by I. J. Parker
Akitada sat down again and thought this over. It was all very careless and improper, but perhaps not criminal. “What did you mean when you said you keep these things here to save the servants steps?” he asked after a moment.
To his surprise, Nakahara did not meet his eyes this time. There was a brief silence, then he said, “Sometimes it becomes necessary to use this or that to pay for a service.” No longer belligerent, he sounded defeated.
Raising his brows, Akitada asked, “How do you mean?”
Nakahara shifted in his seat. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but this office has not received any funds for a number of years. My own salary is arrears.”
“I was not aware of it.” It was likely, and it would explain much. “I’m sorry if I’ve sounded harsh,” Akitada added. “Such irregularities happen sometimes, but I wasn’t informed in your case. So you’ve sold some of the confiscated goods in order to cover expenses?”
Nakahara nodded miserably.
They sat in silence, contemplating the dilemma faced by officials who were not given the means to carry out their duties. Akitada had once been in the same position.
Tameaki returned at this point and said, “Begging you pardon, but as I was leaving the building, I ran into Professor Otomo. He wishes to have a word with Lord Sugawara.”
Akitada, embarrassed about his accusations of Nakahara, welcomed the interruption. With an apology, he rose and followed Tameaki to a small anteroom on the east side of the main hall.
He found the white-bearded Otomo pacing nervously, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Ah, Lord Sugawara,” he said, bowing. “Please forgive this rude and unannounced visit, but the burden on my conscience is getting too heavy. I had to come and speak to you.”
Akitada gestured to cushions placed side by side near a small writing desk. He wondered what this was all about. Could Otomo, with his Korean ancestry, have become involved in piracy? Most of the foreign merchants who brought goods to Naniwa these days were Koreans, but they carried shipping permits. Still, the sea between the two countries was treacherous because of Korean pirate ships.
Otomo sat and looked down at his clenched hands. He sighed deeply. When he raised his head, his eyes widened. “I do beg your pardon, sir. You’ve been injured?”
“It’s nothing. I took a tumble. Please go on.”
Another sigh. “You may recall showing me the amulet last night? You said you purchased it in Eguchi.”
Still mystified, Akitada nodded.
“And I told you it was the sort of thing bestowed on a treasured daughter in our culture. That is true, but I did not mention another matter. It is that which brings me here. Forgive me, but I’m about to betray a confidence.”
Akitada said cautiously, “You may speak freely unless the matter is criminal or a threat to the nation.”
Otomo sighed again. “May I ask if the amulet is in any way connected with the young girl that drowned?”
A little embarrassed, Akitada nodded. “Yes. She was wearing it. How did you know?”
“You see,” the professor said, his voice brittle with emotion, “I suspect that young girls from Koryo may have been brought here and forced into service in the brothels of Eguchi and elsewhere.”
Akitada raised his brows. “I would have thought that we have enough willing females to follow the trade.”
“I know it sounds very strange, and I don’t blame you for doubting me. When you showed me the amulet and later mentioned the dead girl found in the river, I was afraid that another poor child had chosen death. She’s not the first one. There were two others, also drowned and called suicides. A month ago, a friend of mine – forgive me if don’t mention his name – wrote me an anxious letter, saying that he had met a Korean girl in Eguchi, but when he went back and asked for her again, he was told that she had committed suicide. He was very upset.”
“That could have been a coincidence. There probably aren’t many girls of Korean descent in the business, but such things happen. Apparently, suicides are frequent.”
“But that’s the point, sir. Think about the misery suffered by girls who’ve been brought from Korea. They don’t speak your language. And they’re very unhappy.”
“Yes, I see. And you think my dead girl is one of those?”
“Yes, I do. When you showed me the amulet and mentioned the drowned girl, I found I could not remain silent.”
