Murder Broods
folder
+. to F › Detective Conan/Case Closed
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,584
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+. to F › Detective Conan/Case Closed
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
2,584
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own CaseClosed/Detective Conan Manga/Anime, Gosho Aoyama does. This is a not for profit, fan-derived work of fiction
Not With Impunity
Murder Broods:
Chapter 5: Not With Impunity
Hakami stared at the hotel room ceiling, the apartment complex had been evacuated by the police until they thoroughly searched the structure; she chuckled at nothing in particular and stretched her arms while lying down. Her cell-phone on the nightstand vibrated, its glow illuminating the unlighted room; the blinds drawn tight over the windows. Hakami sighed.
The text message on the phone told her to stay in the room until given further instructions; the spying mission on hold.
“This is so boring….” She sat up, swinging her legs over the left side of the bed; as she leaned forward to stretch, a pocket-photo album fell from her coat’s inner pocket.
Charred at a corner and chewed on another, the brown leather binding bore the name ‘Toni’ carved in by hand, the letters wide and free --childlike. Holding it in her hand, she flipped it open, most of the sleeves empty. Her fingers paused on a sleeve holding a double-edged razorblade, and traced the keen metal through the plastic.
“Never been used…yet longing to…slit a throat perhaps.” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, before twisting away, her hand massaging her temple at the zing of pain. She flipped to another sleeve while her hand shadowed her eyes.
The photo of someone with pale hair pulled behind shoulders, with the rest dulled and worn by age -- the brownness of the edges suggesting fire damage, Hakami stared at the photograph before dropping the pocket album and clutching her head.
0
His feet falling silent on the dust-covered floor, Gin narrowed his eyes observing his surroundings carefully. The gas leak explosion had torn the yard outside apart and rendered the cellar impassable; yet the ground floor and above held not a scratch of recent damage. Only the evidence of the fire ten years back peeked from the scorched walls and the warped doorframes -- Gin shook his head, his cold eyes unblinking as he held out his Beretta.
“Ten years….all that time yet now is when….” The whistling of the wind through the hall drew his attention toward the far door, the white painted frame dulled and chipped with age. Gin stared at the doorway, his body still, Beretta aimed out in front -- his eyes hidden in shadow; he took a hoarse breath and shook himself away from the spot.
“Ten years….to think I’ll be back here. Back….” He pressed his lips firmly together and closed his eyes, dust swirled up from another breath of wind through the hall. “The window’s open….hm….” He opened his eyes and stepped by a small table; the glint of glass caught his attention -- there a dusty framed picture lay flat on the table.
He stowed the Beretta in his pocket and picked up the photo, wiping the dust from the glass; three people stood in the photo -- an unidentified dark-haired woman holding hands with a young, fair haired child, and a tall man with short black hair gelled over to the side.
“Troy Craig. Nemo me impune lacessit. It’s time to pay what you owe.”
0
“What do you mean you can’t rendezvous? It’s essential that we stick to the plan….” Troy breathed angrily into his cell-phone, glancing behind him twice before stepping into an empty room. “So far no one suspects, but if there’s any mistakes….”
He locked the door behind him, keeping away from the windows until he pulled down the blinds.
“She’s still talking with that kid-detective. He seems to sense I’m withholding information, but I can deal with that. You just get to the rendezvous point on time.”
He flipped the phone shut, his feet carrying him to a locked crate in the corner; a large pipe ran from floor to ceiling behind it. Pocketing that phone, he fished out a key from his jacket pocket, and another cell-phone from his trouser pocket.
He opened the crate, revealing its contents -- the number display of the bomb blank, two wires loosed on top. Two minutes passed as he hooked the cell-phone on the two wires; the cell-phone custom made to simplify the connection process. Another minute and he carved the code ‘f0rTNT0’ into the inner side of the crate lid: the two zeros already written on the crate.
“He’ll pay for what he did ten years ago….to her.” He shut and locked the crate, gazing at the golden ring around his finger before sliding the key between two planks in the floor.
0
Downtown at a secure building with Jodie and Troy, Conan read over the papers and photos left by Troy after the man left for an important meeting; the moment he felt Troy was far enough away, he turned to Jodie.
“He knows more than he’s letting on.”
“You got that impression too?” Jodie stared at the door Troy left through, now closed, the man’s footsteps fading with the increased distance. “Troy Craig….I heard he’s known for being tight-lipped, almost aloof with others.” She turned to Conan, her eyebrows raised seeing how Conan glared at the door. “Cool Kid…?”
