Chapter 48
Cargo
It was another dark, restless night. The halls were empty. Her colleagues—home with their families and friends...
A nagging reminder—
That she had nowhere else to go.
An arid stench of formaldehyde and ethanol lingered in the still labs. A newspaper she'd gotten this morning was torn to shreds and abandoned on a desk. It reported that a bank heist had failed—gone horribly wrong. Shiho typed furiously into the list, eyes wandering to the experiment squirming in the cage as she ignored the sharp ache assaulting her chest.
An accidental discovery that might, for some odd reason—change everything.
Why was she doing this?
This was different from the outcome she had hoped for. Though...according to the notes her parents left behind, there is a possibility. But the probability had been almost decimal, and this was something she had not conceived.
Her experiment had worked.
His orders—the work of a devil.
What did he plan to accomplish?
The bubbling concoction should never have existed.
Yet, her unfinished product holds the key. Rats lying in shrunken forms, rotting in a metallic cage, in a fiendish experiment. There was some success but only to a certain extent. The rats were still dead. And—
Time still moved on.
Shiho looked back at the screen, carrying a list. Names... Victims of her developed drug Gin had used. The list was endless, the recent additions—Shiho had ingrained to memory.
Grabbing onto the mouse, the arrow hovered over a name.
An anomaly… an unknown.
The darkness grew more profound. As the clock ticked above, icy green pools stared vacantly at the monitor. And she heard it—light footsteps echoing through the hallways of the silent labs, like a phantom floating through a grave.
"Is that hesitation I see?" recollections of their first encounter emerged from the void.
Shiho stepped back as she entered the office. Invading her sanctuary, the only space where she had a sense of privacy.
"Have you developed a conscience?"
"I see," the woman spoke. "You've managed…to complete it."
The dimly lit lab was filled with the venomous gaze of the devil-like individual. Taking a step forward, the woman surveyed the cage with sinister resolve.
Vermouth hovers over her failed experiment. Using sharp nails to retrieve a dead rat from the cage. It had expired three hours earlier, wriggling and shrieking into tiny, raspy squeaks. As it died, it shrank and released smoke that smothered like a dying fire. It was a horrendous way to go, but Shiho was numbed by it.
It was nothing—
Compared to the live experiments conducted in human-sized cages.
"Still following orders," Vermouth continued. Dead blank eyes beheld a disastrous smirk. As Shiho watched, the woman tightened her grip on the rat, crushing its corpse, and she froze in her spot.
A burning cattle rod pressed into her skin ravaged her psyche. Squirming and gnawing like parasites. The agony burrows itself, wrapping spine-like vines around her body, trapping her in a prison of thorns.
"What do you want?" she barely forced out.
Laughter spilled from the woman's lips, and Shiho flinched as she pinned her against the wall. Vermouth rushed forward, silent and deadly, moving like the wind. With resolute disdain, the woman eyed her. Burning coals, an eternal fire, she drove her sharp nails into Shiho's left eye.
Digging in.
Drawing blood.
Shiho bit her lip. Hot and scalding pain rushes through. She was brought back to the basement, to the dying moth, uselessly struggling for its life.
"You are nothing but a spawn," Vermouth rasped cryptically. Shiho still had no idea of her sudden visit. "A vessel of those who have ruined what I cherished!"
She was screaming now. As Vermouth digs deeper, Shiho winces. The woman's nails burrowed themselves into flesh, inflicting hurt—desperate.
Her hatred ran deep. Her rage was directed toward the dead. Her agony seared everything, everybody in its path.
"Your parents…deserved it."
Akemi…
"How are you any different," Shiho sneered. "Give her back," the anger bursting forth as Vermouth tightened her hold. "Give my sister back to me!"
"She asked for it," Vermouth snarled, raising her fist, Shiho bracing herself for the impact when—
She was released. Shiho, choking slightly, opened her eyes to see Vermouth glancing at the screen. The list Shiho had been inspecting earlier was exposed for all to see.
As she glanced at the names, the woman fell back. In a moment, Shiho sees the woman's vulnerability. The monster—was, at that second, a scared little girl.
"Kudou…Shinichi."
Reading the list displayed on the screen—the half-changed status of the detective's fate still stood. Uncertain of what the woman wanted, Shiho held her breath.
A disturbing shaky laughter emerged from Vermouth. Backing away from the counter, the woman crashed into the cage. As she stared back at the shrunken rats, Vermouth blanched. Tremors wrecked her, and she held herself.
"A lie," Reaching into her pockets, the blonde-haired demon threw it to the ground. The red and white object bounced, coming to a halt before Shiho. "Built upon fantasy."
APTX4869.
No…
"Do you think you'll be spared?" Vermouth sneered. Glass-like and brittle, the woman was no longer talking to her. An unfocused gaze met hers, and an ugly smirk widened into a jagged crevice. A hideous visage of wrath mixed in with…triumph?
"I don't need your mercy," Shiho winced. "…Elena!"
And like a storm, she leaves, melting into the deepening void.
Hands reaching for her throbbing left eye, Shiho sinks. Warmth, stinging...a stream of blood flowed from the wound inflicted.
"Onee-chan."
"What should I do?" Tears streamed, mixing with red, blending into a corrosive stench of sin. "Otou-san…"
"Okaa-san."
He awoke yawning, disoriented, and dizzy from the countless late nights over the past few days. As he lazily peeled the notes from his cheeks, he was greeted by the nutty aroma of freshly brewed coffee. While blowing into a mug, the professor tentatively sipped the beverage.
"It's 10 in the morning, Shinichi," the professor chided, setting a plastic mug beside him. Trapping the drink between his hands, Shinichi sighed. It felt warm on his chilly digits, starkly contrasting with the news he'd heard from Heiji the night before.