Silence fell. Otomo sat with his head bowed, waiting. Akitada was troubled by Otomo’s tale. On the whole, he was inclined to believe him, but many things argued against it. How had the young women been brought all this way? Such a thing might have happened in Kyushu, which was much closer to the Korean peninsula. There was a constant coming and going of merchants and fishermen between both countries. But the Inland Sea was closed to all but their own ships and a few well-known merchant ships from Koryo. These had applied for and received special permission to travel to the capital, but their ships would have been most carefully inspected in Kyushu and again at Naniwa. Could the pirates be involved in this?
He asked the obvious question. “Why? Why bring Korean women here when hiding them from the authorities must be very difficult and dangerous? I am told brothel towns are very carefully supervised.”
Otomo shook his head. “I do not know.”
Akitada thought. “This amulet-you said it would only be given to girls of rank.”
“Ah, yes. My friend claimed his girl was well educated. She knew Korean poetry and songs, and she could read and write. The singing . . . it’s possible that they like young girls who have a special talent like that. I wonder, could you let me have the amulet long enough to make some inquiries?”
Akitada reached into his sash and froze.
“What’s the matter, sir?”
There was no amulet in Akitada’s sash. He realized what had happened. He must have thrown it in the dirt along with his money when the two ruffians confronted him in the blind alley. He got up. “I would like to but seem to have misplaced it. You must forgive me. My clerk has gone missing, and I’m worried. I promise, I’ll look for the amulet and think about your story.”
Otomo rose immediately and bowed deeply. “Thank you. I thought I should speak to you and offer an explanation for the poor girl’s death. Please pardon my arrival at such an inconvenient moment.”
“Not at all,” said Akitada as they walked out together. When they reached the entrance doors, he paused. “Do you think there could be an organization smuggling in foreign women?”
“I hope not, sir, but I admit I have wondered about the same thing.”
Perhaps the pirates engaged not only in robbery and murder on the high seas but also had a lucrative side business dealing in human beings. His encounter in the blind alley in Kawajiri and young Sadenari’s fate took on a more ominous significance.
Chapter Eight
The Hostel of the Flying Cranes
Akitada’s first thought had been to rush back to the place where he had been attacked to look for the amulet and his few gold and silver pieces. A foolish notion and proof that events had addled his usual common sense. Not only was it night and he did not know the way, but his very sore arm was a reminder that he had barely escaped from that neighborhood with his life. Besides, Sadenari was still gone, and that was beginning to weigh heavily on his conscience. The boy must be found before anything else.
Otomo’s idea that someone had been kidnapping Korean girls for prostitution he put away for the time being. Still, if his story was indeed true, it would have to be followed up. Quite apart from the sheer viciousness of such crimes, they could lead to serious problems with a neighboring nation they were mercifully at peace with at the moment.
He felt suddenly exhausted. Nothing else could be done this day. He went to his room without meeting anyone. There, he took off his outer clothes, unrolled the bedding, and fell asleep the moment he lay down.
Early the next morning he was on his way to Nakahara
’s office when he saw the prefect coming across the courtyard. Apparently Munata had been alerted by Nakahara, or more likely by the efficient Tameaki.
Munata looked flushed, perhaps from his dash across the road. He sounded breathless as he bowed to Akitada. “I just heard. Can it be true, sir? You were hurt? This is outrageous. I assure you the culprits will be found and punished severely.”
Akitada’s arm and shoulder felt much better this morning, and he had washed the blood from his face and found only scratches underneath. “Thank you. I only have s few scrapes, as it happens. Someone distracted the villains, and I made my escape. Come inside. We must put our heads together and decide how to find my clerk.”
Nakahara and Yuki were having an argument. Nakahara waved his finger in front of Yuki’s face, and Yuki looked stubborn. He said, “You should have warned me, Morito. How was I to know that they’d send someone important to catch us out?”
Nakahara caught sight of them. “Shshhh!” he hissed at Yuki and rearranged his face into a smile. “Ah, Munata. Very good of you to come so quickly. I suppose, Lord Sugawara told you what happened?”
