A/N: This isn't canon compatible up until 997-999, since I wrote this a couple weeks earlier. Not sure if I'm going to continue this...

[London, eight years ago]

"A thief?" Akai said. "How boring."

Kensington Gardens was swarming with people. Tourists snapped photos; a group of children tossed a Frisbee back and forth; bikers streamed by.

A man on a nearby park bench flicked idly through a newspaper. One headline proclaimed that Japan's number one magician was in London to perform with Britain's own top magician, James Hopper…

Shuichi Akai and James Black blended among the busy park life. Akai wore his usual knit cap, long dark hair rustling in the afternoon breeze, and he had a cigarette clenched between his teeth.

"The trail for that organization has already gone cold," Black said ruefully. "Even though we followed Pisco's money trail as far as British banks. They're like ghosts."

"Tch," Akai said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "We need someone undercover, Mr. Black."

This wasn't the first time they had this conversation.

"You very well know we can't authorize a mission like that," Black said. "The organization's center of operations seems to be in Japan and I doubt Japanese police will welcome the Bureau on their soil."

Akai just half-shrugged, but it bothered him more than he let on. He knew that they couldn't catch the wolves like this—they needed better tools to trace their tracks. It was as if they left paw prints in their wake, only to be wiped away by the next fall of rain…

Akai said: "Well? What were you saying about a thief?"

"I thought it might be a worthwhile diversion while we're in town," Black said, reaching into his coat to pull out a newspaper. "Phantom Thief 1412 is wanted by us as well, after all. In the past year, he orchestrated heists at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and San Francisco's De Young Museum."

Akai skimmed a section of the article. "He usually returns the art in question, it seems. Let the local police handle him, Mr. Black."

"I thought this heist might be of particular interest to you, Akai."

"Oh?"

Black pointed to the article again. "The Sherlock Holmes Museum is displaying a carbuncle in honor of one of Conan Doyle's stories. The thief announced that he'll be taking it."

And that did get Akai's attention. He parted his lips and took his cigarette in hand, crushing it between his fingertips.

"The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle," he said. "How arrogant. Proclaiming that he'll plunder a place dedicated to literature's greatest detective."

He narrowed his eyes.

The last time he had been at the Sherlock Holmes Museum, he was a child, running from room to room with his brother in tow.

A mere thief was a trivial matter, but Akai wouldn't mind going back.

[Miyakejima, Japan, present day]

For this holy masquerade, I am not a servant, nor a ghost, nor a joker. I am a white bird who will take the Pine Peridot. 27-7-4-XX.

Ciao!

-Kaitou Kid [doodle]

Conan scrutinized the picture of Kid's latest heist notice on his phone. He had been staring at it all night, scribbling out deductions in his little notebook.

Servant (knave/jack), joker: a reference to playing cards?

White bird: using his doves as a diversion, or disguising himself as Inspector Shiratori again, although it wouldn't make sense for him to work at a Kid heist…

27-7-4: Cartesian coordinates? Public-key encryption? A date? A number combination?

And so on his scribblings went.

He was in a Suzuki Corporation owned hotel on the island of Miyakejima where the latest Kid heist was to take place.

Sonoko and Ran were off to cheer Sera on for some Jeet Kune Do tournament, but Sonoko still had made sure everyone else was invited: Conan, the Shounen Tantei, Professor Agasa, and Haibara. 'Subaru Okiya' was tagging along to keep an eye on Haibara, as always.

Before they left, Sonoko had bemoaned, "It's a shame to have to miss out seeing my precious Kid-sama, but your match is more important, Sera-chan! I'll find you a cute guy to date at your tournament!"

"Sonoko!" Sera said with a scowl and a blush. She kneeled down so that she was eye to eye with Conan and said, "Ahem. Conan-kun, you better catch that jerk for that stunt he pulled last time. Hmmph, leaving me naked in the men's bathroom and disguising as me."

You were the one who went to the men's bathroom in the first place, Conan thought sardonically.

Out loud, he said, "Ehh, s-sure, Sera-no-neechan."

"Make sure that you hit him with one of those soccer balls of yours while you're at it."

"Sera-san!" Ran exclaimed.

