Disclaimer: I don't own DCMK

Sky Colored Eyes

38: The First Shot

Months later, Shinichi would look back on that day with mixed feelings. It was the day that the shadows over Ekoda became truly visible for the first time since the whole case had begun. It would mark the beginning of a battle that would be at once both more bizarre and more frightening than any he had been involved in before. It would not have the global significance or the cloak and dagger danger of the conflict with the Black Organization, but the tragedies it would leave in its wake would, in some ways, reach even deeper for those whom it consumed.

At the same time, it was a day of new beginnings. A time of revelation.

That morning when he stepped out of his apartment, however, it was just another day like any other. The sky was a pure, robin's egg blue with barely a wisp of cloud to mar it. There was a brisk breeze, but it was more refreshing than it was cold.

Locking the door as he left, he fished his phone from his pocket and sent Kaito a text to let the magician know that he would be heading out.

He had agreed to meet Yagami Shintarou in a restaurant that occupied the top floor of one of Ekoda's tallest department stores. Shinichi had never set foot in the building before, but Aoko had spent some time telling him about it when she'd heard about the impending interview. According to the inspector's daughter, the department store was divided into four main sections. The first few floors were devoted completely to clothing and accessories. Above that sat the electronics, games, movies, and other entertainment products. They were followed by the stationary and books. The last few floors were all about home appliances and furniture. There had been discussions about a food court when the store had first been opened, but management had decided to give the top floor to a single large restaurant designed with comfort and relaxation in mind. The roof too was open to visitors, sporting the beginnings of a garden that had yet to be fully developed.

"The elevators only go up to the floor below the restaurant though," she'd told him. "I don't know why they designed it that way, but you'll have to take the stairs on the other side of the building in order to reach the top floor."

Aoko had been quite intent on describing all the ins and outs of the building. It seemed to Shinichi that she was worried, though when he'd asked her about it, she had only shaken her head and said that she couldn't help it.

Pausing before the gleaming, glass doors of the department store, Shinichi looked up—and up and up to where the top of the building almost seemed to be touching the sky. He was about to continue walking when the back of his neck prickled. He glanced around quickly but saw no one. The sensation of being watched had vanished as quickly as it had come.

Had it been Kaito? Or had it been someone else?

Giving himself a shake, he stepped forward. The doors parted before him, their motion sensors no doubt picking up on his approach. A gust of warm air washed over him, bringing with it the bright lights and brighter colors of the fashion department.

Being Saturday, the place was packed. It was impossible to get anywhere by walking in a straight line. He found himself weaving around shoppers and merchandise alike. Now and then, he had to employ his elbows to part the masses. He saw the line for the elevators long before he reached them. Every time a set of elevator doors opened, there would be a mass stampede out and a mass stampede in. Everyone was being polite enough to stay on one side so there weren't any collisions, but it was a close thing. And every time the doors closed, it was on a packed car.

He eyed the lines for a few moments before deciding to turn his steps for the stairs. He was early so there wasn't any rush. Besides, it would be good to get a look around just in case.

He wondered where Kaito was. The magician had to be here already. It wasn't Kaito's style to be late. But they had agreed that they would be working independently unless need called.

The crowds thinned considerably when Shinichi passed out of the fashion department into the books and stationary levels. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased at the breathing room or saddened by the evidence that books just weren't that high on most people's priority lists these days. And this place looked like it had quite the expansive collection too.

He had to make a conscious effort to drag himself away from the shelves and continue his journey upward.

By the time he reached the foot of the stairs that would lead him to the restaurant, he was thoroughly fed up with climbing steps. His knees were complaining, and all he really wanted to do was sit down. Although he would settle for having a cup of coffee.

He paused at the bottom step, seeing that there was a man mopping away halfway up the stairs. A sign warning of wet floors had been set up on the lower landing. Looking up, Shinichi couldn't see much of the floor above, but he wasn't hearing anything either. Either it was a very, very quiet restaurant or the place was currently hurting for customers.

"Excuse me," he called to the janitor. "Is the restaurant upstairs open yet?"