Halfway through researching the black organization, he received the faithful call. Heiji, who was strangely solemn, greeted him. Three days had passed since the incident in Osaka, and Heiji had finally received the results after the fruitless trip Shiho had called a redundant disaster.
There have been some complications regarding police jurisdictions and information leaks. Heiji had to navigate the complicated but redundant fabric of police politics. The complex process of receiving chemical results was smoothed over by Kuroda-san after pulling a few strings.
"Kudou, you won't like this," Heiji said immediately.
Since the case could be linked to the Black Organization, the information he acquired was likely disappointing.
"The coffee-colored sludge dumped into the port is mostly composed of water, carboxylate salts, and glycerol..."
"Carboxylic acid…glycerol?"
"Soap," Heiji explained, and Shinichi frowned.
"It is hardly dangerous, let alone a pollutant."
"I'm not finished yet," Heiji read from the file, shuffling it on his end, "I couldn't help but ponder the strangeness of it all and asked them to run a few more tests. There was another compound in traces, though it was faint."
"And?"
"Calcium Phosphate," Heiji added, and Shinichi was once more left with more questions than answers.
"Why were they dumping it into the ocean then?" Shinichi muttered.
"I think the question is," the Osaka detective doing some digging of his own, "What were they trying to hide?"
"Oh?"
"A peculiar aspect I couldn't forgo," the boy seemed too proud of himself. The haughty tone on the other end is a clear enough indication. The Osaka detective had found clues that might advance the case that had reached a dead-end.
"Do you remember Taizen Shippings and Co.?"
A mysterious whistleblower who exposed a crime that may have otherwise remained underground.
"What about them?"
"Well, I've done some digging, and it turns out they're not all they seem."
Papers were rustling again on the other end, and Shinichi heard Heiji snap his finger with delight. He was probably having a field day with the information.
"Where's my thank you, Kudou?"
There it was. That subtle rivalry that the Osaka detective could not resist.
"Are we really going to do this, Hattori," Shinichi raps his fingers against the counter. "Last I checked, Shiho requested a saw. There might still be an amputation of foul-smelling limbs on the agenda."
An alarmed snort followed a pause and a jittery voice from a tanned detective.
"T..that does not scare me, Kudou. Besides, can't you take a joke when you hear one?"
"Ara, depends on the context," Shinichi imitates Shiho's speech, and Heiji falls silent.
"I swear," he mumbled, finally relenting, the Osaka detective uncovered the trove of data he had amassed.
"Kizuna-Kai?"
"It's a 20-man Yakuza organization that has made quite a name for itself in the underworld. They have been monitored by the Osaka Metropolitan, but nothing has come of it."
"I've never heard of them."
"They're newly formed and led by a man named Natsu Ito. He is a slippery eel, Kudou, having plenty of connections but unrelated to any. In essence, Taizen Shippings and Co. is a front for one of their laundering ventures."
"Have they been caught?"
"Not yet," Heiji continued, "Natsu is both cunning and elusive. Aoki Subaru and Touma Suzuki, his henchmen, are both seasoned criminals. Their location has been confirmed, but we can't pin anything on them."
With this information in mind, Shinichi grunted. The new players complicate an already complex case.
Where was the link?
In a way, it felt like a suicide mission. The action poised by Natsu seemed like a KamiKaze plane headed straight for a battleship. After all, taking legal action against a company powerful enough to destroy you was not a smart move made by a Yakuza-run business.
There was something he was missing—something that, though painfully obvious, was hidden from view.
"Don't worry about it," Heiji chimed. "I'll check it out. Besides, don't you have a pigeon to catch?"
Shinichi snorts before smirking wryly. As the news played softly in the background, he glanced over. A charity cruise comes into view—and the cheeky, diabolic cartoon drawn on a white calling card.
The Kaitou Kid.
Their fates were once again intertwined and an opportunity Shinichi was not willing to waste.
"A flying rat, you mean," Shinichi quipped as Heiji chuckled. They talked for a while longer before exchanging their last formalities. The Osaka detective left to do more sleuthing, and Shinichi returned to his work with renewed vigor.
He was sure of it now.
Sunset Mansion was the key. The Takizaki family was involved somehow...
And he won't be waiting around for it. Not when—
Looking at the subtle light emanating from the basement, he grimaced. Trying to find an antidote, an auburn-haired scientist, was hard at work. Sera Masumi's revelation weighed heavily upon them. Still burdened by her past actions, the girl labored more fervently on a remedy.
Shinichi could not stop her.
She had said it herself.
It was—responsibility.
With a sigh, he returned to his task, working tirelessly through the night. Burning the midnight oil, so to speak, he slept in and woke hours later to the professor's presence and news of a missing scientist.
"Is she still in the basement?" was Shinichi's question when he greeted the professor. With a crooked smile, the professor gestured towards the main door. Gently smacking against the glass windows was a tree branch. Gray skies, densely covered with pregnant clouds, cast ominous shadows. A drizzle ensued, and the coat Shiho often wore for errands was missing from the foyer.
"Really? Hakase…in this weather…"
"I tried, she insisted."
That stubborn fool.
Groaning, he jumped from the high chairs, and the professor handed him a folded umbrella without batting an eyelash. A wordless agreement formed, and Shinichi grumbled as he headed for the exit.
His senses were assaulted by a cooling breeze scented with earthy petrichor. Wearing his boots, the light drizzle caressed his skin. Splashing against the puddles, he kicked through the swirling piles of dead leaves dislodged by the coming storm. Taking in a deep breath, he had no time to savor the fresh air. A search was in order. One which involved hunting down an auburn-haired scientist engaging in her daily rituals.
