The Brazen Shark

by David Lee Summers

  Chapter Four

  Courtrooms and Jail Cells

  Shinriki and Resak traveled overland to the point where the Kamenka River exited the mountains. Scrub brush and rolling countryside made for a slow hike, but two men on foot found the path more direct than following the Poronay River.

  The bandits’ trail had not been easy to follow when fresh. Shinriki and Resak found numerous false leads, but the path of twenty mounted bandits did not soon vanish in autumn when new growth slowed. Resak pointed out places where people on horseback had sheered low-lying branches and the animals grazed.

  The Ainu followed the river along a ridge line until they came to a clearing. There, they found a timber structure. “Did the Russians build this as a hunting lodge?” asked Resak.

  Shinriki shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He pointed to the woods beyond and several fresh stumps. Around the building itself, the ground had been trampled and there were several fire rings, indicating many people had inhabited the area.

  Despite that, no one stood guard. No smoke wafted upward from the lodge’s roof. Shinriki’s heart sank realizing whoever occupied this place abandoned it. They had further to go to find Ipokash.

  As they approached, horses neighed. They crept around the cabin and found a makeshift corral which held the village’s horses.

  “The bandits left our horses behind?” asked Resak incredulous.

  “Take heart, we can take them back. That is something.” Horses walked up and nickered when the men approached. Shinriki’s stomach burned. Although pleased at finding the camp and knowing the samurai had been here, the horses’ abandonment angered him. It turned their theft into a waste. A water trough occupied one end of the corral and bundles of hay, no doubt stolen from the Russians, had been broken open. Shinriki guessed the horses had just enough food and water for two or three weeks. Perhaps the samurai intended to return.

  Shinriki turned to the lodge and scraped at the dried mud between the logs. He pulled out several pine needles, still green. “This was built recently and quickly.”

  They passed through the door, covered by a tattered cloth. Inside, they found more evidence of recent habitation. A Poronaysk newspaper sat atop a low table in the room’s center. Shinriki did not read well, but he did not need to in order to recognize the woodcut of an airship on the front page.

  Resak shrugged. “Why have the bandits abandoned their camp?”

  “It’s because they found a new place to call home,” said Shinriki.

  “But where?”

  Shinriki pointed at the airship illustration.

  Resak snorted. “How can samurai bandits hope to capture an airship?”

  “It would take stealth and cunning. They could use help from a Russian speaker.” Shinriki ground his teeth and thought of Ipokash. They might guess she spoke Russian from where she lived. When she shouted in Japanese, they recognized her as a suitable translator.

  “Is that even possible?” Resak’s eyebrows came together as he considered the possibilities.

  “A week ago, I would not have believed a ship of the air was possible,” said Shinriki. “What concerns me more is where do the bandits plan to take the ship, and is there any chance the Poronaysk City Council will even believe our warning?”

  Resak sighed, uncertain how to answer.

  Shinriki patted his cousin on the shoulder. He folded up the newspaper and took it with him, then went outside. Searching the area, they found a foot path leading toward Poronaysk, confirming Shinriki’s suspicions. He returned to the corral and released the horses.

  * * *

  Masuda Hoshi, a samurai who had left Japan to farm chiles near Las Cruces in the New Mexico Territory, sat next to his friend, Professor M.K. Maravilla, in the Mesilla Federal Courthouse’s gallery. Hoshi’s farmhand, Billy McCarty, stood trial along with Luther Duncan a reporter for the Mesilla News.

  “All rise for the Honorable Judge Warren Bristol,” called the bailiff.

  Everyone stood as a balding man with thick salt-and-pepper whiskers entered from a door behind the bench. “Be seated.” The judge’s robes swished as he sat, then he shuffled a few papers before lifting one. “William Henry McCarty and Luther Fennimore Duncan, you are each charged with escaping from lawful Federal confinement at the Presidio in San Francisco on or about August 20, 1877. William Henry McCarty is further charged with aiding and abetting enemies of the United States of America on or about August 21, 1877. How do you plead?”

