"Boss…" Vodka could completely feel Gin's foul mood. His voice shrank even more as he asked, "So… should we follow through with the deal we made with Kumel and kill him?"
"Let's wait and see what the higher-ups decide," Gin replied flatly, clearly in a bad mood.
He already knew Swallow Koujiro was a worthless piece of trash. But when Kumel had casually said the other day that Swallow Koujiro was about to be exposed to the police even without anyone tipping them off, Gin had thought the pervert was just talking nonsense to get Koujiro killed faster.
Turns out… that trash really did get exposed.
"Contact Kumel when we get back," Gin said to end the topic. Then he asked, "What about the list from Tequila's side?"
"Boss… that list already caught the police's attention back then, so… anyway, we'll need to come up with a different plan," Vodka replied tactfully.
…Another failure, and this one even died from some random revenge killing…
Forget it. Thinking about this trash is ruining my mood.
Vodka, the workplace expert who could read the room like a pro, immediately changed the subject without tripping over a single word. He tried to give the boss a new outlet to vent his anger—anything was fine, as long as it wasn't aimed at him:
"Boss, today's mission was pretty easy, huh? That guy looked super excited after getting the suitcase. Is there something valuable in it?"
"That's something worth a fortune. Of course he's excited." Gin sneered. "He's probably sitting in his seat right now, admiring the final view of his life."
"Final…?" Vodka echoed the same confusion Conan felt while eavesdropping.
"That person no longer holds any value to the organization." Gin flicked his cigarette ash and spoke calmly. "The suitcase is full of bombs. A strong jolt is enough to set it off."
Vodka's hairs stood on end. Under Gin's icy stare, he could only bite the bullet and say, "So… if that suitcase gets dropped right now…"
"That baby's worth four hundred million yen. Who would dare let it fall?" Gin said. "But regardless, by 3:10 PM, the guy will open the switch without suspecting a thing. Blowing up the entire bullet train with him… a fitting end, don't you think?"
That thought finally lifted Gin's mood a little.
But when he looked down at the suitcase full of cash—cash he had to personally pick up on a public train, only to hand it over to a bunch of unreliable teammates…
He'd heard Bourbon was submitting a request for more budget, using Kumel's name as a cover. Said it was to open a detective agency for operational convenience…
Nice excuse, but what kind of detective agency needs enough budget to arm a military unit?
And as if that wasn't enough, Kumel was chiming in too, requesting a bulletproof pickup truck?
What, are the two of them planning to wage war on the entirety of Beika City?
Just as Gin's slightly improved mood hit rock bottom again—
If they're not trash, they're rats. And if they're not rats or trash, they're parasites… Damn it!
Gin grunted in annoyance. Hearing the station broadcast, he kicked Vodka with the tip of his shoe. "What are you spacing out for? Let's go."
Vodka, who got kicked for no reason, silently cursed whoever it was that had triggered his boss's rage, and obediently stood up, pulling the suitcase behind him as he followed Gin.
Conan jolted, looking toward the two as they stood and walked toward the exit. He leaped out of his seat and ran after them.
Don't go! What's this about a bomb?!
And that shrinking drug!
He couldn't let them leave just like that, he—
Conan pushed himself to the limit, closing the distance between him and the two. Gin's silver hair was just within reach, and Conan instinctively reached out to grab it—
"Are you crazy?"
A hand shot out and grabbed Conan around the waist, yanking him back. "You trying to get yourself killed?"
"I…!" Conan snapped out of it and looked up. In the dim corridor, he saw a pair of crimson eyes faintly glowing red. "Joker!"
"Shh!" The man quickly covered Conan's mouth, glanced left and right warily, then put on his sunglasses and lowered his voice. "You really tried to yank Gin's hair… you've got guts."
"You know his codename? How do you…" Conan's emotions were boiling over, and he nearly blurted out the question.
"Let's talk somewhere else."
Kazawa scooped Conan up and quickly ducked into the stairway, heading upstairs. "Your little Ran's about to catch up."
He brought Conan to the front end of the second floor, opened a first-class compartment, tossed him inside, and locked the door.
Conan plopped onto the wide leather seat, staring blankly at the small lamp on the table.
…He remembered that business compartments on the Shinkansen aren't sold individually. Did Joker just buy a group package for four seats?
Actually, that made sense. This guy had effortlessly hacked into the robbers' loot—just the pile of gold coins alone was enormous. With how often he worked in the shadows, he probably used those methods to earn a lot of money. He was definitely loaded.
When you think about it that way, Kazawa choosing to rely on black-market takeovers rather than chasing wealth… he really was kind of like Kaito Kid—a different sort of phantom thief.
"Why are you here?" Kazawa raised an eyebrow, clearly asking even though he already knew.
"I should be the one asking that…" Conan's mouth twitched. Then his brain kicked back in and his eyes lit up. "Wait—you're following Gin and Vodka?"
"Sort of. I just got some intel about their operation." He brushed off the reason casually, then folded his arms. "And then I saw you trying to grab Gin's hair like a lunatic… those guys are armed killers, you know? You're lucky he didn't shoot you on the spot."
At that, Conan's face grew serious. He gripped Kazawa's sleeve tightly and said,
"Never mind that now! There's a bomb on the train! I heard their conversation—they were meeting someone to make a deal, but instead of what was promised, they gave the guy a very powerful bomb! It's going to go off in twenty minutes!"
"So the bomb is with the person they traded with—not just lying around on the train." Kazawa's expression grew serious too. "We need to find that trader. Otherwise, even if we stop the train and evacuate, without knowing the exact location, the bomb still poses a threat… Tell me everything you heard."
Conan took a deep breath, calmed his emotions, and carefully recalled every word, repeating them clearly to Kazawa.
As soon as Conan said "Kumel," Kazawa had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.
Gin and Vodka, you two giant sieves!
You've practically leaked half the organization's secrets already!
If they slipped up even a little more and started throwing out names like Bourbon and Vermouth, Conan would've basically gotten the entire Black Org staff list from the get-go.
At this point, the organization might as well admit it deserves to lose to the red team.
Kazawa forced himself to tune out the snarky commentary in his head and focused on the rest of Conan's information. Pretending to be deep in thought, he said slowly,
"If Gin said the guy was 'admiring the final view,' then that means his seat is on the second floor."
Conan thought it over and nodded.
"That makes it simple." Kazawa gestured at the room. "The second floor is all premium cars, except for the dining car. This is car 9, the business section. There are only three first-class compartments, and I'm the only one in this one. That leaves cars 7 and 10. Think hard—any other details that could help us narrow it down? Once we know the exact car, we'll go check it."
"But just knowing the car number doesn't mean we can identify the suspect," Conan said, frowning tightly. "We don't have much time, and alerting the train police to search every seat isn't feasible."
"It's fine, little detective."
Kazawa smiled calmly, tapping his sunglasses.
"You just find the right car… leave the rest to me."