The Fingerprint Comparison Results

Alhaitham paused at the doorway and glanced back over his shoulder at Cointreau. "Don't you have the Traveler's contact information? If you're that desperate to know, you could always go ask yourself."

Having offered this bit of seemingly well-meaning advice, he didn't wait for a reply — he simply walked straight out of the room.

"Oh, one more thing. Close the door behind you on your way out."

Alhaitham took a few steps backward, calling the reminder to Cointreau, who was still standing in the middle of the room. He was a little worried that, in Cointreau's current state of mind, the man wouldn't have the presence of mind to bother with such a small thing on his way out. Better safe than sorry.

"I! HEARD! YOU!" Cointreau bit off each word in turn, aimed at the retreating back of the man who had already delivered his parting shot and left.

The bar.

Vodka sat in a booth alongside his Aniki and Vermouth, nursing drinks as they waited for the fingerprint comparison results from Bordeaux.

"Aniki, where's Cointreau? Isn't he coming to wait ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with us?" Vodka glanced around the bar, couldn't spot him anywhere, and asked Gin with a puzzled frown.

"No idea. He messaged saying he had something to look into and left early. Bordeaux will report the results to me directly." Gin swirled the liquor in his glass, then turned toward Vermouth, who sat with her arms crossed, leaning back against the booth. A cold chuckle escaped him. "Soon enough we'll know whether that detective you're so fond of has been colluding with the FBI. Well? Looking forward to it?"

Vermouth's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠eyes narrowed slightly, one brow arching toward Gin. "‘Colluding' is a rather ugly word, Gin. Besides, the results aren't in yet — anything could still turn out either way."

"By the way — Cointreau rushed off like that. Did he say what it was about?" The question gnawed at her. He'd left in such a hurry. Surely he hadn't forgotten to tell Bordeaux to alter the fingerprint comparison results... had he?

"He didn't." Gin, finding her lack of reaction to his earlier jab rather dull, raised the glass he'd just been swirling and took a sip.

"All he said was that it was personal business." Something occurred to him, and he lifted his gaze to Vermouth. "What, curious, are you?"

"I am, actually." Vermouth didn't bother denying it, nodding frankly. "Aren't you curious too, Gin?"

How could Gin not be curious? Cointreau, who aside from Organization assignments had almost never engaged in anything resembling a private life — and now, out of nowhere, a first-ever "personal matter"?

And besides... personal business?

Could it have something to do with that girl? Had something gone wrong, that he'd left in such a frantic hurry?

All Vermouth could hope for now was that Cointreau's "personal matter" had nothing to do with Conan and Ran.

"Not curious. If Cointreau wanted to tell us, he would have." Gin shot her a sidelong glance and went on. "Of course, if you want to go digging on your own, I won't stop you."

"Heh. I..."

Vermouth shook her head with a helpless little laugh and was just opening her mouth to reply when the chime of Gin's phone receiving a message cut her off.

"Oh my~ Looks like the results are in."

She knew perfectly well Gin had placed his phone face-up on the table deliberately. One glance at the screen told her the sender was Bordeaux.

Her heart tightened despite herself, but her face betrayed nothing — no anxiety, no worry. Instead, she smiled and gave Gin a courteous little reminder.

"Aniki, here." Vodka picked up his Aniki's phone from the table and handed it over.

Gin took it, opened the message, and read the results.

A brief pause. Then he looked up at Vermouth and sneered. "Congratulations... The fingerprint on the bug is not Mouri Kogoro's. It belongs to an FBI agent who entered the country alongside Akai Shuichi and his people."

"There's no need to congratulate me. As I said before — that result was exactly what I expected." Hearing the verdict, Vermouth quietly let the tension drain from her taut nerves.

So Cointreau had kept his word after all. He'd done what he promised in their deal, without going back on it.

Still — how on earth had he managed it? How did he get a man like Bordeaux, who looked difficult to deal with at a single glance, to help him forge the results?

Was he deliberately getting close to the codename members of the research division?

"Vodka, we're leaving."

Since the results were in and had nothing to do with Mouri Kogoro, Gin had no intention of continuing to chat with Vermouth. He drained the rest of his glass in one swallow.

Then he rose from the booth, called for Vodka, offered no farewell to Vermouth — that mystifying woman — and turned on his heel to leave.

"Huh? Aniki, wait up!" Vodka took a moment to catch on, letting out a bewildered sound.

The instant he realized his Aniki was heading out, he scrambled to follow — though not before turning back to give Vermouth a proper goodbye.

Vermouth paid Gin's rudeness no mind.

Once Vodka had trailed after Gin and gone, she sat alone in the booth, arms crossed, the index finger of her left hand tapping lightly against her sleeve, eyes lowered in thought.

Cointreau had fulfilled his end of their bargain. By ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the terms of their agreement, it was her turn now to give him the information he wanted.

After a moment's consideration, she took out her phone, composed a message, and sent it to Cointreau.

With the transaction complete, Vermouth picked up her own glass, emptied it in the same single swallow, and rose to leave as well.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Cointreau received Vermouth's intelligence, gave it only the most cursory glance, pocketed his phone, and dismissed it from his mind entirely.

Every ounce of his attention was consumed by a certain audacious bastard who dared to covet the little sister he had fought so hard to reclaim. He had no spare energy left over for worrying about some corporate partnership.

Besides, the collaboration was still far off. There was no need to rush.

What he needed to think about was how to pry out of Xia Yu the identity of whoever had delivered that love letter.

The next day, Haido Central Hospital.

Utterly unaware of the little drama that had played out within the Organization, Akai Shuichi walked the hospital corridor alongside Jodie and their ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠superior, James.

Their destination was the hospital room where Kir was being treated.

When the FBI had taken Kir into custody, an accident had gone wrong — she'd been injured and left unconscious. With no other option, they had placed her in Haido Central Hospital for treatment.

The hospital's director owed James a personal favor, and so he had arranged a room for Kir and done what he could to bury her medical records from prying eyes.

"We failed to destroy that bug in Gin's hands yesterday. If they managed to lift a reasonably complete print off of it..." Jodie fell in step behind Akai Shuichi, her voice heavy. "If they did, then things have just gotten very ugly."

"They may well have." James, walking beside her, answered with a furrowed brow. "I've already assigned people to keep watch over the Mouri detective's family for the time being. All we can do now is hope it doesn't come to the worst."

"Let's hope." Akai Shuichi walked a pace ahead of the two of them. He didn't turn around, and his voice was just slightly grim.