With Rum's escape and the recent news of the Black Organizations' activities, Shinichi requested that she stay by his side. However, his plea was met with a raised brow and her usual "I'm not a child" statements.
Scathing in nature, she, for the most part, followed his advice.
Yet, there were some habits that Shiho would not let go of. A morning routine that involved dry kibble and the presence of fluffy creatures that could charm even the most seasoned criminals.
"Meow~"
Shinichi heard it before he saw her. Shiho was squatting in an alleyway nearby, running her fingers down the orange tabby's back. She smiled softly, a little wet from the light rains.
It was nibbling on the kibble. He was a familiar cat that mostly wandered around the neighborhood.
Shinichi was sure it was not a stray. An example of a manipulator in action. With clean fur, a flabby tummy, and those sparkly eyes, it was hard to resist. Using its rubbing techniques to the fullest extent, it brushed against Shiho's knees as it ate. Sometimes Shinichi wondered how the greatest scientist in the world could fall for such tricks.
But she did.
It was, in part, infuriating and—cute.
"Why are you so fat," she whispered to the creature. Using her fingers to rub its belly, it purred. The tabby uses its prowess to seduce the scientist.
That sly four-legged con artist.
The bright smile on her lips was not something even Shinichi could get out of her.
Sighing, he approached her, clearing his throat while scratching his cheek. The orange tabby did not appreciate his presence. Hissing at him, it scurried away, belly wiggling as it pounced.
"Studies have shown," he offered, "That there is a correlation between an excess of dry kibble and cat obesity."
"Studies have also shown," she faced him, brows furrowed in irritation. "For a healthy relationship to be sustained, some distance is needed."
"What do you mean?"
"I live with you, Shinichi."
"And?"
"Didn't I give you enough clues?"
"That," he held the umbrella above her, "is assuming we are in a…"
"Relationship."
Shinichi didn't like shooting himself in the foot. The retort he made was in bad taste, and he pulled back sheepishly when she edged closer.
"An assumption, Shinichi?" Huddled underneath the blue umbrella, he went still, unable to peel his gaze away from those hypnotic emerald pools. "Since when was it an…"
She turns away, Shinichi catching a glimpse of a fleeting smirk, "Assumption."
"...w…what?"
"Why are you here, Corpse Magnet?" Changing the topic, the girl eyes him pointedly, and he gapes at her.
This…cunning…
Grabbing her in displeasure, they made their way out of the alleyway.
"Breakfast, Shiho," he nags, "I haven't seen you eat these past few days. What were you doing? Snacking on kibble?"
"It tastes pretty nice if you're wondering."
He eyed her.
"Better than your cooking, that is."
"Now that," he exclaimed, "is just mean!"
As they approached the professor's house, spite and playful candor dominated their conversation.
It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed. She was wearing a short sleeve shirt. Her scars were visible. Shiho would never have made such a glaring mistake. Realizing that no words would get her out of this rut, Shinichi continued their banter.
She was about to enter the professor's mansion when he stopped her. Taking hold of her hand, Shinichi tightened his grip. Like frost on glass, they were cold.
"What's wrong?"
When she did not answer, he motioned to her sleeves. He is met with a lopsided smile, and she wiggles free of his grasp.
"Just an old dream, Shinichi," her answers obscure lies.
"We're not doing this again, Shiho," he demanded, "Tell me what's wrong."
A hand is placed over his left eye, and he hesitates. Her strange action, though perplexing, carried a message. Wordlessly, feverishly, her lips moved.
"Shiho?"
Then she collects herself before flicking him. The stinging pain lingered on his forehead as he winced.
"Shiho!"
"Come on, Kid Killer," A dry chuckle escaped her lips. "Don't you have a mission to fulfill?"
Again, Shinichi catches her, trapping her. Her back pressed against the door; he studies her.
"It's not over yet. We're going to have a long talk. You can't wiggle your way out of this."
For a moment, she remained still, and her mask dropped. Sighing, she leans closer, pressing her face against his shoulder.
"Fine…"
"See, was that so hard?"
"It is."
"Oi."
A limousine. If Shiho had learned anything about the rich, it was that logic does not apply. Arriving earlier than usual, Jirokichi Suzuki, paternal uncle to Sonoko Suzuki and general adviser of Suzuki Co-operations, greeted them with a booming voice. It was enough to make Shiho's ears ring, and she eyed Shinichi with great contempt.
"Seriously?"
"It's part of the process, Shiho," the shrunken detective gestured to the limousine in front. Long and probably half the size of the professor's courtyard, the vehicle looked more expensive than half the houses in the neighborhood.
According to Shinichi, it was a Rolls Royce. Shiho, who had no interest in vehicular names, could not be bothered. The car, though impressive, was, at best, attracting too much attention.
"Hey, you brats, hurry up. We haven't got all day!"
When the windows were rolled down, a brown-haired heiress shrieked. Holding onto a couple of fans with Kaitou Kid prints, she waved at them enthusiastically. Beside her, Ran, who was used to her friend's obsessive behavior, sipped what looked to be a glass of bubbling champagne. Considering they were underage, Shiho suspects sparkling juice.
"Seriously?" Shiho emphasized again, wrinkling her nose as Shinichi chuckled.
"It's an experience," he stated, "and hey, at least we're going in...comfortably."
"Ok, kids!" Jirokichi slapped Shinichi on the back, "Are you ready for the craziest cruise ride of your life!"
He was, as usual, callously bombastic. The man with eyebrows that looked like they came from a specific form of caterpillar was grinning so widely that Shiho felt that if he smiled any longer, he could be classified as another form of Kuchisake-onna. His appearance was not far off. Though bright, the man's charismatic aura was as intimidating as the slit-mouth woman of Japanese folk tales.
