Chapter 141: The Blackbird's Night Cry and the Screen Actress's script: The ink is still wet...
Fill a bamboo tube with water and knock it against a stone.
Boom.
The room was eerily quiet.
Huibara sat upright, not touching the kaiseki cuisine in front of her.
"Heiji, how could you let a girl see that?"
Ooka Momiji, who was standing opposite, put down her silk handkerchief and wore a light crimson furisode kimono, which was quite expensive.
"Ah? How could I let her see? She followed me on her own." Hattori Heiji sat cross-legged, his sports jacket particularly eye-catching in the high-end restaurant.
Edogawa Conan ate the children's meal with a small spoon, his eyes scanning everyone at the table.
"Let's not talk about that." Hongye unfolded a gilded folding fan, covering the lower half of her face, her eyes fixed squarely on Hattori Heiji. "I used some of my family's resources to investigate that little thief."
Haibara looked up. The Ooka family's resources meant intelligence could be obtained before the official ink was dry.
"What did you find out?" Hattori Heiji became curious.
Behind the fan, Hongye's eyes curved. "That researcher Kinoshita and the gang behind him call themselves the 'Blackbirds.'" Her Kyoto accent was soft yet clear. "A group of crows, specializing in picking up shiny little trinkets for people."
"Blackbird..." Conan whispered, the lens reflecting the light.
"Yes, Blackbird." Hongye tapped the table with the rib of her fan. "They were commissioned to steal intelligence. Their target was the early research files of Dr. and Mrs. Miyano."
She paused and turned her gaze to Huibara.
"Interestingly, although Blackbird operates in Japan, it does not serve 'those people.'"
“Those people”, the Black Organization.
Huibara's heart tightened. She picked up the teacup and took a sip. It wasn't the organization? Then who could it be?
Hongye lowered her voice, "The employer who commissioned Blackbird is a clean individual. My connections can only trace the order back to an overseas source."
"snort."
Hattori Heiji took out his cell phone from his jacket pocket, swiped it a few times, and turned the screen to face everyone.
"Overseas, huh? Missy's intelligence network is impressive, and the police system isn't immune to it either." He grinned. "I had my dad check Blackbird's recent capital flows."
On the screen is a graph of capital flows, with dense lines eventually converging to one point.
"Money has traveled around the world for seventeen or eighteen times. But as long as it's money, it has a taste." Hattori Heiji pointed his finger at the screen and enlarged a name.
"The source of all funds points to a British trust fund. The controller of the fund is an aristocrat."
"Lord Wellington."
Heiji finished speaking.
In the courtyard, there was a sound, the bamboo tube knocking on the rock.
Wellington.
This name sounds like a line torn from a Shakespeare play.
Contrived, gorgeous.
The blonde woman's favorite style.
Haibara felt that the sashimi plate in front of her blurred into Vermouth's face.
The way the blonde woman chuckled at the Poirot Café.
"I've set the stage for you, Sherry."
Gin is bait in Kyoto.
The theft of files is an incident.
Lord Wellington, is the clue.
The script is flawlessly written, with one thing leading to another.
Hattori Heiji is still investigating the flow of funds, and Ooka Koha is still asking people to find out.
They thought they were solving a case.
They don't know that they are just actors.
All information is just props.
Someone deliberately put the props on the roadside for them to pick up.
Huibara even thought he saw her.
The woman was sitting in a box at the London Opera House, wearing an evening gown and holding a glass of champagne.
She was admiring the stage in Kyoto.
Appreciate yourself on stage.
"Hey, Haibara." Conan moved closer.
"You look terrible."
Haibara inhaled, her lungs filled with the unique sandalwood scent of the restaurant.
She turned to Conan, and the blue eyes of the all-seeing detective were fixed upon her.
"Nothing." She said in a steady voice, "I just think that this lord's taste is too classical and too suspicious."
"Suspicious?" Hattori Heiji didn't understand. "Aren't all British aristocrats like this?"
Ooka Momiji chuckled, "Heiji, in dramas, the most typical character is the one who disguises himself the most."
Huibara glanced at Hongye.
This young lady is sometimes surprisingly sharp.
Conan lowered his body and asked her with his mouth.
Is it "she"?
Huiyuan didn't answer.
She turned her head and looked out the window at the perfect courtyard. Raindrops wove a web, and the greenery was lush and deep.
She remembered the words that Vermouth left in New York.
