"One hundred thousand yuan, right?" Tsuneo reconfirmed, holding the note in his hand.
The note Akemi handed him had Professor Hirota's address and phone number from Nanyang University.
"Heh heh…" Conan looked at the Black-Clothed Man in front of him and nodded speechlessly.
Akemi and Haibara safely escaped from the Organization.
Anyone associated with them would be under strict surveillance.
This kind of matter is best handled by Tsuneo while he is disguised as the Dark Knight.
"Mission accomplished!"
Tsuneo said, revealing a brilliant smile. He adjusted his voice-changing mask to his usual cool male voice, then put on the mask and sunglasses, and with long strides, rushed out the door.
"One hundred thousand yuan…" Ai stood by the window with her hands behind her back, watching the figure disappear into the night.
Does this Repairman really know what he's doing?
"Don't worry," Dr. Agasa said with a smile as he walked over to Ai, holding a cup of coffee.
Ai remained silent, her face calm, lost in thought.
Conan sat cross-legged on the sofa, intently staring at the death toll on the newspaper.
Akemi, wearing an apron, rested her chin in her hand, a smile on her face, constantly turning her head to look between Conan and Ai, these two little adults.
…
"A floppy disk with photos? Who are you?" Professor Hirota asked, puzzled.
Tsuneo looked up at the several punks outside the phone booth who kept staring at him, then calmly said, "I am Miyano Akemi's friend."
"Akemi's friend? The photos taken during the trip with the students are indeed all with me," Professor Hirota said, pausing, then took out a floppy disk from a drawer.
"However, there seems to be a rather strange floppy disk mixed in here."
"I will come to collect that floppy disk later," Tsuneo said before hanging up the phone.
Immediately after, he looked at the few people who cautiously walked to the door.
"Who are you people?"
In the dim alley, Tsuneo's cold voice rang out, and the immense pressure made the few punks sweat profusely.
"B-Big Brother!"
The leader was a short-haired youth who looked only eighteen or nineteen years old. He bowed deeply and shouted loudly.
With him leading, the other three behind him also bowed, all at a standard ninety degrees.
Tsuneo stared at them without speaking.
Including these guys in front of him, there seemed to be a lot of strange people wandering the streets of Mihua Town today.
"Please accept this!" The short-haired youth pulled a note from his pocket and handed it to Tsuneo with both hands.
Tsuneo glanced at the contents of the note. "I understand. Tell your people to go home and behave."
"Yes!"
The short-haired youth shouted loudly, not daring to lift his head the entire time.
Only after Tsuneo's footsteps completely disappeared into the alley did he dare to straighten up and wipe the large beads of sweat from his face.
With powerful figures on both sides whom he could not afford to offend, being this messenger was not easy.
Two and a half hours later.
Tsuneo arrived near Professor Hirota's residence in Shizuoka Prefecture.
He parked his car in a very distant and secluded spot, choosing to walk to the other person's home.
…
"I am from the insurance company. I'd like to explain our new insurance policy to you. I wonder if tonight is convenient. I will call again."
In a black sedan parked by the roadside, Vodka, sitting in the back seat, was using a square, suitcase-sized instrument to change his voice and leave a phone message for someone.
Having served as Gin's driver for many years, he finally had a driver when going out on solo missions.
Sitting in the driver's seat, wearing white gloves and black sunglasses, the young man with a nervous expression was an outer member of the Organization.
"Don't be nervous. After we kill this person, I'll put in a good word for you," Vodka said, lighting a cigarette.
After that woman escaped, the Organization had been busy cleaning up everything and everyone related to her these past few days.
Professor Hirota Masami of Nanyang University was one of the targets.
Of course, appropriate psychological manipulation was also necessary.
"Yes!" The driver respectfully replied.
The man behind him was no small figure; he had to serve him meticulously.
"How long have you been with the Organization?" Vodka pulled out a handgun from his Pregnant and carefully inspected it, asking casually.
"Two years and five months!" The driver sat up straight, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, replying without moving his head.
"So, it'll be two and a half years in another month?" Vodka took out the silencer and screwed it onto the gun barrel, preparing to have his subordinate use this gun to kill that Professor later.
Everyone in the Organization had walked this path step by step.
Including himself, he had put in countless efforts to follow by Big Brother's side.
"Yes!" The driver nodded, then suddenly frowned.
Since there were no streetlights in this alley and the car lights weren't on, he couldn't see clearly, only vaguely making out a dark figure approaching from the opposite side.
"Then you…" Vodka was about to ask something else when the driver's side window was suddenly knocked on.
"Clang, clang, clang!"
"If you don't want to die, get lost!" The young driver, being very sensible, rolled down the window. With a cold expression, he spoke in an extremely arrogant tone.
That's right, this is how it should be done to fit the Organization's demeanor!
Although the other person was dressed all in black and looked intimidating, somewhat like someone from a recently popular urban legend.
But, do you know who's sitting in my back seat?!
Big Brother Vodka!
Thinking of this, the driver looked into the rearview mirror as if seeking praise.
He wanted to see if Big Brother had nodded in approval of his sharp words.
"Quick, drive!" Vodka's gun-holding hand even trembled, and he urgently shouted, simultaneously raising his gun and aiming it at the Black-Clothed Man outside the driver's window.
"Big Brother?" The driver turned his head, a bit puzzled.
"Bang!"
A cold laugh echoed from outside the window, and the Black-Clothed Man suddenly threw a punch, fast as lightning, directly smashing the driver's head.
Immediately after, his figure moved like a ghost, quickly dodging a flurry of bullets.
Vodka, too busy to care if the driver slumped over the steering wheel was dead or not, quickly emptied his handgun.
But unfortunately, the other party didn't give him a chance to change the magazine.
The Black-Clothed Man kicked the rear passenger window.
The glass shattered.
The flying kick landed squarely on Vodka's square-shaped head.
The immense force instantly knocked him unconscious, and his body was sent flying, crashing into the car door on the other side.
The Black-Clothed Man reached in and opened the car door, then took off someone's sunglasses.
"Heh heh."
After a laugh, he ignored the chaotic scene and quickly left, finally climbing over a wall into someone's yard.
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