“What?” Shock halted Hirata and dropped his mouth. How Lord Niu twisted reality never ceased to amaze him. “But I didn’t—surely you can’t believe—”
“Don’t deny it,” Lord Niu said, his complexion purple with fury. “You and the shogun hatched the scheme together. You arranged the crime. You used my daughter to implicate me. The shogun plans to execute me for abducting his mother, then confiscate my lands.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Hirata protested.
“What did he promise you in exchange for your help, you dirty sneak?” Lord Niu seized Hirata by the front of his kimono. “A portion of my wealth? My province to rule?”
Outraged, Hirata wrenched free of Lord Niu. “I would never frame anyone for murder and treason. Even though you deserve punishment for everything you’ve done to me, I would never conspire against my wife’s father. You’re just trying to divert suspicion from yourself onto me!”
“See how he pretends to be innocent,” Lord Niu said to the assembly, his voice filled with scorn. “See how he pretends to believe he thinks I’m guilty. See how he eagerly anticipates my ruin. But you won’t get away with it.”
Suddenly he lunged at Hirata. The impact of his body knocked Hirata off balance. He reeled backward and crashed against a wall.
The painted landscape mural cracked. Lord Niu’s hands closed around his neck and squeezed.
“Where are my daughter and Lady Keisho-in?” Lord Niu shouted while Hirata choked and struggled to pry the daimyo’s hands loose. “Tell me what you’ve done with them.”
That Lord Niu had turned him into the suspect, and usurped the role of interrogator, astounded Hirata. Detectives Fukida and Mar-ume hurried to his rescue, but Okita got there first. Okita grabbed the daimyo and hauled him off Hirata. While Hirata gasped for air, Lord Niu flung Okita away from him. His gaze lit on his valet, who hunched, terrified, on the floor near him. He snatched the shaving razor from the man’s hand.
“I’ll make you admit your evil deeds!” Lord Niu roared. He charged at Hirata.
Compelled to defend himself, goaded beyond prudence, Hirata drew his sword. He could tolerate no more of Lord Niu’s craziness, insults, or attacks. As hot anger overrode self-control, Hirata almost forgot why he’d come here. He would end this war now, regardless of the consequences.
Then Marume and Fukida caught hold of him, arresting his flight toward the daimyo. “No, Hirata-san!” they shouted.
The guards rushed and seized Lord Niu. Trained to protect people from their master, and their master from himself, they gripped his thrashing limbs. He cursed and fought them, but they wrested the razor from his hand and restrained him.
“You’ll pay for setting me up, you despicable lout!” he yelled at Hirata. “I’ll slice your guts!”
“Come on, let’s go,” Marume said. He and Fukida dragged Hirata from the room.
Now Hirata came to his senses, recalled his purpose. “But I’m not finished.” Wild with rage and distress, he resisted his men; he dragged his feet in the corridor.
“It’s no use,” Fukida said, urging Hirata out of the mansion. “Even if he knows where Midori-san is, he won’t talk. Staying will only get you killed.”
Hirata reluctantly capitulated. Outside the estate, they mounted their horses, and he realized how badly he’d handled the confrontation with Lord Niu. He should have kept calm and treated the daimyo with courtesy instead of losing his temper. Even as he understood that his father-in-law would probably have behaved the same way whatever he’d done, Hirata experienced mortifying shame. “I threw away a chance to solve the case,” he said.
“There will be other chances,” Marume said, swinging himself into the saddle. “Don’t worry—we’ll save Midori-san, no matter what.”
This attempt at reassurance failed to soothe Hirata. As they rode down the street, the sun rising over the roofs of the daimyo estates reminded him that time was quickly passing. And he was no closer to finding his wife now than when he’d heard the news of her abduction.
Fukida spoke with the hesitant air of a man voicing what his superior wouldn’t want to hear: “There’s good reason to believe Lord Niu is the kidnapper … but we can’t prove it. And as you told us Chamberlain Yanagisawa said last night, there is an abundance of suspects. Fixating too early on Lord Niu might steer us in the wrong direction.”
