Chapter Four

When Ayumi did not return in time for dinner, her mother began calling all of her friends to see if the child was with any of them and had simply lost track of time. But of course, it was discovered that Ayumi was not with any of them, and so everyone began to worry. Mrs. Yoshida called the police and a search throughout the city was organized, just as it had been when she had vanished in the past.

Ai and Conan, who had come to the Yoshidas' house, watched as officers milled around and then went their separate ways to look for the missing girl. Then, narrowing her eyes, Ai turned to look at the other. "Kudo, do you think this has anything to do with the telephone calls?" she asked grimly.

Conan looked back, equally as serious. "It's very possible," he acknowledged, "but it's strange that they received two calls on one evening, and then there weren't any for these past two weeks." Still, he knew that criminal minds were often very bewildering and that it was often difficult to figure out what they were thinking. But of course, he always enjoyed sorting it out and getting the pieces to make sense. Right now, he knew that it was critical for him to do so. Ayumi's safety could very well depend on it.

"Maybe they wanted to make sure they had the right house?" Ai suggested now.

Conan nodded slowly. "I've thought of that," he admitted. "It could be the truth." His eyes narrowed. "If we could only figure out who would want to take her!" He looked to Ai searchingly. "Are you sure that it would not be the Black Organization?" he demanded. He knew that she did not believe it was, but he still could not help feeling certain that they were involved somehow.

She shook her head. "As long as they're not aware that Ayumi is connected with me, I don't see what they would be able to gain from it," she answered. Then another idea occurred to her. "Kudo, did they ever find the body of the man who tried to take her before?" she asked seriously.

"Yeah," Conan confirmed, "badly burned and dead from a gunshot wound to the head, just as Ayumi said."

"Then it couldn't have been him," Ai frowned. She mulled it over in her mind before looking to Conan again. "Maybe someone working with him is involved somehow," she suggested, "someone who remembers Ayumi from before."

"But why would they take her?" Conan sighed. This was a baffling case. He knew that he had to solve it immediately, and yet it did not seem as though he had much time in which to do so. Ayumi was most likely in serious danger at this very moment.

Then his eyes narrowed as he thought of something else. "What if she just wandered off by herself again?" he mused. "The last time, she said she was looking for Gin, and that's when she climbed in his car to get away from Ushio." He sighed again. "Maybe she's looking for him again, for some reason."

"Maybe," Ai agreed, "but whatever the reason, I'm sure we can both agree that she's in trouble." Conan nodded emphatically, and the two of them hurried off to find Dr. Agasa and join in the search.

Abruptly Conan stopped, blinking in surprise. When Ai turned to look at him questioningly, she found him adjusting his glasses. "I'm getting a signal from the badge!" he exclaimed. "It's a weak one, and it wasn't coming through before." He looked back at Ai, hope in his eyes. "It's somewhere close by. Let's find where!" With that he took off again and veered to the left. After a brief moment of surprise, Ai followed, wondering why a signal was suddenly coming through now when it was not a few minutes earlier.


Gin narrowed his emerald eyes darkly, listening as Vodka played the telephone conversation from earlier. He recognized most of what was said. It was as he had started to suspect---someone had recorded the original call and then had edited it to make it sound as though Gin was speaking derogatorily of Vodka and that the caller was doing the opposite, which was the reverse of how it had actually been. Other phrases were ones that he did not remember from the call, and he decided that the editor must have taken certain words and strung them together to say what they wanted. The question was, who had done it, and why?

Absently he held Ayumi on his lap as this was going on. While they had been setting up the tape player in the backseat of the Porsche, she had finally admitted to not feeling well and then had climbed onto Gin's lap. For some reason, he had not routed her away. Now she was clinging to his arm and laying her head against it. If he had looked at her, he would have seen how pale she had become. He laid a hand on the top of her head, also an unconscious action.

Vodka looked at him nervously as the tape ended. "What do you think, bro?" he asked. He was surprised by how gentle Gin was being towards the girl, but he knew better than to say anything. And anyway, he was much more concerned over what Gin's reaction to the tape would be. If Gin had not had anything to do with this, and he believed that Vodka himself had put it together, then Vodka was certain it was all over for him.

Gin growled. "Whoever edited that conversation twisted it all around," he answered flatly. "In reality, it was the caller who was speaking poorly about you. It wasn't me." He reached over, grabbing up the paper with the email on it. "And I didn't send this," he said firmly.

Vodka swallowed hard. "I don't have any proof of that," he pointed out cautiously.

"And I don't have proof that you didn't make all of this up yourself," Gin retorted.

