Chapter 61: The 200-Pound Old Woman
The van maintained a steady speed. Natsukawa didn't want to be pulled over by traffic police—this vehicle couldn't outrun patrol cars.
"Is this really okay?"
Frank's lips were practically curling into a grin, though he still tried to maintain an innocent expression.
"Why don't you go back and fix their tire?"
"I think this is perfectly fine. It'll teach them a lesson. Who told them to choose such a godforsaken location for a rendezvous? There were even nails scattered on the road."
Sympathy was one thing, but genuine empathy was another matter entirely.
Why not just stay there and enjoy the night air with those Agency operatives?
Trading a newly purchased used van for an armored vehicle wasn't a bad deal at all. This rendezvous hadn't been a loss.
The Arsenal
Half an hour later, the vehicle smoothly entered Frank's villa garage.
After exiting, Frank proudly patted the van's cargo area. The dull thud indicated the compartment wasn't just ordinary sheet metal.
Due to the added bulletproof plating, there were at least three layers of reinforced material inside.
He liked it more and more.
Natsukawa opened the cargo compartment and finally examined the weapons and equipment properly.
The left and right mesh shelves held primary weapons and pistols, while the innermost shelves were stocked with ammunition for various firearms. A quick inspection revealed several boxes of throwables: smoke grenades, flashbangs, and egg-shaped fragmentation grenades.
These grenades were highly effective and frequently involved in arms deals. Due to their distinctive shape, they'd earned a nickname in the underworld—pineapple grenades.
At the top of the left wall hung two sniper rifles: one was an M24, a weapon Gin had once used and Cohen's preferred rifle.
This gun could function as a designated marksman rifle by removing the scope, provided you could handle the recoil from continuous fire.
The other was a PSG-1 sniper rifle—more accurate than the M24, equipped with a 20-round magazine, and devastating at medium to long range.
When both snipers were equipped, the M24 would run dry after five shots while the PSG-1 still had plenty of ammunition. That was its biggest advantage.
However, snipers typically had limited engagement windows. In assassination operations, the difference between twenty and five rounds wasn't particularly significant—most situations allowed only one or two shots before repositioning or extraction became necessary.
That was sufficient time to reload.
Below the two sniper rifles were two assault rifles: the MK17 and the M4A1.
These were currently popular assault rifles, known for their stability and manageable recoil. They were the signature weapons preferred by professional contractors.
The right-side grid contained pistols: five Beretta M9s and five Colt M1911s.
There were also two silver Desert Eagles that Natsukawa found irresistible. Though the recoil was considerable, they were undeniably beautiful firearms.
They felt excellent in hand, and while their weight was a noticeable drawback, their stopping power was unmatched.
A row of metal crates lined the floor, containing neatly stacked tactical bulletproof vests, along with substantial quantities of flash protection goggles, night vision devices, and tactical binoculars.
This level of equipment was sufficient to outfit an elite strike team.
Frank crouched nearby, observing. He wasn't particularly interested in firearms, but he understood that getting these weapons into Tokyo must have required considerable effort and connections.
After watching for a while, he suddenly shook his head and clicked his tongue. "No explosives?"
Natsukawa gave Frank a disapproving look. They weren't playing video games—why would they need C4?
"What's your plan? Bombing the Shinkansen or Beika City Hall?"
"Hehe, not exactly. I just feel more secure when we have high-powered explosives available."
Besides having a slight paranoia about insufficient firepower, Frank genuinely believed that explosives were a man's romance.
Ignoring this lunatic, Natsukawa carefully catalogued the weapons and carried the crates down one by one. There was a room adjacent to Frank's wine cellar that was perfect for weapons storage.
Daily Life and Strange Weather
Several days later.
Natsukawa, as usual, was reading the newspaper at the dining table—a habit he'd developed recently.
Tokyo truly lived up to its reputation as an international metropolis. Cases occurred almost daily, yet despite the high crime rate, countless people still flocked to this dangerous city.