The man paused to cough before answering. His voice was slightly hoarse and muffled by the mask he was wearing to keep his germs to himself.

"It'll be open in about three minutes," he rasped. "But if you want, you can probably head up now."

"Thank you. I will." Shinichi headed up the stairs, edging carefully around the man and his mop and bucket. The steps above were still wet, so he picked his way up with caution. The last thing he needed was to slip and break something falling down the stairs.

The top landing opened out into a spacious, well-lit restaurant. The place had been divided into multiple sections by low walls, many of which sported rows of decorative flower pots on top. The tables and chairs were simple, wooden affairs. The minimal padding on the chairs were all patterned in warm colors. The scattering of booths were similarly upholstered. On the far side of the restaurant, large windows looked out onto the rooftop garden Aoko had mentioned. There wasn't a great variety of plants in it yet, but Shinichi could see that there were the beginnings of a very tranquil patio. An adjacent wall of windows looked out across the city. From this high up, the view was spectacular. Add the soft strains of jazz Shinichi could now hear drifting lazily over the broadcast system and the place was certainly set to be that warm, friendly atmosphere that welcomed families and weary shoppers.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Shinichi reread the message he'd gotten from the writer. It had specified the time and place, but there was no reference in the message on where exactly in the restaurant Shinichi should wait for him. The detective had assumed at first that that meant the man would be there when he arrived, but seeing as the restaurant hadn't even opened yet… Yeah, that wasn't happening. So he had two choices. He could stand around at the door looking awkward or find a seat and let the writer come find him. It wasn't much of a dilemma.

Making his way over to the corner booth that looked out over the city on one side and back up against the rooftop garden on the other, he sat down. The place was clean, and the seat was comfy. He was also sure that he could smell the enticing aroma of brewing coffee. Shinichi was liking this place already. Now if only his client would show up soon.

X

Kuroba Kaito had rolled out of bed that morning with a bad feeling in his gut. He'd always been the kind of person who listened to his instincts, seeing as his instincts had done a lot in the ways of saving his life and so on and so forth over the years. The problem today was that he wasn't sure what that nagging feeling was trying to warn him about. He had shadowed Shinichi to the shopping center. That part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. He'd seen no one suspicious.

Upon reaching the shopping mall, he had swapped his first disguise for one that would get him just enough attention for people to remember him but want to stay away. This disguise had a scar down his face that certain types of people might have thought was cool while warning others to stay away in. He'd given himself a dark tan and a designer suit. So he was a rich man who had faced danger and come out the other side a clear victor (or possibly some criminal mastermind. The thought made him snicker in the secrecy of his own mind). He would be a man of few words, he decided, but, when he did speak, it would be precise. He wouldn't be above offering advice, and his smiles would make women and children think him sweet beneath that rough exterior. But his wits would be sharp, and he would be the kind of man who always went for what he wanted. He was a risk taker—all or nothing.

His name was Kazuki, he decided. Yeah, Kazuki. And he was here to see an old friend he hadn't seen in ages that he'd heard along the grapevine might be found here.

Striding into the shopping mall like he owned the place, he spotted Shinichi disappearing into the stairwell. Figured. Kazuki, however, didn't take the stairs just to avoid crowds. He strode right up to the front of the lines and into the next open elevator. No one tried to stop him. He smirked. That was just the kind of man he was.

"I'm going to the top," he told the woman standing by the number panel.

She shied away from him, her smile uncertain. "Oh, um, sorry, but the furniture floors are going through some special cleaning today. They won't be open to the public again until this afternoon."

Kaito frowned. "I have a meeting scheduled for lunch. It's at the restaurant on the top floor. I won't be browsing any furniture."

"Ah, um, yeah—I mean yes, but the elevators open on the far side of the building from the stairs that you need to take to get up to the restaurant," the girl explained. "They can't clean if people keep walking through, so you're going to have to get off on the bookstore floors and walk up. I'm very sorry," she added as though this would make the inconvenience less, well, inconvenient somehow. It didn't.

