Gee. I thought my Osaka was thick, I thought sarcastically as I glared at him. "I'm looking fer my father. Now didja see him or not?"

Another voice chimed in, a skinny little guy dressed in overalls, his tan darker than even mine. "Yeahr, he wuz here. Show'd us'n's a badge. Ya gotta badge?"

"I'm his son, not a policeman. Which way did he go?" I demanded, turning to face the skinny fellow.

The two men looked at each other, then shrugged. "Asked us where th'bilge tanks were."

When they didn't continue I growled under my breath and added, "So? Where?"

"Straigh' down thet hall. There's'n access hatch in th'room there. Don know why he woulda bother, though. Ain't nothin' in there but shit 'n stuff."

I gave the man a sour look, but nodded. "Thanks," I told him, then paused and added, "Don' do Osaka w'out more practice. Ya got th'most sucky accents I e'er heard."

Listening to the two of them laugh as I headed down the hallway didn't make my mood any better. I ignored it, though. You have to get used to people acting like doofuses and thinking they're clever talking like an Osaka-ko when they haven't idea one what it sounds like. Never mind, Heiji. Time to find the Old Man.

The room in question was at the very end of the hall, the door shut. Beyond was a storage room with a lot of boxes. A single bare bulb lit the room, casting deep shadows and causing the rusty walls to look stained with blood. I have got to stop playing Silent Hill in the middle of the night, I thought. I half-expected something big, ugly, and long dead to come out swinging a huge knife at me. At least my ghosts really couldn't hurt me unless I touched them – and even that didn't hurt so much as simply upset me.

"Dad? You here?" A faint, muffled, sound responded and I glanced around puzzledly, moving slowly through the room. Another sound, a voice but still indecipherable. "Dad?" I couldn't tell where the sound came from. The peculiar echoes made it seem like it was coming from above me, then below.

More sounds followed, shouts whose words were simply too garbled to understand. Between the noise of the ship's engines and the echoes, I was getting nothing clearly. I swung around, trying to locate the noise. "Dad, just keep calling. I can't understand you, but I'll try and"

My words were interrupted as another sound came to me. Not my Dad. Not Franky. Something else. Voices. They were screaming and crying and howling but they were not audible. I'd learned to tell the difference between real sounds and Franky's howls and this was not real, except to me. No Now I can hear them? God NO! I took a few steps sideways, away from the noise, and found myself dropping through a hole in the floor, splashing into the darkness below.

As I sputtered and found my feet a very human voice said, "I said, 'Be careful, the hatch is open,'" my father growled at me.

***

KAZUHA:

"Kazuha"

I moaned, dragging my eyes open with terrible effort and stared puzzledly at the pale grey toned surface in front of me. Floor. Why am I on the floor? The voice spoke my name again, a sort of familiar voice, soft, cultured – a bit too cultured – and normally self-controlled and certain of itself. It didn't sound nearly so certain at the moment, though. It sounded worried, if not positively frightened. Superintendent Shiratori, I realized.

Suddenly memory hit and I shoved myself upright. "Superintendent! Oh no! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just so tired suddenly."

"Really? Hadn't noticed," Dr. Makashino added from nearby. He was leaning against the wall rubbing his forehead, where a large bruise was just beginning to form, and he looked like he'd been desperately ill. From the faint sour odor he had been. "So was I. I don't understand what happened."

I shook myself, forcing myself further awake. "I've never just fallen asleep like this," I protested, staring around. I was forgetting something. Something important.

"You had help," the Superintendent said grimly and held out two plastic cups – the ones Dr. Makashino and I had been drinking from, I realized. Looking into the cup I stared for a long moment, trying to figure out what the Superintendent meant. Then I saw it. A thin scattering of white clinging to the wall of the cup, as if something had been only partially dissolved in the coffee. "You were drugged," he added, "Both of you were."

Suddenly it hit me what I was forgetting. "Akemi-san!" I rose to my feet, turning towards the bed and swaying. As Shiratori-san caught me under the arm and kept me from falling over, I bit my lip. "She's gone Heiji's going to kill me!"

***

HEIJI:

"Will you stop that? All your splashing is accomplishing is getting yourself wetter and making the room stink more. That ladder's useless anyway."

I glanced sourly at my father, dragging the broken half of a ladder upright. "Maybe, maybe not," I disagreed. "It's better than standing around in stinking bilge water and waiting for someone to rescue us. Especially since you were pushed in here!" As I shoved the ladder up against the wall I struggled to ignore the voices that had caused me to fall in. They were long past any help that I – or anyone else for that matter – could offer. They sounded in my head with all the force of one of Franky's howls and I had to know what lay beyond that wall.

