"I don't know what kind of 'accident' slowed down my men, but I'm the one holding the real hardware here," Arihiro Kasuya snarled, his voice trembling despite his attempt at bravado. The silence from the shadows was unnerving, but he couldn't afford to hesitate. "Now, all four of you—kid included—line up. Get together and press the button on that flashlight!"
Kasuya knew he couldn't let them leave alive. Using the explosive flashlight Wakisaka had prepared as the murder weapon was a stroke of genius; it was far cleaner than a bullet. No matter how much the police investigated, the trail would lead back to the dead man's revenge plot, not to him.
"The incident thirteen years ago... it wasn't just about that one charred body, was it?" Ikumi Kyosuke asked calmly. She stared at the barrel of the gun as if it were a mere toy.
If they had simply murdered Wakisaka's grandfather, Kasuya could have lived a normal life like the others in the photograph. Why go through the agony and expense of total facial reconstruction? A charred corpse is nearly impossible to identify without a lead; there was no reason to be that terrified of being found unless there was a deeper, darker secret.
"You mean...?" Conan and Hattori exchanged a sharp look.
"Exactly. It was never just about one body!"
The voice didn't belong to Kasuya, who was moments away from a forced confession. Instead, a man with slit eyes and an aura of absolute authority stepped slowly out of the darkness.
"You... You're Hattori Heizo!" Kasuya's hand began to shake violently. The sheer pressure radiating from the Superintendent General of the Osaka Prefectural Police was enough to crush the spirit of any ordinary criminal.
"Dad?!" Heiji gasped, completely blindsided.
"You may have changed your face thirteen years ago, but your voice and your wretched nature haven't aged a day." Heizo walked forward with measured steps, positioning himself as a shield between the gun and the others.
The next second, the air was filled with the rhythmic thud of heavy boots. High-intensity floodlights snapped on, bathing the warehouse in a blinding white glare that forced everyone to squint. Rows of tactical officers, their riot shields locked in a wall of steel, surged forward.
"I am officially placing you under arrest for illegal possession of a firearm and attempted murder," Heizo declared. Then, he did something rare. He opened one eye—a sharp, piercing gaze that felt like a blade. "Furthermore, you are being charged with the five counts of serial robbery and murder you committed thirteen years ago to fund and hide your illegal excavations!"
It was a well-known truth: in this world, the most dangerous people were those who kept their eyes closed. When they finally opened them, it was time to pray.
"Robbery and murder? What are you talking about?" Kasuya stammered, backing away while trying to keep his face a mask of innocence. Attempted murder was one thing, but serial robbery-homicide was a one-way ticket to the gallows.
"Stop the act. The police have long possessed the recordings left on the victims' answering machines, and we found the one palm print you were careless enough to leave at the scene."
Heiji looked past the riot squad and saw another familiar face: Ginshiro Toyama, his father's right-hand man and Kazuha's father.
It was a strange sight. How had the police tracked them here so precisely? Why the massive mobilization? Five robberies, seven victims—and tonight, the truth of thirteen years had finally come to light.
"Surrender quietly!"
At the Superintendent's command, the riot squad moved in like a crushing wave. A sixty-year-old man, no matter how desperate, stood no chance against a coordinated tactical unit. Shigehiko Wakisaka and Arihiro Kasuya were both shackled and led away toward the waiting police cruisers.
"In any case, I must thank the two of you for your help. My son is far too reckless," Hattori Heizo said, glancing at Heiji, who was currently grumbling to Inspector Otaki. He turned his attention back to Ikumi Kyosuke. "And please extend my thanks to Tsuneo. He single-handedly intercepted seven or eight armed thugs in the alley. They've already been 'packaged' and sent to the hospital."
"It was nothing," Ikumi replied with a polite nod.
Conan, meanwhile, was staring at Heiji's father with a look of profound realization. My intuition was right, he thought. The police hadn't just stumbled upon them; they had been trailing them the entire time, waiting for the perfect moment to spring the trap.
Heizo seemed to sense Conan's gaze. He looked down and said softly, "My apologies, Conan. Men like Kasuya are extremely sensitive to the 'scent' of the police. Any premature move would have sent him into hiding."
He paused, a small, knowing glint in his eye. "That hot-headed son of mine... rushing in headfirst made him the perfect 'live bait' to draw them all out."
Heizo's original plan had been to catch Kasuya's entire syndicate in one fell swoop. He hadn't expected a certain "repairman" to settle the matter in an alleyway before the tactical team could even deploy.
"I see..." Conan muttered. As expected of the old man. He really did use his own son as a lure.
Later, at the Osaka Police Headquarters.
The group gathered in the lobby after finishing their statements. Tsuneo was already there, leaning against a pillar, looking thoroughly bored.
"It's always easier when you know the people in charge," Tsuneo remarked as the others approached. He let out a sigh, almost missing the familiar, grumpy faces of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police's First Division. At least they didn't ask a million circular questions.
"The officers here are probably all tied up with the evidence from the thirteen-year-old case," Conan said, offering a dry smile. Having Heizo as a father made things move a lot faster than an endorsement from Inspector Megure back in Tokyo.
Because he was a child, Conan had finished his questioning earlier than Ikumi. He didn't bother hiding his true personality around the repairman.
"I have a piece of advice for you, kid," Tsuneo said, giving Conan's head a playful, heavy-handed pat. "You should seriously consider becoming a monk and living in a remote temple. Stop bringing calamity upon the mortal realm."
"Look who's talking," Conan shot back, adjusting his glasses. "By the way, where exactly did you hide the transmitter?"
He knew Tsuneo and Ikumi had used the tracking glasses to find them. He suspected Agasa had a hand in it.
"Didn't he tell you? That thing has been in your glasses for a long time," Tsuneo chuckled. "It doesn't just track; it can be tracked. Safety first, right?"
"Just the glasses?" Conan looked down suspiciously at his watch, his belt, and his shoes. He was beginning to wonder if all his gadgets were double-edged swords.
"Does Hattori know he was the 'bait' yet?" Tsuneo asked, watching Heiji walk into an office with Inspector Otaki, looking quite proud of himself.
When Tsuneo had finished dealing with the thugs in the alley, he was about to call the police when he was suddenly surrounded by the riot squad. He knew exactly what Heizo's game was the moment he saw the scale of the deployment.
"Hehehe... I'm definitely going to be the one to tell him," Conan said, his grin widening with mischief.
Back when they were tailing Kasuya, Heiji had actually stopped Conan from calling for backup. The "bait" had performed his role with embarrassing perfection.
A while later, as everyone finished their paperwork and trickled back into the hall, Heiji returned with a dejected expression.
"I have some unfortunate news," Heiji announced to the group. "That treasure... it might not even exist."
"The 'Tiger Scroll' was a fake?" Kogoro Mouri asked, clutching a can of coffee and looking disappointed.
"The scroll exists," Heiji explained, shaking his head. "But according to Wakisaka, the text inside the Tiger Scroll simply says: 'The items contained within the Dragon Scroll, one thousand in number, have been confirmed without error. Respectfully signed, The Assistant.'"
"The Assistant?"
"The legendary thief who supposedly snuck into the Kinmei Well to steal Hideyoshi's gold?" Ikumi Kyosuke couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.
There were only two possibilities. Either the thief had actually stolen the treasure and left the scrolls as a mocking taunt, or the treasure had never existed in the first place, and the whole thing was a centuries-old prank played on greedy men.
In the end, after thirteen years of blood, revenge, and plastic surgery, they were all left with nothing but empty hands.
(End of Chapter)
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