“Has Legion communicated with you?”
Fatemeh blinked back surprise. “I only spoke to Legion when he occupied General Gorloff’s mind. As far as I know, he’s never been in my mind at all. Why would you ask that?”
Ramon looked off toward the ocean. “This voyage to Japan, which is so near Sakhalin Island, seems a coincidence. I feel like we’re being manipulated somehow.”
“I haven’t been steered at all,” said Fatemeh. “I just thought Japan seemed more interesting than sitting around for three weeks on a British plantation in Hawaii.”
Ramon smiled at that.
“Maybe we should speak to Captain Cisneros,” suggested Fatemeh. “After all, he’s had more experience with Legion than we have.”
“He did offer to show me around the bridge today.” Ramon reached out and took Fatemeh’s hand. “The question is, how much do you trust him? He was a pirate after all.”
“He came to our aid when we needed it most.” She sighed, wishing there had always been someone to come to the rescue. She remembered the angry look on her father’s face when her friend had died. He’d said she deserved her fate. At one time, Fatemeh loved her father more than any other man, but he’d betrayed that trust. Even now, thousands of miles away, that betrayal hurt.
Ramon and Fatemeh found the officers hard at work on the ship’s bridge, but no sign of the captain. The first mate, Mr. Gonzalez, lowered his binoculars. “May I help you?”
“Captain Cisneros offered a tour of the bridge, today.”
“The captain’s down in the lab. Shall I lead the way?” Gonzalez handed the binoculars to a junior officer.
“Please.” Ramon and Fatemeh spoke as one. Gonzalez led them back out on deck and through a hatch. They walked along an inner corridor until they came to a cabin in the ship’s bow. When Gonzalez opened the door, a fearsome stench assaulted them. Captain Cisneros wore goggles and poured contents from one flask into another. The liquid within turned a bright green. He set the flasks down and lifted the goggles.
“Pleased to see you!”
“We came to take the tour,” said Ramon. “It seems there’s more to this ship than we imagined.”
Cisneros laughed and Gonzalez took his leave. “This is where I can make the chemical reaction fuel rods for the Ballena and Calamar. I have a limited supply of raw materials aboard, but this lab extends both vessels’ ranges.” He took a moment to secure the glasswork then turned again. “Are you ready for the tour?”
“We haven’t had breakfast yet,” said Fatemeh. “We hoped you could join us.”
“Most kind.” The captain smiled, but shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ve got too much to do this morning.”
“Legion contacted me last night.” Ramon whispered the words in case others nearby could hear. “He says samurai have stolen an airship.”
The captain’s smile vanished. “This place does rather smell. I think I could use some refreshment after all.” He walked over to a speaking tube and blew into it. He asked the steward to set out breakfast, then led the way to the crew cabins at the ship’s stern. “I thought Legion vanished for good. I never hoped to hear from him again.”
“Is that true?” asked Fatemeh. “Why are we going to Japan? Did Legion tell you to?”
“Not at all.” Cisneros frowned. “As I explained, Sir Elias has clients who want to consult with me on some designs. I can say nothing more without betraying confidences.”
They reached the captain’s cabin, where they found the table set and fresh coffee waiting. The captain offered them each a cup.
Both Ramon and Fatemeh accepted. Ramon took a sip. “As I understand, Legion can adjust the chemicals in people’s brains to help them work better, solve problems, even move faster and with more precision. Could Legion influence a person without them knowing?”
Cisneros paused, his own cup halfway to his mouth. “I’d never considered that. When Legion… occupied my mind, I heard an incessant chatter as some components spoke to others. It’s hard to imagine him being there and not hearing him.”
“Legion is a swarm,” said Ramon. “What if only one or two components resided in your brain?”
“Would one or two be sufficient to influence a person?” Cisneros sipped his coffee. “I don’t know.” He lowered the cup. “This news is quite troubling. The emperor outlawed samurai and a few outlaws in an airship could cause big trouble. What is Legion doing?”