  The Mesilla News, Hoshi, Maravilla, and even Colonel Wilberforce Johnson who commanded Fort Bliss had pooled money to hire the area’s most noted attorney, a former Texas state senator named Albert Jennings Fountain, to defend Billy and Luther.

  He’d settled in Mesilla five years earlier. Even though he owned a rival newspaper called the Mesilla Independent, Fountain had a special interest in the case. He stood ramrod straight and his thick, bushy mustache seemed at odds with his well-groomed black hair. “My clients plead not guilty, Your Honor.”

  Judge Bristol made notes then asked the attorney for the United States to make his opening statement.

  The portly and affable Thomas B. Catron commanded the room’s attention when he stood. “On August 19, 1877, several witnesses in San Jose, California, heard Mr. McCarty, Mr. Duncan, and two associates discussing plans to bypass the United States Army force in San Francisco and meet with the Russian force in Sausalito. When army representatives went to question these people, they were met with weapons drawn.” He paused and cast a disappointed glare at Luther and Billy. “They were taken into custody for questioning. That night, they escaped custody. Mr. McCarty stole a boat and crossed San Francisco Bay to the Russian side.”

  Catron did not mention Ramon or Fatemeh Morales by name, even though the trip to Sausalito was their idea. Fatemeh believed the creature called Legion controlled the Russians and pressed the invasion, but didn’t think the army would believe her if she told them. Hoshi didn’t blame her. He wasn’t entirely sure if he believed in this Legion.

  Billy and Ramon found the Russians in Sausalito as expected. Soon after, Ramon and the Russian colonel went into some form of trance. According to Billy, that’s when Ramon spoke to Legion and convinced him to leave humans alone.

  “Soldiers shot Mr. Duncan and remanded him to the Presidio hospital.” Luther winced at Catron’s words, reminded of the memory. Billy flashed a reassuring smile. The two hoped evidence from their trial would exonerate Ramon and Fatemeh. Even if Billy and Luther went to jail, perhaps Captain Cisneros could help the newlyweds find a good home outside the country.

  Catron continued in his Southern drawl—surprising in a Republican appointee. “Army records make it clear that Luther Duncan and William McCarty escaped lawful imprisonment. Testimony at the time makes it equally clear they intended to cross into Russian held territory. Witnesses saw Mr. McCarty unlawfully obtain a boat from the Army’s pier at the Presidio and row it toward enemy lines.”

  At the desk next to Catron sat the first woman appointed as a United States Marshal, Larissa Seaton. She frowned and made notes as the attorney spoke. She was Billy and Luther’s friend, but she had brought them in to face charges.

  “There can be no doubt their whole expedition’s purpose was to betray the citizens of the United States.” Catron looked from the jury to the judge. “Thank you, Your Honor.” With that, the portly man squeezed into his chair.

  Albert Fountain stood to make his opening statement. “Your Honor, Gentlemen of the Jury, my clients had one important reason for crossing San Francisco Bay: to observe Russian forces. My client, Mr. Luther Duncan, was exercising his duty as a reporter to present information to this country’s people about the invaders’ actions. The arrest of Mr. Duncan and his colleagues is a clear violation of his first amendment rights.”

  Fountain might own a newspaper that competed with Duncan’s, but he believed in the fellow newspaperman’s cause. Besides, the trial would increase both papers’ sales and Fountain h
ad no argument with that.

  As the defense attorney continued, Maravilla gasped, drawing several people’s attention including Hoshi’s. The professor flashed a nervous smile and waved off their concern. All except Hoshi returned their attention to Fountain’s opening statement. Maravilla covered his face with his hands. When the professor looked up, a single tear streaked down his face. He excused himself and left the courtroom.

  Hoshi didn’t think the attorney’s statements would account for such a reaction and he worried his friend had fallen ill. Even so, he waited until Fountain finished his presentation and the judge called for a recess.

  Hoshi stepped into the courthouse atrium, but Maravilla had vanished. The samurai continued outside where summer warmth lingered into early autumn. The professor sat on steps leading up to the town square’s bandstand, whispering to himself.