Hirata inhaled and nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “I shouldn’t let my prejudice blind me to the possibility that someone other than Lord Niu took the women.” And unless he disciplined himself, he might jeopardize his mission.
He and the detectives turned their horses onto the boulevard and galloped west. Ahead, the road wound and narrowed toward the invisible horizon; shops, houses, and pedestrians dwindled into a shimmering haze of heat and charcoal smoke. The hills were gray smudges against the bleached blue sky. If the weather held, a day of hard, fast riding should take Hirata and his men to the scene of the massacre and abduction.
“But if Lord Niu is behind the crime, I’ll prove it,” Hirata said, slapping the reins. “And he will pay.”
* * *
6
In the reception room of Sano’s estate, one hundred detectives and soldiers knelt in rows on the floor while Sano, seated on the dais, told them about the kidnapping.
“This case takes priority over everything else,” he said. “For now, we will drop all other tasks.” Investigating the death of a priest at Ueno Temple, and a theft from the Tokugawa treasury, could wait. “The kidnapping may be the work of the Black Lotus sect. We must round up as many outlaw members as we can and find out what they know about the crime.
“Detectives Inoue and Arai, you’ll work with me,” Sano continued. The short, muscular samurai and the tall, thin one bowed. Sano divided the remaining troops into teams. “Go to the shrines, gambling dens, teahouses, and other places that the outlaws are known to frequent. Question your informants about secret temples. Use any means necessary to get leads on who the kidnappers are and where they’re holding the women.”
He sent the men on their way. He was glad to be taking action toward saving Reiko, yet his fear for his wife threatened to shatter the stoic facade he maintained. He told Inoue and Arai to meet him by the gate, then went to the nursery in the mansion’s private quarters.
Morning sun shone through doors open to the garden. Masahiro sat at a tray table, eating rice gruel. Three nursemaids wiped up spills and chattered to him. Everyone saw Sano standing in the doorway. The nurses bowed; Masahiro smiled, his face smeared with food, his eyes bright.
“Papa,” he said.
Love for the little boy stabbed anguish through Sano’s heart. Their son was the embodiment of the happiness Sano shared with Reiko… and stood to lose. Sano managed a cheerful greeting to his son, then beckoned the eldest nursemaid. “I must have a word with you, O-sugi.”
The old woman followed him outside to the garden; there, Sano told her about the kidnapping. Her lips parted in wordless exclamation and tears filled her eyes. She’d been Reiko’s nurse when Reiko was a child. Sano had to look away from O-sugi’s grief, lest it weaken his own self-control.
“Please tell the other servants what has happened,” Sano said. “But Masahiro is not to know. I forbid everyone to talk about it when he might overhear. I don’t want him upset.”
“Yes, master,” O-sugi whispered.
Sano went back into the nursery. He picked up Masahiro and held him tight.
“I paint picture yesterday,” Masahiro said in his earnest baby voice. “Will Mama come home and see?”
As he touched his face against Masahiro’s tender cheek, Sano felt the stinging pressure of tears. “Yes, she will,” he said, vowing that their son would not lose his mother. He eased Masahiro to the floor. “I have to go now. Be good.”
“Where are you going?” Masahiro asked.
“To see your grandfather,” Sano said.
Ever curious, Masahiro tilted his head. “Why?”
�
��Because I need his help with some important work.” And because Sano must deliver the news of Reiko’s abduction to the man he most dreaded telling.
Sano and his two detectives rode to the Hibiya administrative district south of Edo Castle where Reiko’s father served as one of the two magistrates responsible for maintaining law and order in the city. Earthen walls surrounded the tile-roofed, half-timbered mansions that housed offices and residences. Messengers, clerks, and dignitaries thronged the narrow lanes, clustering in excited groups. Sano heard snatches of their conversation; he watched the news of the kidnapping spread. Nothing remained secret in Edo for long.
At Magistrate Ueda’s estate, sentries at the portals admitted Sano and his men to a courtyard, where citizens gathered to bring disputes before the magistrate and police guarded shackled prisoners due for trial. Sano instructed his men to wait, then entered the mansion, a long, low structure with projecting eaves and latticed windows. Inside, he met Magistrate Ueda at the carved door to the Court of Justice.