She had taken precautions in her clothing. Though it was Spring, and the cold had fallen to the pleasant temperature of 16 degrees, Shiho opted for a thick hooded sweater. Big enough to cover her features from the various news stations that had received invitations from Jirokichi.
The spectacle of Kaitou Kid versus the police has been a showbiz booster, and no media station would want to miss the opportunity. Especially if the kid killers were going to participate in the event. The former being Jirokichi Suzuki, and the latter is none other than Edogawa Conan-kun himself.
A shrunken detective who was doing it for other reasons.
Kaitou Kid was merely part of an equation.
"I am sorry, but I cannot participate in this round," the professor apologized as Jirokichi slapped him hard on the back. Incapable of withstanding the force, the old man stumbled forward.
"Don't worry about it, Agase-san. The children would be in good hands."
The professor laughed, rubbing the back of his bald head nervously. After hearing that there would be an international buffet of gigantic proportions on the cruise, the professor begged to attend. His request was rejected as soon as complaints about his unfinished projects started rolling in. Between the missions, operations, and an impromptu trip to Osaka, the old man had not completed them. With the deadlines way past due, he had collected an influx of angry clients.
"Hurry up! At this rate, we're going to miss the cruise!" Sonoko shouted again from the limousine, and they had no choice but to comply.
On their way to the vehicle, Jirokichi discussed another of his plans with Shinichi, excited by the prospect of hunting Kaitou Kid again.
"That white pigeon," a new nickname for the flying thief, "will be destroyed. This would be his last voyage."
Taking a seat opposite the heiress and the beauty, Shiho couldn't help but snort at the man who sounded very much like a villain plotting the demise of a protagonist. She was welcomed by Ran with a warm smile and was immediately handed a wine glass filled with bubbling liquid.
"It's grape flavored," she informed. As Shiho suspected, the artificial drink was sparkling juice.
"Oh, I can't wait to meet him," Sonoko gushed later. With her fans in hand, she repeatedly smacks Shinichi in the face. This amused Shiho, who could not help but chuckle at the shrunken detective who grabbed one of Sonoko's fans with twitching eyebrows.
"The picture doesn't even look like him!" he protested. Pointing to the blurry photo of Kaitou Kid printed on the fan. Ran inspected it for the first time. "I have to agree, Sonoko," she said, "He looks a bit pixelated."
"How dare you!" Sonoko screeched.
A bird, Shiho thought. An Asian Koel, Sonoko was beginning to look like one. Her sharp pitch reverberated throughout the vehicle, prompting even, Jirokichi to wince.
"He's a criminal, my niece," Jirokichi says, "and I won't approve of the Kaitou Kid marrying into the Suzuki Family."
"I don't need your permission, uncle," Sonoko snapped, haughtily lifting her nose. "In the first place, I will never betray my Makoto. He's the only one for me. Kaitou Kid is only a dream. I wish to meet him and bask in his dreamy eyes. Have you heard…apparently, he's really…really…really…hot."
"Enough to cook waffles, apparently," Ran sniggered.
"Ran…" Sonoko whined. "I'm not joking! He's really, really hot!"
Shiho leaned back, "The greatest thief in the world reduced to a caricature of a pop idol for teenage girls and disillusioned female fans..."
"He must be flattered," Shinichi shares a sly grin.
Sonoko continued her tirade, unfazed by their jabs. Going about the greatness of the Kaitou kid, formed mainly by surfing internet gossip and forums. There were plenty of details, all of which were pointless and tedious to listen to.
However, Shiho must admit that she was impressed. The girl's ability to talk off tangent and repeat the same facts a few hundred times in multiple different ways was a feat by itself. Sonoko possesses an imaginative mind that is far superior to her own. She could outdo Ayumi's favorite writer, the infamous author of Fluffy Pretty Uniform Princess.
"Mo, Sonoko," Ran groaned after about 30 minutes into her rant. Shinichi and Jirokichi, having grown tired of it, were now discussing a plan of action that Shiho wanted no knowledge of.
Yet—
Shinichi had indulged in it faintly with Shiho, and though she had an understanding of what the mission might entail, she couldn't help but think about the endless possibilities of things that might go wrong.
It was a calculated risk. One that Shinichi was willing to take.
He had wanted to engage in the operation alone. And Shiho, who had figured out his foolish endeavor, had called him a variety of names before asserting her position on the matter. Either he lets her join the mission, or he'll end up with a bad case of unexplained diarrhea. It wasn't a difficult decision for him to make.
"How exactly do you plan to meet the Kaitou Kid?" Ran chided Sonoko. "You've tried for years, but each time..." she trailed off, motioning toward the blurry photographs on the fans.
"I came prepared!" Sonoko elaborated. As the heiress showed off a digital camera that would have cost an average Japanese worker a bomb, she was beaming from ear to ear. It was huge, with a lens that looked like it might reach for space.
"Using this 200mm telephoto lens, I could capture every shot of Kaitou Kid in action!"
Shiho raised a brow as Sonoko struggled to lift it.
"Every angle, every action, every detail…of his lovely handsome face and—"
"Pimples?" Shiho interjected. The heiress scowled.
"I know you don't think very highly of me—"
"You figured?"
"Ai-chan…"
"You brat, I'll show you!" The heiress glared at her with a shaky finger. "If it's the last thing I do!"
It took four glasses of sparkling juice, gentle pats from a raven-haired beauty, and Jirokichi's placating words to calm the brown-haired heiress. Though it was hilarious to watch Sonoko lose her temper in real time—her pouting did offer a few minutes of quiet respite.
Staring out the windows, Shiho studied the passing scenery. Leaning against the glass window, she tightened the grip on her pouch. A few days had passed since their disastrous trip to Osaka. Despite being only a short detour, it led to a revelation that Shiho was unwilling to face.
