Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

Chapter 896: Long-lost Vermouth

At the last moment when the front of the train was about to swallow the vehicle, Baijiu burst out with amazing brute force. He used all his strength to forcibly pull the entire steering column connected to the steering wheel and handcuffs off the base!

The explosive force at that moment was enough to overturn an adult yak with one hand.

He suddenly tightened his core, and his body was like a compressed spring, squeezing into the narrow gap next to him.

The train wheels and tracks made a sharp scream, and the scorching hurricane generated by the high-speed friction blew fiercely across his hair and cheeks.

Along with the loud noise of the vehicle being smashed, sparks flew from under the wheels, and the powerful airflow stirred violently in the tunnel, and then gradually subsided.

Baijiu calmly brushed off the dust and debris on his head and shoulders, and before the train even stopped completely, he stood up swiftly, quickened his pace, and walked towards the nearest exit.

For him, this level of danger is just another chapter in his career that is about to be turned over.

A moment later, a man covered in dust and stains appeared on the platform in the square with swift steps.

He casually held a round object similar to the outer ring of a steering wheel in his left hand and blended into the crowd on the street with a calm demeanor, his movements as natural as a blue-collar worker who had just finished work.

Even if there was an experienced agent observing at this moment, it would be hard to imagine that this seemingly dusty and ordinary man had just experienced an extreme escape that would be enough for an ordinary person to brag about for ten lifetimes.

Even if he told the truth, his listeners would only regard it as a fairy tale.

In the eyes of ordinary people, he is more like a worker who has just finished inspecting the underground pipeline, and has nothing to do with words like police chase and wanted criminal.

The soles of his shoes made a light "tapping" sound on the stone steps, and he walked calmly and leisurely.

When we arrived at the side of the road, the familiar sound of sirens came closer again.

Baijiu calmly turned around, exposing his back to the police convoy speeding past on the side street.

The policemen in the car were talking excitedly on walkie-talkies.

Baijiu roughly understood the content - it seemed that the top management was extremely dissatisfied with this action:

Nearly a thousand police officers were dispatched, but they couldn't even catch a man who was driving a car.

When his subordinates reported that they had lost the target, the officer even thought it was a bad joke and subconsciously wondered if today was his birthday.

Unfortunately, this is not a joke, but a cold and embarrassing reality.

The absurdity is like a hundred people entering a warehouse of less than 50 square meters to search for an elementary school student, but finally reporting that the "target is lost".

Baijiu turned his back to the convoy and waited quietly for a few seconds.

Then, an off-road vehicle slid to a stop behind him precisely. The familiar sound of brakes reached his ears, and an indescribable warmth quietly surged into Baijiu's heart.

The rear door opened silently inward.

Baijiu's face, which had always been calm, finally showed a slight, barely perceptible ripple.

"Liquor team leader!"

A very familiar voice, filled with urgency and relief, came from behind.

Baijiu turned around slowly.

Sure enough, it was Macallan.

He used his signature gesture, holding the car door open with both hands, his face filled with an irrepressible smile with two deep arcs.

"Hey, Baijiu," he said cheerfully, but couldn't hide the concern in his eyes, "What are you still standing there for?"

Baijiu stepped into the car in two steps and closed the door smoothly.

"squeak--"

The vehicle merged into the traffic flow without stopping for a moment and drove away from this dangerous place.

"Huh..." Baijiu leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

"Huh..." McAllen, who also sat in the back seat, sighed with relief.

In order to find the liquor, he and Lao Hei also spent a lot of effort. During the process, they not only had to avoid the dense network of police cars, but also had to constantly predict the areas where the liquor might appear.

Even at the height of the chase, McCarran felt frustrated and said to Black: "Black, I have a bad feeling. This is too much."

But Lao Hei remained calm, his mind working rapidly, while correcting his negative thoughts: "He must have a way. What we need to do now is to plan a route for him."

Baijiu simply adjusted his breathing, and his eyes met Lao Hei in the driver's seat through the rearview mirror above the front windshield.

Lao Hei said nothing, but just gently touched the brim of the hat with his rough palm. The action was simple, but it contained a tacit understanding and greeting that did not need to be expressed in words.

Then, Baijiu's attention was attracted by the figure in the passenger seat.

It's Belmode.

She turned her head with a sweet but complicated smile on her face, her eyes staring deeply at the liquor.

At that moment, Baijiu felt as if his heart was illuminated by a warm bonfire. The fatigue and tension of the past few days seemed to turn into light smoke and slowly dissipate.

Venice, a quiet journey under the cover of night.

Nearing evening, the four finally arrived at the water city of Venice.

Wearing a pair of sunglasses, McAllen stood straight with a rare serious expression as he skillfully drove a small speedboat through the winding river.

The afterglow of the setting sun stretched their shadows very long, reflecting on the sparkling water.

A solemn expression covered everyone's face. They could all feel that the task they were about to face was far more severe than before.

And Vermouth's gaze always lingered on Baijiu.

Her world seemed to be filled with liquor. Even though the task was heavy, it could not affect the concern deep in her heart.

It seems to be saying: Even though the world is cruel, I still love you.

The speedboat docked at a remote pier.

The four of them, each carrying their luggage, walked into the intricate and damp streets of Venice.

Baijiu led the way, and with the help of a fake identity, they came to a dilapidated courtyard and stayed temporarily.

The walls were covered in dark mold from years of moisture, and the air was filled with a stale smell.

As the night deepens, inside the guest room.

McCarron, holding his laptop in one hand, walked steadily into the living room that served as the temporary command center.

On the way to Venice, Baijiu encountered Grace at Abu Dhabi Airport and was chased by the police on the streets of Rome.

He also gave the team a detailed and objective report on the key information he had.

He also reported the detailed details about Grace to Vermouth separately.

Baijiu swore on his character that he had no intimate contact with Grace.

Vermouth didn't care about this. If the two of them had any ambiguous feelings for each other, there would be no need for them to continue tracking Grace.

"Okay, the situation is basically clear." McAllen placed the computer gently on the table.

His tone was calm, with the coolness that was unique to analyzing intelligence.

"We're certain Grace has half the key."

"Also, she will appear at the Duke's Mansion at midnight tonight."

As he spoke, he called up the information on the computer, and the screen showed a rendering of a magnificent building that combined classical style with modern elements.

"If that's her destination," McCarron's eyes swept across the screen, continuing his analysis to the gathered crowd, "then we can almost pinpoint who she's going to meet."

He hit the enter key, and a clear photo popped up - it was a woman wearing sunglasses, with a cold temperament, and a face that looked a bit like the singer G.E.M.

"The person hosting the party at the Duke's Mansion is an 'old acquaintance' of ours..."

McCarron said, crossing his arms unconsciously across his chest, a look of scrutiny in his eyes. "Alana Mitsoplis."

He paused and added the more widely known and more important title:

"That's the woman who calls herself the 'White Widow'."

"White Widow..." Baijiu half-closed his eyes and repeated the name in a low voice, with a complex and sharp light flashing in his eyes.