Since his dealings with the Agency, Natsukawa had seen Kogoro Mouri on the newspaper's front page nearly every day, sometimes featured in special reports, sometimes as the headline story across Tokyo.
For example, today's headline was about Kogoro Mouri solving a prominent lawyer's murder case.
The case was straightforward—nothing more than a property dispute arising from an extramarital affair and subsequent divorce.
Good grief, even with fame, infidelity remains Uncle Kogoro's consistent thematic element.
Worth mentioning was the lawyer's identity. Like Kogoro Mouri's wife, Eri Kisaki, he'd been one of the top attorneys in the Kanto region with an undefeated record.
Therefore, Kogoro Mouri was, in a sense, cooperating with his shrunken son-in-law to eliminate a business competitor for his estranged wife.
There had been no communication from the Organization during this period, likely because Gin was still in Hokkaido and hadn't returned. Tequila's identity had entered a dormant phase with nothing requiring attention.
However, the Organization's silence didn't mean Natsukawa was idle.
Every day, Natsukawa found various pretexts to spend time with Yor. The plan to find Anya's mother was already well underway.
His previous concerns had evaporated. When your heart was racing, all worries became paper tigers.
As for what to focus on during dates, Natsukawa believed that as long as the emotional connection was present, that was sufficient.
Women were emotional creatures. What you did wasn't paramount—the key was romance and emotional resonance.
For instance, cherry blossom season was approaching, and Natsukawa had already arranged to visit Mount Takao to view the cherry blossoms in three days.
But...
Natsukawa looked up at the window.
Heavy snow was falling outside. The sky was completely white, and as far as the eye could see, Tokyo appeared draped in a pristine veil.
Yesterday had still been the rainy season. Why was it snowing today?
Would the cherry blossoms even survive in three days?
Suddenly, his contemplation was interrupted by his phone ringing.
Natsukawa set down his newspaper and answered. Anya's voice came through the line.
Why was she calling at this hour? Anya had just left—apparently the Detective Boys had arranged to visit Professor Agasa's house to play video games today.
"What's wrong?" Natsukawa asked gently.
He'd become quite adept at this stay-at-home father role, and during his time with Anya, he'd grown increasingly fond of this adorable little girl. His current tone wasn't merely acting—it was genuine affection.
Indeed, there was a reason everyone preferred having daughters.
"Papa, I just saw Conan's mother!" Anya sounded as though she'd witnessed something incredible, her voice trembling with excitement. "Conan's mother is a two-hundred-pound old lady!"
"A two-hundred-pound old lady?" Natsukawa muttered, then suddenly remembered something and walked to the window, looking toward the Mouri Detective Agency.
Anya was standing downstairs at the agency, phone pressed to her ear. Seeing Natsukawa appear at the window, she quickly waved.
Natsukawa smiled and waved back, then asked, "Where's Conan's mom? Is she still at the agency?"
Anya shook her head, somewhat disappointed. "That old lady just took Conan away. We were supposed to go to Professor Agasa's house to play video games today."
"Don't you have some arcade tokens? You could go to the game center with Ayumi and the others."
"Oh, right~" Anya said thoughtfully, her voice regaining its childlike enthusiasm. "Goodbye, Papa! I'm going to find Ayumi and the others!"
The call ended, and Natsukawa stood by the window watching Anya make another call, probably discussing revised plans with the other Detective Boys members.
Were Yukiko and Yusaku Kudo back?
Most likely.
The 200-pound old lady pretending to be Conan's mother was probably Yukiko Kudo in disguise.
If that was the case, Conan was going to have a rough day—though that was perfectly fine.
Wait... since the Kudo couple are planning to prank their son, should I add a little spice to their scheme?
In the shadows, Natsukawa tilted his head so that half his face was obscured by darkness, revealing a mischievous smile.
(End of Chapter 61)
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