Chapter 267: The Strange Photo
"Look up," Cointreau's voice instructed, cool and steady through the phone's speaker. "Do you see the fire sprinkler system above you?"
Hearing the words, Bourbon's gaze instinctively flicked toward the ceiling of the bustling mall. Sure enough, the white tiles were dotted with the unmistakable nozzles of a fire suppression system. A knot of dread tightened in his stomach.
Before he could formulate a response, Cointreau continued, their tone dangerously smooth. "There's a special chemical agent mixed into the water supply for this floor. It's harmless to humans, but it's exceptionally good at dissolving disguise materials. So, if you don't agree to keep your mouth shut, I'll have no choice but to activate it."
The voice on the other end of the line was a low, chilling murmur. "This entire floor is currently sealed off. I'm quite certain you don't have anything waterproof on you, do you? When the time comes, I expect you'll have to perform an impromptu unmasking right in front of all these people."
A beat of silence, then, "Oh, and one more thing. If I recall correctly, Bourbon, your next assignment is to get close to Kogoro Mouri's family. Funny, isn't it? They're standing not twenty feet away from you right now. If you expose your true face here, today, I'm afraid you'll never be able to get close to them again."
"At that point," Cointreau concluded, letting the words hang in the air, "you won't be able to complete the mission the Organization gave you..."
The threat was left unfinished, but the deep meaning behind it was crystal clear.
Bourbon's hand tightened around his phone, the plastic creaking under the pressure. Cointreau was right. He couldn't, under any circumstances, expose his true identity now—especially not in front of Kogoro Mouri.
Still, the thought of simply capitulating to this blatant threat left a bitter taste in his mouth.
His voice was tight with restrained fury. "I promise you. I won't tell anyone in the Organization about this."
"Good," Cointreau replied instantly.
The agent on the other end keenly perceived the hidden caveat in Bourbon's words: if he wouldn't tell anyone in the Organization, that left the door wide open for him to inform those outside of it.
But Cointreau didn't seem to care. Natsume had long known that Bourbon was a mole for the Public Security Bureau. It was only natural that he would investigate such a significant piece of intelligence.
However, official agencies had their limits. With the network of connections Natsume was currently building, they couldn't touch her through any overt channels. Even if they investigated in secret, they wouldn't find much. After all, her public persona was carefully crafted to be unimpeachable., after establishing her new life, she had taken the liberty of having her background information professionally sanitized. On the surface, Natsume Natsuki was just an ordinary girl, albeit one with slightly unusual friends.
Just as Cointreau was about to end the call, Bourbon's voice returned, laced with a false, joking tone. "I must say, I'm surprised you trust me so easily, Cointreau. Aren't you worried I'll go back on my word the moment I leave? Your threat loses all its power once I'm out of this mall, after all."
"In that case," Cointreau's voice dropped, losing all its previous levity, "we would become enemies. And I show no mercy to my enemies."
With that final, chilling declaration, the line went dead.
Understanding the ice-cold promise in those last words, Bourbon's face instantly darkened. He gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes.
He knew that last sentence wasn't a mere threat; it was a statement of fact. As long as a certain line wasn't crossed, a fragile truce could exist between members of the Organization. But Cointreau had just drawn that line in the sand.
also, given Cointreau's mysterious and influential status, he truly couldn't afford to make an enemy of them. Doing so could have unpredictable and disastrous consequences for his entire undercover operation.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Bourbon forced himself to calm down. He couldn't let Cointreau lead him by the nose. The other agent would undoubtedly be watching him for the foreseeable future, so he had to tread carefully.
After some time had passed, he decided, he would have Kazami Yuya discreetly investigate the girl's background. Only then, based on the results, would he decide on his next move.
Meanwhile, in the center of the crowd, Conan had already unraveled the truth of the incident. Hiding behind a tranquilized Kogoro Mouri, he was using his voice-changing bowtie to deliver the final deduction.
As it turned out, the day's chaos was sparked by a seemingly innocent act. A store clerk, selling red T-shirts, had sent one to the culprit. This was a deliberate act, meant to trigger the memory of the man's father's murder during a mountain climb ten years prior, in the hopes he would slip up and confess.
The culprit had realized the intent behind the gesture and staged the entire bomb threat—strapping fake explosives to himself and planting more at the stairwells—to flush out the person who had sent him the shirt.
With the revelation that the bombs were fakes, the crisis was averted, and a collective sigh of relief washed over the onlookers.
"Mr. Mouri, you look so handsome when you're solving cases in your sleep!" Charlotte chirped, holding up her camera with a brilliant smile. "I took a lot of photos. Would you like to see?"
"Ooh, let me see!" Ran took the camera, her eyes alight with interest. "It's true! There are pictures of everything, from him pondering the clothing clues to him solving the case with his head bowed in thought."
She scrolled through the images, but then her brow furrowed slightly. "That's a little strange, though..." Ran muttered to herself, her voice filled with faint confusion. "In all of the later photos, Dad's mouth isn't open."
Though Ran's voice was low, Conan's sharp ears caught every word.
A cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. He hadn't paid any attention to the photos Charlotte had been snapping, but now, he had no choice but to care. The image of the "Sleeping Kogoro" always involved his mouth moving, perfectly synced to Conan's voice. If the photos showed otherwise... it was a detail that could unravel everything.
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