“Not in so many words,” said Munata, glancing at Akitada. “I hoped that he would fill me in on the details. Your clerk said that I was to call out the guard and send for Lieutenant Saeki and his men. Do I understand that His Lordship had an unpleasant encounter with hoodlums in Kawajiri and has misplaced his young companion?”
Akitada thought he detected a sneer and nearly growled. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Two ruffians attacked me with long knives, and there’s a good chance that the same thing happened to Sadenari. He’s a mere youngster and has been gone for a day and a night.”
Munata stared at him. “I see. Yes. How shocking . . . if true. I had no idea matters were so serious. Allow me to apologize for the prefecture. I shall look into it immediately.” He made a motion toward the door, but Akitada lost his temper and grabbed his sleeve.
“Not so fast, Munata. You’ll do more than ‘look into it’, as you put it. Sit down. There is also the matter of treason.”
Munata gaped at him. “Treason?” Akitada glared back. The prefect went to sit down.
Akitada sat down himself. “Nakahara will confirm that my real assignment here involved the recent pirate activity. It appears that someone has been passing confidential information to these pirates.”
“I find it hard to believe . . .”
Akitada cut in curtly, “I don’t care what you believe, Prefect. You will take your orders from me and stop arguing.”
Munata drew himself up. “I take my orders from the governor,” he said stiffly.
“Where is Oga anyway?” demanded Akitada, pointedly skipping the honorifics. Munata needed a reminder that Akitada’s standing in this instance was equivalent to Oga’s. He was here under direct orders from the Minister of the Right. Besides the Sugawara name was older and more respected than the governor’s. “I understood that he was staying with you. Surely Nakahara’s clerk included him in the call for a meeting.”
“My home is on the outskirts of Naniwa,” said Munata. “I dispatched a messenger. Frankly, I hope this won’t make him angry.”
Akitada swallowed his disgust. “You will go to Kawajiri with soldiers to organize the local police there. Take however many people you have at your command. I want a ship-by-ship and house-by-house search made for my clerk. No ships or boats are to leave, and traffic on the roads must be inspected. I also want an armed escort to accompany me to the place where I was attacked. I plan to have a look at this Hostel of the Flying Cranes.”
Munata shot Nakahara a look, then got up with a bow, and left the room. Akitada looked after him. The prefect’s opposition was troubling.
The door closed, and silence fell.
After a moment, Akitada turned back to Nakahara. “Why is Munata so hostile?”
Nakahara shifted nervously. Perhaps he recalled his own flare-up the night before. “Munata is a strange man,” he said. “He’s perfectly agreeable until his ability is questioned. I think he feels strongly that you are doing so now.”
Such behavior by a lower-grade official would not be tolerated in the capital, but Akitada was not in the capital and in a place like Naniwa different rules might apply. That, of course, made his work harder. If he could not make people like Munata and Nakahara obey him, he would hardly do so with the governor, a man of rank, privilege, and power.
“What exactly is Munata’s relationship to the governor?” he asked.
“His is the most important district of the state. Governor Oga appointed him, and he is loyal to the governor. The Munatas have also been overseers of the Oga estates here. That’s why the governor stays at Munata’s country residence whenever he is here.”
This threw an interesting light on the division of power and the bonds of personal relationships. Akitada was becoming very curious about both men. “And you? How do you feel about them? I know they were your guests last night, but I assumed they were invited as a courtesy to me and to the governor. Perhaps you, too, have closer ties?”
Nakahara flushed. “You have an extraordinary way of accusing me of impropriety. Apparently you think that I’ve been plotting against my emperor, stealing government property, and aiding the pirates. Frankly, I resent your manner, sir. You’re an official visitor, carrying powers from the Minister of the Right, so I cannot very well bid you be gone, but if you find Munata’s manners wanting, what should I say about yours?” The director bristled with belligerence. It almost seemed as if each of his sparse hairs were trying to stand up. Akitada was tempted to laugh, but of course that would have made matters even worse, and he was in fact Nakahara’s guest. Besides, perhaps he should have controlled his temper better with both officials.