Kaito glowered at her but relented with a gruff, "Then I'll get off at whatever floor is nearest the top that isn't being waxed or whatever."

"Yes, Sir."

Kaito let the stern expression linger on his face as he settled in to wait. One of the perks of the unfriendly disguise was that, even though the elevator was packed, everyone was still doing their best to give him a wide berth.

The elevator inched upward. Due to the heavy traffic, it had to stop for quite some time at every single floor. By the time the elevator girl gestured for him to exit, the irate expression on his face was no longer entirely an act. Seriously, was this place really that interesting? He'd visited a grand total of once before this, and that had been with Aoko some time around the place's grand opening. Sure, it carried a lot of stuff, but it hadn't struck him as outstandingly unique or anything. Most shopping centers and department stores offered pretty much all the same stuff, albeit not necessarily in such a centralized manner. Maybe that was it. The convenience of not having to run all over the place for what you needed.

Still pondering the questionable virtues of the store, he was surprised when the elevator girl called out to him.

"What?" he grunted, making sure to give her that same impatient scowl he had used earlier.

"Um, it's j—just that…I—I just remembered about the restaurant," she stammered. "It—it's not going to be open to customers again until this evening."

Kaito's eyes narrowed. "Was it reserved?"

"Uh, well, I don't really know," the girl admitted. "I think, maybe. It's never happened before, but I guess it would make sense." Seeing that the next set of passengers were growing impatient, she bobbed a quick bow, muttered an apology, and allowed the elevator doors to close.

Left relatively alone next to a rather expansive collection of magazines for all occasions, Kaito considered his next move. This whole situation was starting to stink. There was no way a freelance writer none of them had ever heard of before now had the money to reserve an entire restaurant. Even if he did have the money, there was no reason to go to such lengths, especially if the topic he wished to discuss was of a delicate nature. If he didn't want to be overheard, he should have arranged to meet somewhere private or somewhere so chaotic that no one would be able to eavesdrop without sitting with their ear right up next to the conversation.

So if this was a trap, he mused, then the last thing he should do was follow Shinichi up the stairs. Being the only route they'd left available to the detective, whoever had arranged this meeting would definitely be watching it like a hawk. He couldn't wait around on the lower floors for signs of trouble though. Anything that reached him down here would mean that the trouble was already too far along for a rescue. He had to get up to the restaurant without using either the stairs or the elevator.

A razor grin crept across his face as he turned and started walking. Wasn't it fortunate that he had thought to procure and memorize the building's floor plans?

X

A woman had appeared at the counter. Spotting her, Shinichi rose and made his way over. She saw him long before he reached her. After all, he was currently the only customer. Her expression set, and though her lips were smiling, her eyes were not.

Shinichi hesitated.

"So what can I get for you?" the girl asked before he could speak. Her tone was chipper and every bit as normal as should be expected. But those eyes hadn't softened in the slightest. Perhaps she was having a bad day? Could she be upset that he was here before the restaurant was officially supposed to be open? But if that were the case, she would have asked him to leave.

"I'm sorry to bother you," he said just in case. Besides, it never hurt to be polite. "I'd like a cup of coffee and a…" His eyes skimmed down the menu. "A blueberry muffin."

"Sure thing. Just let me give you your change. Here. Would you like your muffin heated?

"Yes, thank you."

"You can go back to your seat. I'll bring you your order when it's ready."

"Okay. Thanks again."

Back at his corner table, Shinichi found himself watching the woman bustling about behind the counter with growing suspicion. Although he couldn't quite place his finger on what it was. She dealt with the coffee machines like a pro. She barely seemed to have to look at what she was doing. Then she headed back into the kitchen. A few minutes passed before she returned with a muffin on a plate. Plate and cup in hand, she came over to his table.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

"No, not now. Thank you."

She made a strange noise in her throat before apparently coming to a decision. "Are you Kudo Shinichi? The detective."

"I am," he replied, not sure if he should feel surprised or not. Sure, his face used to be in the papers a lot, but it hadn't been for quite some time now. There were a handful of occasions when he couldn't keep the nosy reporters from sneaking a snapshot of his face to put in more recent articles, but overall he thought he'd been doing a good job keeping himself out of the media. But it wasn't all that strange either for him to be recognized. Despite his long disappearance, he was still quite well known—although he'd run into quite a few people who expressed their surprise at the sight of him because they'd thought he'd been dead.

"I see." The woman's lips thinned. As she turned away, he thought he heard her mutter something that sounded an awful lot like, "Detectives, pah!"

Okay, So maybe he had inadvertently offended the woman by being a detective. That wasn't uncommon either. He'd met others before who thought detectives were meddlesome people who stuck their noses where they didn't belong. Those with things to hide also naturally took a dislike to them.

The janitor was now mopping his way into the restaurant proper. He wasn't very methodical about it, but he didn't lack enthusiasm. The wet squiggles of the mop head swished this way and that almost like an excited dog running to and fro across the floors. Every few paces, however, the man would have to stop and clutch at the mop handle for support as he doubled over in a fit of coughs. It looked to Shinichi like the man really should have taken the day off. That, or he could mop a little less energetically.

Turning his attention back to his meal, Shinichi broke off a tiny piece of muffin and examined it. His nerves were on edge, and it was making him paranoid. He'd watched the woman make the coffee, so he was almost positive that there was nothing wrong with it. The muffin, on the other hand, had come out from inside the kitchen. As far as he could tell, it looked and smelled normal. Besides, even if the woman didn't like detectives, she had no reason to poison him just for that. And even if she did have a reason, her question earlier suggested that she hadn't been sure who he was until she'd asked.

He ate the corner of muffin, took a sip of coffee, and waited. No, he felt perfectly normal.

He snorted. What had he expected? Maybe he really was spending too much time working on homicide cases. All too often, he found himself wondering if one random passerby or another was cooking up some unsavory plot just because they said or did something strange. There were times when he wished he could just stop thinking about it all—stop wondering if that person had ulterior motives for being so helpful or if they were hiding malicious intentions behind those friendly smiles. When he let himself dwell on it, he would inevitably find himself slipping into a state of mild despair over the state of humanity.

Er, but now was not the time to get depressed. He was here on a job. And, if he was reading the signals right, it was a job that could be dangerous.

Come to think of it, he didn't even know what the man he would be meeting looked like. Hopefully his own distinctive hairstyle would clue the writer in to Shinichi's location. Then he wouldn't have to start guessing at every customer who came into the restaurant.

Finishing off his blueberry muffin, Shinichi settled in to wait with his coffee mug held comfortably in both hands. It was a very rich, smooth coffee with a buttery undertone. The flavors danced over his taste buds. He let out an almost dreamy sigh. It was heavenly. That's what it was. He was definitely going to have to come back here more often in the future if their coffee was always this good.

Looking around once more for signs of new customers, he noticed that the janitor was now only a few booths away from where Shinichi himself was sitting. The man mopped his way down the aisle, saying nothing to Shinichi as he passed. Stopping at the end of the aisle, he opened a compartment door in the side of one of the islands supporting the many potted plants and set his current bucket down inside it where, the detective could see, two more buckets had been placed. The janitor took the one on the far end of the line, shut the cabinet, and resumed his mopping.

Shinichi's brows furrowed. He'd only gotten a glimpse of it, but that other bucket in there had been a lot bigger than its cousins. It had been almost twice their size, and it had had a lid on so that its contents were not visible from the outside. The act of changing buckets in and of itself was a bit odd too, though he supposed if the water had been getting too dirty…

Shinichi's curiosity piqued. So when the janitor had mopped his way down the next aisle and was therefore well out of range, Shinichi ducked down and opened the cabinet. The big bucket had no label. He couldn't open it, but he thought he could smell something on it. The smell came away with his hands too. It was a scent that he recognized. He'd smelled it around fireworks—and around guns.