They stared each other down for a long moment, neither especially anxious to back down, in case the other truly was an enemy. They might have remained that way for quite some time, if Ayumi had not suddenly broken the mood.

She moaned, burrowing against Gin's coat, and opened her eyes slightly."Gin-sama," she said in a pained, weakened voice, and shuddered. She did not understand why she was feeling so ill. It had started shortly after she had ran over to Gin and Vodka on the sidewalk, she remembered, and it had only gotten worse after that. Now the dizziness was coming over her again. Her eyes fell shut again, against her will, and she slipped into unconsciousness.

Gin started at her voice, as if emerging from a dreamlike state, and looked down at her as she sagged lifelessly against him. Noticing how pale her skin was against her dark hair and his own coat, he reached down and placed a hand over her forehead in concern. "She's got a fever," he muttered, and wondered what to do now. It seemed strange to him that she would become sick so suddenly, but he supposed the stress of the day's events could have caused it. Then again, on the other hand. . . .

His eyes narrowed and he began to search over her body for something that he was hoping to not find. Vodka gawked, watching as Gin pried the child's hands away from his arm and then raised them to the glow of the overhead light, searching over them and her small arms for a moment before letting them limply drop. Then he examined her neck, and here his expression darkened even more.

Vodka blinked at him in confusion. "What is it, bro?" he asked.

"She was stuck with a needle," Gin answered, and indicated the pinprick in her ghostly flesh. Vodka stared in alarm. "Probably by whoever took her. And the needle probably contained poison." His green eyes flickered with apparent outrage over this, and he cradled the child in his arms as he tried to think of what to do now. They could take her back to the base and have some of the doctors try to determine what had been used, but there was the chance that it was something used by a rival syndicate that they did not have knowledge about yet. Still, they might have to take the chance---unless they could find the person who had done this to her.

Gin realized now that he was thinking of Ayumi's abductor as if it was not Vodka. And that did not surprise him. He truly was certain that Vodka had not been responsible. His shock when first Gin and then Ayumi had accused him of the kidnapping had been genuine. He had not known anything about it until then.

Vodka stared at him, again obviously stunned by this news. "Poison?" he repeated in horror.

Gin nodded and opened the door, getting out while still holding Ayumi with one arm. He eased himself into the driver's seat and then looked to Vodka, who was still sitting in the back and watching as though he wasn't sure what to think. "Well, come on!" the blonde barked.

Startled out of his trance, Vodka set the tape player aside and got into the passenger side. "What are we going to do, bro?" It dawned on him now that Gin had not accused him of being the one to give Ayumi the poison, and he wondered if he did not have to worry about that happening. He hoped that was so.

In response Gin lifted the small body and laid her on Vodka's lap. "Take care of her," he grunted. "We have to get her someplace where they can find out what's wrong." Without waiting for Vodka to answer, Gin revved the engine and drove away.

Vodka was at a loss for words. He looked down at Ayumi's weakened form, seeing how pale and sick she was, and slowly put his arms around her to hold her close. He knew that if she awoke she would be terrified and would probably try to get away from him. But he also realized, to his relief, that Gin never would have entrusted her with him if he believed that Vodka had harmed her in the first place. Gin did not need to say it aloud; it was obvious from this action. He still trusted Vodka.

Suddenly Gin's cell phone rang. In irritation he pulled it out and unfolded it while still holding onto the steering wheel. "Hello?" he snarled into the phone. Every call today had been yet another piece in this frustrating mystery, and he was not looking forward to finding out what it would bring them next.

"Do you have the girl?" an unfamiliar voice demanded.

Gin's eyes narrowed in disgust. "Who is this?" he returned, driving around a corner.

"You don't need to know that," was the exasperating response, "except that I work for your partner, or should I say, ex-partner, since I'm sure you're revolted with him by now. I'm disgusted with him too, which is why I'm calling to talk to you." There was static on the other end of the line, and Gin could faintly hear some background noises but at the moment he was not sure what they were. Nor did he care right now.

"Get to the point," Gin growled.

"Well, the point is that the girl probably isn't feeling very well right now, is she? You're a smart person. I'm sure you're aware of that." A pause. "What you may not know is that she won't last very long---most likely not more than an hour. She needs a certain antidote, one that your partner knows about."

Gin glanced at Vodka, then back ahead at the road. "I don't believe it," he said coldly. "You've been leading us along all this time, trying to turn us against each other."

"Check Vodka's pockets," was the answer. "He still has the needle he used to poison the poor child. You don't have to believe me. Find the proof."

Gin debated this for a moment before pulling over to the side of the road. For the person to be so confident, he must know that Gin would find exactly what was claimed to be there. And that made Gin all the more suspicious of the caller and not of Vodka. "Show me the contents of your pockets," the blonde ordered his ally.

