Conan: "..." Besides, Mr. Edward and Mr. George were definitely close—although they had disguised themselves as friends, the way they interacted in a crisis carried a hint of hierarchy, involuntarily reminding him of Gin and Vodka.
If this Mr. Edward really was a member of The Organization, then he was most likely an executive.
And now, Edward seemed to be getting targeted hard by "That Lord." There really was no shortage of infighting within that organization. Or did That Lord truly have other intentions toward the Black Organization, so not only had he concealed the shrunken Aptx 4869 test subject, but he also did not mind conveniently killing off a few other executives?
Conan's heart itched like it was being scratched by a cat. His overwhelming curiosity made him want to tear down the Curtain immediately and see what that mastermind behind the scenes was plotting. But right now, he could not even find where that Curtain was.
Conan sighed gloomily.
Unlike him, however, the others clearly were not so tangled up in this.
Suzuki Sonoko was still thinking about the plane. Looking at the pilot and co-pilot lying there like corpses, she belatedly realized, "Wait, Maki Juri died because she licked the poison that got on her finger, but how were these pilots poisoned? Did they lick Maki Juri's hand too?"
Remembering the bizarrely decadent scenes in the cockpit back then, Suzuki Sonoko felt as though she had seen a bunch of perverts and shuddered.
Conan came back to his senses and silently corrected the strange image in her mind. "How could that be! In public, even if they really wanted to, they definitely wouldn't lick a female celebrity's hand in front of their coworkers."
Suzuki Sonoko found that even stranger. "So they would lick it in private? That's