Chapter 63
Dr. Agasa, a god of invention.
The tracker he had given to Fan An as a thank-you gift had a long battery life, a strong signal, and was incredibly stealthy. It was the must-buy item of the year for home, travel, murder, arson, and stalking.
Fan An: “Disclaimer: although I am an outlaw who has no regard for the crime of invading others’ privacy, I do not monitor my ex-boyfriend’s movements 24/7, nor am I a full-time stalker.”
Because the tracker was stuck on the gun, and although Furuya’s marksmanship was good, he had not yet reached the state of being one with his gun. He didn’t carry it with him at all times.
Imagine, you’re dining elegantly at Café Poirot when a robber suddenly bursts in, raises his gun, and fires a warning shot: “Don’t move! Hands up!”
You’re terrified, but then you see a certain blond waiter instantly drop his coffee tray, pull out a gun without a word, and engage in a shootout with the robber: bang, bang, bang!
Café Poirot is filled with passion, shell casings flying. From the Mouri Detective Agency upstairs, the loud snores of Sleeping Kogoro can be heard.
The question is, would you still come to this restaurant to eat?
The life of a café owner is a life too. Don’t underestimate the customer flow of an internet-famous restaurant!
“The tracker is moving. Does that mean he’s acting as Bourbon right now?” Fan An asked, zooming in on the monitoring map and poking the flashing red dot on the screen.
“By the way, why did Hiro suddenly call Bourbon? And why did he have to borrow my phone?” the girl asked, puzzled.
Because everyone in the distillery knows that the whiskies have been at odds for a long time. Bourbon, who has been deeply hurt by the body-double literature, has most likely blocked Mentor Scotch outside of work hours.
“To confirm something,” Hiromitsu replied.
At first, he had just wanted to use his friend’s active-duty Public Security status to inform the police that Senior Superintendent Yoshijima was suspected of turning traitor and that Yoshijima Echiri was currently being spectacularly kidnapped by Suspect An.
Then An’an could throw the “Yes, we have a child” boomerang at her ex-boyfriend’s head, making Furuya’s world turn upside down and question his life.
Mentor Scotch would then brush his sleeves and leave, his deeds hidden.
But now, the tracker showed that Bourbon was in a remote location, and the surrounding signal was completely blocked. The intuition of an undercover Public Security officer told Hiromitsu that something unexpected had happened.
Hiromitsu replayed the testimony of the suspect and kidnapper, Miss An: a famous actress is wandering through a mall, a 10-year-old child fakes a fall to frame her, she is unable to resist, and is half-pushed, half-pulled into kidnapping the child from her mother’s cosplayer…
Wait, what the hell is a mother’s cosplayer?
Mentor Scotch: Isn’t that just a disguise?! Stop using otaku terms in every situation!
He stared at An’an reproachfully. The girl blinked.
Hiromitsu: Oh well, the child didn’t mean it. It’s my lack of understanding.
Mentor Scotch chose to be indulgent.
A disguise. A clear and direct skill. Hiromitsu asked Yoshijima Echiri a few details, and a picture gradually formed in his mind.
Vermouth. A ninety percent probability it was her.
The remaining ten percent probability was a cross-dressing Pinga. He had also learned the disguise skill and was very fond of cross-dressing.
Yoshijima Echiri, this poor, star-struck child, would never know that the two kidnappers who had successively kidnapped her were both famous actresses.
What kind of unspeakable side jobs are you celebrities doing in private? (pointing.jpg)
“The person who helped Senior Superintendent Yoshijima kidnap his daughter is a member of the Black Organization.” Hiromitsu followed this logic and easily guessed the conspiracy.
One side gets a promotion and a raise, the other side plants a mole. A world where only the Metropolitan Police Department is hurt is born. The poor, clueless Inspector Megure has been deceived by his hypocritical superior.
Once Yoshijima Echiri is killed by the Black Organization, there will be no evidence. This conspiracy has been considered from all angles.
“The only thing they didn’t expect was to run into you,” Hiromitsu said with a sigh.
After the dozen or so bombs left by Gin on the cruise ship were all hit by the conceptual god’s blind spots, Vermouth had also learned what the “Suspect An effect” was.
Miss An: Your crime is fine. The next second, it’s mine.
You praise me too much. She had only done a little work.
“In any case, we need to let the police know that Yoshijima Echiri is safe as soon as possible.”
Hiromitsu pondered. If it wasn’t safe to send her to the police station, what about just leaving her at the entrance of the Public Security Bureau?
He would hijack a motorcycle from a Beika biker gang on the spot. An’an would wear a full-face robber’s mask and sit on the back, with Yoshijima Echiri tucked under her arm, and they would speed all the way to the Public Security Bureau.
Mentor Scotch would make a cool turn. Kidnapper An would swing her arm, and Yoshijima Echiri would be thrown like a dynamite pack at Kazami Yuya, knocking off his glasses.
Kazami: !!!
Hiromitsu: I’m sorry. My thoughts have been poisoned by An’an. I actually think this plan is perfect.
Clean, neat, leaving no traces. Doing a good deed without seeking fame, leaving as freely as the wind.
Mentor Scotch was slandering her. If it were An’an, she would never have come up with such an idea.
“Just take a photo of Echiri and send it to the police from an anonymous number,” the dark-haired girl said.
“And add a few explanatory words: [This child is now in my hands. She is very safe.]”
Miss An: “The police will definitely be relieved when they see it.”
Hiromitsu: The police will definitely put out a warrant for your arrest when they see it.