It had been difficult to converse with Sera after that.
Mary Sera—the sister from beyond the domain. Shinichi shared some information about her, but he was also at a loss for who she really was. Though Sera promised that they would meet her soon. Shiho was still hesitant about doing so.
After all—
"Sherry..." he smirked cruelly in the rain. A marred entity shrouded in the darkness of a blood-soaked night. "This is your legacy."
She sighed, feeling slightly numb. Her chest felt like a wet towel being wrung dry. A severe pressure that formed an unbearable lump in her throat.
"We need to face it, don't we?" Sera had told her, quoting Shiho's words to the doctor, Kondo Kasumi, "I'll do my best to convince her, Kudou Shinichi-kun."
Before parting ways with them, the girl detective turns around with one of her signature toothy grins.
"See you soon, Miyano Shiho-san."
Shiho could not do anything but stew on the mysterious revelation.
Her sin still loomed large, and though she had told herself countless times that running away was not an option…that she had people who would stay, who cared…
She was not ready to face Sera. Not prepared to face Gin. Not ready to face—her.
Miyano Shiho was a hypocrite.
Bearing an unflattering smile, she cursed inaudibly, only to be nudged by a raven-haired beauty. Like Shinichi, the girl noticed her sinking mood.
"The ocean," Shiho interjected before Ran asked her usual question. "It's rather pretty."
It certainly was. Golden rays filter through white coniferous clouds. The waves beside the highway sparkled, glimmering like tiny jewels on a blue expanse. Cloud castles stretched out beyond the horizon, forming a clear line. The scene was like something out of a children's book. As if reading her mind, Suzuki Sonoko photographed it with her extravagant lens.
There was no doubt in Shiho's mind that the photo quality would be excellent.
"Maybe it'll win a photo competition," Shinichi pipes in. Having completed his discussions with Jirokichi, he now sat beside her and, like Ran, had placed his hands over hers. Shiho regarded the two teenagers before turning back to the scenery.
Idiots.
Her nightmares since the events in Osaka were quelled by their warmth.
"You betcha," Sonoko scoffed at their veiled remarks. "With this camera, I can do anything."
"Even fly to the moon," Shiho muttered, and they broke into laughter as they continued their ride.
Eventually, they arrived at a dock.
"Meet the Bella Donna!" Jirokichi exclaimed. Neither Ran nor Shinichi could do anything but stare slack-jawed at the ship. It towered over them like a giant. Shiho reckoned that it was almost eight stories high. Painted a pristine shade of white, it appeared, an object of magnificence.
"The castle of the Seas, sponsored and owned by none other than—"
"The Takizaki Family," Sonoko chimes in, ruining her uncle's performance.
"A 1000 feet long mammoth, it is the size of at least ten blue whales," Shinichi continued.
"Wikipedia-kun," Shiho jabs at him, and he shrugs, continuing, "1198 feet long to be exact, and at least 250,800 tonnes."
"Oh, how knowledgeable, boy," Jirokichi praised. "As expected from my rival!"
"Rival, he says."
"It won't be the first time someone has challenged me."
"Confident…much?"
"It's not confidence if it's the truth."
The faint disdain in her expression made Shinichi smirk as he pulled her toward the elevated gangways. Consisting of flat wooden ramps, they were at least two stories tall and led up to the port of the ship.
A security guard stopped them before they could enter. Compared to the rest of the crew, he was much taller. Standing over them, he peered at them through blue-hued sunglasses. His eyes were barely visible, and he did not smile. Under his long-sleeved uniform, Shiho noticed tattoo markings just beneath his intimidating presence. When he noticed her eyeing it, he hid it.
To put it mildly, it was unexpected. Most law enforcement agencies were strict regarding tattoos and did not generally allow them. As it turns out, Shinichi spotted this tiny detail too, and they shared a skeptical glance.
There is a possibility that the security guards on cruise ships were not employed by official law enforcement agencies but were privately employed.
Mercenaries. They were mostly costly and highly skilled. A rather odd choice to make for a simple charity event.
"Tickets," the guard boomed. Jirokichi produced the documents, which the man scanned. Passing it back with a stone-faced pallor enough to rival that of the iconic statues of Easter Island, he motioned to the cruise with a grunt.
"Are security guards…usually that intimidating," Shiho muttered.
"Of course, dummy," Sonoko snorted, and Shiho paused. "How else will they scare off criminal suspects?"
"Dummy, she says," Shinichi teased.
"I hope you lose," she retorted as he frowned. "To the Kaitou Kid."
"How matured, Haibara."
"Likewise, Edogawa-kun."
Upon reaching the wooden sun deck of the cruise, they followed Jirokichi to the stage area, where he beckoned for them to join him.
A circular glass case was slightly elevated from the deck on the stage area. It was probably 3 meters high, and Jirokichi climbed the stage to touch it. In it was the prize.
The auction's main attraction. A 32-carat diamond gifted by the Dutch and passed down through the generations was nicknamed the "Jewel of the East." It is one of the rarest diamonds in the world, worth over 20 million dollars.
A donation like that would benefit charities greatly, and the general public would again praise the Takizaki's generosity. Like the diamond, the family was already a jewel in the public eye.
Revered by news presenters, and media all over the country, they were the classic model of Japan's pride and honor.
It sounded like a scam.
After all, if the Takizaki were genuinely passionate about helping the less fortunate, why make a big show out of it? Many others are doing it without recognition.
Shiho, not one to speculate on methods, could not help but scoff at the apparent biases demonstrated.
"What is this, Uncle?" Sonoko asked Jirokichi, who was smoothing his hand over the circular glass carrying the 20-million jewel.
"Developed and made by our very own Suzuki Co-operations, it's a locked safe that would have even the Kaitou Kid scratching his hair out."
