Chapter 156: Cointreau Appears Again
Some time after Mizunashi Rena had seen her guests out, she finally prepared to leave herself. As she pulled the apartment door shut behind her, a twist of fate guided her steps. Her heel came down on something small and hard, a faint crunch sounding underfoot. It was the tiny transmitter and listening device Conan had planted by the door, now dislodged from its hiding spot and clinging to the sole of her shoe.
Descending into the building's underground garage, she slid into her car, retrieved her phone, and dialed.
"Hello, I'm sorry," she began, her voice low and professional. "There was a situation earlier, but it's been resolved." She was reporting to Gin, explaining the unexpected doorbell incident. "Right. Then, as planned, let's meet at ten o'clock, Gin."
Miles away, still on his way back, Conan listened intently through his own device. The final word she spoke—Gin—blasted through the receiver and into his ear, sending a jolt of pure shock through his entire body.
Mizunashi Rena… is a member of the Black Organization.
The realization was staggering. He couldn't reconcile the image of the gentle, kind television host with the shadowy specter of the Organization. He had just witnessed her genuine warmth as she comforted the little boy at the door. It was impossible to believe that she was a cold-blooded killer who took innocent lives.
Yet, at the same time, a thrill shot through him. It was a terrifyingly lucky break, a direct line to the very people he was hunting. The sheer magnitude of this discovery momentarily eclipsed everything else, including his prior arrangements with Natsume and Charlotte.
His mind racing, Conan first called Dr. Agasa, asking for an immediate pickup. His next call was to Natsume. He fumbled through an awkward excuse, explaining that something had come up and he couldn't make it back for now. The investigation they had started would likely have to be handled by her and Charlotte alone.
Not long after he hung up, Dr. Agasa's familiar yellow Beetle pulled up to the curb. But before Conan could even open the door, he spotted a familiar head of strawberry-blonde hair in the back seat. He shot the doctor an annoyed look before climbing into the passenger seat.
Honestly, he thought, exasperated. Didn't I specifically tell him not to bring Haibara?
Dr. Agasa met his reproachful gaze with a sheepish, apologetic smile. Since she was already there, he couldn't very well tell her to get out. Conan sighed, accepting the situation.
To his surprise, Haibara remained quiet. Perhaps her perspective had shifted after the incident at the port, because she didn't offer any of her usual discouraging warnings or try to stop him.
Conan gave them a clipped summary of the events from the day before and that morning. Then, he fell silent, pressing the earpiece deeper into his ear, his focus split between the audio feed and the blinking dot on his tracker glasses that marked Mizunashi Rena's real-time location.
Shortly after ten o'clock, the sounds from the earpiece changed. The hum of the engine cut out, replaced by the quiet echo of an indoor parking lot. Mizunashi Rena had arrived.
She rolled down her window, her gaze falling on the black Porsche 356A parked in the adjacent spot. Gin was already there, and his posture radiated impatience.
"I'm sorry," Kir—Mizunashi Rena's codename—said by way of explanation. "I noticed some strange cars following me earlier. Likely the FBI you mentioned yesterday. But don't worry, I took a detour. I've already shaken them off."
"Is there no problem?" Gin's voice was a low, dangerous rasp.
"Yes." As she spoke, Kir's eyes flickered towards him. "So, can you put away that Beretta you have aimed at me from behind your car door now?"
"Yeah, aren't there already people stationed around here to observe?" A new voice, clear and masculine, cut smoothly into their tense exchange. "If there were any suspicious vehicles, you'd have been notified. Don't be so paranoid."
Kir was taken aback. A hand reached out from the back seat of Gin's car, resting casually on the executive's shoulder. Gin's expression instantly turned glacial at the familiar touch, but he said nothing. After a beat of silence, he even holstered his weapon.
Kir's eyes widened slightly. She had never heard that voice before. Who was this man? He seemed remarkably familiar with Gin, comfortable enough to touch him so casually. Was he a veteran of the Organization? The thought connected to recent whispers she had heard through the grapevine. This had to be the rumored Cointreau.
As if on cue, a gentle face appeared at the rear window of the Porsche. The man looked at Kir and offered a placid smile. "Hello. I am Cointreau."
His self-introduction confirmed her suspicions.
"Hello," Kir nodded, her expression carefully neutral. She silently observed the man she had only ever heard of, finding his appearance… unexpected.
The reports she'd gathered from other members were a mix of fact and fiction, but the consensus was that Cointreau was ruthlessly capable and possessed a cold, detached personality. She had pictured someone with an aura similar to Gin's.
She had not expected a young man who, at first glance, seemed almost serene. But Kir quickly recognized this as a facade. Her instincts screamed a warning. Though he was smiling, his eyes held no trace of warmth. They were the color of brilliant, sunlit gold, yet they felt as cold and unyielding as a frozen lake.
Kir silently raised her guard. This man was dangerous.
Just then, another car pulled into the spot beside hers. Chianti and Korn got out, offering their own terse greetings. The group was almost assembled.
Soon, however, the sound of Vermouth's voice from the seat next to Cointreau sent Chianti into a rage. She stormed over to the Porsche, launching into a one-sided tirade about Calvados. But this time was different. In this timeline, Calvados hadn't died; he had only been punished for his failure. So, while Chianti was still furious with Vermouth, her hatred hadn't yet reached the point of no return.
Chianti, Korn, Gin, Vermouth, and Cointreau… Listening through the bug, Conan frowned, his head bowed in concentration. So many codenamed members were being deployed for a single operation. Their target must be incredibly important.
He replayed the mission details he had managed to overhear: time, 13:00; location, Eddie P; target, DJ. Who was this DJ?
And Cointreau's voice… it sounded so familiar. He was certain he had heard it somewhere before.
Conan wracked his brain, searching his memory. Suddenly, it hit him with the force of a physical blow.
It was him.
It was that man who appeared out of nowhere at the Twilight Mansion, and then again at the port.
So he was Cointreau.
The pieces clicked into place. He whipped his head around to face the back seat. "Haibara," he asked urgently, "have you ever heard the codename Cointreau?"
"Huh?" She blinked, surprised by his sudden question. "I've heard it, but I don't have a deep impression. I only know he's a veteran in the Organization. It seems he just returned to the country recently." Haibara searched her memory, trying to be helpful. "I don't know much else. Why are you asking?"
"You mean… the man standing next to Vermouth at the port… that was Cointreau?!" Conan blurted out the connection.
Haibara's eyes flew wide. "What did you say?!" she shouted, her voice sharp with disbelief.
"Y-Yeah." Conan was startled by her explosive reaction, not understanding the cause. "Is something wrong?"
"He's too young," Haibara said, her voice trembling slightly as she fought to compose herself. She explained the glaring inconsistency. "As far as I know, Cointreau has been active in the Organization for at least ten years. The man we saw was in his twenties at most. If he really is Cointreau, then…"
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