Not all police officers are Furuya Rei. Please speak less in code, An’an. He’s begging you.
Yoshijima Echiri silently raised her hand. “I can call my mom. I’ve memorized the phone numbers of all my relatives.”
Please don’t throw me out like a dynamite pack, and don’t take any compromising photos of me. Control the adults, save the children.
“A phone call alone is not enough to convince the police,” Hiromitsu patiently explained to the little girl. “Changing your voice is easier than changing your face.”
Yoshijima Echiri was struck by the evil of the world. “Will someone impersonate me?”
The child’s innocent words made the two adults’ expressions change.
Hiromitsu: “The child the Black Organization kidnapped is missing, but they’re not in a hurry to find her…”
An’an: “The cosplayer who cosplayed Mrs. Yoshijima has a skill for swapping heads…”
The two of them: “Is it possible that the distillery has disguised another child as Echiri?/Did someone cosplay Echiri?”
Mentor Scotch: “An’an, forget about cosplay. Immediately.”
Now everything made sense.
Realizing that the second kidnapper who had taken Yoshijima Echiri had not called the police, the distillery had immediately taken countermeasures.
Not a moment was wasted mourning the failure of Senior Superintendent Yoshijima’s plan to sacrifice his daughter for a promotion. What followed was a conspiracy against the Public Security moles.
…
In the suburbs, in the ruins of an abandoned factory.
Weeds grew wild on the concrete floor. The vigorous life of the plants had broken through the man-made concrete, and spiderweb-like cracks spread across the road.
The abandoned, illegal building cast a large shadow on the ground. A figure was hidden in the darkness, moving quickly.
The emergency broadcast in the city was still offering a reward for information about the missing Yoshijima Echiri. Mrs. Yoshijima was frantic at the Metropolitan Police Department. Inspector Megure could only comfort her again and again: “It’s a good thing the kidnapper hasn’t contacted you. The child is safe for now.”
Not so. Public Security had already received a message from the kidnapper.
The source of the message—an undercover Public Security officer.
Bourbon’s ten fingers danced across the keyboard. The screen flickered a few times, and the surveillance footage from the abandoned factory appeared.
The seemingly empty abandoned factory was filled with cameras. In the center of the screen, a little girl was tied to a chair, her mouth gagged with a towel. A flashing red light and bomb wires were visible under her coat.
“As expected…”
Senior Superintendent Yoshijima had been threatened by the Black Organization. He had not told his colleagues at the Metropolitan Police Department, but he could not hide it from the eyes of Public Security.
An important document from the Metropolitan Police Department was suspected of being leaked to the Black Organization. Public Security had been secretly investigating for a long time, and the suspicion was faintly pointing towards Senior Superintendent Yoshijima.
His behavior was very similar to someone who, when blackmailed for the first time, had only been asked for a small amount of money and had cowardly given it. The second time, the blackmailer had demanded a greater benefit. Senior Superintendent Yoshijima had refused, so the distillery had kidnapped his daughter to let him know the consequences of resistance.
If Yoshijima Echiri had not gone missing, Senior Superintendent Yoshijima would have been secretly taken away for investigation for malfeasance and leaking secrets in a few days. His sentence would not have been short.
But no matter what, the child was innocent. Senior Superintendent Yoshijima had held a press conference. If Yoshijima Echiri was not rescued, it would be a huge blow to the police’s credibility.
Furuya Rei had a feeling that there was a conspiracy.
He hacked into the surveillance and became even more certain of his judgment.
“The Black Organization doesn’t care about Senior Superintendent Yoshijima’s life or death,” the blond young man said in a low voice. “They’re more interested in who will come to rescue Yoshijima Echiri.”
The Metropolitan Police Department alone would never be able to find Yoshijima Echiri’s location.
It had to be an undercover agent, an internal leak.
Gin’s determination to strike down traitors was moving. What a heroic and tenacious spirit. The big brother of the distillery was determined to fight the red-side moles to the end!
Bourbon hit the enter key. The surveillance footage was taken over by a program he had set up, replaced with a single click.
Just in case, he turned on the signal jammer, turning this factory into an uninhabited island.
The red light of the bomb strapped to the little girl was flashing. Bourbon knew that he didn’t have much time.
The blond young man took out his sidearm and loaded a bullet.
The surveillance footage flickered as if the signal was bad. The little girl tied to the chair lowered her head.
The voice in her earpiece had cut off. She knew that someone would soon come to her.
Who would it be? A traitor hidden in the organization.
The abandoned factory was a maze of complex routes. Several seemingly passable roads were either installed with cameras or patrolled by armed guards. It was loose on the outside but tight on the inside.
The deeper Bourbon went, the clearer it became that this was a trap for the red-side moles. He became even more cautious.
“I can’t stay here for too long. I have to leave quickly after rescuing her.”
At the end of the road, a door was open. The little girl, tied to a bomb, was making muffled struggling sounds, her eyes fixed on the corridor in front of her.
The surveillance had been replaced, the signal had been blocked. The model of the bomb was the same as the ones Gin had installed on the cruise ship. Bourbon had dismantled them before and was familiar with the process.
The little girl’s mouth was gagged. She wouldn’t make any sound and attract the enemy during the defusing process. Her father was a police officer. She should have learned a thing or two about the correct way to wait for rescue.
No problem. Let’s go.
The blond Public Security officer took a step forward.
He was forcefully pulled back!
The person was panting, their breathing heavy and rapid. The voice sounded like thunder in Furuya’s ear.
“It’s a trap! Don’t go!”
“Zero!”