“There’s something that’s been bugging me….why did the bomber pick that abandoned house for the first bombing? It was removed from the city, no one had lived there for years….What significance did it have?” Conan searched through the photos until he found one of the house -- but that photo only showed the yard and cellar that had been destroyed.
“Um…if I remember correctly….” Jodie read over a sheet of paper detailing the explosion-sites. Her eyes widened reading over the address of the house outside of the city. “This…I think…is….”
“That’s the site where an FBI agent was assassinated ten years ago.” James Black stepped into the room, shutting the door silently before turning to Jodie and Conan.
“James….what are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on Troy Craig…the FBI agent that was assassinated ten years ago was his wife.”
“His wife…but if that‘s….” Conan read over the paper with the codes, focusing solely on f0rTNT0 -- or it’s decoded form now flashing through his thoughts: Fortunato. “This code…‘Fortunato’….”
“ ‘Fortunato’? Isn’t that a character name from an Edgar Allan Poe story? The title was….” Jodie paused, eyes widening. “ ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ a revenge/murder story….revenge…James, you don’t think that Troy….”
“Yes, Troy might be involved with the current bombings if it’s for revenge for his wife…she was an undercover agent investigating the Syndicate for the FBI.”
“Then her identity was discovered and the Syndicate killed her…now Troy wants revenge? But they both knew the risks….and if she made a mistake….”
“No, the Syndicate killed her after Troy’s identity as an CIA agent was discovered.” James closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing. “The FBI agent, Toni, left the assignment and FBI before her identity was unearthed. She in fact turned rogue before she was killed…something the Syndicate failed to find out before her death. The Syndicate agent that killed her was Gin.”
Conan listened intently to James Black’s words, his thoughts connecting them together with the present situation. ‘This could mean Troy blames his wife’s death on himself and the Syndicate….if his identity hadn’t been found out, or if the Syndicate knew she turned rogue….’
“Toni turned rogue? But…does that mean she had plans to join the Syndicate as a real member? Not an undercover FBI?” Jodie drew back as James nodded, the older man holding out a photo of a woman with long, pitch-black hair and dark eyes that gave off a greenish glint.
“This is Toni.”
A/N: End Chapter
Nemo me impune lacessit = No one attacks me with impunity, quote found in The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe.
Chapter 5: Not With Impunity
Hakami stared at the hotel room ceiling, the apartment complex had been evacuated by the police until they thoroughly searched the structure; she chuckled at nothing in particular and stretched her arms while lying down. Her cell-phone on the nightstand vibrated, its glow illuminating the unlighted room; the blinds drawn tight over the windows. Hakami sighed.
The text message on the phone told her to stay in the room until given further instructions; the spying mission on hold.
“This is so boring….” She sat up, swinging her legs over the left side of the bed; as she leaned forward to stretch, a pocket-photo album fell from her coat’s inner pocket.
Charred at a corner and chewed on another, the brown leather binding bore the name ‘Toni’ carved in by hand, the letters wide and free --childlike. Holding it in her hand, she flipped it open, most of the sleeves empty. Her fingers paused on a sleeve holding a double-edged razorblade, and traced the keen metal through the plastic.
“Never been used…yet longing to…slit a throat perhaps.” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, before twisting away, her hand massaging her temple at the zing of pain. She flipped to another sleeve while her hand shadowed her eyes.
The photo of someone with pale hair pulled behind shoulders, with the rest dulled and worn by age -- the brownness of the edges suggesting fire damage, Hakami stared at the photograph before dropping the pocket album and clutching her head.
0
His feet falling silent on the dust-covered floor, Gin narrowed his eyes observing his surroundings carefully. The gas leak explosion had torn the yard outside apart and rendered the cellar impassable; yet the ground floor and above held not a scratch of recent damage. Only the evidence of the fire ten years back peeked from the scorched walls and the warped doorframes -- Gin shook his head, his cold eyes unblinking as he held out his Beretta.
“Ten years….all that time yet now is when….” The whistling of the wind through the hall drew his attention toward the far door, the white painted frame dulled and chipped with age. Gin stared at the doorway, his body still, Beretta aimed out in front -- his eyes hidden in shadow; he took a hoarse breath and shook himself away from the spot.
