Chapter 369: The Jet-Black Mysterious Train 11
Amuro lifted the forged painting from Mr. Anton's bag. His muscles tensed slightly under the unexpected weight. Carefully, he unwrapped the canvas. As his eyes scanned the backing, a flicker of genuine shock crossed his features. He ran his fingers along the edges, double-checking the frame as if refusing to believe his own eyes, before turning back to the detective. "Mr. Mouri, there is no mirror hidden inside."
Conan's breath hitched. 'What?' How could it be empty? Every piece of his deduction pointed squarely at Anton.
Anton adjusted his collar, a smug calmness settling over his posture. "I told you all from the start. The painting is heavy simply because the frame is cast from solid gold. This nonsense about hidden mirrors is just that—nonsense."
Heizou snapped his fingers, the sharp sound cutting through the tense air. "So my intuition was right on the mark. When you eliminate the impossible, the only one with the skill to pull off a trick like this is Kaitou Kid."
The collective suspicion of the room pivoted, pinning the disguised phantom thief and his elderly assistant under a heavy glare.
"Hey now, let's not jump to conclusions," Kid protested, his voice laced with practiced indignation. "Without a shred of hard evidence or a solid motive, you cannot just pin this crime on me."
Even as he spoke, he subtly shifted his stance, angling his body to shield Terai from view. Behind his back, his fingers flicked in a rapid, silent signal to the older man.
Amuro rose from his crouch beside the dismantled frame, brushing off his trousers. "He makes a fair point. While I highly doubt our resident thief is completely innocent, your evidence for naming him the murderer in this specific case is far too thin, Heizou."
Conan exhaled a quiet, measured breath. He knew in his gut that Kid was not a killer. But without the physical proof to back up his own airtight deduction, he was forced to bite his tongue and watch from the sidelines.
Heizou offered a casual, helpless shrug, though his eyes remained sharp. "Fair enough. But I would say it is still our civic duty to apprehend him. Kaitou Kid is a wanted criminal, no matter how you slice it. As for the murder evidence? We will dig that up eventually if we take our time."
"Hahaha!" Kid's sudden, theatrical laughter echoed through the confined space. "Catch me? You have got quite the mouth on you, kid."
In a flash of motion, he brought one hand up to cover his face while his other hand whipped downward, violently smashing a smoke bomb against the floorboards. Thick, blinding white smoke erupted instantly, swallowing the corridor in an impenetrable haze.
Capitalizing on the sudden blindness of the detectives, Kid grabbed Terai by the arm and pivoted sharply. Now was definitely not the time to go digging for the gemstone.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Kid's neck stood on end. Instinct took over. He jerked his head violently to the side, feeling the sheer, terrifying displacement of air as Heizou's fist rocketed past his cheek.
The strike was not just fast—it carried a localized gale. The violent gust of wind generated by Heizou's punch tore the latex disguise mask right off Kid's face and violently dispersed the thick smoke clinging to his immediate vicinity.
Kid stared in wide-eyed shock at the young detective who had materialized right in front of him. 'You have got to be kidding me. Has my luck really tanked this badly?' Why was he constantly running into freaks of nature whose physical strength completely defied their harmless appearances?
Forcing his racing heart to steady, Kid made a split-second tactical decision. He shoved Terai toward the exit, silently urging him to flee, while he squared his shoulders to block Heizou's path.
Terai, knowing he would only be a liability in a physical brawl, did not waste a second. He slipped away into the remaining smoke, leaving Kid alone to trade blows with the Anemo-wielding martial artist.
The moment their limbs clashed, Kid swallowed a bitter groan. Heizou's punches were absurdly heavy, carrying the concussive force of a battering ram, punctuated by erratic bursts of cutting wind. If Kid had not relied on his supreme agility to weave and dodge by a hair's breadth, his remaining disguise—and likely his jaw—would have been shattered.
Thankfully, he still had his Card Gun. By firing rapid, unpredictable flurries of razor-sharp playing cards, he managed to force Heizou back just enough to maintain a precarious distance, preventing the detective from closing in for a grappling hold.
"Over here!" Natsume's voice rang out down the corridor. She stood beside an open carriage door, one hand firmly gripping the handle, waving frantically at Heizou.
The smoke had finally thinned out, leaving the battlefield visible once more. Kid caught sight of Natsume standing by the threshold, and a cold pit of dread formed in his stomach. The last time he had crossed paths with this particular girl, he had suffered a miserable defeat. There was no way he was letting history repeat itself.
He desperately tried to alter his trajectory, aiming to retreat in the opposite direction. But Heizou was relentless. With a flurry of aggressive, wind-assisted strikes, the detective corralled Kid, forcing him step by step toward the open doorway.
The moment Kid was in range, Natsume tagged in. Seizing the tiny window of opportunity when Kid was off-balance from Heizou's assault, she pivoted on her heel and delivered a precise, punishing kick squarely to his chest.
The impact launched the phantom thief backward into the empty carriage. Before he could even hit the floor, Natsume slammed the heavy metal door shut.
Click.
The heavy deadbolt engaged with a final, metallic thud. The door was completely sealed, impervious to being opened from either side.
Natsume casually lowered the digital terminal she held in her left hand, her fingers having just danced across its screen. She looked up at the utterly bewildered faces of Mr. Mouri, Conan, and the rest of the group, offering an innocent blink.
"Didn't I mention it?" she asked, her tone light and breezy. "Mr. Suzuki prepared a special surprise exclusively for Kaitou Kid. This is it."
She tapped the reinforced glass of the silent carriage door. "Every single door on this train has been retrofitted with a custom locking mechanism. By inputting a specific carriage number into the master software on this terminal, the corresponding door locks down completely. No lockpicks, no master keys."
She smiled, tucking the device away. "Unless we reach our final destination in Nagoya and Mr. Suzuki personally overrides the system, whoever is inside is staying inside. Kaitou Kid is officially boxed in. All those fancy disguises and magic tricks will not do him any good against solid steel."
"With our prime suspect safely quarantined, we can hand the rest of the murder investigation over to the local police the second we pull into the station."
Hearing that Kid was in no immediate physical danger, Conan let out a long, quiet sigh of relief. He stared at the impenetrable metal door, picturing the usually unflappable phantom thief trapped inside, likely pulling his hair out in sheer, helpless frustration. Despite the gravity of the murder case, a faint smirk tugged at the corners of the young detective's mouth. A little schadenfreude never hurt anyone.
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