Chapter 162: Secret Deal
Cointreau noticed the subtle instability in Vermouth's composure. Her gaze, sharp and anxious, kept flicking toward Gin's pocket, where the small eavesdropping device was secured. He knew precisely what held her attention: the latent fingerprints on its casing. She had to be terrified that Kudo Shinichi's prints would be found on it.
"Vermouth is right," Gin said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the tense silence. He wasn't addressing Chianti, but his words served as a chilling explanation. "If Akai Shuichi hadn't known in advance that we would be there, how could he have been so perfectly prepared to snipe us from that building?"
"Then why couldn't it have been a trap set by Mouri Kogoro and the FBI together?" Vodka chimed in, his question earnest.
"That's highly unlikely." Vermouth leaned against the window, one hand propping up her head in a posture of feigned nonchalance. "If they were truly partners, would the FBI really allow their new ally to walk into such a dangerous situation? I think it's far more probable that the FBI obtained intelligence that Kir would be contacting Mouri Kogoro. After they separated, the FBI found a way to plant a transmitter and bug on the sole of Kir's shoe."
"Let's assume that's the case," Gin conceded, though his tone made it clear he wasn't entirely convinced by her theory.
"However, today wasn't a complete loss." With that, Gin produced the eavesdropping device that Akai Shuichi had nearly destroyed. The plastic was cracked, but the core was intact. "As long as we extract the fingerprints from this, we can compare them. We'll know for certain if they belong to the FBI or to Mouri Kogoro, and then we'll know if they've teamed up."
As Gin spoke, he deliberately watched Vermouth's face, his silver eyes searching for any crack in her facade.
Cointreau followed Gin's gaze, his own assessment clinical. It was no wonder they called her the Woman of a Thousand Faces; her emotional control was truly superb. A moment ago, he could sense the faint tremors of her anxiety, a frantic energy buzzing just beneath her skin. But the instant she realized Gin was scrutinizing her, she expertly snuffed out the inappropriate emotion, leaving only a mask of cool detachment.
Cointreau considered his position. He did need Vermouth to provide a bit of cover for him with the Boss, and he would certainly require her assistance in the future. This was an opportunity.
After a moment of calculation, Cointreau angled his body slightly, shielding his phone from Gin's line of sight. With practiced stealth, he typed out a message. He was careful to ensure Gin wouldn't notice the movement, but Vermouth, seated right beside him, easily caught the subtle action of him retrieving his phone.
A moment later, a soft vibration came from her own device. Realizing what had happened, she waited for Gin's attention to be diverted before discreetly pulling out her phone. The screen lit up with a single, concise message.
It read: "I'll solve the fingerprint issue. In exchange, give me information on some of Rum's subordinates, especially those who are about to cooperate with that Miss Ningguang. If you agree, tap on the car window twice."
A lump formed in Vermouth's throat, a bitter mix of frustration and grudging admiration. Cointreau really knew how to exploit a crisis.
She gritted her teeth. Cold-blooded bastard, she thought, the insult sharp and silent. If she remembered correctly, Cointreau's precious 'Hard-won Princess' was on good terms with the Mouri family. Yet, when a gun was pointed at the friend of someone so important to him, he remained utterly unfazed, even going so far as to urge the shooter to fire. Vermouth now seriously questioned whether Cointreau truly cared for that girl as much as he appeared to.
Worse, she still didn't know the exact nature of their relationship. By appearance alone, she was certain they were blood-related, but no matter how deeply she investigated, the precise degree of that connection remained a mystery. Meanwhile, Cointreau had practically unraveled the entire background of the 'Cool Guy' and 'Angel' she held so dear. The imbalance of information was galling.
It seemed that after this operation, she would have to find a way to get closer to that girl, to learn more about her firsthand. The files revealed nothing of substance.
Vermouth quietly put her phone away, her eyes downcast in thought. She had to admit, besides Cointreau, no one else possessed the audacity—or the ability—to take something directly from Gin's hands and forge the results. In this specific, desperate moment, he was the only person who could help her.
After a long, tense pause, Vermouth's fingers moved. She lightly tapped the car window twice. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of a satisfied smile on Cointreau's face and felt her frustration deepen.
Having received his answer, Cointreau didn't waste a second. He began his performance right in front of her. "Gin, if you want to check the fingerprints on that bug, you can leave it to me. I know someone who can get the results back as quickly as possible. We should be able to identify who those prints belong to by the end of the day."
Gin seemed somewhat surprised by the offer; it was rare for Cointreau to volunteer for anything. But then he recalled how Cointreau had proactively joined the mission yesterday, and the suggestion didn't seem quite so strange. Gin never would have imagined a connection between Cointreau and the FBI. Hearing the promise of swift results, he didn't hesitate for long before handing the compromised device over.
Vermouth watched, aghast, as Gin passed the bug to Cointreau with barely a moment's thought. Although she had achieved the outcome she desperately wanted, a wave of pure exasperation washed over her.
She couldn't help but scream at Gin in the privacy of her own mind. Honestly, Gin, where is your suspicion?! Where is that infamous paranoia you were just aiming at me?! Why do you believe every word out of Cointreau's mouth and hand over the only piece of evidence without a second thought?
"Who is this person you're talking about?" Gin asked, a sliver of his usual caution returning after Cointreau had taken the device.
"Oh, you know him," Cointreau replied casually, pocketing the bug. "It's Alhaitham. Or rather, Bordeaux."
"Bordeaux!" Vodka exclaimed, unable to hide his shock. He never expected to hear that codename from Cointreau. As far as he knew, the two had barely interacted. Why did Cointreau's tone sound so familiar? Besides, wasn't Bordeaux a biologist? What was he doing analyzing fingerprints?
"How do you know he can do this?" Gin's voice was laced with the same puzzlement.
"I had some contact with him while I was assigned to cooperate with Kaeya," Cointreau explained, leaning back against the seat with an air of nonchalance. "I found his personality to be quite… straightforward. He mentioned his other skills to me later." He put the device away securely. "From what I know, Alhaitham is measured in his speech. If he said he can do it, it means he's confident."
Cointreau realized he still wasn't used to calling Alhaitham by his codename and had let his real name slip.
A good personality? Vodka's expression was a mask of confusion. Was Cointreau really talking about Bordeaux?
"It seems you trust him a great deal," Gin observed, studying Cointreau's placid expression.
Cointreau nodded. "To be precise, I don't trust him. I trust my own judgment."
Bordeaux? Vermouth thought. The codenamed member from the Experimental Group that the organization had been favoring so much lately? She had met him a few times. He was cold, distant, and seemed utterly unapproachable. She couldn't fathom how Cointreau had managed to become so familiar with him.
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