“Legion is watching and relaying information to me and to Professor Maravilla,” said Ramon.
Cisneros winced as though hurt. “Why Maravilla?”
“Because his friend Masuda Hoshi used to know the samurai who stole the airship. Her name is Imagawa Masako.”
Fatemeh leaned forward. “Her name. The samurai who stole the airship is a woman?” She lifted her eyebrows. “She used to be a friend of Hoshi’s?”
Ramon nodded.
Fatemeh sat back and folded her hands, seeing new dimensions to the current dilemma. Had Imagawa hurt and betrayed Hoshi? If so, it could be a factor in the coming days.
* * *
Shinriki awoke to a boot nudging him in the shoulder. He opened sleep-crusted eyes to see a Russian soldier hovering over him in the morning light. The soldier reached down, grabbed Shinriki and hefted him upright. “Come with us,” he growled.
“What for?” croaked Shinriki.
“I don’t need to answer questions from horse thieves.” The guard shoved Shinriki through the door.
The villagers stood outside their huts, watching the soldiers and looking from one to the other. Soldiers collected the horses with army brands and led them toward a barge. “I found the horses in the mountains yesterday,” explained Shinriki. “I already told your commander.”
“All my commander told me was to investigate a horse theft. It seems I found evidence of one. We’ll let the magistrate sort this out.”
The soldier shoved Shinriki along behind the horses. He wanted to argue about the clear misunderstanding, but the looks on the soldiers’ faces convinced him otherwise. He hoped the magistrate would prove more rational. Resak peeked around his hut’s cloth doorway. Shinriki shook his head. Resak ducked back inside, not attracting the soldiers’ notice.
The Russians took Shinriki across the river to Poronaysk and led him through the streets. He was grateful he had fallen asleep in his clothes and boots. Still, he wanted to bathe his face and clean the dirt from his hair.
The small procession passed in front of the city hall, then went down a side street. The soldier shoved Shinriki into a small building, then ordered him downstairs. In the basement, a guard took him to a cell and closed the door. The only light came from a small, open, but barred window high in the wall. A wooden bench served as the only place to either sit or lay down, unless one wanted to lay on the stone floor. A chamber pot held vigil in the corner. The room stank of urine and mildew.
“When will I see to the magistrate?” asked Shinriki.
“When he feels like it,” said the guard. A moment later, the upstairs door clanged shut.
Shinriki dropped onto the wooden bench, which bowed and squeaked, threatening to give way beneath him. He sighed as his stomach rumbled. The Russians could have waited to arrest him until he’d eaten breakfast.
Shinriki tried to comprehend the morning’s events. When he spoke at the meeting the day before, the Russians must have become suspicious of his claims. They sent someone across the river and they found their own horses corralled with the Ainu horses. That much was clear. It puzzled Shinriki they would assume he had stolen the Russian horses in the first place. Wasn’t he the one who warned the Russians bandits lurked in the mountains? Hadn’t they searched for those bandits?
Shinriki ran fingers through his long hair, then sat back against the cold, stone wall. He had lived his entire life on Sakhalin Island, but his parents were born in Hokkaido. They told stories of the samurai who took what they wanted. If an Ainu man resisted, the samurai beheaded the offender.
At least Shinriki still had his head, but he had lost so much. The samurai captured Ipokash and killed many of his friends.
The day wore on. The sunlight’s angle shifted through the little window and grew more diffuse as clouds thickened. Around noon, the door at the end of the hall opened and Shinriki thought it might be time to go see the magistrate. Instead, the guard brought a bowl of fish gruel, a chunk of stale bread, and a cup of water.
By that point, the meager and unpalatable meal looked delicious and he gulped it down, even sopping up the leftover gruel with the dry bread. The guard did not linger to collect the dishes leaving Shinriki to wonder how much longer he would have to wait.
The sunlight faded and gave way to night. Shinriki shivered and wished for a blanket. He did his best to make himself comfortable on the wooden bench and fell into a restless slumber. He awoke in the middle of the night when he rolled off the bench and hit the floor with a thud. He might have lingered there except the dust made him sneeze and shadowy figures crept along the walls—mice or rats, he couldn’t quite tell and it made little difference.