Don't jump to conclusions, he reminded himself as he hurriedly slid back into his seat and pretended that he'd been there the whole time. Why would they have a bucket of gunpowder or whatever in the middle of a family restaurant? And why was it with the janitorial supplies?

Shinichi chewed on that as his eyes followed the janitor's progress around the restaurant. Eventually, the man deemed the place thoroughly mopped. So he picked up his mop and bucket and headed back out onto the landing where there was a side hall to the bathrooms and the janitor's closet.

Shinichi stood up. "Sir! You forgot some!"

"Leave them," the lady at the counter said. "He has to get the bathrooms ready before the crowds show up."

"I don't mind carrying them over there for him," Shinichi offered, rising from his seat. "You shouldn't leave dirty water sitting around. It grows bacteria and pests." No way was he leaving a bucket that smelled like gunpowder in the middle of a family restaurant to wait for the crowds. So he stepped back towards the cabinet and reached down to open it.

"I said leave it," the woman snapped, her tone sharp and cold. It was accompanied by an equally cold, metallic click. Shinichi knew exactly what that sound was. Slowly, he straightened.

Sure enough, there stood the counter lady. With a gun.

Well this was… He wasn't sure how to finish the sentence. Sure, he often ran into crimes in progress as well as post execution, but this was rather random even for his strange life.

The woman stepped out from behind the counter, her weapon leveled straight at his chest. There were quite a few tables and chairs in the intervening space between them, but they offered little protection. Her hand was rock steady, and her eyes were obsidian chips.

The whole scene just felt surreal.

"You're the one trying to take my children away from me," she stated, completely calm and composed. There was no sign of anxiety, though the ice in her words burned with their own kind of fire.

Shinichi did a double take. That…was not what he had been expecting. It made no sense. "I don't know what you mean," he said in perfect honesty, making sure to stay still lest any sudden movements cause the woman to shoot. "I'm not here to take away anyone. I came to meet a journalist for coffee." Although he was pretty sure by now that that had been a ruse.

The woman let out a bark of laughter. "You can't fool me. Get back in your seat, and keep your hands where I can see them."

Shinichi sat.

"You know, you could have at least enjoyed your last cup of coffee in peace if you'd left well enough alone," the woman said. The note of displeasure in her voice was hard to miss. It seemed to Shinichi that she wasn't entirely sure what her next move should be.

That was rather telling. He studied her more closely. Now that he was looking for it, he could see that she wasn't as calm as she was trying to appear. The corners of her mouth and eyes were pinched, and there was an almost imperceptible tremor in her arms. Her stance too was unnaturally stiff.

"That's a bomb in there, isn't it?" he stated more than asked.

The woman didn't respond.

"If you're still here when it goes off, you're going to be caught in the blast."

The woman flinched then glared but still did not speak.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Be quiet," she snapped, shifting restlessly where she stood.

"I don't know what you've been told about me, and I don't know what you hope to gain by doing this. But I do know that, if you go through with it, there won't be any going back. And that's if you survive."

"I said shut up!" In a sudden fit of anger, the woman raised her weapon.

Something flashed as it flew through the air. It struck the gun in the woman's hands. Her eyes widened as the barrel of the gun bounced upward and her finger tightened on the trigger on reflex. There was a flash and a bang as the gun discharged. Shocked and no longer braced, the woman lost hold of her weapon. It leapt out of her hands like it was alive.

Shinichi didn't wait for her to recollect herself. The moment he saw the gun disappear under the tables, he leapt from his seat and ran forward. His arm came up as his fingers popped the lid on his watch. The moment he was within range, he pressed the button that would release the dart hidden in the little timepiece.

The woman staggered then crumpled to the floor.

Assured that she was out cold for the time being, Shinichi glanced under the tables for her gun. It was evidence. That was when he spotted the object that had dislodged the weapon to begin with. It was a five of clubs. He stared at it.

"Duck!"

Recognizing the voice, Shinichi ducked. A shape went hurtling over his head. Scrambling back to his feet, he spun around, eyes sweeping quickly over the restaurant.