“Greetings, Sano-san,” Magistrate Ueda said. He was a middle-aged samurai with a stout build, gray hair tied in a thick topknot, and broad features. He wore black robes decorated with gold crests. After he and Sano exchanged bows, he said, “What a pleasure to see you, but I have a trial to conduct.”
“Please excuse the interruption. We must talk,” Sano said.
The magistrate frowned, perceiving that something was amiss. Concern sharpened his intelligent, heavy-lidded eyes. “What is it?”
Sano glanced at the guards by the courtroom door, and the clerks busy in their chambers. “May we go to your office?”
There, Magistrate Ueda seated himself behind his desk. Sano knelt opposite him and said, “I regret to tell you that your daughter has been kidnapped.”
Magistrate Ueda’s face went expressionless as Sano related the circumstances of the crime. Anyone not well acquainted with him might have thought him indifferent to his daughter’s plight. But Sano knew what shock and alarm the man was experiencing. Magistrate Ueda loved his only child and valued her as all that remained of his beloved wife, who’d died when Reiko was a baby. He’d lavished upon her the education and martial arts lessons normally reserved for a son. Only a lifetime of samurai discipline enabled him to hide his emotions.
“If there is anything I can do to help you save the women and capture whoever took them, just ask,” he said.
“Thank you, Honorable Father-in-law.” Sano bowed, then explained that he suspected the Black Lotus. “I need to know if any outlaws are in custody.” While Sano, the police, and other officials hunted sect members, the magistrate kept track of those apprehended.
“Two men arrested by the police yesterday are in my courtroom awaiting trial now,” Magistrate Ueda said.
“May I question them afterward?” Sano said.
“By all means,” said Magistrate Ueda.
They entered the Court of Justice, a long hall where guards stood inside the doors and rows of people knelt on the floor. Dusty sunlight beamed through open windows. Men fanned themselves with paper fans. Two defendants knelt on the shirasu, an area of floor directly below the dais, covered with white sand, symbol of truth. They wore gray prison robes; their wrists and ankles were shackled. Sano knelt near the back of the room. Magistrate Ueda seated himself on the dais, between the court secretaries. Everyone in the room bowed to him.
A secretary announced, “The defendants are Jun and Goza of Honjo district. They are accused of arson, murder, and belonging to an illegal religious sect.”
Both men were muscular commoners in their late twenties. Jun had cropped hair and a face that might have been handsome if not for thick lips held in a surly pout. Goza’s head was shaved bald; his small, angry eyes, upturned nose, and bristled jowls gave him the look of a wild pig.
“The court shall now hear the evidence,” said the secretary.
He called the first witnesses—a sandal maker and his wife. They came forward and knelt near the shirasu. “A Black Lotus nun came to our shop and begged for alms,” said the man. “When we refused to give her money, she put a curse on us.”
The Black Lotus often extorted money from citizens, and used physical force to back up their magic spells, Sano knew.
“That night, the police caught those men setting the building on fire,” said the wife.
A police officer testified that Jun and Goza had killed one of his civilian assistants while resisting arrest. Sano studied the defendants and recognized them as the new breed of Black Lotus followers. They weren’t deluded fanatics who believed that membership in the sect destined them for glorious enlightenment. They were unscrupulous men attracted by the violence and wealth associated with the Black Lotus. Perhaps they would serve Sano’s purpose.
“You may speak in your own defense,” Magistrate Ueda told the criminals.
Jun shrugged, then muttered sullenly, “I did it.” Goza echoed him. Sano saw that they realized there was no point in denying their guilt, because they’d been caught in the act.
“I pronounce you guilty and sentence you to execution,” Magistrate Ueda said. Then he dismissed the audience and secretaries. They departed, leaving him, his trusted guards, and Sano alone with the criminals, who exchanged glances and shifted nervously. Sano strode up to the dais.