The next day, the guard brought him a bland, millet porridge. “How long am I to remain here?” he asked. The guard shrugged as he gathered up the previous day’s dishes and left Shinriki alone with his poor meal.
At last, around mid-morning, the guard arrived and opened the cell door. “This way.”
By this time, Shinriki’s beard and hair were a wild, tangled mess. His clothes smelled of stone dust, mildew and urine. Despite the relative chill, he suspected that remaining in the same clothes for two days added to the olfactory bouquet.
The guard led him to city hall, and seated him before a desk. “Wait here.” The guard stepped to the back of the room and loitered by the door.
A short time later, a blond army officer with little round spectacles, a black frock coat and hat entered. He removed the hat then sat at the desk and peered at Shinriki over steepled fingers. He smelled of boiled cabbage.
“Would you care to explain why we found army horses in your village’s corral yesterday morning?”
Shinriki took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I found them in the mountains, near an abandoned hunting lodge along with our horses. I warned you people, there are samurai bandits in the mountains. They raided our village and stole our horses. They must have stolen yours as well.”
The man opened a folder and reviewed a paper. “Yes, I see you’ve made quite a pain of yourself with the mayor.” The investigator set the paper down. “If there are samurai bandits in the mountains. Where are they now?”
Shinriki retrieved the newspaper clipping from his robes and passed it over before thinking better of it. “They stole your airship.”
The investigator took the paper and frowned. He read then shook his head. “The airship left a little earlier than scheduled, that’s all. Like seagoing ships, they are concerned with prevailing winds and weather conditions. It’s clear they decided not to wait. There’s nothing sinister about their departure.” The investigator added the newspaper clipping to the file folder.
“Bandits stole your airship and left the horses behind.” Shinriki hated to sound desperate, but he plunged on anyway, struggling to find the right words to say ‘I planned to return the army horses,’ in Russian. The phrase came out, “I wanted to return the horses.”
The investigator stood. “I think you invented the bandit story as a way to steal Russian horses. This is a serious offense. I will review the facts and summon you again. Hopefully by then, you will be in a mood to give more sensible answers.” The investigator grabbed his hat and left Shinriki in stunned silence.
The guard collected Shinriki and led him back to the dank cell. As the door clanged shut, Shinriki placed his face in his hands, ashamed he could not do more for Ipokash or his village.
Chapter Five
Element of the Rising Sun
Onofre Cisneros watched from the bridge as the Ballena steamed into Tokyo Bay. The harbor reminded him of many ports he’d visited. Weathered, wooden buildings, with somewhat steeper roofs than those in Mexico or California, stood above the docks. Unfamiliar, Japanese script adorned the signs. As they lowered the gangplank, a dockworker came aboard and demanded to know the ship’s business. Balderas, the boatswain, handed over a letter. The dockworker opened it with some suspicion, but nodded when he read the letter from Sir Elias and saw the currency enclosed. Balderas then handed him a second letter to be delivered to the Imperial Engineer. The dockworker hurried back down the gangplank and shouted instructions to his coworkers.
Cisneros left the bridge and went to the deck, summoning Balderas. “Everything go as expected?”
“Yes, sir, he seemed quite pleased to deliver your message.”
“I’ll be in my quarters.” Cisneros looked up to the twilight-darkened sky. Ashore, people lit lanterns and even a few gaslights. “I don’t think we’ll hear a response before the morning, but I wish to be notified in any event.”
“Yes, sir.” Balderas resumed his duties.
Cisneros stopped by Ramon and Fatemeh’s cabin. “We’ve arrived at Tokyo,” he said. “I don’t know what to expect, but I will secure lodgings for you ashore, if possible.”
“Thanks, Captain,” said Fatemeh. “Do you think we could go ashore before then?”