"Kidding, kidding," Sera said, holding her hands up in innocence.

"Stay safe, Conan-kun," Ran said. "Try not to get into trouble again. For some reason, I have a bad feeling…"

Her voice trailed off. Conan stared at her, his eyes wide. She usually had a good sense of these things, even though he didn't exactly believe in premonitions or foresight or anything like that.

"It's a Kaitou Kid heist," Sonoko said. "He makes sure nobody gets hurt!"

"I know, I know," Ran said, in an attempt to cut off Sonoko's usual praises. "But it seems like a dangerous place, don't you think?"

"I'll be okay," Conan said. "The professor and Nakamori-keibu will be there."

"That boy can take care of himself," Sera said confidently.

Well, Conan thought now, in the dining hall of the hotel, Ran hadn't been wrong that this island was technically a dangerous place. He sighed, fussed with his notes more.

"Still haven't cracked the code, Kudou-kun?" Haibara said, as Conan continued to frown.

"I understand some of it," Conan said. He rubbed his eyes wearily, moving his glasses aside. "'XX' is the Roman numeral for twenty. Kid's hint was 'Ciao', which is Italian for hello or goodbye."

What was twenty supposed to mean? And why were the other numbers not Roman numerals?

"I see," Haibara said. She gestured toward his empty plate. "You should get breakfast. The others already served themselves from the buffet."

Conan made a noise of acknowledgement and walked over with his plate in hand. He absentmindedly ladled miso soup, took a sausage, filled up a glass of orange juice.

He noted that the buffet offerings were a mix of Japanese and Western breakfast food. Miyakejima was a popular international tourist spot.

Conan joined Professor Agasa, Haibara, and the Shounen Tantei at the table they were sitting. He decided to revisit Kid's note after a brief break, to see if he could clear his head.

"This island looks like a zombie movie," Genta said, who was looking over at pictures on Mitsuhiko's phone. "Or it's like Gomera stomped through the buildings."

"It's a rather morbid attraction," Haibara said. "An island cleansed by fire every couple years, occasionally revisited by fatal smoke."

"Cleansed by fire-?" Ayumi repeated.

"Mount Oyama, an active volcano, is located on Miyakejima," Mitsuhiko said. "It last erupted in the year 2000 and the island had to be evacuated."

"Right," Conan said with a nod. "There's been substantial property damage and parts of the island are still uninhabitable. And volcanic activity releases toxic gases."

"So, that's why we have these?" Genta said, holding up a gas mask. The professor had brought along child-sized gas masks for the kids.

"Yes, the air quality can still get bad," Agasa said. "Make sure you bring your gas masks with you when we're touring the island."

"It sounds scary," Ayumi murmured, looking at her own mask in her lap.

"You'll be fine, Yoshida-san," Haibara said. "Residents live on the island and gas mask tourism is popular. People visit abandoned and devastated buildings and take pictures of themselves in gas masks—it's supposedly an interesting experience."

It wasn't all that morbid or unnerving, Conan thought, as he sipped his soup. There were hot springs on the island, and many people liked to scuba dive around here.

The Blue Dolphin Hotel they were in was a testament to Miyakejim being a tourist attraction. Old man Suzuki Jirokichi was showcasing Kaitou Kid's current target, the Pine Peridot, on the top floor.

Conan was startled out of his thoughts by a brief commotion at the buffet.

Subaru had bumped into a blond man at one of the tables. "Sorry," he said, straightening his glasses. Seemingly recognizing the man was a foreigner, he repeated the word in English.

"No, I'm sorry about that," the man replied smoothly in Japanese. "Are you a new addition to Nakamori-keibu's task force? I haven't met you before."

"Subaru Okiya," he said. "Are you are-?"

"Hakuba-niichan," Conan said, surprised. It was Hakuba Sagaru, wearing a long sleeved collared shirt and light brown slacks. He hopped down from his seat and went over by the buffet. "It's been awhile. Since the Detective Koushien. I thought you returned to England."

"Edogawa-kun," Hakuba acknowledged in greeting. "I was visiting my father and thought I'd drop by a Kid heist, for old time's sakes. That thief remains as elusive as always, doesn't he?"

"Y-yeah," Conan said. Although the last several times he'd let Kid go on purpose, but then, that was how their games usually went. As long as he made sure Kid wouldn't get away with the jewel...

Conan blinked. "How'd you know that Subaru-san was here for the Kid heist?"

"Well, that's obvious," Subaru said. "He saw me entering the dining hall with you and the Shounen Tantei. It's well-known you've played roles in foiling Kid heists. And I don't look like a typical tourist or Kid fan.

"Although, of course," Subaru continued, "I'm not with the Kid taskforce in any official capacity. I'm Professor Agasa's neighbor and joined the trip on a whim. Thieves aren't my area of interest."

"Ah, so that's how that is," Hakuba said, eyeing Subaru. "Regardless, you sound like a detective like myself and Edogawa-kun."

"I like puzzles," Subaru said simply.

Clearing his throat, Conan said, "Anyways, Hakuba-niichan, have you figured out the Kid note? I haven't yet."

"I haven't had much time to look at it," Hakuba confessed. "But I will solve it by the end of the day. The truth will always come to light."

Jeez, Conan thought. This guy hadn't changed.

"I'm looking forward to seeing your detective antics—the both of you," Subaru said. His glasses were obscured by a glare from the above ceiling fixtures.

Subaru's attention went back to the buffet and he offered Hakuba something from a basket in front of him. Hakuba demurred, professing a distaste for sweet foods (really, not a surprise at all), and Conan's mind wandered.

It was uncomfortable to think that Akai was in close proximity to an observant and competent detective, who might be able to find out that Subaru was in disguise. What if Hakuba thought Subaru was Kid and ripped the Subaru disguise off?

Akai could handle himself, Conan thought firmly.

Nevertheless, he said, "Hakuba-niichan, you should talk to Subaru-san about Holmes stories. You're both Sherlock Holmes fans, aren't you?"

Conan was pretty sure he remembered news articles with pictures of Hakuba wearing an inverse coat and deerstalker while he solved cases. There was such a thing as being too much into Sherlock Holmes.

Shinichi never had dressed himself up as Sherlock Holmes—well, maybe several times when his mother dragged him to costume parties when he was younger, but that didn't count.

"A fellow Holmesian," Subaru said. "You as well, Hakuba-kun? Have you visited the Sherlock Holmes Museum?"

"Several times in my youth," Hakuba confirmed. "It's been awhile since I've visited it, however. I'm preoccupied with my studies and cases."

"The last time I went there was eight years ago," Subaru murmured. "It was a novel experience."

Eight years ago? Conan thought.

[London, eight years ago]

The head of the Scotland Yard robbery squad was, to put it mildly, not pleased about the FBI intruding on his territory.

"There is a sea separating America and Britain," said Detective Inspector Lewis Lance, rapping on his desk with his hand. "Are you even supposed to be in London?"

"We were following an unrelated investigation that resulted in a dead end," James Black said. He was unfazed by Lance's brusqueness. "The former police commissioner is an old school friend of mine, DI Lance. I believe she put in a word for me?"

Lance huffed. "So she did. Do either of you know what we do?"

"You are part of the Metro robbery squad," Akai said matter-of-factly. "Also known as the Flying Squad because of your ability to act quickly. You deal with armed and unarmed robberies. I'm familiar with the, ah—rougher—side of the trade myself."

Theft was often romanticized or played up as a comedy, but the underworld was filled with shadowy gangster types. Criminals realized the value of art and traded pieces around for guns or drugs; there were trails of blood following art.

That was the parts Akai knew of: where the murder was.

The organization of crows had certainly dug their claws into the business.

But this, Akai thought, was an entirely different matter.

A phantom thief who returned his loot. A flashy magician who didn't seem like he was controlled by gangland employers in the background. A gentleman thief who didn't get his hands dirty with violence.

I wonder if you're darker than you appear, Kaitou-san, Akai thought. Is there anyone behind you?

[Miyakejima, Japan, present day]

That afternoon, Conan found himself being whisked around the island by the Shounen Tantei. He would have rather stayed in the hotel to continue picking at Kid's heist note with Hakuba, but those kids were persistent.

So, he resigned himself to seeing the sights.