Stunned, and having a sinking feeling, Vodka set Ayumi back on his lap and began searching through his coat pockets. A pack of cigarettes, the lighter, a yo-yo . . . nothing unusual. But he blinked, finding something he did not recognize. Slowly he pulled it out, and then stared at it in alarm. He was holding an empty hypodermic needle. Shakily he held it up, turning it over in his hand, and looked to Gin, not able to speak.

Gin glowered at it. He had known that they would find it, after the caller's confidence. "Now what do you want?" he snapped into the phone. "We found it."

"Well, ask him about it," the voice said frankly.

"It won't do any good," Gin retorted. "He doesn't know how it got there."

Vodka stared at Gin, amazed. He had been sure that the green-eyed man was going to feel hostile toward him because of the discovery. But instead Gin apparently still felt that Vodka was not guilty in the matter. Slowly he relaxed, though he then had to wonder how on earth the needle had gotten in his pocket. Who would have slipped it there? The boy who had played him the tape? He might have had an opportunity, when Vodka was occupied with listening to the conversation.

The person on Gin's phone made a sound of disbelief. "You surely can't believe him," he objected. "He's the one who poisoned the girl!"

"Maybe," Gin replied, annoyed, "but I highly doubt it. Do you think I'll believe you over him, especially when he came to me with this tape that someone re-edited of a conversation I had?" And especially when I've known him for years, he added to himself. I know when we're being played for fools.

"He did that himself," the caller replied, "and then made up the story about someone else doing it."

Vodka listened intently to the voice. He had been thinking that it sounded familiar to him, and now he placed it. "That's the person who called me!" he exclaimed indignantly. "He was trying to make me think that you were trying to kill me!"

Ayumi stirred and moaned softly on his lap, but did not wake up. Instead she snuggled closer, grabbing a handful of his shirt. Vodka set the needle aside on the dashboard and looked down at her. She was such an innocent child, and she had gotten mixed up with so much that she should not have had to. He sighed and leaned back, idly wondering what would have happened to himself and to Gin if they had not been brought up as part of the Black Organization.

Gin looked at his partner with great interest at this statement. "Oh?" he said thoughtfully, bringing Vodka back to the present.

"That's not true!" the caller said adamantly, having overheard. "He's the one who contacted me about that! He said you were trying to kill him and he wanted to get you first, and that he was going to first get revenge on you by hurting the girl!"

"Now you're just spewing idiocy," Gin retorted. "We're wasting time. I'm sure you know what I do to people who give me a hard time. I want you to tell me exactly what was done to this girl, and how to stop it!" He gripped the steering wheel tightly with his free hand, fire flashing in his emerald eyes.

"It's your partner who knows what to do," the person continued to insist, and Gin's expression turned to complete disgust.

Vodka was feeling the same way. "Bro, let me talk to that guy," he said now. He was fed up with this game that they were trapped within, and he wanted to tell the caller exactly what he thought of these unfair actions.

In annoyance Gin shoved the phone at him. "Try to get him to tell about the antidote," he ordered. "I have a feeling that the one thing he isn't lying about is the fact that we only have an hour to save her life." He was furious about the whole situation. They were being used as pawns, the same as Ushio had done to them. And he would not take that lightly. If Ayumi died because of this sick game, he would . . . well, he did not know what he would do. But the one responsible would regret it.

He growled silently to himself. Was he allowing himself to grow attached to that girl? Of course not. That was ridiculous. He did not form attachments to anyone. He had been trained to not do so. But he still was angered over how Ayumi was being used, apparently in an attempt to turn Gin and Vodka against each other. It was clear now to Gin that they were dealing with such a plan. And unless they could figure out who was behind it, and why, Ayumi would probably die. He could hear from Vodka's side of the conversation that it was not going anywhere.

He wondered if someone who knew Ushio could be responsible. His eyes narrowed, recalling Ling Hi Sou's Ouroboros ring, and the strange comments he had made concerning Ushio when Gin and Vodka had gone to his apartment.

"It's a tragedy . . . what happened to Ushio," Ling remarked then. "He served as a loyal informant for your organization for years, and then, suddenly he was killed."

"He got too full of himself to be of much use," Gin grunted. "When you forget your position, that's when you've set up your own downfall."

"Yes," Ling mused then. "That's very true, Agent Gin. Very true indeed."

Gin also remembered the intense hatred he had felt from Ling. He had believed that it was directed at him, and possibly at Vodka as well. And it was Ling who had called him about finding Ayumi. Was that merely a coincidence? Or was that something he should pay more attention to?

