"Hey, Darren, are you still out there searching?"
Tim's voice came through, low but clear.
"Of course. How are things on your end?"
Darren replied in a deliberately natural tone, keeping his breathing steady.
"You can come back, man. My dad is fast asleep in the room."
"See? I told you he probably went back to the room."
"By the way, where have you searched now? Why does it sound like there's a bit of an echo?"
How could there not be an echo when speaking inside a narrow ventilation duct? The metal walls bounced every word back at him, faint and metallic.
"I've checked the cabins below the deck. I can hardly see anyone here. A lot of places are empty."
Darren described it vividly, and he was not just making things up. The lower decks really were eerily quiet, corridors deserted except for the low hum of the ship's engines and the occasional flicker of emergency lighting.
"...Anyway, Jack is safe and sound, which is what matters. So I won't head over to your side now. I'll just go straight back to my own room in a bit. I'm hanging up."
The line clicked off. Darren exhaled slowly, the sound muffled by the confined space. He shifted his position slightly, careful not to let his shoulders scrape the duct walls.
...
Inside a luxury suite on the top deck of the Withers cruise ship, five or six men lounged on plush leather sofas.
More than a dozen stacks of cash sat piled on the low glass table between them, lit by the warm glow of a crystal chandelier.
"Haha, I've got a flush. I win this round."
In the final showdown, one man laughed loudly as he flipped his hole cards face-up and raked the pot toward himself with both hands.
"Fuck! I actually lost with three Kings!"
The man opposite him stomped his foot against the carpet in frustration, the thud barely audible over the group's chuckles.
"Again!"
Cards were shuffled with practiced snaps, and the next round began almost immediately.
At that moment, none of them noticed the pair of eyes watching quietly from the ventilation vent in the ceiling just above their heads.
"Interesting," Darren murmured to himself.
"While everyone else is gathered in the restaurant, these people are staying in the suite that should belong to Director James, gambling."
He studied them with a searching gaze, memorizing faces and postures. He had reviewed the movie crew list earlier; these men did not match any of the names or photos.
"This position is still a bit far from them, so I can't hear their conversation very clearly. Hmm..."
Darren quickly scanned the suite through the narrow slats of the vent. His eyes settled on a tall porcelain vase standing beside the largest sofa.
"There. That spot will do."
He extended his right hand and gave a light, precise flick.
A tiny, almost imperceptible object shot out at high speed, arcing silently before dropping neatly into the vase's open mouth. It adhered to the inner wall with a faint, inaudible click.
Eavesdropping device, setup complete.
...
After an unknown amount of time, one of the men suddenly put down his cards, a worried expression creasing his face.
"...I still feel like the Boss shouldn't have listened to the Riddler."
"Hey! Don't talk nonsense. What the Boss does is his business. We just follow orders. The rest has nothing to do with us."
The expressions in the room shifted instantly. Tension rippled through the group like a cold draft.
The Riddler?
Darren, listening intently through the hidden bug, furrowed his brows at the name.
The Riddler should still be locked away in Arkham Asylum.
Had he escaped again?
Why had there been no news, no alerts from the GCPD or Batman? And who exactly was this "Boss" they kept mentioning?
"I know. I'm not stupid enough to defy the Boss's orders," the worried man continued, lowering his voice, "but don't you guys really think what we're doing this time is a bit too much?"
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"If we follow the Riddler's plan, everyone on the cruise ship might die. We might even end up being buried alongside Kaitou Kid."
"Probably not," another replied with forced confidence. "Didn't we test the antidote beforehand? Besides, that person is also on the ship. He couldn't possibly kill himself."
"That's true, but it's still hard to feel completely at ease. After all, you know how terrifying that freak is."
"Indeed. Compared to him, even the Riddler looks handsome and refined."
The group chuckled uneasily, but the humor felt thin.
While they discussed this mysterious "freak," the suite door suddenly swung open with a soft click.
"...I've already distributed the pens as you ordered and told them they must keep the pens on them for the next ten days. Now can you tell me what those pens are actually for?"
Director James stepped inside, his face dark with barely contained anger. He fixed the group with a hard stare.
"I know there's something wrong with them. Did you install miniature bombs inside? What exactly does the Penguin want to do on this ship? Are you really just trying to get revenge on Kaitou Kid?"
"Miniature bombs? Haha!"
One of the men chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "As expected of a film director, your imagination is a bit too rich. Those are just monitoring devices used to find Kaitou Kid hiding on the ship."
He leaned back, smirking.
"Didn't our Boss already tell you how Kaitou Kid deceived him before? You've simply invited a few friends onto the cruise for some fun, that's all. Everything else has nothing to do with you or your movie, understood?"
James did not fully believe the explanation.
The casual tone only made him more suspicious. But he also understood something far more important: no matter how hard he pressed now, these men would not give him the truth.
Penguin's subordinates had never shown him any real respect, not even to his face as a celebrated Hollywood director.
He clenched his jaw, the memory flashing unbidden: the day Penguin's car had blocked his path, the armed men who had "invited" him to the Iceberg Lounge & Casino. He had weighed the risk of running then, weighed it against the lives of his crew and family.
If I had known it would come to this, I should have risked everything and tried to escape right there...
James turned away, hiding the regret that burned in his chest.
Hopefully Kaitou Kid can understand the signal I sent, he thought desperately. If he really is on the ship...