The light from my watch's flashlight glimmered on the surface of the water and cast strange reflections through the tank, limning my father's face, the ripples caused by my motions flickering on every surface. Beneath it, glowing ever so slightly to my eyes, Franky lay quietly waiting for me and I forced myself to ignore him and the way that he was so nonchalantly ignoring the fact that he was completely submerged. He has no head, after all. He can't possibly need to breathe.

Above me, enshadowed and partially obscured by layer of filth, I could see something that looked like a hatch. It had only been visible because of my angle, and because I was pretty sure I was going to find something there. It was just high enough, though, that I couldn't reach it without help, hence the ladder.

"Better to have been pushed than to have fallen over one's own two feet," Dad pointed out graciously.

"I'm going to ignore that," I growled back, leaning the half-ladder against the wall and climbing it slowly. At nearly the top rung, I could reach the hatch easily and I began working on it.

"What the hell do you expect to accomplish? Even if that is, as you say, a hatch, it's unlikely to lead anywhere remotely resembling out of here. Do you really want to know what's back there?" Dad's growl was accompanied by splashing as he headed over and grabbed the ladder before it slipped out from under me. "Damnit, boy, you are a trouble magnet!"

"I know that, Dad," I muttered. "It's not like I haven't noticed I get more than my fair share of murders and mysteries." The only person I know with an equal, if not greater, attraction to such troubles was Kudo Shinichi. "Thanks," I added, though not very graciously. "Damn thing's rickety."

Dad glanced downwards at the base of the ladder. "That's because it was broken off unevenly. You should have put the other end downwards."

"Hell," I muttered. "It was hard enough moving the damn thing as it was, much less manipulating it into a better position. Hah. Got it." The shriek of rusty metal followed my words as I managed, somehow, to push the hatch in and sideways. It hadn't been used for years – thirteen, I rather suspected – and it took a lot of effort to get it to operate.

Finally, though, I was able to poke my head into the hole and shine my light down, the voices screaming in my head now. The words were Chinese, barely comprehensible, but I didn't really need to know the specifics. The pleading, the weeping, the desperate cries for help that had gone unheard or ignored. Between the wall of the tank and the side of the ship was a narrow space, just wide enough for a grown man or woman to stand or sit in. Just long enough for twenty human bodies to be concealed. More than enough space for what had been left behind.

"A human cargo," I whispered, forcing myself not to gag, somehow. "Illegal immigrants headed from China to America It was a hot summer. The hottest in years, breaking records everywhere. And this place must have been like an oven"

My other sight was kicking in now and I could see them amid the rotting skeletons. Men and women, gasping for air, screaming for help. Left there to die.

"Like fish in a can" I whispered, dropping off the ladder and leaning against the wall, fighting the nausea. "Bilge."

***

KAZUHA:

"How could this have happened? I thought you were keeping an eye on that girl," Captain Yamamori demanded angrily. He was pacing again, though his movements were more angry then agitated now.

"Captain," Superintendent Shiratori's answer was quiet and calming. "It's scarcely the fault of Kazuha-san or Dr. Makashino that someone drugged their coffee. The main point is that the girl is missing and may be in some danger."

Yamamori came to a halt and glared down at the Superintendent. "Very well. I will select some men to search for the girl and take care of her. It's obvious that your efforts, and that brat you were working with, were less than satisfactory."

As the Captain stalked out of Sick Bay, Superintendent Shiratori turned and looked at me and Dr. Makashino wryly. "I fear he's going to be difficult." He examined the cups again. "Doctor, is there any way to identify what was given to you?"

"Not without much better equipment than I have." The Doctor's tone was sour. "This isn't a criminal laboratory. Though I can take a good guess. Let me check." He walked over to a cabinet, getting his keys out. "I keep the sedatives locked in here. There's only one I can think of that would have the right effect" He stopped speaking as he turned the key in the lock and frowned. "Hello. What the hell?"

"What?" I got up and looked at the lock, not seeing anything obvious about it.

"It's unlocked." The Doctor shook his head. "I keep it locked all the time, for obvious reasons. I'm certain I wouldn't have left it open."

"Does anyone apart from you have a key?" Superintendent Shiratori joined us, peering at the lock closely. "No obvious signs of its having been picked."

"Of course, but it's kept locked up with all the others up in the Captain's office. And I don't know when someone could have gotten into it with both Mrs. Shiratori and Toyama-san in here." He opened the door and looked into the cabinet, where neat rows of bottles and boxes were stacked. On the bottom shelf a gap – just large enough for a single bottle – drew the eyes immediately, and Dr. Makashino frowned as he stared at the spot. "Vicodin. That's what I was afraid of. But I don't know how."

"How can you be so sure, Doctor?" Superintendent Shiratori asked, raising a brow. "Someone could have taken the bottle for other reasons."