Suddenly Gin's eyes widened and he looked around for a piece of paper, finally grabbing the infamous email printout. Turning it over, he began writing something several different ways. Then his eyes narrowed. Of course. Why had he not seen it before? Now things were starting to make more sense.

Vodka glared at the phone as the mysterious caller hung up on him. He had not learned anything of value. Now he was being told that Gin must have planted the needle on him and that Gin had been the one who had actually harmed the girl. The person seemed to have only in mind the goal of tormenting them both by telling them each something different, until they were driven mad. And they did not have any time to spare, with Ayumi's life at stake. Vodka did not want to see her die from this poison.

He looked over at Gin, seeing him quickly scribbling something down on a sheet of paper. He blinked in confusion. "Bro?"

Gin looked up, setting the paper aside as he started the engine. "We're going to the Hiragi Apartments," he said darkly.

Vodka stared at him. "Why?" he gasped, holding onto Ayumi as they sped around a corner. Of all things he had expected Gin to tell him, that was not one of them. The Hiragi Apartments was the last location to which he thought they would be going right now.

"Because," Gin answered angrily, "Ling Hi Sou is involved in this."

Vodka glanced down at the paper Gin had been writing on. And then he understood.


While this was taking place, Conan and Ai were arriving at the location from which Ayumi's badge was sending out its signal. It was a pink house with a hedge and many flowers in the front. It looked like a house that Ayumi would greatly enjoy, and as the two supposed children went up to it, they found to their astonishment that the front door had been left wide open. Then, narrowing his eyes, Conan ran up the porch steps and into the front parlor.

He stopped short as he surveyed the area. Everything seemed to be in perfect order, at least on first glance. But something was definitely wrong. Quickly he ran down the fancy hall and to the back door. It was shut, but on the floor was a calico cat---and it was happily playing with what Conan recognized as Ayumi's badge.

The door must have not been shut tight and the cat pushed it open! he decided as he bent down to pick up the tracking device. The feline meowed in protest, but Conan ignored it, turning the badge over for any possible clues. Ayumi would not have just been careless and dropped it here. And it looked banged up, as if someone had perhaps stepped on it. That was probably why it had not given a signal before. Then, when the cat had come to play with it, that action had managed to jar it back into some semblance of working order.

Now Ai came over to him. "There's tire tracks out back," she reported grimly, and then noticed the badge. Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "Ayumi was here," she uttered quietly. And it looked as though she definitely had been taken by someone. What puzzled Ai was why Ayumi would have been inside a home that looked as though it would be vacant for several days. How would she even get inside? Had the person who had taken her already been there, and had lured her there somehow?

Conan nodded grimly. "It doesn't look like there's anything to see in here," he remarked. "Let's go look at the tire tracks."


Ling's suite at the Hiragi Apartments seemed empty when Gin and Vodka arrived. Gin knocked several times without getting a response, much to his vexation. Vodka, who was still holding Ayumi's limp body, looked at him with concern. "Now what?" he asked. He shifted the little girl's weight, and she weakly opened her eyes, blinking up at him.

"Vodka-san," she said softly, and gave him a small, pain-filled smile. In her current state, she did not clearly remember the events from earlier. She only knew that she felt safe right now, and she snuggled closer.

Vodka swallowed, again feeling uncomfortable. He had rarely, if ever, had someone look up to him the way Ayumi seemed to do. He did not know how to handle it. In another way, he felt honored that Ayumi saw something more in him and in Gin than just that they were assassins. He looked over at Gin and saw the blonde giving them both a glance before turning his attention back to the door. Then Vodka realized that Gin was going to kick it in.

The blonde did exactly this, not caring if any of the other tenants heard. It took three tries before the wood finally gave up and flew open, hanging off its hinges, and when it did, Gin pulled out his gun and stormed inside. He narrowed his eyes when he saw that the living room light was on and that furniture was strewn about. Several chairs were on their sides, the couch was upsidedown, and two vases were in pieces. Something had happened in here, and he doubted that he would like it any more than anything else that had taken place tonight.

Motioning to Vodka to follow him, Gin started to weave his way around the furniture. When he came to the small hallway outside of the living room, he thought he could hear a weak moan. Growling to himself, he pushed open the bedroom door and looked inside, then stopped in shock.

There was more topsy-turvey furniture in that room, including the nightstand, a dresser, and the bed itself. Laying on the floor in the middle of the catastrophe was a woman, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and clutching at her profusely bleeding stomach. Her long blonde hair, highlighted with pink, fell around her shoulders. When the door opened, she looked up in fright. Gin recognized her as Ling's companion from earlier.