“The shogun’s sōsakan-sama will question you,” Magistrate Ueda told the criminals.
The pair gazed up at Sano with an animosity that matched his toward them. He said, “Who hired you to burn the shop?”
“It was a Black Lotus priest,” said Jun. His crude, handsome face glistened with sweat. “He calls himself Profound Wisdom.”
Goza nodded his bald, piglike head. Obviously, the men felt no loyalty to their master and didn’t mind informing on him. Sano recalled hearing the priest mentioned as one who had a large, dangerous following.
“Where can I find Profound Wisdom?” Sano said.
“He has secret temples,” said Jun. “But I don’t know where they are. They move around.”
To avoid the police, Sano figured. “How do you and his followers know where to find him?”
“He leaves messages at a Buddhist supply shop near the Nihonbashi Bridge. People in the Black Lotus go there and ask the proprietor for Yoshi—that’s the password—and he tells them where the temple is that day.”
“What other work besides arson does he hire men like you to do?” Sano said.
“When people drop out of the Black Lotus, we threaten them so they won’t betray it,” Goza said. “We kill anyone who does. We kidnap women for the priest to use in rituals.”
Sano’s instincts sprang alert. “What women?”
Goza grinned, showing rotten teeth. “Pretty ones.”
Magistrate Ueda frowned and leaned forward on the dais. He knew as well as Sano did what happened during the Black Lotus’s cruel, depraved rituals.
“Have you ever heard of the Black Lotus kidnapping women for ransom?” Sano asked.
The men shook their heads. Jun creased his brow in puzzlement, as though trying to figure out Sano’s intentions; Goza looked merely bored.
“The shogun’s mother and three other women were kidnapped yesterday,” Sano said, watching the criminals as he moved closer to them. “What can you tell me about that?”
“Nothing, master,” Jun said with what seemed to be genuine surprise. “It’s news to me.” Then he laughed. “The Black Lotus people think their High Priest Anraku has risen from the dead. They say he wants to avenge his murder. Maybe he spirited away those women.”
Obviously, he didn’t share the sect’s beliefs and was mocking them. That he would make a joke of the crime infuriated Sano. He wanted to rub Jun’s face in the white sand and grind the smile off it. Then he noticed that Goza sat with his mouth slack and a murky gleam in his porcine eyes, as if a sudden thought had occurred to him. Sano quickly crouched in front of Goza and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Did the Black Lotus take the women?�
�� he demanded.
Cunning altered Goza’s expression even as he recoiled from Sano. “Maybe,” he said.
Sano guessed that the man knew something. He shook Goza. “Tell me!”
“If he does, will you spare our lives?” Jun interjected.
The idea of pardoning murderers revolted Sano. “Don’t you bargain with me,” he said. Anger and impatience overrode his hatred of abusing his power. He slapped Goza hard on each cheek. “Where are they?” he shouted. If this criminal was withholding facts that could save Reiko, he deserved no mercy.
“Hurting him won’t do any good,” Jun said smugly. “He won’t talk unless you save us.”
Incensed that the men had gained the upper hand, Sano turned on Jun and would have struck him; but Magistrate Ueda said quietly, “Sano-san. Wait.” Then he addressed the criminals: “Tell us what you know, and I’ll consider revoking your sentences.”
His stony expression told Sano how torn Magistrate Ueda was between his duty to uphold the law and his need to save his daughter. Although he often showed leniency toward petty offenders, he never released anyone guilty of a major crime.
Goza rattled his shackles. “Free us first,” he said, “or there’s no deal.”
“Talk, or you go to the execution ground.” Magistrate Ueda gave the men the fierce stare that had subdued many an adversary and beckoned the guards.
The criminals quailed visibly and looked at each other. Jun nodded at Goza, who said, “I’ve heard talk that the Black Lotus is planning a big attack on the Tokugawa. Could be it’s the kidnapping, and Profound Wisdom arranged it.”
Sano stood back and eyed the man with suspicion. “Who carried out the kidnapping? Where might they be hiding the women?”
Sano Ichiro 8 The Dragon's King Palace (2003) Page 6