"What do you mean?"
Throwing a paper ball into the glass tube, Shiho watched in fascination as it erupted into a pillar of flames, disintegrated by a series of lasers fitted into the machine. "Bomb proof, Fireproof, it is virtually indestructible. The only way to deactivate it is with this!"
Taking out a golden key from his pocket, Jirokichi displayed it carelessly to the world. "The bottom of the case has two lock panels that must be turned anticlockwise simultaneously. Without the key, Kaitou Kid can kiss his hands goodbye."
"And where are the other sets of keys?" Ran asked, and Jirokichi guffawed.
"Young lady, why would I share this information with you? Old man Jirokichi is not that stupid!"
Shiho narrowed her gaze. Her attention drawn to the number of casually dressed policemen loitering about. The amateurish methods of recently trained staff were easy to spot. Their constant fidgeting with their earpiece and darting eyes—a dead giveaway.
A distinct hacking cough and a subsequent abrupt silence alerted Shiho to the presence of a man wearing a yellow Hawaiian shirt. Donning sunglasses and a straw hat, he held a newspaper while making a poor attempt to read it. The flimsy paper could not conceal his signature mustache.
Nakamori Ginzo, the inspector, often made the butt of all jokes, was easily identifiable. Shinichi snorted at his silly disguise attempt. The radiant sheen of a glimmering key in his shorts pocket is not exactly a secret.
"A foolproof plan, am I, right boy!" Jirokichi boomed.
"A mystery indeed," Shiho remarks as Shinichi sighs.
"There you are, Suzuki-san!" a voice interrupted their procession.
And Shiho found herself staring at a rather good-looking man. Clean-shaven, and possessing one gold tooth at the front, his hair was dyed artificially blonde—clearly a fashion attempt to imitate westerners.
"Junichiro, my friend," Jirokichi greeted the newcomer as Shinichi observed him with keen interest. The youngest Takizaki, Junichiro-san, is 40 years old. He mainly succeeded in taking over some of the logistical businesses left by his late great-grandfather. Often lauded as an up-and-coming conglomerate, he was no stranger to the media and was usually found flaunting his talents for the world to see.
Shiho found him to be nothing more than an average businessman who loved to brag and throw big parties whenever he was successful. There was nothing special about him, but Shinichi begged to differ. The shrunken detective was adamant that something was going on. That there was no denying that the Takizaki family was exponentially successful after the Sunset Mansion massacre, in more ways than not.
Shinichi stated that the other families, though still wealthy, have lost relevance and fortune over time. The Takizaki family was, therefore, an abnormality that could not be ignored.
"I must thank you for this," Junichiro gestured towards the glass security case, "Otou-san has been unable to sleep because of the whole Kaitou Kid issue."
He was polite in speech, despite his gangster-like appearance.
"It's no problem, Junichiro-kun. If there is anyone who can stop the Kaitou Kid, it would be me…and of course…" Jirokichi pointed to Shinichi. "Him."
"Oh…the famous Kid Killer?"
"Edogawa Conan," Shinichi chimed innocently, and Sonoko shivered in distaste.
Junichiro laughed before motioning to the giant satellite dish hanging over their heads. "I believe in you, kid, but you won't mind if I've taken some precautions of my own… don't you?"
"Precautions?" Jirokichi frowned.
"Yes, jammers borrowed from the Japanese Military. We installed them when we heard the Kaitou Kid might have accomplices."
The move had not been anticipated, and Shiho glanced at Shinichi worriedly. Taking out her phone, she confirmed that there was no signal and could only bemoan over the fact that they were truly and utterly—stuck.
"If the Kaitou Kid appears, he will be stranded here for two days without help. There is nowhere to go," Junichiro chuckled.
"Aye, just like a floating coffin," Shiho mumbled.
"Ai-chan!"
"You brat, can you not say something so ominous!" Sonoko exclaimed.
Jirokichi instead burst into laughter, the excitement in his eyes shining through. As he pumped his fist into the air. "You're right! A floating coffin indeed for the Kaitou Kid!"
"Uncle!" Sonoko chided.
With the later part of the afternoon spent on a private tour of the ship, coupled with a few lavish meals, Shiho found herself alone, standing on port side. The floors above her shielding her from the glaring sun as she stared listlessly at the churning waves as the cruise silently cut through the water. Having boarded most of their guests, the ship had disembarked rather undramatically two hours before.
Needing some alone time from the bustling activity and the constant outburst of a brown-haired heiress, Shiho excused herself for the restrooms and thus found herself here. Sitting on one of the deck chairs, Shiho's mind wanders as the soft inaudible voices of wealthy guests' casual conversion and laughter echo in the function room behind her.
Leaning against the railings, Shiho stared into the open blue. The peace, doing nothing for the constant festering.
According to Shinichi, the operation was inevitable. While Shiho disagreed with his plans, she trusted him and knew they always worked out in the end.
Though—
Anne…
She shut her eyes tight, pushing back recollections of a cheery, slightly sarcastic FBI officer. A bright smile shared over a cup of bitter coffee on those nights still lingering.
The memories came flooding back, along with the static recordings Akai had played on a particular night. On the tape, the grating voice of a silver-haired beast had repeated over and over again. Akai's visit to the beast in that top-secret facility had ended with a promise that chilled Shiho to the core.
Rum's escape solidified the uncertain future.
An uneasiness descended, and Shiho could only resign herself to the fact that it was not over yet.
Taking a deep breath, she collects herself, about to leave, when the rough, agitated tone of a bald-headed old man stops her. Standing just a few meters away, he was talking into a phone in harsh tones.
Catching a view of his side features, Shiho hid immediately.
Satoru Takizaki. Head of the Takizaki Foundations. Father of Junichiro Takizaki.