“I’d wait until morning.” The captain crossed to the porthole and peered out. “I’ve never been to a city where the docks aren’t at least somewhat dangerous, especially at night.” He turned around. “If you do go out tomorrow, be sure to let the boatswain know where you’ve gone, in case we need to track you down.”
“We’ll be sure to take care.” Fatemeh gave a reassuring smile.
“Has my steward checked on you? Have you had supper?”
“Delicioso,” said Ramon. “As always. Gracias!”
“De nada.” The captain tipped his hat and left the two alone to enjoy their evening together.
Cisneros returned to his cabin in the vessel’s stern, pulled off his boots, and dropped into a large chair by the window. He opened a book and began to read while awaiting supper. Soon his head nodded and the book dropped into his lap. He awoke when someone knocked on the cabin door. Sun streamed in through the window and the crick in his neck caused him to regret falling asleep in the chair.
“Come in,” he called.
The steward appeared with coffee and a plate piled high with eggs, ham, and tortillas. “There’s a man at the dock. Transportation awaits to take you to the Naval Lord and Imperial Engineer.” He collected the meal untouched from the night before.
“Both at once?” Cisneros lifted his eyebrows.
“I gather they’re one and the same man.”
“I’ll be ready soon.” The captain stepped over to a basin and splashed water on his face. He paused at the dining table long enough to gulp down a little of his breakfast. After downing a cup of coffee, he pulled on his boots, jacket, and hat, then strode out to meet the visitor.
A Japanese man with a tailcoat, matching vest, and bow tie met him on deck. He bowed. Cisneros returned the courtesy.
“I am Kyozo. Please follow me.”
He led Cisneros down the gangplank to the dock where a rickshaw waited. A lean man with a tattered shirt and a wide straw hat stood ready to pull the conveyance. Both Cisneros and the man in the tailcoat climbed aboard. For a moment, the captain wondered if the lean man could pull the cart with both men’s weight, but he soon recognized the rickshaw an ingenious application of a lever and fulcrum. The rickshaw driver ran along the pier and up into well-maintained dirt streets.
Although early in the morning, people already bustled about, starting their chores. Most wore belted robes, similar to the rickshaw driver. Men wore leggings over the robe and women wore something which resembled a wide, padded belt around their mid-section. Some carried baskets while others carried nothing at all. Cloth banners decorated with Japanese script or circles and flowers flapped in doorways. Every now and
then, the scents of cooking fish or pork wafted out to the street, making the captain wish he’d lingered over breakfast longer.
As they moved further into the city, the wooden buildings near the dockside gave way to stone structures, more like the captain would expect in a western metropolis, similar to structures in Mexico, except for the sloped roofs.
Half an hour later, they reached a gated courtyard. At the far end stood a two-story building with three entryways and arched windows above. To the side were two square towers, and behind them, the building’s wings extended further, which made Cisneros think of a European manner house. “The Tokyo Prefectural Office,” explained Kyozo. He gestured to a man near the front steps who ran inside.
Kyozo and Cisneros strolled from the gate to the prefectural building. Passing through the doors, they entered a tiled foyer. A door to the side opened and a man in a top hat and tails stepped through. He removed his hat and bowed.
“I am Katsu Kaishū, First Naval Lord and Engineer to the Meiji Emperor.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Cisneros shook hands with the Naval Lord.
Lord Katsu led Cisneros down the hall and out a back door. They continued past several buildings and across a bridge. The Imperial Palace stood to the captain’s right. He admired the grand buildings and the surrounding gardens, but soon realized the palace was not their destination. To the left stretched another large but plain building. Windows near the roof admitted light and enormous doors on one end hinted at what must be stored within.
Katsu and Cisneros entered. Two white and brown airships floated just off the floor. These vessels were much smaller than the Russian craft. As shown in Pennington-Smythe’s drawings, a wooden exoskeleton held a large gasbag in place. Disproportionately large, white tail fins emblazoned with a red circle ringed the gasbags’ sterns. Cisneros realized the emblem matched the Japanese flag.
The Brazen Shark Page 7
