Chapter 47: Unable to Bear the Injustice of Paying Taxes
What money?
Vodka was stunned, momentarily unable to process the question.
After four or five seconds, he remembered—if Nakajima Hideaki was going to die, the transaction money should still be with Tequila. This was the cash he'd given to Tequila for the exchange, and now he needed to retrieve it.
"Tequila just left. As for the money, I..."
Gin on the other end remained silent, then finally hung up without another word.
Vodka pocketed his phone, his face flushing with embarrassment.
He couldn't even handle such a simple matter properly, and now Aniki was displeased.
It's all Tequila's fault.
Knowing full well that the Organization was currently stretched thin financially, he still didn't voluntarily return the money.
This was one hundred million yen—not a particularly massive sum for the Organization, but extremely important when even Gin's beloved Porsche 356A could barely afford premium gasoline these days.
After thinking for a moment, he pulled out his phone and called Tequila.
Outside the Dahei Building
Natsukawa, who had just left the building, took out his flip phone.
Unknown number?
Did Vodka call me? I just left. Is there something he forgot to mention? Or did Gin return?
"Hello?"
He answered, waiting for the other party to speak.
"Tequila, where's the money?"
Vodka's somewhat irritated voice came through the line.
"The money..."
Natsukawa suddenly remembered that besides delivering the list and eliminating Nakajima Hideaki, he was also supposed to return the transaction payment to Gin.
"Some other time. I need to ensure Nakajima Hideaki's elimination today. I don't have time right now." Natsukawa muttered dismissively, "You're not out of gas money, are you? Why the rush?"
"Of course not. It's mainly because embezzling funds isn't tolerated. If you want to get yourself killed, feel free not to return it. Also, the profits from the drug sales should be—"
Before Vodka could finish, Natsukawa coldly interrupted.
"Got it." He replied curtly and hung up.
Who doesn't have a temper?
Is that the tone someone uses when asking for money back?
Doesn't he know that the person holding the money has the power?
After capturing Tequila, Franky had found nearly 200 million yen in cash across the man's three temporary residences.
Now it seemed that part of it was the payment for the list, while the other portion was probably profits from drug sales.
This money was as good as gone now. Gin must be desperate for cash—otherwise, he wouldn't have gone to Shikishima by helicopter to steal gold, and he wouldn't be forcing Miyano Akemi to rob a bank before her inevitable death.
Back Home
Natsukawa returned home, prepared dinner for Anya, and was about to leave when he spotted Conan at his doorstep, looking like a disaster victim.
The boy's blue suit was covered in dirt and soot, his face was exhausted, a leaf was stuck in his hair, and his shoes looked scorched, practically smoking.
Did Conan use his Power-Enhancing Kick Shoes to run?
"Conan, what happened to you?"
Natsukawa rolled down his car window and called out.
"Oh, Uncle Natsukawa! It's nothing, I just tripped and fell."
Conan forced a smile, scratching his messy head and grinning sheepishly.
Actually, he'd accidentally stepped into fresh concrete at a road construction site.
Because the acceleration from his Power-Enhancing Shoes was too powerful, he couldn't control himself and had stepped directly into the still-wet concrete, falling face-first into the construction area.
As for the reason...
Of course, it was because he'd been searching for the so-called Aoyama Car Rental shop.
He'd searched the entire Beika Town 5-chome district, but there wasn't a single rental shop—not even a car wash. Now he seriously suspected that the coat check attendant was also a member of the Black Organization.
If so, had asking those questions exposed himself, or worse, Uncle Mouri?
He'd been worrying about this the entire way home, which made his already disheveled appearance even more pathetic.
"I see. You should hurry home then."
With that, Natsukawa closed the car window and drove off smoothly, leaving Conan inhaling a fresh trail of exhaust fumes.
That Evening
Because no incident had occurred at the venue, the Mantendo game launch event concluded successfully, and everyone went home.
Hideaki Nakajima, Koji Ueda, and Hironobu Takeshita all returned to their respective residences.
Since Mantendo's headquarters was located in Beika Town, their homes were also in the area.
Hideaki Nakajima returned home carrying his briefcase, overjoyed.
I can finally pay back my debts!
At last, he could escape the crushing pressure of debt. Since accumulating it, he hadn't been able to enjoy a proper dinner in far too long.
He placed a large takeout meal on the table.
Nakajima decided to dine with Fukuzawa Yukichi—literally.
Seeing one hundred million yen would surely make the meal taste even better.
With this thought, he placed the briefcase on the table and happily opened it.
The moment he cracked it open, he saw light emanating from within.
Golden light? Is it gold bars? Why is it glowing?
Wait, that's white light!
Before he could even glimpse the stacks of ten-thousand-yen notes inside, Nakajima was engulfed and torn apart by brilliant white light. Finally, a festive mushroom cloud rose over the entire Nakajima residence.
The tremendous explosion echoed for blocks, and many people opened their doors to peek out and see what had happened.
The neighbors next to Nakajima's house were particularly unfortunate. Because their house was built with earthquake-resistant materials, the entire structure shook like jelly for several long moments.
However, the neighbors didn't complain—they only anxiously located their landline and called the Metropolitan Police Department. It was a practiced motion, indicating this wasn't the first time they'd called the police in this neighborhood.
Franky's House
Natsukawa arrived at Franky's place and, upon hearing the news, smiled knowingly.
Nakajima's death was entirely expected.
Someone drowning in debt would definitely open their briefcase the moment they got home.
"Are Takeshita Hironobu and Ueda Koji still alive?"
Franky shrugged, pointing to the screen.
The monitor was divided into three sections, showing surveillance footage outside Ueda's, Nakajima's, and Takeshita's homes. One section was currently showing static, while the other two were functioning normally.
"Not yet."
The surveillance cameras were installed outside, so they could only confirm that both men had returned home. Natsukawa couldn't know exactly when they'd open their briefcases.
Natsukawa was about to use this time to examine the documents Vodka had given him when one of the screens was suddenly washed in white light. The image shook violently for several moments, then the camera seemed to be struck by debris, falling over and cutting to static.
Another one down.
"That's Takeshita," Franky announced. "This guy was killed by his own bomb."
Franky smiled with a hint of dark amusement. "I wonder what his expression was when he opened the briefcase and found a bomb inside instead of his belongings."
So it was him all along.
Natsukawa nodded thoughtfully.
In the original timeline, Takeshita had planted the bomb that killed Tequila. Poetic justice, perhaps.
"Alright, keep monitoring. If Ueda isn't dead by nine o'clock, I'll go over and handle him personally. I need to check these documents first and get a sense of the situation."
After saying that, Natsukawa remembered something important. "By the way, where's the money?"
"Over there."
Franky pointed to two briefcases in the corner of the living room.
All the cash they'd recovered from Tequila's three residences was in those cases.
There was also a computer and a cell phone, which might contain valuable information, but it would take time to crack them. The Organization's counter-hacking technology wasn't weak—they couldn't afford to be careless.
Tequila's cell phone had been configured with call forwarding, so any calls to that number would now be redirected to Natsukawa.
After all, Tequila had an entire network of drug distributors. If Natsukawa wanted to continue the masquerade, then Tequila's drug operations would definitely have to continue.
Of course, he could sell the information to the IRS, but that would mean paying taxes.
And Natsukawa firmly believed he couldn't bear that particular injustice.
Anyway, he was selling drugs under the Tequila identity, so even if he got caught, the blame would fall squarely on the Organization.
A perfect arrangement.
(End of Chapter 47)
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