"Simple, Superintendent. Remember how sick I was when I woke up? I'm allergic to codeine."

***

HEIJI:

"They're just bodies, boy. You've seen enough of those – no, more than enough of those – in the last year. Your Mom would say too many."

I ignored the Old Man in favor of leaning against the wall and gagging. Admittedly, the heavy, oily, odor of the sewage surrounding us was nauseating in and of itself. Combined with what I'd just seen, it was all I could do to keep myself from falling apart. Not since those hours when my ability had first manifested had I felt so utterly helpless and frightened.

Part of the problem was the noise. The angry, scared and dying screams that echoed in my head were nearly enough to drive me to screaming too. Somehow I had to find a way to get past the fear and anger those cries were instilling in me. Somehow. I paused, remembering what Shiratori-san had said. She had meant something entirely different, I was confident, but maybe she was right about one thing. Redirect. I can't make the voices stop and I really can't rely on anger to get me past this one. So

I straightened, turning to face the middle of the tank, where my father was watching me with a strange expression on his face. I had no idea what it meant, but I'd have to wait to analyze it. Instead I took a deep breath and dropped into Kendo stance, imagining the shinai in my hands, imagining a masked and armored opponent standing across from me. Imagining Okita Soshi.

"Boy? What are you" My father's voice faded from my awareness as I lunged and parried, thrust and dodged. Not the neatest bit of work I'd ever done. My long time rival would have taken me apart if he'd really been there, but it was working. Ever so slowly I felt my pulse quieting, my anger and my fear melting away. "Hei-kun!"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm okay." I opened my eyes and looked at the Old Man. "We have to get out of here. And somebody has to do something about those bodies. Find out who they were and how they got there. Find out who left them there to die."

Dad shook his head. "You realize that may not be possible? Those people died years ago. Whomever it was that put them in there may have long since left this ship. The evidence is long since wiped away. There's only so much the law can do."

I gave my father a long and level look. "And that, Dad, is why I don't want to be a cop." He frowned at my informality and I continued. "The police do their best and I have every respect possible for what you do. But the police are limited. They have to concern themselves with the living. With laws and social order and stuff like that."

"Heiji, those are important things," Dad began.

"I know. You'll never get me to disagree with that. The problem is that the police speak for the living. They have to. The living are the ones most affected by those laws, after all." I raised my head enough to look directly into his eyes. "But Dad? Those people died a long, slow and agonizing death. They died because someone was willing to use their desperation, their need for a better life, as a lever against them. They died because whomever did that didn't even care if their cargo made it safely to America – as long as he or she got their share of the loot."

"One of those women was pregnant, Dad. She died in despair. Died knowing that the child she was carrying would never see the light of day. Died never even seeing her baby's face or hearing it cry." I swallowed, hard, continued, "And what about Toshini? He may have tried to save those people and it's probable he was killed before he could. He may or may not have been alive when he went overboard, but if he was, he got ripped to pieces by the propellers. He had a daughter and son that loved him. A daughter and son he loved – that he would never have wanted to leave orphaned."

"Heiji I"

"I don't want to be a cop, Dad. There are enough of you to take care of the living. Someone has to speak for the dead. Because it's damned certain they can't speak for themselves."

Dad went silent for a long moment. "Heiji," he started, voice urgent.

"C'mon, Dad. Don't you understand? This is important." I had get through to him somehow and all my attention was focused on him.

Shaking his head, Dad pointed at the bilge water. "We have a bigger problem than my understanding your quixotic tendencies, son. A very big problem. We have got to get out of here. Now."

"Huh?" I started to say, then I saw what he meant. When I'd fallen in the bilge water had been up to my knees. Now it was up to my hips and – worse – rising with increasing speed. "Aw, shit. Someone reversed the bilge pumps." Even as I said that, the situation moved from serious to deadly as the trap door leading into the tank slammed shut.

***

KAZUHA:

Blast you, Heiji, where are you? I glared around the hallway, the bare bulb above me casting twisted and unpleasant shadows on the walls. Ahead of me, Superintendent Shiratori opened door after door, looking into odd storage rooms and smaller closets, their use entirely mysterious to me.

Two men were working along one hallway, but shouted inquiries, barely understood under the roar of a nearby engine, had given us no useful information. They have to be here, I thought, worrying all the more. They'd been missing for nearly two hours now, after all.

"HEIJI!" I shouted, unable to hear my own voice past the noise. "WHERE ARE YOU!"

It was useless. The noise level was just too much. If he could hear me he couldn't shout loud enough to answer. Maybe they went somewhere else?

Superintendent Shiratori seemed to think the same. He gestured to me, pointing towards the exit and I nodded. There wasn't any point to staying down here anymore. As I turned, intending to walk up the stairs, however, I felt something strange. A feeling sort of like one I'd felt before. A cold chill running up my spine. Every hair on my body standing on end.