“Ten years….to think I’ll be back here. Back….” He pressed his lips firmly together and closed his eyes, dust swirled up from another breath of wind through the hall. “The window’s open….hm….” He opened his eyes and stepped by a small table; the glint of glass caught his attention -- there a dusty framed picture lay flat on the table.
He stowed the Beretta in his pocket and picked up the photo, wiping the dust from the glass; three people stood in the photo -- an unidentified dark-haired woman holding hands with a young, fair haired child, and a tall man with short black hair gelled over to the side.
“Troy Craig. Nemo me impune lacessit. It’s time to pay what you owe.”
0
“What do you mean you can’t rendezvous? It’s essential that we stick to the plan….” Troy breathed angrily into his cell-phone, glancing behind him twice before stepping into an empty room. “So far no one suspects, but if there’s any mistakes….”
He locked the door behind him, keeping away from the windows until he pulled down the blinds.
“She’s still talking with that kid-detective. He seems to sense I’m withholding information, but I can deal with that. You just get to the rendezvous point on time.”
He flipped the phone shut, his feet carrying him to a locked crate in the corner; a large pipe ran from floor to ceiling behind it. Pocketing that phone, he fished out a key from his jacket pocket, and another cell-phone from his trouser pocket.
He opened the crate, revealing its contents -- the number display of the bomb blank, two wires loosed on top. Two minutes passed as he hooked the cell-phone on the two wires; the cell-phone custom made to simplify the connection process. Another minute and he carved the code ‘f0rTNT0’ into the inner side of the crate lid: the two zeros already written on the crate.
“He’ll pay for what he did ten years ago….to her.” He shut and locked the crate, gazing at the golden ring around his finger before sliding the key between two planks in the floor.
0
Downtown at a secure building with Jodie and Troy, Conan read over the papers and photos left by Troy after the man left for an important meeting; the moment he felt Troy was far enough away, he turned to Jodie.
“He knows more than he’s letting on.”
“You got that impression too?” Jodie stared at the door Troy left through, now closed, the man’s footsteps fading with the increased distance. “Troy Craig….I heard he’s known for being tight-lipped, almost aloof with others.” She turned to Conan, her eyebrows raised seeing how Conan glared at the door. “Cool Kid…?”
“There’s something that’s been bugging me….why did the bomber pick that abandoned house for the first bombing? It was removed from the city, no one had lived there for years….What significance did it have?” Conan searched through the photos until he found one of the house -- but that photo only showed the yard and cellar that had been destroyed.
“Um…if I remember correctly….” Jodie read over a sheet of paper detailing the explosion-sites. Her eyes widened reading over the address of the house outside of the city. “This…I think…is….”
“That’s the site where an FBI agent was assassinated ten years ago.” James Black stepped into the room, shutting the door silently before turning to Jodie and Conan.
“James….what are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on Troy Craig…the FBI agent that was assassinated ten years ago was his wife.”
“His wife…but if that‘s….” Conan read over the paper with the codes, focusing solely on f0rTNT0 -- or it’s decoded form now flashing through his thoughts: Fortunato. “This code…‘Fortunato’….”
“ ‘Fortunato’? Isn’t that a character name from an Edgar Allan Poe story? The title was….” Jodie paused, eyes widening. “ ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ a revenge/murder story….revenge…James, you don’t think that Troy….”
“Yes, Troy might be involved with the current bombings if it’s for revenge for his wife…she was an undercover agent investigating the Syndicate for the FBI.”
“Then her identity was discovered and the Syndicate killed her…now Troy wants revenge? But they both knew the risks….and if she made a mistake….”
“No, the Syndicate killed her after Troy’s identity as an CIA agent was discovered.” James closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing. “The FBI agent, Toni, left the assignment and FBI before her identity was unearthed. She in fact turned rogue before she was killed…something the Syndicate failed to find out before her death. The Syndicate agent that killed her was Gin.”
Conan listened intently to James Black’s words, his thoughts connecting them together with the present situation. ‘This could mean Troy blames his wife’s death on himself and the Syndicate….if his identity hadn’t been found out, or if the Syndicate knew she turned rogue….’
“Toni turned rogue? But…does that mean she had plans to join the Syndicate as a real member? Not an undercover FBI?” Jodie drew back as James nodded, the older man holding out a photo of a woman with long, pitch-black hair and dark eyes that gave off a greenish glint.
“This is Toni.”
A/N: End Chapter
Nemo me impune lacessit = No one attacks me with impunity, quote found in The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe.