Conan: I'm really not the mastermind behind the scenes

Curacao stood in the hallway.

Although there were no events being held on this floor, all the lights were still on, and the bright white light illuminated her face. Her expression was even uglier than when she had just received the emergency task email from her boss.

After knocking Scotland unconscious and treating his wounds briefly, she put him in a large cardboard box and used a cart to take the freight elevator to the kitchen on the 23rd floor.

The fingerprint verification function of the door failed yesterday, and now it can be opened with a password. She locked him in, informed the location and password to the people sent by Rum, and asked them to take him away first.

Before leaving the kitchen, she checked his belongings, taking away all the weapons and small props that could be used to escape, and of course, she did not miss the cell phone, which stored a lot of information.

In order to avoid being tracked, she temporarily took out the SIM card in her mobile phone, turned off her mobile phone, and carried them together with her, intending to hand them over to professional technicians in the organization when she returned.

Now, the thing is gone.

Curacao gritted her teeth slightly, her face gloomy, and quickly reviewed everything that had happened from the time she took away the phone to the time she came to this floor.

This was a humiliation for her, but besides being angry, a trace of fear flashed through her heart.

She is Rum's confidant, and her skills and ability to get things done are not bad in the organization. It is impossible for her to do such a stupid thing as just putting something aside and then forgetting about it.

So the things were taken away by someone, and that person must have had close contact with her.

——If the other party had not stolen something but secretly placed a poison needle, a bug or other dangerous items in her pocket, she might have died long ago and would not even know how she died.

All the images were clearly reproduced in Curacao's mind, flashing by as fast as a high-definition movie sped up countless times. She looked at them frame by frame, capturing every suspicious spot.

Soon, two people's faces popped into my mind.

One of them was the male guest she met when she took away the gunpowder napkin.

After she took the important napkin, he wanted her to ask the police when they would release the person, and at that time, he approached her for two or three seconds.

The location was a bit remote, close to the backstage, and she walked around the scene as a staff member before going there to check. At first, she didn't expect the napkin to fly so far.

Now think about it, when did that man appear there?
Curacao tried to call upon his memory, but failed.

No matter how good her memory is, it is still a person's eyes and brain, not a 360-degree high-altitude surveillance system. She will pay attention to the people around the target, and will pay attention to the public security or police who may have sneaked into the scene, but she will not remember every ordinary guest at the scene.

The other person was the waitress who secretly looked at her before the second performance began.

The woman had short hair and a pretty face. She was wearing a waitress's work skirt. Her exposed arms and calves showed no signs of long-term exercise.

When Curacao sneaked into the hotel, she looked at the information of all the employees and didn't notice anything wrong at the time. But after seeing the other person up close, she had a strange feeling.

Her appearance and figure were unfamiliar, and it was certain that this was the first time we met. There was no trace of makeup or plastic surgery on her face...

——But it gave her an inexplicable sense of familiarity, as if she had seen it somewhere before.

In the few seconds that Curacao was thinking, her phone buzzed again. She looked down and saw another email from Rum.

There was no text on it, just a screenshot taken from a certain program with the TV station's logo on top.

The picture shows a young girl with medium-length black hair. She wears a baseball cap and loose pants. Her face, which shows obvious traces of mixed blood, has a look of obvious surprise and she is looking straight at the camera.

Curacao's pupils shrank slightly. She was not face-blind and usually did not identify people by their hairstyle. She recognized that it was Shirley's face at a glance!

She looked at Shirley in the photo, feeling confused and a strange thought flashed through her mind.

Why did Rum post the photo now?
Normally, if someone is found running away and disguised, as long as the video footage is available, it will be immediately passed on to the person looking for the person. Even if there is no video footage, the person's current attire will be briefly described verbally as soon as possible to facilitate the search.

But Rum didn't do that. After the hastily sent her a text message asking her to find someone, she didn't receive any other emails. It was only a few minutes ago that he sent her another evacuation plan.

It was decided that she should withdraw, so it was obviously illogical to give her the information at this time. Rum's impatience sometimes caused him to fail, but he would never make a mistake like missing an email.

and……

Curacao stared at Shirley's pants in the photo, and the fleeting scene he saw on the surveillance camera before came to his mind.

The clothes on Shirley are different!
A strong sense of crisis instantly enveloped Curacao's whole body. Years of dangerous life made her body instinctively act before her brain. She turned her head quickly, and at the same time, she heard the sound of a door opening. Two people came out from the next room and pointed guns at her.

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"Don't move!"

The young man among them shouted, his hand holding the gun trembling slightly, perhaps because of nervousness or excitement.

Curacao raised an eyebrow and looked over, recognizing that this was the public security officer whom she had seen in the banquet hall not long ago, and whose identity she had identified because his surveillance actions were too obvious.

Jiang Teng Daizo looked at the woman in front of him. Seeing that she was not afraid of the gun, he immediately determined that she was not an ordinary person.

"Put your hands up, surrender, you..."

He held the gun, staring at the other person without blinking, and finally couldn't help asking the question that had been on his mind for a long time:
"Where did you take the others?"

Curacao looked at him and suddenly smiled contemptuously.

……

"Ha ha……"

In the small laundry room on the third underground floor, there was a sound of heavy breathing.

Miyano Shiho...or rather, Haibara Ai who turned back into a child again, curled up uncontrollably because of the lingering pain from the high temperature.

The trousers were loose on her body, but she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. (End of this chapter)