There was a sound. A sound not in my ears but in my head, or my heart, I thought. A sound like an animal crying out in pain. A howl of anguish that made me stumble sideways, the Superintendent catching hold of my arm as I did so. "KAZUHA?" he shouted into my ear.

I shook my head, trying to pay attention to the weird feeling. It was important, I knew it was important. I had to listen to it. I closed my eyes and suddenly an image formed in my mind's eye. An animal's head, burning itself into my retina, a howling wolf or dog, black and tan, the black dark as the oil staining the floor, the tan reminding me of Heiji's somehow. Its eyes were huge with panic. The word "BILGE!" forced itself into my thoughts as the image disappeared.

Heiji, I thought immediately, not sure why the image in my head immediately made me think of my friend but certain that it had significance. He needs help. I tried to listen to the cries in my head, to follow them, and found myself running down the hall towards a closed door, throwing it open.

Superintendent Shiratori ran up behind me and I stared around into a crate filled storeroom. It had to be here. Had to be. I turned to look at the two crewmen and saw them approaching. "HELP ME!" I shouted at them. "WHERE'S THE HATCH TO THE BILGE TANK?"

Instead of answering, one man walked towards me, even as the other swung a pipe at Superintendent Shiratori. I stepped backwards, pretending to be frightened and not having to work very hard at it. Still, this was the sort of thing I could handle and I did what came naturally. As he rushed me, reaching out to grab me by the throat, I caught him by the wrist and under the arm, lifting and twisting, using his own weight and speed against him.

He landed hard, the air knocked out of him, and I continued the move, twisting him onto his belly, bringing his arm backwards and upwards. One would think that, considering how many murderers I've met with Heiji, that I'd be used to this. This wasn't the first time I'd found myself forced to use my training on a real attacker, but – as always – I thanked the Gods that I'd made no errors in the move. Beneath me, the man, several times bigger than me but trapped in an arm lock and with his elbow bent near the snapping point, went completely still. I held my position, paying close attention to his movements, afraid that he might try and take advantage if I seemed to weaken. "I'll break your arm if you so much as move!" I just prayed he wouldn't force me to follow through on the promise.

At the same time I saw Superintendent Shiratori come up beneath the other man, blocking a blow from the pipe with one hand, even while the heel of his other hand struck his attacker in the chin, hard. They were more closely matched in weight, but Mr. Shiratori had the advantage when it came to training. His blow landed with scientific precision and the man dropped to the ground, moaning.

"KAZUHA! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?"

"CAN YOU FIND THE HATCH? I'LL KEEP THIS GUY OCCUPIED," I answered, panicked still by the cries in my head. They were getting fainter and somehow I knew that if they disappeared entirely I'd lose Heiji. "HURRY!"

Mr. Shiratori looked around, frowned at the floor and seemed to be thinking fast. "THAT BOX!" he shouted and rushed at one wooden crate that was offset from the others. He pushed and shoved and finally forced the crate onto its side, revealing that its bottom was missing. Beneath it was a metal wheel that the Superintendent spun around fast, opening the hatch.

Water spilled out, stinking, oily and smelling of the sea and other less pleasant things. Oh no. If Heiji's in there The howls grew fainter and I was sure I'd lost him. Then a brown hand, scarred across its back, grasped the side of the hatch and a dark head rose above the water, followed by another. Father and son pulled themselves up quickly and Heiji shook himself off, resembling nothing quite so much as a large hound as he did so. He grinned at me, though beneath the grin was a look of utter exhaustion and relief. "Took you long enough."

To Be Continued

Author's Notes:

Sorry to take so long with the update. Been sick. Again. Getting really sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Heiji's language skills were inspired by the fact that Heiji's Seiyuu speaks better English than Jody. He's apparently an Osaka-ko, too.

The situation in the bilge tank, and what was hidden there was inspired by that incident a bit back when some illegal immigrants suffocated in the truck trailer they'd been taking to America.

Heiji isn't the only one who should stop playing Silent Hill at night.

Yes, Franky has a head. It just doesn't stay with Heiji.

Shiratori reminds me of Mitsuhiko. He's not stupid (wouldn't have made Superintendent on stupid, despite the Peter Principle) but he tends to come up with some rather odd twists to his ideas when trying to solve cases. One suspects that he's got an active imagination that he has to forcibly restrain when he's working. Leading to a rather rigid way of thinking. The fact that he doesn't ever get mad at Conan or hit Conan for interfering with a case, though, makes me think there's more to him than meets the eye.

Doctor Makashino looks like a Japanese version of Doctor Romano of late and (personally) regretted memory in the American TV show, E.R. Dropping a helicopter on the poor guy really was adding insult to injury in my opinion.