What was he doing here?
Looking at the working cell phone in his hand, she made a decision.
Who was he talking to?
Blending into the background, she trails after him.
He had been preoccupied. Shinichi cursed for letting Shiho go to the restrooms alone and couldn't help but blame the tall, lanky, artificially blonde man standing in front of them for distracting him. Just a few meters ahead, in a reception room too grand and extravagant for a charity event, Junichiro Taikazi chatted casually with a group of important-looking men surrounded by a few armed bodyguards.
The investors, no doubt, were lackeys of a corporate world that wanted to climb the ladders. They flocked around Junichiro like hyenas licking the boots of a golden goose, looking like hungry predators after fresh meat. A cutthroat world that Shinichi wanted no part of. His respect for Sonoko and her uncle increased tenfold as he continued his observations. It was a wonder how the Suzuki's, despite their wealth, managed to remain scandal-free.
Listening intently to every movement, conversation, laughter, and action around, Shinichi barely had time to appreciate the seamless decor that had Sonoko and Ran gushing like excited elementary children.
Luxurious but tastefully decorated. Minimalistic and quite beautiful, round tables dotted the room as guests dressed in suits and colored gowns mingled. Several chandeliers with pearly strings attached to their sides glow warmly above the reception area. There was an array of intricately arranged foods at the side. A buffet. On long tables draped in laced-patterned cloths, cuisines from around the world were presented pristinely. Adding to the lavishness, a chocolate fondue reached toward the dome-shaped glass ceiling.
A gentle scent of jasmine and lilies wafted through the room. The aromatic smell emanated from the centerpiece, an arrangement of natural flowers decorated in an Ikebana style. It towered over the room, earning a few oohs and aahs from the crowd. Bathed in natural light thanks to the clear blue skies above, pinkish-white lilies glistened.
The grand floral arrangement is a symbol of the Takizaki family's wealth.
As Shinichi scoffed at the facade of this charity, his lips curled in mockery.
If he was right…
In the midst of his deduction, Shinichi noticed Junichiro scanning his phone. A peculiar action.
Wouldn't military-grade jammers that the Takizaki family attached to the ship block all signals?
With his eyes hardening and shoulders stiffening, Junichiro gestured to one of his bodyguards and soon was making polite excuses to leave using practiced business smiles. Something was clearly wrong, and the man could not conceal his worry or stress.
When Shinichi informed Ran he had to go to the restroom, he made a beeline for Junichiro and his bodyguards. Shinichi exited the reception, weaving through throngs of businessmen and rich conglomerates.
It was difficult to understand Junichiro's words over the roar of the engines and the strong ocean breeze. After stopping in an awkward open corridor, the man began speaking into his phone. His panicked gestures and taunting appearance were not what one would expect from a powerful businessman. At present, he looked like he had bitten off more than he chew.
What was he talking about? Who was he conversing with?
Shinichi formulated a plan. Holding one listening bug he'd gotten from the FBI in the palm of his hands, he ran towards Junichiro and his bodyguards with the vigor of a small, unruly child. Shrieking, he dashed past the disbelieving bodyguards who ordered him to stop. Shinichi makes a huge show of tripping before discreetly pressing the bug into the tails of Junichiro's immaculate coat.
"What are you doing!?" one of the guards immediately yanked him up. They circled his arms tightly. It was painful, and Shinichi couldn't help but cry out. Pretending to tear, he squirmed about and made a fuss.
"Let me go!"
Flabbergasted by the prospect of being bested by a child, the guards looked uncertainly at Junichiro, who was glaring at him. Gone was his cheery nature. The friendliness with which he had welcomed Jirokichi Suzuki earlier had vanished. Instead replaced with an iciness like that of a serpent.
"What are you doing, boy?" he asked.
Shinichi involuntarily swallows the lump in his throat.
"I…I was playing…hide and seek…" he countered, giving the excuse as innocently as possible.
Junichiro scoffs before waving at the bodyguards to release him.
They let him go, and they, along with Junichiro, began walking down the corridor toward what Shinichi could only guess was the cargo area. While Shinichi's arm was still tingling from the rough treatment, he grinned widely in triumph. As he pulled out his earpiece to listen in on Junichiro's conversation, he bumped into a raven-haired beauty.
With folded arms, Ran was glaring at him while tapping her feet.
"What are you doing, Shinichi?"
She had seen everything, and it would seem that answers were in order, but now was not the time. Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her into another secluded corridor. It was an empty spot with a few deck chairs facing the ocean, an ideal place to listen to the conversation.
"Shinichi—"
With a finger pressed against his lips, he silenced his childhood friend. Holding the earpiece to his ear, he began to make out the hurried, desperate tones of a man that seemed to have everything to lose.
"How is that possible!" Junichiro exclaimed.
"It happened, son," a voice replied over Junichiro's handphone. Older and raspier.
"But we have been so careful. We've checked several hundred times. It cannot be missing. This was not a mistake on my part, father."
"I do not care who made the mistake!"
Anger and panic dominated the conversation. "There is only one thing I know for certain. The cargo we are transporting has disappeared! And nobody has been able to provide me with an answer to where it is!"
"But father—"
"Junichiro, I am proud of you, I really am. Despite this, there are some things that even I cannot control."
"Father, I can explain it to him—"
"No, you will not. You will find the cargo, and you will rectify the situation."
Silence descended, and Junichiro breathed deeply, exhaling in erratic ragged bursts.
"What if…I can't…" He was struggling to remain cool-headed.
"There is no other choice," Shinichi realized that the person on the other end was the family's head, Satoru Takizaki. "You had seen what happens when he does not get what he wants."
There was another pause.
"I would fix this, father," Junichiro collects himself, "Securing the stolen cargo and finding the thieves involved would be a priority."