The first thing he saw was that the janitor was back. Though it was difficult to make out his expression because half his face was covered by his surgical mask, the eyes looking back at him from above that mask were wide and wild. His hand was in his pocket.

The second thing Shinichi noticed was that there was smoke pouring out of the kitchen.

The third thing he noticed was that the thing that had flown over his head a moment ago was a man. He did a double take when he saw that the man was not Kaito. It was some stranger with a scarred face. But he was sure he'd heard—

"Shinichi! The bomb!"

Kaito's voice.

He didn't have time to think about it. The smoke pouring from the kitchen was getting thicker, and though he had no idea what else the mad woman and the man who must be her accomplice had planned, he had to deal with what was in front of him before he could have the luxury of time to investigate.

He ran back to the cabinet. He found what he was looking for attached to the back of the mammoth bucket. The device had begun to beep. The quiet, rhythmic beeping was almost incongruously placid compared to the gunshot still ringing in his ears and the rapid pounding of his own heart.

Focus.

It was a very simple bomb. Just a load of explosive hooked up to a timed ignition device. He should be able to disarm it no problem.

The floor shook. He jerked his hands away from the device and cursed. Simple or not, one wrong slip and the whole top of the building was going to go boom.

He could hear a scuffle. He wanted to look—wanted to know what was happening. Wanted to help. But he couldn't allow himself to get distracted.

Focus!

Near the restaurant doors, the scarred man had borne the janitor to the floor. The two were wrestling for possession of the small controller that had emerged from the janitor's pocket.

"Who the hell are you?" the janitor snarled as he tried to kick the stranger off him. "This is none of your business!"

"I'll decide that for myself, thanks," the stranger snapped back. He drove his knee into the janitor's stomach as his left hand shot out to wrap like a vice around the man's wrist. Strong, dexterous fingers worked to pry the device from the man's grip without pressing any buttons by accident as Kaito's other hand deflected a punch aimed for his jaw.

Wheezing, the janitor twisted on the floor, trying to yank the device underneath himself so that he could shield it with his own body.

That was when the doorway leading back out onto the stairway landing flashed orange and yellow and the ground shook.

The man let out a crow of triumph that turned into a grunt of pain as Kaito twisted the man's arm out and up behind his back. He deftly bent the man's finger back. The janitor let out a hiss of pain and his grip on the controller went slack.

It was gone before he could recuperate. Kaito was gone too, having leapt back to his feet and backed away to a safe distance where he could check that the remote control was still functional.

"You're too late," the janitor sneered. "Soon this whole floor is going to be in flames. There's nowhere you can run." He wheezed, still clutching at his stomach where he'd been hit. His expression, however, was one twisted with glee.

"You see, Jackie? I got 'em."

Kaito stared at him for a moment. Jackie? Who the hell was that? And what did he or she have to do with this rather crude attempt at murder?

Another small explosion shook the floor. Now they could both see flames flickering in the doorway. Matching flames were beginning to lick their way out of the kitchen too beneath a thickening veil of white gray smoke.

Cursing under his breath, Kaito whipped out a can of sleeping gas and sprayed the janitor in the face before the guy could even blink. Then he ran back to where Shinichi was still crouched in front of the open cabinet.

"We gotta get out of here. I can smell gas. Even if you disarm that, this place is going to go up like a volcano the moment those flames reach this part of the restaurant."

Shinichi grunted, swiping a hand across his forehead. "It's off the timer now. We have to take those two with us."

Kaito let out a frustrated breath. "Yeah, I know. I can get you out, but two extra dead weights are going to be the opposite of helpful."

Shinichi stood and pointed at the bucket of explosives. "What if we take that?"

"And do what with it exactly?"

"Just get it somewhere far away where it can be dealt with at our own pace."

"And what about the guys who just tried to kill us? Not very skillfully, I might add. Not that I'm complaining."

"We can move them out into the roof garden. Without more explosives, the fire should advance more normally. If we call now, the police should be able to send a helicopter to pick them up."

"Them? What about you?"

