Kir Returns to the Organization
Gin and the others braked to a halt right behind it, then climbed out of their vehicles one by one and walked over, stopping a short distance away.
They watched the passenger door swing open. Kir clutched at one arm, muttering "ow... it hurts..." under her breath as she dragged herself down out of the car.
"Kir..." Vermouth called out the codename of Rena Mizunashi, her tone unreadable.
"What happened? How did the car suddenly spin out of control?" Gin asked, his eyes fixed on Kir.
"I heard over the FBI's comms that you were coming for me. So I waited for my opening, knocked the driver out, and hit the brakes," Kir explained, glancing back at the car slumped against the guardrail.
"So you'd already regained consciousness before that. Then when the Organization sent someone to the hospital for you just now, why didn't you leave with him?" Vermouth, having pulled her motorcycle to a stop, walked up beside Gin, her voice carrying a faint edge of challenge.
She had always been somewhat suspicious of Kir's identity, and after all this time in FBI custody, who was to say the woman hadn't woken up long ago and struck up some cozy arrangement with them?
"Everything happened too fast. Before I could wrap my head around it, Akai Shuichi came back—and with him standing there, it wasn't exactly convenient for me to open my eyes, was it?"
Rena Mizunashi was telling the truth, as it happened. She had heard two bodies hit the floor, and the very next instant someone had seized her by the collar.
Judging from the situation, she'd been able to guess that the person who materialized out of nowhere was from the Organization. She hadn't yet decided whether to seize the moment, "wake up," and leave with him when two gunshots cracked out.
The hand gripping her collar went slack immediately after, and she'd had no choice but to go limp and crumple to the ground.
And she hadn't fallen in a convenient spot, either—the impact had jolted her head hard enough that everything went hazy. She'd nearly blacked out for real.
"We'll go over the details back at base. For now, let's deal with the scene." Gin gave no indication of whether he believed Kir's explanation.
He swept a quick glance over their surroundings, wary that outsiders might stumble onto something they shouldn't at any moment, then ordered everyone to head back to the Organization's base first. Any questions could wait until they got there, where he could interrogate her properly.
Of course, before leaving, Gin hadn't forgotten to have Chianti finish off the one FBI agent still on the scene. As it happened, just as Chianti was about to squeeze the trigger, the car went up in a roaring fireball—no silencing required anymore.
After the explosion, Gin and his group didn't linger. They left the scene one after another, returning to base from separate directions so no one could tail them.
Meanwhile, Cameron—who had slipped out of the car a single second before the blast, clear of Chianti's line of sight—sat up from beneath the slope under the guardrail and dragged in a ragged breath.
Then he pulled out his communicator and called Akai Shuichi. "It—it worked."
On the other end of the line, Akai Shuichi felt the knot in his chest loosen the moment Cameron's call came through, his taut nerves finally easing.
Good. A few snags along the way, but in the end they'd gotten exactly what they wanted. Now all that remained was the next phase of the plan.
Edogawa Conan, listening at his side, couldn't hold back a smile of his own at the news.
By the time the two of them returned to the hospital, James and Judy and the rest finally learned what Akai Shuichi and the others had been plotting.
Back at the Organization's base, Gin escorted Kir into a conference room.
Chianti and Korn had arrived ahead of them and were waiting with visible boredom for Kir to show up. Every so often, Chianti would shoot a resentful glare at Vermouth, who was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, eyes closed, resting.
At the sound of footsteps, they all turned toward Gin and Kir.
Gin's gaze swept the room, and he frowned. "Where's the Wanderer?"
The moment she stepped inside, Kir had noticed one person was missing—the man who had barged into her hospital room single-handedly and nearly carried her off.
And his voice had been maddeningly familiar, exactly the same as the boy who had appeared out of nowhere in her room last night and talked her into cooperating.
She'd found it hard to believe the Organization had a member so young, one trusted with a mission this important—but Kir still strongly suspected they were one and the same.
Now, hearing Gin ask after that very person, she instantly fixed her attention on the conversation to come.
Still... the Wanderer? What a strange codename.
Vermouth lifted her eyelids, rolled her eyes, and said flatly, "He says his job's done, and that whatever happens with the operation from here on out is none of his business. If we feel like giving him a codename, a text will do. If we don't, that's fine too."
She spread her hands, as if to say that was simply how it was, and there was nothing to be done about it.
"Call him. Keep calling until he's willing to show up." Gin's voice was ground out between clenched teeth.
Vermouth pursed her lips, but Gin was clearly in a foul mood, and she had no intention of fanning the flames. She took out her terminal and started pestering the Wanderer with calls, redialing without pause whenever he didn't pick up.
Kir, standing beside Gin, caught sight of the terminal in Vermouth's hand, and astonishment flickered in her eyes.
Chianti, for her part, absolutely refused to watch her most-hated person getting in touch with her second-most-hated person, so she averted her gaze—and in doing so happened to catch Kir's startled expression.
"Oh, right—Kir, you haven't seen one of these yet, have you?" Chianti perked up in an instant and began showing off the terminal, presenting to Kir a device she herself had only learned about recently.
"Wow. So it really is that remarkable," Kir marveled, playing along as she read Chianti's mood.
Though truthfully, that was her honest reaction. She never imagined that one stretch of unconsciousness was all it took for the Organization to come into possession of something like this.
And from the way Chianti made it sound, this wasn't something the Organization had developed on its own. But judging by what the terminal could do now, for an undercover agent, this boded nothing good at all.
At last, on her third call, Vermouth got through. She bit back her impatience, exchanged a few words, hung up, and looked at Gin. "Talked to the Wanderer. He'll be here any minute."
Their wait was not a long one; soon a knock sounded at the door.
Vodka stole a glance at his Aniki's face, then turned to the door and barked, "Come in."
The door swung open at his word, and a face Kir had seen only the night before slowly emerged through the widening gap.
Before Kir could so much as react to this wholly anticipated arrival, something glimpsed at the edge of her vision struck her like a thunderbolt.
She snapped her head toward Gin—just in time to see him whip a Beretta out from inside his coat, level it at the Wanderer's body as it stepped into the room, and fire.
BANG—!