Langley, Fairfax County, Virginia, USA. A satellite city near Washington, D.C., and home to the CIA Headquarters.
The complex was nearly square, made up of numerous buildings surrounded by large parking lots, and beyond them, dense, wooded mountains. The entire facility was hidden in a quiet, secluded location.
Inside the Director's Office of the CIA Headquarters, current Director Spencer arrived early in the morning. He leaned back in his executive chair, relaxed, sipping iced coffee.
Not long after, there was a knock on the door. At Spencer's "Come in," a man in his forties with a receding hairline stepped inside.
"Director, here are the documents you asked for."
Burns, the deputy director, seemed like he was holding something radioactive as he quickly placed the documents on Spencer's desk.
Spencer picked them up leisurely, flipping through them while asking casually, "These documents haven't passed through anyone else, have they?"
Burns stiffened. "Something this important? I wouldn't dare let anyone else touch it."
Spencer nodded in approval and continued reading.
After a while, he asked, "What do you think of the plan?"
Burns thought for a moment before answering, "There's definitely risk. We need an absolute expert to carry this out if we want it to go off without a hitch. The shot is over 800 meters. That's extremely dangerous."
"So who do you recommend?"
"Your adopted son. Codename: Wick. Real name, Adam Spencer."
"But he doesn't hold the record for the longest confirmed kill among our agents," Spencer noted.
"You're right. Some active agents have taken shots from over 1500 meters, but at that range, luck becomes the bigger factor."
Burns paused, then added, "Even if you asked the record-holder to attempt that shot again, their success rate wouldn't be high."
"But Adam's different. At 800 meters, his hit rate is 96 percent. That's insanely good."
"You know this, Director. A sniper who can hit at 300 meters is already qualified. At 600 meters, you're top-tier."
"As far as stability goes, I don't think anyone in the CIA matches him at this range. Maybe only Shuichi Akai from the FBI is slightly better."
"But we can't involve the FBI, and we definitely can't trust them."
For a sniper, stability mattered more than raw range.
After a moment of silence, Spencer said, "So, do you think we can use him?"
"He's your adopted son. You raised him, he's done a lot for you, and he's loyal."
"Heh. Burns, you don't understand."
Spencer swirled the ice in his glass.
"Adam's still too young. He's always been acting in front of me. He thinks he hides it well, but sometimes he overplays his hand."
"What do you mean?"
"Adam has his own ideas. He tries to act like he's completely loyal and obedient, but a lot of it is just that—an act."
Burns felt a cold sweat rise. This was the CIA Director, after all. His observation and paranoia were on another level.
"This is a matter of utmost importance. Other than you, no one else can know. Burns, go find Adam and give him this assignment."
Spencer placed the file in a manila envelope and handed it over.
Just as Burns reached out to take it, Spencer pressed the envelope down, his voice cold and sharp.
"If Adam accepts the mission without hesitation, assign someone to tail him."
"If he refuses, or even hesitates, don't risk it. Kill him."
"I've raised him for nearly twenty years. I know him. If he hesitates, even a little, he's going to say no."
Burns's heart sank. "But he's your adopted son."
"So what? Adopted or not, I didn't raise him for nothing. I didn't plan for this exact day, of course, but the whole point was to have someone useful when the time came."
"If he can't be used, then no matter how good he is, he's useless. Worse, he could become a threat."
Spencer took another sip of coffee, his tone calm as ever.
"Adam's strong. He's not easy to take down," Burns said.
"No matter how strong he is, he's just one man. What can he do against the entire CIA? This isn't some Hollywood action flick."
"No matter how powerful he is, can he take on elite tactical teams? Dozens of rifles? Entire buildings being demolished? Rockets raining down?"
Burns fell silent.
He agreed.
Adam Spencer—Fujiwara Toru—was the agency's top field asset. But if they wanted to kill him, it wasn't impossible. Just expensive.
But now Burns was afraid.
Even when raising a dog, people develop feelings. Spencer had raised this man for two decades and was still willing to kill him over the slightest doubt...
Ruthless didn't begin to describe it.
"Burns."
As he reached for the doorknob, he heard Spencer's voice again and paused.
"Anything else, Director?"
Spencer gave a gentle smile.
"Do well. I recognize your ability. As long as you handle this right, my position will be yours one day."
Burns licked his lips and nodded hard.
…
On the Shinkansen headed from Tokyo to Gunma Prefecture, Toru sat chatting with Yukiko and Eri.
"Fujiwara-kun, sorry to drag you along with Eri and me to Gunma Prefecture. Honestly, there's not much to see there. It's pretty underdeveloped. Not a tourist spot."
"I'm going back mainly to visit my parents' graves."
Yukiko had impeccable social grace. She always made sure others felt included when talking.
"If you ask me, the most beautiful view in Gunma is you, Yukiko-nee. I'm traveling with beautiful scenery—how could I be bored?"
Yukiko covered her mouth and laughed, her eyes curving into crescent moons. "Fujiwara-kun, you really know how to flatter a lady. I like the sound of 'nee'."
Eri Kisaki, sitting beside them, said with displeasure, "Fujiwara, you call her 'nee' but call me 'Miss'?"
"What, Eri, are you jealous? This just shows Fujiwara-kun has good taste. He can tell who's younger at a glance."
Yukiko teased with a smile.
Eri scoffed, "Still trying to compete with me after all these years, huh? Back in high school, we tied in that beauty contest."
"How about we settle it now? Let Fujiwara cast the final vote. Fujiwara, who do you think is prettier? Me or Yukiko? Who's aged better?"
Eri looked straight at him, serious. Yukiko, eyes sparkling with playful mischief, chimed in excitedly, "I like this idea, Eri."
"Fujiwara-kun, cast your vote. Who's more beautiful—Eri or me?"
As she spoke, Yukiko even took out a compact mirror and started fixing her hair.
Toru felt the pressure and quickly deflected. "You're both beautiful. No way I could choose."
No sane man would answer that question.
"Don't try to dodge it, Fujiwara."
"Exactly, Fujiwara-kun. A real man chooses."
Yukiko lifted one of her slender legs. Her foot, wrapped in sheer stockings and a white high heel, lightly tapped Toru's leg.
Toru glanced down. Her arch was perfectly curved, toes just barely hooking the heel, revealing a delicate foot.
Suddenly, he realized she wasn't being aggressive to compete with Eri—she was actually trying to seduce him.
Watching Yukiko's bold move and Toru's awkward reaction, Eri softened her tone. "Yukiko, stop messing with him. He's still a student."
"So what? He's an adult. Eri, you've been divorced for years. Haven't you thought about dating someone younger, like Fujiwara-kun?"
Eri nearly choked.
She knew Yukiko had no filter, but this was too much.
Still, Eri wasn't one to back down. She shot back, "Whether I've thought about it or not doesn't matter. But clearly, you have. Maybe worry about your Kudo at home."
A not-so-subtle reminder not to cross the line.
To her surprise, Yukiko responded casually, "If I ever divorce Yusaku, you'll help me get more in the settlement, right?"
Even Toru had to admit—he'd underestimated Conan's mom.
She was terrifying.
Mature women were dangerous.
Eri could only sigh. She'd known Yukiko for years. She could tell.
Yukiko was serious.
And as her best friend… all she could do was help her cover it up.
Fine. If this really ends up in court, I'll represent her personally.
Just as Toru was thinking about her son, his phone vibrated.
The unique vibration told him the security camera at home had captured someone.
He pulled out his phone and opened the app.
A small boy was lingering near his house.
Conan?
What's that little brat doing at my place? Is he seriously investigating me?
(To be continued.)
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