They saw the roof of a schoolhouse, buried by now-cooled lava. They saw a torii gate peeking out of the ground, sunken to the earth and circled by grass.

Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko scrambled to peer at the gate, taking pictures with their phones. There was a rebuilt not-buried shrine nearby, Conan noticed, but of course this old wrecked one got everyone's attention.

Genta slipped on his gas mask. "Take a picture of me, Professor! I'm Kamen Yaiba." Agasa obliged, while Genta posed.

Gas mask-wearing Kamen Yaiba, Conan thought wryly.

Ayumi looked emboldened and put on her own. "It doesn't seem so scary—it's like a superhero mask. Maybe I can paint mine!"

"Colorful painted gas masks," Haibara said with cool amusement. "I wonder if the early wearers ever imagined something like this. Early gas masks were used by miners and chemists. The modern gas mask design that we're familiar with today was developed in response to chemical warfare that originated during World War I."

A painted mask? Masquerade? For this holy masquerade, Kid's letter said.

Conan felt a jolt of realization. He tucked his hand under his chin.

"You're making that face again, Kudou-kun," Haibara said.

Conan said, smiling, "He's an audacious guy. Resurrecting the wrath of a sleeping fire god."

They returned to the Blue Dolphin Hotel for lunch. Conan looked up something online on his phone while he ate. He felt certain that he had cracked half of Kid's note.

The only problem was 27-7-4-XX [20].

"Twenty-seven, seven, four," he muttered. "Ni juu na, shichi, shi. Ventisette, sette, quattro in Italian."

Conan's musings were interrupted by Mitsuhiko, who told him the Shounen Tantei wanted to go up and see the jewel.

Conan acquiesced. He wanted to take a look at the security. How would Kid pull his diversionary tactic off?

The elevator stopped at the top floor.

This floor was an observation deck, surrounded by glass windows and a high glass ceiling. In the center of the room, there was a case that held the jewel.

Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, and Genta let out noises of excitement, scrambling to peer at the jewel.

Jirokichi said hello at Conan – "Kid Killer, let's hope your usual magic hasn't worn off," while Nakamori looked annoyed.

"Mouri isn't here, is he?" Nakamori said, pivoting his head back and forth.

"No, Ojisan drove Sonoko-neechan and Ran-neechan off to a Jeet Kune Do tournament. Sera-neechan is competing today."

That assuaged Nakamori's irritation.

Conan stifled a grin. Mouri could be useless, but Conan almost missed his terrible deductions. Sometimes it helped to rule out Mouri's guesses—so Conan knew, conclusively, what the solution wouldn't be.

"All right!" Nakamori exclaimed to one of his men. "Kid will be coming at 27:07:04! Or, 3:07:04 AM! He was trying to be tricky by counting time past the 24 hour mark, but I've seen bar signs with that notation and I'm not fooled."

Never mind, Conan thought. Nakamori's deductions were nonsense enough.

Kid wasn't the sort of person who would announce heists by the second. And Nakamori left out the XX part, which seemed important.

Conan went over to the jewel case. Maybe it would hold a clue to cracking the code.

He read the sign. The Pine Peridot, a dark green stone formed from igneous rock. That explained why Jirokichi was displaying the gem at an island particularly renowned for volcano tourism.

There was a cat's eye, an asterism, on the surface of the gem. A marked cross-like symbol—come to think of it, Kid's note had the word holy in it.

"Sometimes when I formulate deductions, I hope I'm not getting too far ahead of myself," Hakuba said, and Conan tilted his head up to look at the other detective, who was standing beside him. "But then I remind myself: It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination the mother of truth?"

"The Valley of Fear," Conan identified automatically.

"Indeed," Hakuba said. "Have you solved Kid's note, as well?"

Conan tapped something out on his phone. A quick search for confirmation. Then he said, "I have."

But it's not enough to stop me, tantei-kun.

He's here, Conan thought, his senses prickling. He's been in the hotel for a while. But who-?

The kids sat in the front of The Blue Dolphin Hotel on a patch of grass, diligently painting their gas masks. They had borrowed paints from a police officer in the Kid taskforce, who was an aspiring artist on the side.

Mitsuhiko faithfully painted his mask blue and yellow, after Kamen Yaiba, while Ayumi painted hers pink. Genta had his eyes screwed up in concentration while he applied green stripes on his.

"Looks fun," said a voice. "You're not painting yours, Conan-kun?"

"Of course not," Conan said. He was rereading The Valley of Fear, spurred by Hakuba's quotation. (Bringing Holmes novels with him may or may not be a travel habit that Shinichi never could let go of, even as Conan.) "Watercolor paints will fade from the masks in due time, and anyway, I don't see much of a point—Amuro-san?!"

What the hell was he doing here? It was Amuro Tooru—Bourbon—in the flesh. Phone nestled between the pages of his book, Conan typed out a frantic HIDE IN ROOM NOW text to Haibara, who had gone inside to fetch water for the kids to paint with.

Amuro was with the Japanese secret police, but that didn't mean he was completely trustworthy. The less people who knew that Miyano Shiho had shrunk and hadn't died at the Bell Tree Express, the better.

And, hopefully, Amuro didn't have anyone else from the organization with him. Conan remembered the last time, with Vermouth disguised as Azusa.

"What are you doing here, Amuro-no-niichan?" Conan asked as calmly as he could.

"I was in the area and heard Kaitou Kid had announced a heist," Amuro said. "I was wondering if Mouri-sensei was here. I've never seen him in action challenging a phantom thief!"

Oi, no, not the bullshit story, Conan thought. Although it made sense with the kids around and being out in the open.

"Ehh?" Genta said, setting aside his paintbrush. "You're the Oniisan from Poirot's. Are you here to help stop Kid, too?"

"That's right, you're a detective like Mouri-san," Mitsuhiko said.

"Last time, you saved us from those scary delivery guys!" Ayumi said.

Amuro waved his hand in a cheery dismissal. "Oh, that was a coincidence, remember? I'm not a Kamen Yaiba hero like you guys. Your masks look fantastic."

The kids beamed. Conan was unimpressed.

"Occhan isn't here," Conan said. He raised his gaze so he could meet Amuro's eyes levelly. "Is something wrong?"

Was Amuro's cover in danger again? Or was Amuro here because of his evident personal grudge against Akai? Conan hoped it wasn't the latter; they had managed to work together fairly well during the Curacao incident, and later, when Amuro seemed to notice that Akai was Subaru, he hadn't exposed the fact to Vermouth.

The corners of Amuro's mouth upturned slightly. "Hmm, it's nothing particularly urgent. Why don't you show me around the hotel, Conan-kun?"

"Right," Conan said, realizing Amuro wanted to talk to him privately. "I'll show Amuro-niisan the Pine Peridot while you finish with your masks."

"I wonder what's taking Ai-chan so long," Ayumi wondered out loud, and at that, Conan quickly tugged at Amuro's sleeves and pulled him into the lobby of the Blue Dolphin Hotel.

"What's the matter?" Conan said in a low voice. He clambered up on one of the plush armchairs and sat down with his arms folded, while Amuro took a seat beside him.

"Murderers, secret agents, and now thieves," Amuro said, as if Conan hadn't asked anything. "You always seem to encounter numerous shady characters, don't you, boy?"

You count as one of those shady characters in question, Conan commented to himself.

"It's nothing much," he said to Amuro. "Kid isn't that much of a shady character. He's more like a public nuisance."

The same old story. The guy acting flashy, Conan chasing after him, and the retrieval of the jewel. Conan never could understand why Kid went through all that trouble. He couldn't possibly be that attention-hungry, could he?

"Zero-no-niichan," Conan said. "If this is important, you should tell me what's going on."

"The fact of the matter is," Amuro said, "I don't know."

What?

"I was sent here to observe and monitor another mission that's supposed to be carried out in this hotel," Amuro said quietly. "It seems That Person is testing someone or some people within the organization. I wasn't told the details."

"Why weren't you told anything?"

"There are three possible options," Amuro said. He held up his fingers. "One, I'm still suspected to be a traitor and this is actually a test for me. Two, they know I'm a traitor and they're luring me into a trap. Similarly, this trap could be for 'Subaru-san.' Or, three…"

In the lobby, someone recognized Amuro Tooru and did a double-take.

Shit, that guy.

[London, eight years ago]

"Have I heard of Kaitou 1412?"

"Yes, that thief," Akai said. He was standing in a red telephone booth, using the public phone. "I saw his name in the newspaper the other day."

"Jeez, Shu-nii, you're in the FBI and you don't even know that much about a famous thief. He's usually called Kaitou Kid."

It was Masumi on the other end, her voice that usual deep cadence. It had been several years since Akai had seen her. She was eight years old.

"Thieves aren't my forte," Akai said. "You're living in Japan. This thief is rumored to come from Japan. What's your impression, as a local?"

He knew he could get information from other sources, but he found himself wanting to get his sister's perspective. It was mostly an excuse to talk to her. He couldn't tell her about his FBI investigations, but this subject was innocent and harmless enough.

Besides, it would help hone her detective skills. That kid was almost too much like him (and in his head, Shuichi heard his mother accusing him of being too much like his father). He hoped Masumi wouldn't go as far as to join the Bureau, but it made him proud.

Anyways, as much as Shuichi loved Shukichi, he had more in common with Masumi than his shogi-obsessed brother.

"A lot of my classmates think Kid is cool," Masumi said, after a thoughtful pause. "But of course he isn't, since he's a thief. What's weird is that I was reading about American criminal law the other day—"

Akai thought, she was really something. A kid who learned Jeet Kune Do and read Sherlock Holmes just because she idolized an older brother she rarely saw.

"—and I remember those three principles that are supposed to build up a case. Means, motive, opportunity." Masumi said the terms in English, British accent still intact. "I know this might sound silly."

"No, of course not," Akai reassured her. "It's a logical conclusion."

"Right?" she said brightly, encouraged. "Where's his motive, Shu-nii? Why keep returning valuable gems? Remember in that one story-Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is."

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle.

"Right on the mark," he said, fiddling with the pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket. "It's a mystery. Masumi, I have a quiz for you."

"A quiz?"

"Let's say we have a museum with three floors. It has lax security, compared to other museums, because it usually houses mannequins, old furniture, and a gift shop. It's very crowded during the day, a queue stretching out of the door. The thief wants to take a new exhibit. A police squad, which specializes in fast response to armed robberies, wants to stop him. What would be the best opportunity for the thief?"

"Oh," she said. "He would…"

[Miyakejima, Japan, present day]

"I can't believe Ai-chan got sick and can't come down for dinner," Ayumi said forlornly. "I wanted to show her my mask. I hope her cold goes away soon."

"We should bring food up to her to make her feel better," Genta declared.

"That's actually a good idea, Genta-kun!" Mitsuhiko said. "Maybe we can give Haibara-san a souvenir from the hotel gift shop!"

What else could she do? Conan thought, picking at the tempura on his plate. She couldn't exactly freely roam the hotel with Amuro and other potential Black Organization members around.

But Haibara had told Conan during a brief phone call: earlier today and yesterday, she hadn't sensed anyone in the Blue Dolphin Hotel who could be Black Org.

Maybe they weren't in hotel yet? It seemed like it was just Bourbon for the moment.

Conan mussed his hair in frustration. At least he'd been able to call Akai and inform him of the situation. Subaru was conspicuously absent from the dining hall.

"The servant part mentioned in his letter may mean Kid is disguised as a maid or a waiter," Nakamori was saying from the table next over.

Oh yeah, Conan thought. In his concern over the Black Organization, he had almost forgotten about the heist. This whole situation was bad timing all around.

"But didn't his letter say that he wasn't a servant?" Jirokichi pointed out.

"Maybe it's a double bluff of some kind," Nakamori groused. "Adviser Suzuki, weren't you going to introduce me to your companions?" He nodded his head to the three other people sitting at the table.

"Of course," Jirokichi said, stroking his mustache. "On my right is the Blue Dolphin hotel manager Tominaga Takashi—" a thin elderly man wearing glasses – "Shiraki Victoria, the gem dealer who helped me acquire the Pine Peridot" –a refined, foreign-looking woman with tawny brown eyes – "and Higa Moriko, Shiraki-san's assistant." An unassuming woman with short-cropped hair.

Nakamori glared at them. "Are you sure they're not Kid in disguise? Let me check."

He started to swoop down at Tominaga, his hand snapping out. The man flinched at the encroaching fingers in his face.

"Now, now, you can't treat my guests that way," Jirokichi admonished sharply. "Settle down, Nakamori-keibu. Going by your deduction, the heist won't happen until three in the morning."

Nakamori muttered something and withdrew his hand.

Conan looked at the strangers curiously.

"Conan-kun," Ayumi said in a whisper, "do you think those three really could be Kaitou Kid-san?"

Mitsuhiko pulled out his Shounen Tantei notebook. "That woman's name is Shiraki Victoria. She has white in her name like Kid's letter indicated."

Conan nodded. "And there's her English name 'Victoria.' It can be shortened to many things: Vicky, Vic, Vita, Tora…" He dangled the hint for the kids.

"Tori!" said Ayumi, Genta, and Mitsuhiko.

"White bird," Conan said. "But it could be an unlucky coincidence, because I was able to link 'white bird' in Kid's note to something else. The other two are no less suspicious."

He said: "That old man hotel manager has his phone peeking out of his left pocket. But he's using his chopsticks with his right hand. Right-handed people often keep their phones in their right pocket to hold it up to their right ear, since handedness often corresponds that way. But he could just be ambidextrous. And handedness doesn't always correspond to which ear you hold your phone up to.

"So he might be Kid wearing a stolen suit with the phone, or he might not.

"And that assistant woman is suspicious, too. She's looking around warily, like she's expecting something to go wrong any minute."

"Why would Kaitou Kid be nervous?" Mitsuhiko said.

"Yeah, Conan, that doesn't sound like Kid," Genta said.

Conan shrugged. It was possible Kid might have seen Amuro and gotten spooked. Considering the circumstances when they had last met.

Speaking of Amuro, Conan saw him at the table nearby, chatting breezily to Professor Agasa about the pastries served at Café Poirot. Catching Conan staring, Amuro offered him a flicker of a smile.

What a carefree guy, like always, Conan thought. Well, this was the same person who easily gave his ham sandwich recipe to someone who had literally been stalking him for it.

At 8:00 PM, there was a shrieking scream of an alarm.

"That's," Jirokichi said, who was sitting at the hotel bar with Nakamori and the gem dealer Shiraki, "that's-!"

"The sulfur dioxide alarm," Nakamori said, pale. "We should put on our gas masks now."

They did so—Nakamori took a mask out of his pocket, Shiraki fetched one out of her purse, and Jirokichi fumbled for the disposable one that he had tucked into his jacket.

Outside the window, it looked like mist swirled in the air. It crept toward the hotel, through window cracks and door cracks…

The alarm continued to shriek like the high-pitched caterwauling of an agitated creature.

On the last floor of the Blue Dolphin Hotel, Conan grinned, his hands in his pockets. He wasn't wearing his gas mask.

The mist was the strongest here, thick and heavy in the room.

"Aren't you being too over the top?" Conan said into the fog. "It really isn't this dramatic when there's an alert about the air toxicity levels."

"Sharp as always, tantei-kun," said a familiar voice, several paces away. "I knew you figured it out. But hmm, I don't think tourists and island newcomers like Nakamori-keibu would realize that as quickly. I predict there's something of a minor panic going on throughout this hotel."

"Of course," Conan said. "You installed fog machines around the Blue Dolphin, and you set up a stereo speaker to broadcast the sound of the alarm. It's obvious that it's a speaker—you can tell that the origin of it is somewhere inside the hotel. If it was Miyakejima's usual alarm, it would be fainter."

The sound of clapping hands. "Very good."

"It was all there in your notice," Conan said, reaching down to switch on his power-enhancing kick shoes.

"The Ciao hint wasn't only about 'XX' being the Roman numeral for twenty. It was also a hint to the masquerade you were referring to. You were talking about Venice carnival masks.

"The servant—a moretta mask; the ghost—a volto mask; the joker—a Harlequin mask. The white bird is the mask of the plague doctor, arguably a precursor to gas masks. So, you were saying that you planned to cause a stir that involved gas masks.