"Don't worry, Shirley. I will always be your most loyal audience."
audience?
No.
She is a director.
Huiyuan smiled.
Okay, Vermouth.
The stage was set. The script arrived.
How can I be fair to you if the leading actress doesn't change the play?
She picked up the teacup and drank it all in one gulp.
"Lord Wellington. A British nobleman." Hattori Heiji frowned, "This guy is not easy to deal with. Conan, we must contact Scotland Yard!"
Rain washed over the cobblestone streets of Gion, and the light from lanterns fell on the wet ground.
Conan lowered his body and moved closer to her.
"Haiyi Bala, what are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking that 'director' has a taste that's classical and boring."
Hattori Heiji turned around and looked at her. "Director? Little sister, we're talking about transnational crime, not making a movie."
"Great Detective, the magician wants you to look at his right hand."
Huibara paused, "The trick is in the left hand."
Conan's body froze, remembering Kid.
"The clue 'Lord Wellington'..."
"A gorgeous stage set," Shiho continued, "pointing in the wrong direction. It's too perfect, like a third-rate spy drama. Mysterious nobles, multinational funds, a ghost organization... She lays all the information out neatly before you."
Her voice was that of an elementary school student, but it was faintly imitating the tone of a woman's voice, frivolous and cruel.
"'This way, dear detectives, the answers are at the end.'"
Hattori Heiji frowned. He couldn't follow the conversation, but his intuition told him something was wrong.
"Wait. The clue we found was a fake? Someone fed it to us on purpose?"
"No." Shiho shook her head. "The intelligence is true. The fund flow map is real, and the Blackbird organization exists."
She spoke more slowly. "But the name 'Lord Wellington'... is a trap."
She looked around at everyone, as if she could sense the gazes hidden in the dark.
"She wants us to look at faraway England, to chase after a vain nobleman. But the real key is hidden right under our feet. In Kyoto."
Conan's lenses gently reflected the light from the lantern.
He understood.
This is psychological warfare. Vermouth is certain the detective will follow logic. There's only one way to break free: defy logic.
"Okay." Conan breathed, his face showing a determination beyond his elementary school age. "We won't look at the right hand. Let's go find her left hand."
Ooka Momiji put down the tea bowl.
"Three generations of the Ooka family's connections were activated for a little kid. How bizarre."
Huiyuan's azure eyes were cold, reflecting her, and he smiled, "It's your honor."
After all, if the Black Organization can be eradicated, it will be a great help to the Tsuna family.
Hongye smiled. "You're quite boastful. A beauty like you will surely captivate the whole nation in the future."
Hattori Heiji spat out a mouthful of tea. "Hey, Momiji!"
"Shut up, Heiji." Momiji glanced at him, and the Kansai Detective immediately became quiet.
She turned back and her gaze fell on Huibara again. "I'm talking to the little beauty."
Conan in the corner rolled his eyes.
Hongye withdrew her gaze and took out a document from her arms.
"Yes. This Blackbird organization is very mysterious. They specialize in collecting all kinds of scientific research data. Especially...drug research."
Raindrops beat against the courtyard. Inside the restaurant's private room, the air was humid.
The intelligence spread out on the table pointed to a fragmented clue: the thief, the Miyano couple's files, the mysterious organization "Blackbird", and finally, a sum of overseas funds flowing to Lord Wellington.
The clue is broken.
"So after chasing for a long time, we only found an overseas financier?" Hattori Heiji ruffled his hair.
Conan beside him pondered, his glasses reflecting. "Lord Wellington is just an investor. The operator is hidden in the fog."
Ooka Hongye poured tea for everyone with an elegant posture.
"Even with my family's power, we can only find the 'Blackbird'. Beyond that, it's the rules of another world."
Another world.
Huibara held the teacup without taking a sip.
The Miyano couple. The mysterious organization. The web of fate tightened again. She hated this powerlessness.
Suddenly, a female voice rang out in the room. Rich and sweet.
"What a wonderful mystery show. Unfortunately, you guys got stuck."
Conan and Hattori Heiji tensed up instantly.
Hongye's pupils contracted. She was certain the paper door hadn't been opened.
Huiyuan's heart stopped for a moment, then beat wildly. Her blood ran cold.
She looked back.
There was a woman in the corner of the box.
Long blond hair, black trench coat.
She leaned against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, a slender woman's cigarette held between her long fingers.
The scent of roses spread.
It's Vermouth.
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