"Good," Satoru said, "I expect this to be resolved soon, do you understand."
"I will, father," Junichiro mumbled, "If anything, the reserves in Kamagasaki could prove useful—"
"You fool! There will be no reserves. He had personally ordered it. Are you oblivious to the severity of your error? The experiments were successful only on that subject, and you have lost it. Do you want him to punish us? After all that I have built! The empire that provides for you! The foundations of our family! All rests with him!"
"I know, father, but—"
"His generosity will only last as long as we keep our end of the bargain. There is no other option, son! Either you solve this or perish!"
A name drops, and Shinichi flinches.
"W...what does it mean, Shinichi?"
He did not want to be right.
"Do not disappoint me, Junichiro. Do not disappoint—"
Rum.
Shiho feels the walls of the steel ship grating against her back as she is pressed against them. While listening to the conversation between Satoru and Junichiro Takizaki, the shrunken scientist was trying to remain calm.
Her veins were filled with ice. She could hardly focus, feeling a disconnect from the information she had just learned.
Missing Cargo. Kaitou Kid. Takizaki. An experiment. A charity cruise ship—and most importantly, Rum. The details learned were not pretty, and for a startling second, Shiho couldn't help but recall what Shinichi had told her a few days ago.
About the vats of brown liquid poured into the docks in Osaka. The liquid composing merely of organic chemicals. Soap.
An audible gasp escaped from her lips, and she immediately held hands over her lips. The old man she had been eavesdropping on was made aware of her presence. Quickly he ended his conversation and fumbled towards her spot.
It was only a matter of time before she is discovered. Despite her childlike physique, her appearance would not be sufficient to disguise her identity. Given the nature of the black organization, Shiho was sure that Satoru Takizaki was aware of a strawberry blonde scientist that produced the drug still used in their experiments.
Trying to find a possible escape route, Shiho looked frantically around. There was no opening, and she was momentarily, truly, and utterly trapped.
As the old man neared her location. The only thing Shiho could do was tighten the hood around her head. Inhaling deeply, she waited with bated breath as heavy, clumsy footsteps approached and shut her eyes tight when a hand reached out to grasp her shoulders.
She winced, opening them—only to find a raven-haired beauty staring anxiously at her.
Ran?
"Haibara, where have you been?" the girl asked. "We've been looking for you all day!"
From the corner of her sight, Shiho spots Satoru regarding the scene, first with a hardened countenance, then a relieved sigh. After Ran bows to the old man, he snorts and hobbles away.
Shiho sank to her knees, and the girl catches her. Taking her by the shoulders, the raven-haired beauty regards her.
"Hey, hey, what is happening?"
Hey?
Shiho glances at Ran, who is still concerned. Worry lines formed on her forehead as Shiho steadied herself.
Again, Shinichi had foolishly placed them in danger. At this point, it was almost comical. A morbid running joke, Shiho could not escape.
Speak of the magnet...
Her badge was transmitting Shinichi's voice as she reached for it. Softly, the ocean breeze echoed the boy's frantic, muffled voice.
"Shiho! Shiho! Where are you?"
He had been repeating himself.
"I'm fine, near the decks," she replied.
"Are you safe?"
"I literally just told you."
There was an exasperated sigh.
"Didn't I tell you not to be alone!" he nagged. Shiho felt her usual irritation creep back. A welcomed emotion from the dreadful news she had just learned.
"First of all, Kudou-kun," she emphasized, glancing at Ran, who gave her a reassuring smile, "I am a big girl. I can handle myself."
"That is not the issue here—"
"And secondly, Ran is with me. I am, technically, not alone."
"Hold on," Shinichi's tone was strange. "What do you mean by Ran is with yo—"
He wasn't given a chance to finish. A deep rumbling was heard, followed by piercing, inhuman shrieks of tearing metal.
Immediately, Ran rushed toward Shiho, and both fell.
The older girl wrapped her arms around Shiho as they landed on the wooden flooring. Heat, cries, and then the rancid smell of smoke raced through. The cruise shook violently, and Shiho clutched the older girl tightly as they rolled painfully down the open passageway. As they hit the metal railings of the ship's sides, they cried out.
Several inches more, and they would have slid past the wide openings and fallen into the ocean.
What happened!?
Another jarring jerk followed. Shiho winced as they were dragged across the wooden floors again.
"What the actual hell!?" she heard Ran scream.
After a deep groan and an abrupt jerk, the cruise came to a grinding halt. The air was still filled with the stench of burning oil, and Shiho could hear Shinichi's frantic voice through the detective's badge.
Then—
White, thick billowing smoke—comparable to the rolling fogs of Hakone exploded throughout the deck, racing down the hallways. It carried a nauseating odor, and Shiho coughed violently. Ran picked her up right away, and they dashed down the corridor away from the white fumes.
"We need to get out of here," Ran muttered, and Shiho noticed the mask covering her mouth.
"Shiho! Shiho, where are you!"
Shinichi was coughing over the intercom of the detective badge. His cries grew quieter. The shrunken detective succumbing to what Shiho could only guess was knockout gas.
She wasn't doing much better, either. Her eyes grew heavy, and her limbs felt like lead. Even so, she wrenched her arms away from the raven-haired beauty.
She had called her—
Haibara.
Eyelids drooping—her lips widens into an ironic smirk.
"Drop the act," she whispered as Ran paused. "Kaitou Kid."
I AM BACK. Sorry for the delay. Life happened. With that settled and out of the way, though, it's back to consistent weekly updates XD.
I hope you've enjoyed the following chapter. Please bear with me as I set the mystery up. XD I promise it'll be worth it in the end...I hope.
Again, thank you for the support, and see you in the next chapters :D