  Hoshi stood in front of Maravilla for almost a full minute before the professor looked up. “It’s Legion,” he said. “The being from the stars. He’s returned.”

  Hoshi frowned. Maravilla hadn’t mentioned Legion for nearly a week.

  “Legion wonders if you know a samurai named Imagawa Masako,” said the professor.

  Hoshi’s mouth dropped open and he reached out to the bandstand to support himself. “I saw Imagawa Masako fall in battle with the emperor’s troops. She was formidable. Her death convinced me the battle against the Meiji Emperor’s army was futile and my choices were leave Japan or die.”

  “Apparently Imagawa is still alive.” Maravilla spoke in hushed tones, uncertain how this news would affect his friend. “She hijacked a Russian airship on Sakhalin Island.”

  “Sakhalin?” Hoshi’s brow creased. “I presume you mean Karafuto Island, north of Hokkaido.”

  “I’m not familiar with the geography, but Legion confirms the island is indeed north of Hokkaido and east of the Russian mainland.” Maravilla stood and faced his friend. “Legion admits he should not have meddled in human affairs, but he’s concerned this could complicate matters. Do you have any idea what Miss Imagawa would want with an airship?”

  “What she wants is the Meiji Emperor’s downfall and the shogun restored. She lost money, power, and a manor house. Most samurai willing to surrender can make new lives, but in this new order, as a woman, Imagawa has nothing.”

  “What will she do with the airship?” pressed Maravilla. “Legion wonders if she’s turned to piracy.”

  Hoshi shook his head. “Imagawa would not stoop to life as a simple thief. She understands taking an airship is an act of war. She has something bigger in mind.”

  “Would she attack Tokyo?”

  Hoshi closed his eyes. “I don’t know. The Imagawa I knew wouldn’t take life without a good reason. She would attack only when it suited her objective, taking as few lives as she needed.”

  A woman’s voice interrupted. “I wondered where you two got off to.”

  Maravilla and Hoshi looked up to see Larissa Seaton staring at them. She wore a green cap and jacket, and stood with her fist on her hip. “The trial is about to resume. I thought Mr. Fountain made a good case for Billy and Luther.”

  “We’ll be in soon. We just have some business to attend to,” said Maravilla.

  “At the bandstand?” asked Larissa.

  “It allows me to observe the weather,” said Hoshi. “I may have to leave early to attend to the harvest.”

  Larissa glanced toward the courthouse. “You don’t think the trial will be finished in time for Billy to help?”

  “Chile peppers do not care for the affairs of men. They will be ready when they’re ready.”

  Larissa shrugged, then waved and returned to the trial.

  * * *

  The villagers cheered when Shinriki and Resak returned with the horses. Despite the warm welcome, Shinriki’s heart sank when he looked across the river. The airship was already gone. Could the soldiers at Poronaysk even track the stolen vessel? He hoped the theft would cause the mayor to pay more attention to his request. What’s more, they found Russian army brands on several horses in the samurai corral.

  Although bone weary, Shinriki dressed in his finest robes and combed out his beard, knowing such simple things could impress the Russians and sway their opinion. He rowed across the river and went straight to city hall.

  He walked to the mayor’s office and encountered the same secretary he had before. “May I speak to the mayor?”

  “I’m afraid he’s in a meeting with the city council,” said the secretary.

  Assuming the council met to discuss the ship’s theft, Shinriki grunted. “I have evidence the mayor needs to see.”

  The secretary narrowed his gaze, as he decided whether or not an Ainu could be allowed into such a meeting and uncertain what ‘evidence’ he may have to present. After a moment, the secretary shrugged. “This way.”

  He led Shinriki down the hall to a pair of double doors. “There will be an opportunity at the end of the meeting for public comment. Please do not speak until the mayor calls for such comment and only when he calls on you.”

  “I understand.” The simplistic explanation irritated Shinriki, but he tolerated it because otherwise he might be escorted out before he spoke.

