Conan got out of school the next day. He opened up his cell phone. No missed calls. Then he opened up Shinichi's. Several of them.

It had been Subaru who had called him eight times. He should have known better that Conan was in school and didn't do cellular communication in class. Nevertheless, he dialed his number and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" said Conan.

"It's urgent," said Subaru.

"What happened?"

"Your father has been missing since early this afternoon."

Conan knew that this implied that his father had either carelessly broken his self-imposed rule of not leaving the house, or had actually been kidnapped, and the former was extremely unlikely. This was not good.

"When did you last see him?"

"I left the house to buy groceries. He was working in his study. When I returned, he was gone. There were no signs that anything had been touched or damaged."

"He left the house as it was?"

"Yes."

"Even the lights were still on?"

"No, actually. To anyone else it would appear that he had just gone on an errand, but I know he knows better."

"Block 25, Beika-cho."

"That's really close," said Conan. "I'll look the building up on the Internet."

"They might be tracking our IP. If we do that, they'll know that we know."

"Fine. We'll have to just scout it out."

"We've got to go as soon as possible."

"I wouldn't do that," said Subaru. "They've probably been watching the house. If we leave, they're going to see it as suspicious. We have to act as if things are normal for the time being."

"How can we act normal when my father is missing?"

"We're going to call the police and ask to start a search."

"We can't get the police involved, much less go to that address."

"They won't know about the address."

"I see."

"While the search is being conducted, we'll find our own way to investigate without being noticed." Subaru took out his cell phone and dialed the number to the police department.

"I've got an idea."

"You're saying that Kudo Yuusaku was kidnapped?" said Takagi, who had entered the doorway.

"Yes," said Sato, "and I've told you that five times already."

"But I still can't believe it. Who would take a famous novelist like him? He's even solved real mysteries. He shouldn't be having this kind of trouble."

Megure was engaged with Subaru.

"I last saw him when I went out for groceries earlier this afternoon," said Subaru.

"Who are you again?" asked Megure.

"I'm a friend renting out his house, and I do the housekeeping when he visits."

"How long had he been in Japan?"

"Only a day or so."

"And he wasn't accompanied by his wife?"

"No, she had personal business in America."

"Assuming this is all correct, on what business did he come to Japan for?"

"It was just a trip to visit family and friends."

"I see."

Conan walked to number 259. It had not been that far, so he had left his skateboard at home, and had ended up at a large industrial building. With a change of clothing, a lack of glasses, and a proper light brown wig on, he didn't look like himself at all, which was very convenient.

He went into the back of the parking lot. Gin's Porsche shone in the moonlight like a huge black cricket. Conan swallowed his nervousness resolutely and snuck past it, avoiding the cameras he had spotted earlier. He had confronted the Organization with less caution before, he reassured himself. They were just as faulty as anyone else facing a detective of his level and skill. He found a door out of the range of the cameras and quietly picked its lock. It might have been illegal, but it was in the name of justice in the first place. The metal doorknob finally budged, and Conan slipped in as silently as he could.

He entered a brightly lit corridor. No one was around, but as soon as Conan closed the door behind him with similar caution as when opening it, he flung himself to the right wall and inched towards the first open doorway.

He turned and looked into the room. It was empty of people. Brooms, buckets, mops, and cleaning chemicals lined the walls. It was a janitor's closet. If the janitor's closet was open and unlocked, it was likely that either the janitor was on his shift unaware of the organization's infiltration, or the thugs had needed to clean up an unsavory mess. Conan shuddered a little. He slipped into the room and inspected it. A few things appeared to be missing from shelves, but he had no idea what they were. He decided that it wasn't worth deducting what these objects were, and exited, continuing to edge across the side of the wall.

The next room was closed and locked, with a window in the upper part of the door. Conan could not see through the window, and there were no sounds or light coming from inside. He figured that if Gin and Vodka were here, they would be engaged with his father, and wouldn't leave him alone in a room on their busy schedule. He moved on. Suddenly, he heard unfamiliar voices coming down from a second corridor (the halls met at a T) as well as footsteps that gradually drew nearer. Conan quickly and quietly returned to the janitor's closet and hid himself behind a shelf, trying to keep his breaths below detection. He listened in for conversation.