"And 27-7-4-XX was about the time you'd be here, although Nakamori-keibu got it wrong. Hearing that quote from The Valley of Fear got me on the right track—27-7-4 was a book cipher, like the one used in the novel.

"The question was, what book? But you'd given a hint for that, too. 'Holy.' The fact that the Pine Peridot has a cross on it. The Bible.

"The 27th book of the Bible, the seventh chapter, the fourth verse, is about a winged lion. The winged lion is the symbol of St. Mark, and there is a famous clock tower in Venice's St. Mark Square that keeps time using Roman numerals with the 24-hour system. XX—20:00—8 PM."

"Bingo," Kid said, and Conan whirled around. His voice had come from behind him. Was he throwing around his voice with ventriloquism?

Kid said, from yet another direction: "We first informally met at a clock tower, didn't we?"

Conan blinked. "That was you? That time with the helicopter?"

"And I won that time," Kid crowed, and Conan rolled his eyes. "Even though you shot at me, you know. There's always so much violence around you. I saw that scary guy from the train here at the hotel."

Kid's voice was playful, but Conan detected the undercurrent of his unease.

Conan sighed. "It's a long story and not relevant right now, Kid."

He ejected the soccer ball from his belt, yet then he noticed something in the dim light. Cloaked in mist, there was someone pointing a gun.

A flash of light.

On instinct, Conan moved-

[London, eight years ago]

There was a white cloaked man standing on the rooftop of the Sherlock Holmes Museum. He held a blue gem to the moonlight.

Then he realized, with a start, that he wasn't alone.

A lone figure stood behind him, shrouded in shadows.

"Kudou-san?" said the man in white. "I thought you were in New York for your book release. Did you hop on the latest plane to challenge me?"

Japanese, Akai thought. The international thief was Japanese after all.

"I'm not who you were waiting for, unfortunately," Akai said, responding in the same language and stepping out of the shadows. "Akai Shuichi. FBI. Or rather, an avid Holmes fan."

"Ah," the thief said. "A new player, then. Shouldn't you be in America, FBI Agent-san?"

"I was in town for an unrelated case and thought I wanted to have a look at the thief who declared his intentions to break into 221B Baker Street. Thieves like you aren't my usual prey, you see…it isn't the same. I think I've satisfied my curiosity."

Akai stretched out his hand. "Are you willing to return that trinket?"

The jewel arced through the air, shimmering in the moonlight, and Akai caught it and pocketed it.

"You say that thieves aren't your prey," Kid said mildly, "but you were waiting here for me. How did you know?"

A smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Akai relayed Masumi's deduction, remembering his conversation with her on the phone.

"He would use that common old method of staying in the museum until closing hours," she told him. "It's easy to slip into busy crowds unnoticed when the museum's open. He could hide behind a curtain—under a bed—inside a janitor's closet-or dress up as a mannequin, if the thief you're talking about is Kaitou Kid.

"So he'll hide during the day, sneak out during the night. Since the museum doesn't have an advanced security system, he doesn't have to worry about tripping complicated alarms or motion sensors.

"That police special squad is probably used to fighting bad guys with guns at banks. They're guarding the windows and doors—they think he'll try to force his way from the outside, when he's actually inside.

"The thief will take what he's aiming for. Then he'll go up to the roof to escape."

A patter of applause from Kid. "You have a precocious little sister," he said. "It reminds me of someone very dear to me, who learns magic like breathing. Your sister was perfectly correct, down to the mannequin disguise." He parted his white suit briefly, revealing inverse fabric.

"Yes," Akai agreed. He wished he could have seen her in action, snaggletoothed smile and flashing green eyes. "She'll grow up to be a brilliant detective. Perhaps she'll catch you one day."

Akai fixed his eyes on the white clad thief standing at the edge of the roof, his hat tipped over his head, his cape rippling behind him.

"You know," he said, "Masumi is very intuitive. She didn't know you wanted to steal a carbuncle, but she recited lines from the Holmes story nevertheless: Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is.

"From that quote, I recalled the next line: They are the devil's pet baits."

A cool night breeze rose and fell, sweeping up Akai's long dark hair.

He said, "Are you baiting the devil, Kaitou-san?"