Chapter 160: Coincidences
Cointreau had no idea what was currently running through Vermouth's mind. Of course, even if he did, he would have dismissed it with a scoff.
His younger sister was far more obedient and sensible than the child Vermouth seemed so invested in. She would never recklessly involve herself in such dangerous affairs. Besides, even if she did stumble into some unforeseen trouble, Cointreau was confident his sister wouldn't be the one in peril. She certainly didn't need anyone else cleaning up her messes.
Of course, Cointreau's assessment of his own sister was, to put it mildly, colored by a heavy dose of sibling bias. He saw her through a filter, conveniently ignoring the fact that his "obedient and sensible" sister had single-handedly established an organization and was now collaborating with the Black Organization itself.
Averting his gaze, Vermouth turned her attention to Gin. She needed to subtly probe him, to deduce the reason for his sudden shift in targets. Only by understanding his motive could she hope to find a way to defuse his murderous intent.
Meanwhile, in an FBI vehicle speeding through the city, Conan Edogawa had come to the same terrifying conclusion. By tracking the route of Gin's classic Porsche 356A, he deduced that they had discovered the transmitter and bug. Worse, they were now heading directly for the Mouri Detective Agency.
A moment later, he received even more dreadful news from Dr. Agasa. Kogoro Mouri hadn't stayed put at the professor's house as instructed. He had left long before the FBI agents arranged by Jodie could arrive, heading back to his office to catch a horse race.
The car carrying Conan and the others immediately accelerated, tearing toward Beika Town. At the same time, Conan frantically dialed the landline at the detective agency.
Unfortunately, the phone cable had been unceremoniously unplugged by Kogoro Mouri, who was far too engrossed in the race broadcast blaring through his headphones. No matter how desperately Conan shouted into his phone, the oblivious detective heard nothing.
On a rooftop not far from the Mouri Detective Agency, Chianti and Korn peered through their sniper scopes, observing Kogoro's every move. They watched as he sat with headphones jammed in his ears.
Vodka's conviction hardened. "See? The bug must have been planted by him. He hasn't given up. He's listening right now, trying to see if he can pick up any sound from it."
Gin offered no argument against Vodka's theory. He simply produced the bug, still wrapped in its crumpled paper wad, and issued an ultimatum to the man he believed was on the other end.
"The bug and transmitter in my hand are remarkably similar to the ones we found on that woman last time," Gin's voice was a low, chilling murmur into the device. "I'll give you ten seconds. If you're willing to tell me what you know about the Organization's traitor, Sherry, take your left hand off your headphones and raise it."
Just as Gin was about to count down from one, with Chianti and Korn's fingers already tightening on their triggers, a soccer ball suddenly slammed against the agency's window with a loud THWACK.
The unexpected sound made everyone freeze. Gin, Vodka, and the snipers were all momentarily stunned. Chianti and Korn reflexively pulled their heads back from their scopes.
Even Cointreau's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the abrupt development. He glanced down at the street below and, sure enough, saw the culprit: the boy, Conan Edogawa.
The impact startled Kogoro Mouri as well. He threw open his window and unleashed a torrent of angry shouts at Conan, who stood innocently on the street below. Seizing the moment, Conan yelled back an explanation, revealing that Kogoro was wearing headphones to listen to the horse race.
A flicker of opportunity sparked in Vermouth's eyes. This was the opening she needed. "It seems this time it really has nothing to do with him," she said, her voice a model of calm reason.
"Not necessarily," Cointreau interjected coolly. "The timing is too perfect. And don't forget, Kir is missing, and the FBI is involved. Perhaps this Detective Mouri has a connection to them." He felt Vermouth was being too hasty. 'Is this a case of her personal feelings clouding her judgment?'
A few words from a child and the target himself were hardly enough to erase suspicion or sway Gin's decision. Cointreau also found himself thinking that the boy was incredibly reckless, daring to interfere in the Organization's business. But if he was going to meddle, he should have been more careful, not leaving behind a trail so easily discovered. Look where it had led them—right to his doorstep.
At that moment, Cointreau was still unaware that the bug and transmitter on Kir hadn't been intentionally planted by Conan at all, but had accidentally stuck to her. There were no traces to clean up because there had been no plan.
Even if he had known, it likely wouldn't have changed his opinion. He would have simply become more keenly aware of Conan Edogawa's uncanny luck—how clues related to the Organization seemed to fall right into his lap.
Of course, even without knowing the full story, Cointreau had a certain faith in the boy's strange fortune. His earlier words weren't truly meant to seal Kogoro Mouri's fate. He just wanted Gin to get on with it, to at least teach the man a lesson. If they dragged this out any longer, some other complication was bound to arise, and what if the entire operation ended unresolved? An operation with so many codenamed members, only to accomplish nothing and lose an agent in the process? It would be a complete farce.
Evidently, Cointreau's thoughts mirrored Gin's own. Without hesitation, he gave the order. "Do it. And take care of that brat down there as well."
Upon receiving the command, a bloodthirsty smile spread across Chianti's face. She immediately readjusted her rifle's aim, ready to fire.
"Wait a minute!" Vermouth's voice cut sharply through the air.
Hearing Gin's order, she was too preoccupied to stew over her annoyance with Cointreau for breaking their unspoken agreement and targeting Kogoro. Her mind raced, desperately searching for a reason to persuade Gin to stand down.
"There's no evidence," she argued. "If we kill him rashly, considering his close ties with the police…"
Before she could finish, her words were cut short by the sharp click of a gun's safety being disengaged beside her.
Gin raised his Beretta, aiming it squarely at Vermouth. His expression was laced with impatience, his eyes burning with dissatisfaction. "Vermouth, you talk too much." His gaze was deep, his emotions unreadable as he stared at her. "You and that detective… there's something between you, isn't there?"
Vermouth turned her head, a slow, enigmatic smile curling her lips. "And what if there is?"
"Ahem." Cointreau cleared his throat, a hint of theatrical boredom in the sound. "I don't mean to interrupt your little exchange, but I think we're wasting time. Now that we know the detective might not be the one who planted the bug, Gin, hurry up and decide. Kill him or don't. If we drag this on, you can bet the FBI will show up to stir the pot again."
Cointreau rolled his eyes in secret. He knew the shot would never be fired now that Vermouth had personally stepped in. He genuinely didn't understand why Chianti was suddenly so deferential to her. He'd only ever seen her glare at Vermouth with open contempt, yet when Vermouth said to wait, Chianti had actually held her fire.
Cointreau found himself morbidly curious. If Gin ordered them to fire again, who would pop up to stop it this time? Could it really be the FBI?
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