"I saw you teeming with anger back there, partner," said one of them. "You're not to question Gin, no matter what he asks of you."

"I think he is going too far in this matter," said the other, "and why the boss hasn't stopped him yet is a mystery to me."

"It doesn't matter." Their voices and footsteps faded into obscurity again.

Conan did not gain anything from this except fear that his father was being treated poorly. He stepped out again when all was silent and proceeded to the very corner of the T-shaped corridor. He carefully looked down the right side and then the left. He caught sight of the two men walking into another room. They were, as expected, dressed in black. Both were of average size and one had short gray hair under his hat, while the other had black shoulder-length hair and no hat at all. Conan took notice of their mannerisms (the gray-haired man was left-handed) and decided to head down the right corridor, which was where Gin probably was.

Despite his best intentions to stay calm, Conan's heart was beating fast, and he felt sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck. As he edged down the hallway, he took deep breaths as quietly as he could, trying to keep his anxiety from betraying him. He had every right for his nerves to be on edge, seeing as these were assassins who had kidnapped his father and done even more unspeakable things in the past. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and kept his hands off the walls to prevent oily stains from forming that would be telltale signs of his presence. Gin had doubted before that a child would be investigating them, but Conan knew better than to use that as an excuse to be lazy.

He caught the pungent smell of cigarette smoke. Someone was taking a smoke break. Conan got to the first open door on his side of the hallway and quickly peered in. It was somebody's office, and the lights were off. He could use it as a hiding place in case one of the agents decided to go for another stroll, except there was someone already occupying the room at the moment.

Conan realized what he was looking at. There was a bald man at the desk, wearing business clothes, unconscious. Conan crept into the room and checked the man's pulse. He had been knocked out, but not killed; it was likely to have been done with chloroform, as he was not injured. He had probably been present when the Organization took the building for use, and quietly silenced, as if he had just taken a peaceful nap.

With the mention in his mind of chloroform, Conan recalled when his parents had falsely kidnapped him in order to convince him that the Organization was rightfully dangerous and that his mission would be safer if he went to America. This was coincidentally similar to that day, except now it was his father who was in danger because of Conan's desire to find out about the Organization's dealings and stop them. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart. His father had put in so much effort to help his son, and he was the one who might pay for it with his life. It was almost selfish of Conan to have requested his aid, he decided. People were dying because he was trying to get his body back and get time back to normal. Nothing was wrong at the moment outside of his life. Conan was the only one who had a problem with his situation, and everyone else seemed content reliving the same time of their life over and over again.

Conan was snapped out of this guilt trip by a noise from the room next to him. It sounded like something heavy had fallen. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. He got up to the adjoining wall and held his ear close, hoping to hear what was happening. Someone walked out of the room and down the hallway, and Conan hid behind the desk as they passed by the room. From the heavy steps, he guessed it was Vodka. Gin was probably in the next room.

Fearing that Gin would follow Vodka after some casual hesitance, Conan didn't go out of the doorway to watch where Vodka went. He heard the click of a lighter, and figured that Gin had decided to indulge in a cigarette as well. Someone coughed farther away from the wall. Conan was delighted to know that a third person had been in the room, meaning that his father was likely alive.

What could Conan do at this point? There was no way he could barge in and knock out Gin. He had shown the ability to resist potent tranquilizers and was extremely thick-skinned when it came to injuries. Even if Vodka was the tougher-looking one, it was that silver-haired fox of a man who had incredible stamina. Conan was powerless against Gin unless he came up with a way to outsmart him. His best hope was that both of them would leave at one point, but the Organization never left openings for their plans to fail. Still, they weren't expecting someone of Conan's age to be infiltrating them, and they only had one prisoner to look after, who was probably bound up tightly.

Gin didn't move. He stood as still as a statue. Conan couldn't even hear his breathing. His father was conscious, right? Was he gagged? When he had coughed, it didn't sound like his mouth was muffled. What did this silence mean, then? Had Gin ordered his father to keep silent or face death?

Conan's mind raced while these silent minutes passed by. He had to come up with a proper way to get his father out of the building and in a safe place. His own home had been eliminated as a haven, and so had Agasa's. The Mouri household was out of the question. None of the police officers knew Yuusaku extensively. Subaru had suggested that Conan take his father to hide with the FBI, but he felt it would be too obvious from the Organization's point of view. Buying a plane ticket would be a dead giveaway, as well. Who was his father friends with that he could trust? Toichi Kuroba, a correspondent of his father's, had been dead for years. Conan feared that his father wouldn't have any ideas of where to go either, but he remembered that he always had a trick up his sleeve about these sort of things. They would find a way.

Vodka returned to the supposed interrogation room. "I told those rookies off, aniki," he said.

"I'm ashamed of them," said Gin. "They couldn't keep a cat in a box, even if they were actually trying."

Conan heard a series of little snaps. Vodka was cracking his knuckles.

"Now, Kudo Yuusaku, let us resume your interrogation. My friend will see to it that you won't make an attempt to leave again," said Gin.
There was no response. Conan imagined that his father was either too hurt to talk back, or was giving them a determined glare, like he himself had done so many times to his father. It was kind of strange to think about it.

"You investigated us after the death of your son, as you claim. How did you obtain knowledge of our existence? How did you know that we of all people killed him?"

Conan gritted his teeth, as they had brought up the worst topic possible.

"Someone witnessed it," said Yuusaku. His words were labored and lacked energy.

"Who?"

"I can't tell you that…"

"I wouldn't say that if I were you," said Gin.

"Too bad."

"I've prepared snipers to dispatch those close to you."

Yuusaku didn't respond. Conan was getting ready to jump into the action, regardless of the consequences of his identity.

"Your wife is currently attending a party, isn't she? The famous former actress, Kudo Yukiko…"

Conan wondered if his father was taking his time to construct an elaborate lie. It was taking far too long for his own good.

"I'll tell you," said Yuusaku.

"Then spit it out."

"An FBI member who was tracking you watched you kill my son."

"His name?"

"Akai Shuichi."

"I see you prepared this lie well," said Gin, "but roping a dead man into your tale hasn't done you any good. Vodka, instruct Korn to prepare to take out his wife."

Yuusaku remained silent. Conan was too angry. His mother's life was at stake, and Yuusaku had resorted to telling a transparent lie. Akai had been in America at that time. Why didn't his father know this? Why was he letting his spouse's life go so easily and stoically?

"Of course," said Gin, "you may be thinking that the police will suspect the coinciding of your disappearance and your wife's death. Fear not for our anonymity, it will only look like a suicide."

Conan knew Gin was smirking with his demonic grin as he said these words, and it only made him furious. He stood up from the wall he was crouching sideways against and ran towards the door. If he was going to do anything, he was going to knock out Vodka before he could give the orders, even if it meant that Gin would know something was afoot. As he looked at Vodka from behind, Vodka dialed the number, an earpiece hooked up to his cell phone. Quickly looking over his shoulder for the other pair of Organization agents, who were not present, Conan opened the watch and aimed the crosshairs at Vodka's neck and shot. Then he darted back into the room and hid in a corner behind a fairly large bookcase.

A loud thump had resounded as Conan tried to make himself completely undetectable. Gin walked over to Vodka. "D**n it, Kudo," he said. "You got someone to follow you." He walked out of the room, paused, and then walked into the dark office. There was nowhere an adult would have been able to hide. He checked under the desk regardless of this, and then in the drawers. Conan suspected that he was looking for evidence. Gin slammed a drawer and left the room, walking down the hallway and taking a left.

This was Conan's only chance. He crept into the interrogation room, stepping over Vodka's body. He picked up the earpiece and cell phone. The room was another vacant office. The desk had been removed and Yuusaku was tied to the chair in the center. Conan slipped off the wig enough to show his normal black bangs.

"Shinichi," said Yuusaku. He had a gash on his forehead.

"Dad, why didn't you save Mom?" Conan said, ignoring the sentimentalities. "She was about to die!" They were whispering, but Conan's tone had turned very harsh.

"She already knows she's in danger. I had her stay at a friend's house. No one knows about it. If our captor here had called Korn, he would have reported that she was nowhere to be found."

"Oh."

"I'm glad you came, but our situation isn't as good now, since you've alerted them to your presence."

"We need to get out of here right now. Do you know a place that you can stay safely at?"

"Yes. But first we need to get out of this building. Untie me and then follow my lead."