He sighed and said, “Calm down. Put yourself in my position. I was sent here to find out who is behind the pirate attacks. Within a day, my clerk disappears, and I’m lured into the slums of Kawajiri to be assassinated. It seems to me I’m no longer dealing with a minor leak of information, but with a conspiracy which may include everyone who has any power in this state. And you have been sitting at the very center of this web, pretending not to know what is going on. How can I possibly trust you, or believe anything you tell me?”
Nakahara did not answer. He had turned his head away.
Akitada got up with a grunt of impatience. “I have to go now to find the foolish young man who thought he could solve this case on his own. May your conscience forgive you if I find him dead.”
*
When he stepped from the boat in Kawajiri harbor, a contingent of police in their red coats was assembling. In the brilliant sunlight reflected by the sea, they appeared to be bathed in blood. Akitada pictured the torn corpse of young Sadenari and shuddered.
The commander, a grey-haired Lieutenant Saeki, who looked like an ex-military man, was mounted, and a second horse was waiting.
Akitada introduced himself, and swung himself into the saddle. They set off at a moderate trot, the policemen jogging along behind them. Apparently the lieutenant had been given instructions. He led the way to the dead end of the alleyway where Akitada had encountered the two thugs.
There was no sign that the fight had taken place. The dirt was scuffed about, and his coins and the amulet were gone. There were also no blood stains or bodies. Someone had cleaned up, and if there had been corpses or wounded men here, they had been moved. He would have liked proof of the attack, but then he would be hard pressed to explain how he had wounded or killed two armed men without a weapon of his own.
Akitada did not like losing his money, but he had additional funds in his baggage and could send for more. What troubled him more was the loss of the amulet. It felt as if another veil had been drawn across the death of the young Korean girl. He said nothing about all this to the police, however.
On the command of Lieutenant Saeki, the men spread out and searched. They found nothing that pointed to the attackers, but it appeared that a narr
ow footpath wound through the shrubbery to a breach in the wall where the plaster and mud had crumbled, leaving a mound of rubble and easy passage to the back of the Hostel of the Flying Cranes.
“So,” said the lieutenant, “the criminals came from there. Not surprising. Let’s take a look.”
They left the horses with one of the constables and climbed over the pile of rubble. On the other side, they found a storage shed in the back of the hostel. Given the long and imposing roofline of the building, the lower level looked pathetic. The boards were rotting away in places, and doorways and windows were covered with torn and dirty fabric. Part of the shed was a makeshift kitchen. A nasty stench came from barrels of refuse.
Lieutenant Saeki gave orders for some of his men to station themselves at the doors and windows. Then he and Akitada, accompanied by four of his burliest constables, walked around the corner to the front door.
This stood invitingly open, and they marched in, the police in front and Akitada trailing behind.
The interior was primitive and simple. The ground floor was earth, long since compacted and turned a shiny black from many feet, bare or sandaled. Huge timbers rose from the floor to support the roof. Here and there, a second level had been made by linking crossbeams and covering them with boards. Simple ladders reached up to those sleeping lofts. Below, there were few room dividers. Most spaces were open and served many guests. Dirty covers lay rolled up against walls or were stacked up in convenient piles along with headrests. A few simple sea chests probably held the belongings of current guests. The smell of dirt, sweat, and unwashed bodies lingered. In one corner, a man snored rhythmically.
From the back came the sound of voices, the clacking dice, and clinking of coins. Gambling was illegal, and the policemen smiled with anticipation. Grasping their clubs and metal prongs more firmly, they advanced silently.
Suddenly there was sharp whistling sound from the corner where the snoring had stopped abruptly. The policemen cursed and rushed forward. Akitada turned to look at the sleeper. He was sitting up, a grin on his bearded face. He winked at Akitada, who shook his head and hurried after the police.