  Shinriki entered the chamber. Inside, eight men sat at a long table with the mayor at one end. Businessmen in fine suits occupied two of the chairs lining the walls. Shinriki took an empty seat and listened to the self-congratulatory banter. Pleased by Mendeleev’s visit, the men expected good things to happen in their city. They seemed unaware of the airship’s theft. Instead, they listed items they needed to request from the government, then asked for comments from the businessmen in attendance.

  Shinriki cleared his throat but the men ignored him.

  One businessman stood up. “If we are to operate as a hydrogen station for airships, we need to clarify our status. Are we a private facility or a military facility? If we’re a private facility, we should expect payment each time an airship docks or anytime we ship hydrogen elsewhere. If we’re a military facility, I would expect the military to take over operation and pay me for building the facility.”

  “We will forward your concern to St. Petersburg, Mr. Abramovich,” said the mayor.

  Shinriki held up his hand. The mayor ignored him again and spoke to the other businessman in attendance. Once their business concluded, the mayor turned his attention to Shinriki. “May we help you?”

  “I came to you when rogue bandits from Japan attacked my village.” He retrieved the newspaper clipping from within the robe’s folds. “These bandits… I believe they stole your airship.” He slapped the article on the table.

  The men looked at him and blinked. After a moment, they all laughed.

  “The airship’s sudden departure surprised us,” declared a man in uniform, “but there’s no evidence of theft.”

  Shinriki’s hands clenched and unclenched. “The czar protects the Ainu, does he not? My wife is missing and the bandits are still free. They have your airship. We found their hideout along with our horses and some of yours.”

  The man in uniform turned serious. “I will send someone across the river to investigate.”

  The mayor shook his head. “You don’t believe this report, do you, Major Lopatin?”

  “Horse thievery is serious business.” The major clicked his heels together, then bowed at the waist. He whirled and left the office, ignoring the newspaper clipping on the table. The other men followed the major. Shinriki wanted to run after them, but knew it would do no good. He grabbed the clipping and stormed out of the building.

  * * *

  Fatemeh rolled over in bed and reached out for Ramon, but found a cold spot where he should be. She sat up and blinked at the daylight streaming in through the cabin windows. A coffee carafe stood on a stand near the bed. She reached over and poured herself a cup. Although cold, it helped her wake up enough to rise and dress.

  Walking through the ship’s corridor, several crewman’s eyes followed her.
Worrisome as Ramon’s absence was, it reminded her what she loved about the former lawman. He loved her for who she was, not as someone who would keep house for him. They were partners in their adventures through life.

  When she had turned thirteen, her parents had arranged a marriage with a merchant from Shiraz. She had been certain the merchant would want the betrothal annulled when she converted to the Bahá’í Faith. Instead, the merchant said it wouldn’t matter. He said Fatemeh would learn the error of her ways once they had been married for a time and would renounce her new beliefs.

  Soon after, her best friend wrote a poem about Fatemeh and how no woman should be subject to a man’s will. A mob strangled her friend, then pushed her down an abandoned well and heaped stones upon her. Fatemeh stopped, closed her eyes, and steadied her breath. She’d run away from Persia, believing herself responsible for her friend’s death.

  For the first time in the last year, she wondered about Hamid, the merchant her parents betrothed her to. She wondered if he had married another in her place. She assumed Hamid would be indifferent to her departure, only his pride hurt.

  Fatemeh shook her head and continued on to the deck where Ramon paced along the ship’s railing. “You’re up early,” she said.

  Ramon looked up, his face haggard and drawn. “Legion is back. He tells me samurai warriors have stolen a Russian airship.”

  “I thought Legion planned to let humans attend to their own affairs.”

  “He did, but he feared this could endanger the peace Russia and the United States are negotiating.”

  Fatemeh could see that. To her, the Russian invasion had been the symptom of an illness. The illness itself proved to be Legion’s interference in human affairs. Once Ramon had convinced Legion to stop interfering, she paid little attention to the treaty negotiations. To her, the negotiations themselves demonstrated a healthy relationship. Last she knew, the Russians had left California and Oregon. Although disputed territory, there seemed a good chance Russia would cede Washington back to America, if it could keep oil-rich Alaska.