"Okay, Dad." Conan borrowed Vodka's knife and slit the ropes open. Yuusaku stood up and stretched his limbs.

"How close is the exit to us?" asked Conan.

Yuusaku motioned for Conan to remain quiet. Gin was returning from the search with the two associates following closely. Yuusaku picked up a long lamp rod that had been on the ground, and Conan realized that it had been the object which had fallen over earlier. His father held it up in a swinging stance as the footsteps got closer. Conan got behind Yuusaku in order to avoid discovery.

As soon as the black-suited figure appeared in the doorway, Yuusaku swung the metal rod of the lamp with all his might. It was stopped by the side of Gin's hand, and a silver-tinted pistol came up around the corner in his other hand, cocked and ready to fire.

"Return to your seat, Kudo Yuusaku."

Yuusaku dropped the lamp post. Conan felt his blood run ice cold with both fear and adrenaline-fueled decisiveness. He took his bowtie out from his pocket and set it to the highest frequency and volume possible, then yelled into it, creating a screeching noise that disoriented everyone in the room. He then pressed a button on his belt buckle and a soccer ball appeared from within the device. While Gin was clutching at his ears but still pointing the gun at Yuusaku, Conan kicked the ball and sent it into Gin's face. The associates behind Gin watched as he toppled over near Vodka, and they instinctively pulled out their own pistols. They turned their attention from the unconscious bodies of their higher-ups to the intruders, but were instead met with Yuusaku's fist before seeing stars.

"I know the best exit," said Yuusaku. He ran down the hallway with Conan in tow and pushed on the handle of a thick door at the end. Yuusaku swore under his breath and then turned to Conan. "It's locked. How did you get in?"

"Down that hallway," said Conan, pointing in the opposite direction. "There are video cameras, though. Assuming there are more than four Organization members here, they're going to follow us right away."

"It's only the four of them," said Yuusaku. "There are only two cars out front who don't possess the company sticker."

"Then we have some more time on our hands."

Yuusaku and Conan ran across the hallway. They passed the corridor where the tussle had taken place and glanced to make sure that there were still four bodies lying around the doorway. Yuusaku pushed on the metal door as Conan silently hoped for everything to pull through. The door budged this time and the two slipped out. They ran close to the building's wall out of the camera's reach until they were on the sidewalk again.

"Where do we go now?" said Conan.

"As it happens, I've got a meeting at my friend's place," said Yuusaku. "But you're not coming."

"I see," said Conan. "There's a taxi."

Yuusaku hailed the taxi and it braked hard, screeching to a halt some couple of meters ahead of them. They hopped in. "Take us to Beika district 5, by the Mouri Detective Agency."

"You got a case at this time of night?" asked the driver.

"Just dropping off a resident," said Yuusaku. The engine revved and the taxi took off down the street.

"Almost forgot this," said Yuusaku, taking a small sticker with a microchip on it off the back collar of his jacket and tossing it out the window.

"Why didn't you take that off as soon as we left?" said Conan.

"I'm going to throw them off once you're home."

"Are you sure that thing didn't have a microphone in it?"

"Yes. One of those thugs had the receiver to that chip with them, and their voices didn't echo, nor did the receiver produce any interference from being too close to the bug. Also, the receiver was a GPS. It didn't have a speaker."

"So that's why you were so calm about it."

Conan watched outside. It was beginning to rain and droplets were already blurring the taxi's windows.

"Hey, otou-san, why not drop me off at Agasa-hakase's house?"

"It's too close to not be suspicious."

"Fine, but you have to tell Ran and Ojisan why I'm coming back now."

"Fair enough."

The taxi finally stopped under the lights of the detective agency. Yuusaku escorted Conan inside and up the stairs to the third floor. He politely rang the doorbell and folded his hands behind his back.

"Oh, it's you, Kudo-san," said Kogoro, opening the door slightly drunk.

"I'm just here to drop Conan-kun off. It's a school night and all."

Conan stepped indoors and took off his shoes, and began his bedtime routine.

"Thanks for taking him all the way here."

Kogoro and Yuusaku continued their small talk as Conan walked down the hall and stopped. He had forgotten his backpack at his house. As soon as he was in the bathroom, he pulled out his Shinichi phone and texted Subaru asking if he could prepare the backpack for the next day. He had gotten a lucky break from homework anyway.