"If I can't pinpoint the target, I'll just have to use this tranquilizer watch to take you down…"
Unable to locate the victim, Conan eyed Masuyama Kenzou chatting with a glass of wine in hand, quietly adjusting his wristwatch.
But where'd that guy go?!
The great detective suddenly realized Tsuneo was no longer in his spot.
Conan scanned the room, finally spotting a hunched figure near a blonde celebrity.
Chris Vineyard, the ultra-popular American actress.
They weren't face-to-face, but from the actress's self-muttering, it was clear they were conversing.
Weird…
Wouldn't a normal woman bolt at the sight of such a strangely dressed man approaching?
…
"How did you end up here…"
Dressed in black for the memorial, Chris Vineyard slipped to an unnoticed corner, staring ahead and asking coolly in a low voice.
That icy tone was all too familiar.
Mr. Dark Knight!
Is it about Pisco again…
"That's what I should be asking you," Tsuneo replied from behind her, tipping his hat lower, a cold smirk in his voice.
Pisco's still valuable.
You'd better not cause me trouble tonight.
"Heh, I'm just here for Director Inomaki's memorial. Not hard to understand, right?" Belmod smiled.
This identity was probably her last public appearance.
She hadn't expected him to show up so boldly at the memorial.
"But you, popping up out of nowhere—are you here for another shakedown?"
"How about this: Let that guy hand over all his wealth, status, even his code name to you. Sound good?"
The witch dangled an enticing offer.
She meant the jovial big-shot chairman—Mr. Masuyama Kenzou.
"Do I look like I'm short on cash?"
Tsuneo had no idea what had gotten into Belmod, trying to recruit him as a mole.
But this alter ego of his was already at odds with Gin—irreconcilable.
Ally or not.
If that guy learned the Dark Knight was at Beika Hotel, he might plant explosives and blow the whole building sky-high!
Or just storm in with submachine guns, guns blazing.
"Like it." Belmod's smile widened; she even leisurely sipped her red wine.
Don't you remember?
Last time, in that alley, the one shaken down was me…
At that moment.
The emcee for the memorial stepped onto the banquet hall stage.
"Esteemed guests, let's now enjoy these private slides from Director Inomaki that were never released during his lifetime!"
Hearing about the slides, Tsuneo noticed the detective sneaking toward Pisco and let out a cold chuckle. "Heh, looks like the show's about to start."
The hall lights dimmed suddenly.
The screen lit up with the director's personal slides.
"You…"
Belmod realized he might know the Organization's plan and started to speak, but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth.
At the same time, a strong arm locked around her slender neck, the grip tightening, suffocation building.
"Resist, and I'll snap your neck first."
"Sweet dreams, superstar."
Tsuneo whispered coldly in her ear.
Belmod struggled to turn her head, eyes widening at the face shrouded in darkness.
You…
Ten seconds later, Tsuneo released his hold, chuckling softly as he gently lowered the unconscious witch to the ground, propping her against the wall with her head lolled.
No one would notice her in the dark here.
The repairman trusted his technique.
Multiple tests had given him precise data.
She'd wake in about five minutes.
Enough time!
Or rather, perfect timing.
"Guests, does anyone know when or where this footage was taken?"
The emcee on stage explained the slides to the audience.
Tsuneo kept his head down, weaving through the crowd focused on the stage, heading to the other side of the hall.
"What were you up to?"
Conan guarded the dozing Masuyama Kenzou in his seat, glancing around guiltily.
He'd nearly dropped the guy handling him alone.
Hope no one noticed?
Good thing he'd propped up Uncle Mouri like this plenty of times—experience maxed out, or he'd have blown it.
Speaking of, this slide show had made things convenient.
No way he could make a move now, right?
Pisco!
As the detective grinned victoriously at the old man in the seat.
"Not bad. I'll take this geezer off your hands. Don't forget tomorrow's feast." Tsuneo grabbed Pisco by the hair, glanced around, hoisted him up, and headed straight for the exit.
"Hey?!"
Conan reached out, stunned.
With all these people around, you're just walking him out?!
And we don't even have evidence on him!
It suddenly clicked.
No wonder Tsuneo said if he couldn't ID the target, just knock the killer out…
"Excuse me, the chairman's had too much. I'm taking him home." Tsuneo adjusted his mask's voice modulator to mimic the driver's tone he'd heard before.
An acquaintance in the nearby shadows called to Masuyama Kenzou, "Chairman, about our earlier talk—what now?"
"Tomorrow," Tsuneo replied, one arm supporting Pisco, the other swiftly mimicking the man's voice.
Forget tonight's target.
When he first got the mask, Tsuneo had spent days at home imitating voices—everyone's, even sleeping with it on.
This little trick was child's play.
With Masuyama's own voice, no one suspected a thing.
It worked in the pitch-black hall.
But as Tsuneo dragged Pisco through a cracked door to the outside, two waitstaff approached.
"What's wrong with this gentleman?"
"Need help?"
Seeing Pisco slung over the man's shoulder, snoring away, they were puzzled but didn't suspect foul play.
(End of Chapter)
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