"You said you could get me out, right? We'll take the explosives with us. I can finish dismantling them when we have them somewhere safe."

Kaito twitched. "That's ridiculous. Why do you think the police have a bomb squad? Just put it outside."

"You said it yourself If we leave it here, the fire might reach it before the police do."

They stared at each other for a moment. The stubborn expression on Shinichi's face was kind of endearing, Kaito mused, but it was also kind of annoying. Honestly, detectives! They were all looking for trouble. That's what it was. And one of these days they were going to land themselves in early graves because of it.

"Fine. Let's get these two lumps outside first."

Together, they got both unconscious bodies out onto the roof. They laid the two side by side near the far edge of the roof, making sure that a helicopter would have room to land. Then Shinichi dialed the police and the fire department while Kaito carefully extracted the bomb from its cabinet. He double-checked to make sure that the timer was indeed stopped. The rest of it didn't look too complex, he thought, casting an experienced eye over the design. But Shinichi was right that it would take more time than they had to deal with it correctly. And rush jobs just weren't a good idea with these sorts of things.

By now half the restaurant was in flames. Alarms were starting to go off (a little slow, Shinichi thought. Had that been tampered with too? How many people had been in on this?). Smoke poured from the open roof door to rise black against the sky. Sirens wailed in the distance.

Striding to the edge of the roof, Kaito looked across at the building next door. It was a little shorter than the one they were on. He could see the marks he'd made for himself. Everything was in order. Slipping his card gun from its concealed holster, he adjusted the settings. Then he fired.

The grappling hook soared easily across the ways.

Technically, they could just wait for the police, he thought as he worked. The immediate dangers had been neutralized, and though the fire was a pressing issue, he was confident that the police would make it in plenty of time to pick them up. His personal dislike of waiting around aside, it would be the easy and relatively risk free thing to do.

But…

He'd seen the look on Shinichi's face in the restaurant right after the woman had been disarmed. The detective must have seen the card from his gun. Being Shinichi, he must have made the connection by now. Besides, he had his own questions for the blue-eyed detective.

They needed to talk. And Kaito personally preferred to do so without a bunch of police hovering over them.

"You ready?" he asked, turning to see that Shinichi had put away his phone.

The detective nodded.

"Then grab onto this and jump. You'll land on that balcony over there."

"…That's your plan?"

"Yep. Now hurry up. We don't have all day. Or are you afraid of heights?"

"No, I'm not." Shinichi tried not to think about the very long drop to the ground far, far below. He just hoped he didn't have a fit halfway across. It had been a pretty strenuous day, which tended to increase the chances, but he'd been taking his medication as Haibara instructed. He'd just have to keep his fingers crossed.

He reached for the bomb, but Kaito smacked his hand away.

"I'm taking it."

"What? But I—"

"I know I won't jostle it. Can you say the same? If not then just get going already. We're wasting time!"

Shinichi surrendered. Grabbing the makeshift handle Kaito offered him, he braced himself, stepped over the safety rail, and jumped.

Kaito watched only long enough to make sure Shinichi was well on his way before moving to follow. It sure was convenient that the bomb had been disguised as a bucket of all things, he mused. It made it much easier to carry even if it was quite heavy.

A few seconds later, the thief landed on the balcony beside an anxious Shinichi. He made short work of retrieving his lines and other tools. Then he opened the balcony door, picked up the bucket, and beckoned Shinichi to follow.

Once they were both inside what turned out to be quite a nice hotel room, he locked the door and pulled the thin, white curtains across to shield them from prying eyes.

"There."

Shinichi glanced from the bucket-bomb now sitting on the hotel room table then back at Kaito. "I thought we were going to get this somewhere safe."

"Well this place isn't on fire," Kaito pointed out. "Now are you going to dismantle it or did you want me to do it? Then we'll talk."

TBC

A.N: Well, I finally finished the chapter. ^.^ Thanks for waiting! I still feel a bit under the weather, though it's better some days than others -_- But I guess that's the thing about stress. It's always an ongoing battle. Er, anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. And thanks for the encouragement. ^_^