Outside the banquet hall.
Before Tsuneo could respond to the two waiters' questions, a child's voice piped up from behind, "Dad, is Grandpa okay?"
Tsuneo: …
"He's fine. A good night's sleep will fix him up," the repairman muttered, head lowered, leading the old man and the kid to the side and into the elevator.
Say what you will, but sometimes dragging along an innocent, adorable child worked wonders for these kinds of operations…
The security guards stationed in the corner watched Masuyama Kenzou, still muttering in his sleep about his son and grandson taking him home for another drink. They didn't bother approaching, standing like stone statues in their sunglasses.
"Is that guy Masuyama's son?"
"No clue. Never seen him."
"Who knows how many illegitimate kids a big shot like that has out there?"
"That little grandson's pretty cute, though."
A few idle waiters whispered outside the hall, gossiping about the man's private life.
…
"What are we supposed to do with him without evidence?"
In the elevator, Conan crossed his arms, staring at the snoring Pisco.
"I'm neither a detective nor a cop. I don't need evidence," Tsuneo said, patting down Pisco's body. He pulled out a metal box, grinned, and slipped it into his pocket.
Then he fished out a silenced pistol and tossed it to Conan.
"There's your evidence."
Conan fumbled to catch the gun, exhaling in relief as he quickly hid it under his clothes. Looking up, he said, "Since we found this on him…"
"Don't forget who he is. A single gun? That's nothing," Tsuneo chuckled.
Carrying a concealed pistol? As long as no crime was committed, the guy could be strapped with grenades and still walk free.
Not just because of his wealth and status.
Don't forget—this man had the backing of that sprawling, shadowy Organization, its reach unfathomably deep.
Conan clutched the gun under his clothes, frowning in thought.
"There's probably a ton of security and reporters waiting downstairs. How do you plan to get him out?"
The question implied he'd already accepted Tsuneo's approach.
"Heh, I bet they'll all be rushing upstairs soon," Tsuneo said with a smirk, pressing an elevator button.
Instead of stopping at the first floor or the parking garage, he chose the second-floor lobby and stepped out.
…
About four or five minutes after Tsuneo and company left, the emcee on stage, seemingly tireless, continued droning on about Director Inomaki's exclusive, never-before-seen photo collection.
In a corner, Belmod, knocked out earlier, slowly opened her eyes.
"That lunatic…"
Belmod took a deep breath, trying to stand.
But as she moved, two small metallic objects rolled off her head onto the floor.
"What are these?"
Bang!
Bang!
The finger-sized metal devices exploded on impact, unleashing blinding white light and billowing smoke.
Trouble!
Flashbangs!
Belmod grimaced, turning her face away and shutting her eyes.
"What's going on?!"
"Turn on the lights!"
"Something's happened!"
"A bomb!"
The big shots in the banquet hall erupted into chaos.
…
"How's that?"
"Pretty spot-on, right?"
In the underground parking lot of Beika Hotel, Tsuneo stuffed Pisco into the trunk of a black sedan, grinning at the great detective.
Not only had the hotel's security, bodyguards, and reporters rushed upstairs, but even the drivers waiting for the VIPs had swarmed up in a frenzy.
A terrorist attack at a memorial of this caliber was no small matter.
"You didn't attack someone in the dark, did you?" Conan tilted his head, deeply suspicious.
"Little guinea pig, take this and give it to that scientist."
Tsuneo slid into a car obtained through some less-than-legal means and tossed the sleek metal box to Conan.
This was something the Organization's members always carried on missions.
You're familiar with it, aren't you, Kudo?
Conan opened the box, glanced inside, and his breathing quickened. Shocked, he looked up at Tsuneo.
"Is this…?"
"APTX4869. One of tonight's targets," Tsuneo said with a smile.
Upstairs, he'd quickly searched that witch.
Aside from feeling something like a compact pistol in a place he shouldn't have touched, there was nothing else.
Luckily, this old man had the A-drug on him—one small goal accomplished.
"Here!" Conan, suppressing his excitement, tossed the silenced pistol through the car window to Tsuneo, then asked, "What are you going to do with Pisco?"
"Get what I need from him, then sell him off," Tsuneo said, winking at Conan before speeding off without giving him a chance to respond.
"Sell… sell him off?"
Conan stared at the black car vanishing before his eyes, his expression a mix of shock and awe.
Taking a deep breath, the great detective carefully pocketed the metal box and left Beika Hotel.
Pisco was down, so there shouldn't be any more trouble.
Or rather, if there was trouble, it'd be Tsuneo's doing…
But Tsuneo had mentioned another Organization member on-site.
Could it be Chris Vineyard, the one he was talking to?
What role did she play in this?
An inside man?
The more Conan thought, the more likely it seemed. After they left, she caused a commotion to draw everyone's attention.
"Still, what a guy."
"Getting a superstar like that to work for him…"
…
"The plan failed. The police are already here."
In a room at Beika Hotel, Belmod lit a cigarette, speaking into a phone.
"What the hell happened?" Gin's voice was ice-cold, dripping with menace.
Belmod took a long drag, exhaling slowly before speaking. "That Dark Knight showed up at the memorial. I got caught off guard. When I came to, Pisco was gone, but the target's still alive and well."
Speaking of which, that guy… he touched me!
Yes, the witch had noticed her clothes were slightly disheveled, as if she'd been roughly searched…
"You're saying Pisco might be in that guy's hands?"
"Heh heh heh…"
In his Porsche 356A, Gin gripped the phone, looking ready to explode.
Vodka, driving beside him, flinched but stayed silent.
Big brother's terrifying!
"Kill them!"
"Both of them must be eliminated!"
(End of Chapter)
------------------------------
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