"Where's my pickup?" the blonde woman snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "I don't see anyone!"
"It's Pisco who's supposed to meet you. You've met him before," the voice on the phone replied coolly. "Something must've held him up. Just wait."
"What's my job in Japan?" she demanded, huffing. "You can tell me now, can't you?"
"The research on that drug has been stalled for too long," the voice said, low and deliberate. "You don't want that, and neither do we. There's a company in Japan, Shirahato Pharmaceuticals, whose drug research closely mirrors ours."
"You want me to infiltrate Shirahato and steal their data?" she guessed, her tone skeptical.
"No need for that," the voice countered. "The organization tried to acquire Shirahato outright to get their research legally, but the plan fell apart. Shirahato went bankrupt, and most of their research was destroyed."
"The data's gone, but the researchers who worked on it are still around."
"Your mission in Japan is to work with Pisco to recruit Shirahato's key researchers and establish a new drug research base here."
"Sounds like a hassle," she muttered, her brow furrowing in distaste.
"Don't worry," the voice chuckled. "I've assigned you two capable assistants. They're already in Japan, waiting for you."
"Hey, I've always worked alone—" she started, but the line went dead.
Click.
With a scowl, she slammed the receiver back onto the public phone.
A light chuckle came from behind. "Well, well, who's gone and upset our star?"
She whirled around to find three men in black suits. The leader, a middle-aged man with a neat mustache and a gentle demeanor, looked harmless enough. Flanking him were two younger men: one tall and lean, the other broad and imposing.
The lean one wore a black fedora, his silver hair catching the light, his sharp features set in a cold, aloof expression. The burly one, also in a fedora and sporting sunglasses, exuded a menacing aura.
"Pisco!" she barked. "You're late."
"My apologies," Pisco said with a warm smile. "Traffic was a nightmare. Shall we?"
Her face a mask of displeasure, she followed them out of the airport to the parking lot. When Pisco slid into the driver's seat and the two younger men headed for the back, she frowned. "What, they can't even drive?"
"Gin and Vodka can drive," Pisco explained, "but they're both under eighteen. They can't get a Japanese license yet, and we'd rather avoid trouble with the police."
"Under eighteen?" She turned, eyeing the two in the back. "They look way too old for that."
The silver-haired youth—Gin—snorted, clearly annoyed by her scrutiny, and turned to stare out the window. Vodka, the burly one, gave a sheepish grin, his earlier menace melting away.
"These two aren't the assistants the boss assigned me, are they?" she groaned. "What am I, their babysitter?"
"We're here to assist you," Gin shot back, his voice icy. "You're not our boss, and we're not your subordinates."
"Tch." She rolled her eyes, pulling a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it. "Have you tracked down Shirahato's researchers yet?"
"Most of them," Pisco said, his tone light. "The two key ones keep moving, making them hard to pin down. But from our last encounter, their finances are crumbling. This cat-and-mouse game won't last much longer."
"There's one more task before that," he added. "You'll need to help."
"What task?" she asked lazily, exhaling smoke. "If it's not a direct order from the boss, I can say no."
"Relax, Belmod," Pisco said kindly. "It's not a heavy lift. Gin and Vodka will handle the heavy work. You just need to help lure the target to the right spot at Friday's movie event in Mihama."
At nine that evening, Officer Megure stepped into the izakaya.
Yukiko Fujimine, tonight's chef, looked up eagerly. "Well?"
"The superintendent approved it," Megure said with a nod. "We'll allocate 200,000 yen from the operation's budget to compensate for closing the izakaya."
Kogoro Mouri, already briefed about Friday's movie event, lit up. "Two hundred thousand? That's more than we usually make—"
A swift kick from Eri behind him cut him off. "Idiot."
Megure chuckled. "Mr. Hayashi's been a big help with recent cases. Consider the extra a bonus."
Eri's demeanor warmed instantly. "You haven't eaten yet, have you, Officer? Dinner's on us tonight. What'll you have?"
Megure didn't refuse. Glancing at the menu, he ordered a few modestly priced dishes.
Kogoro poured him a glass of oolong tea, then asked casually, "Something happen this evening? I kept seeing police cars patrolling."
"There was a prison break at Tokyo Detention House," Megure explained. "The patrols are searching for the escapee."
"An escapee?" Kogoro leaned in, curious. "What'd he do?"
"His name's Seiji Kubo, a former law student at Tokyo University," Megure said, recalling the file. "Five years ago, he murdered his live-in girlfriend in their apartment. The court sentenced him to twelve years."
"He's been vocal in prison, claiming his sentence was too harsh and swearing revenge. The guards brushed it off as frustration, but this evening, during roll call, Kubo was gone."
"We're tracking him down and quietly protecting the judge who sentenced him. If he's after revenge, we'll catch him in the act."
"An escapee, huh?" Yukiko said, setting down plates of okonomiyaki, fried tofu, and beef skewers. "Mihama's feeling real safe these days, Officer."
Her sarcasm was clear, referencing Megure's earlier claim that Mihama was a safe place. He could only offer a wry smile. Sometimes, he wondered if he was a magnet for trouble. Ever since he joined the First Investigation Division, Mihama's crime rate seemed to have skyrocketed.
At the counter, Hayashi Shuichi mulled over the escapee's name. "Seiji Kubo… sounds familiar, but I can't place it."
"Probably saw it in the news," Eri said dismissively. "Even if he's out for revenge, he'd target the judge or the cops who arrested him, not regular folks like us."
"True," Shuichi agreed. "Or maybe the revenge talk was a decoy, and he's already halfway to Hokkaido while the police comb Tokyo."
"How's your arm, by the way?" Eri asked, glancing at him.
Shuichi flexed it lightly. "Almost good as new. The bruising's mostly gone. By morning, it'll be fine."
"Your body's something else," Eri said, puzzled. "I remember you always healed fast. A good night's sleep, and you're back to normal."
"Just a quirk, I guess," Shuichi said with a shrug.
His body's healing ability was unusual, to say the least. He'd once thought it might be a perk of waking up in this Conan world, some kind of cheat code. But after testing it, he found it was only slightly above average—about twice as fast as normal. A wound that'd take others ten days to heal would mend in three to five for him. Minor scrapes? Gone by morning. But it had limits. A severed limb or a critical hit to the brain or heart? No recovery from that.
(Chapter End)
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 2 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
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