“It depends on what terms you’re willing to meet,” the proprietor said.
“How much to have him beaten up?” Hirata said.
“Fifty momme.”
That was quite a bit of silver. Sano began to understand how Jinshichi and Gombei might have come by their extra cash. They were apparently among the proprietor’s “people,” which would explain their presence at a teahouse whose clientele normally didn’t associate with low-class men like them.
“How much to eliminate somebody?” Sano asked.
“That would depend on who it was and how difficult it would be. But the price starts at a hundred koban.”
It appeared that wealthy folks who didn’t want to risk killing their own enemies somehow found their way to the Drum Teahouse, probably by discreet word of mouth. Samurai could kill commoners without punishment, but not one another; for merchants and other citizens, the penalty for any murder was death. The Drum offered a solution to their problems and kept the blood off their hands.
“I’m impressed with your ingenuity,” Sano said.
“My humble thanks,” the proprietor simpered.
“But you should be more careful whom you do business with,” Sano said.
“Allow me to introduce the honorable Chamberlain Sano,” said Hirata.
“Allow me to introduce my chief retainer, Hirata-san, the shogun’s principal investigator,” Sano said.
The proprietor blinked.
“Murder for hire is a crime,” Sano said. “We’re going to arrest you and put you in jail.”
The proprietor lunged out of the enclosure as fast as a snake plunging down a hole. But Hirata was faster. He grabbed the man’s arm. Yanked back into place, the man struggled until Hirata squeezed a tender spot between his muscles. He let out a bleat of pain and sank to his knees.
“I didn’t mean it,” he said with an anxious grin. “We don’t really kill anybody. It was just a joke. Hah, hah.”
“We’ll see about that,” Hirata said.
His fingers dug into the man’s wrist. The proprietor stopped straining to break free. “I can’t feel my arm. I can’t move.” He beheld Hirata with fright and shock. “What have you done to me?”
Hirata had pressed against nerves that controlled sensations and motion in the human body, Sano knew. Hirata said, “It’s just a little trick I learned while walking in the woods one day. You run a murder-for-hire business, don’t you?”
The proprietor’s body sat as still as a corpse propped upright. Only his face was animated, by terror. “No!”
His gleaming eyes darted in search of help. But his soft voice didn’t carry outside the enclosure, and nobody opened the curtain to see what was wrong.
“How do you like this?” Hirata changed his grip slightly.
Now the proprietor’s eyes and mouth flared wide as Hirata constricted his lungs. “All right,” he choked out. “It’s true!”
“Kill him,” Sano said, “and spare the bother of an execution.”
“No! Please, don’t!” The proprietor wheezed; his face turned bluer in the blue light. “Let me live, and I’ll do anything you want!”
“Let’s see if there’s something we want that you can give us,” Sano said. He usually pitied helpless people and disapproved of physical coercion, but not this time. “We’re looking for two men, named Jinshichi and Gombei. Do they work for you?”
The proprietor’s face twisted from side to side as he tried to shake his head and failed. Hirata pressed harder on his wrist, and his voice emerged in a strangled croak. “Yes.”
“What do they do?” Sano asked.
Hirata eased his grip long enough for the proprietor to gulp a breath and say, “They get women. For men who want special things.”
Now Sano understood Jinshichi and Gombei’s sideline occupation and role in the kidnappings. Neither of the oxcart drivers had raped Chiyo, Fumiko, or Tengu-in; they’d procured the women for someone else. Someone who had sexual tastes that couldn’t be satisfied in Edo’s brothels.
“Was one of these women a nursing mother and another a nun?”
“I don’t know who the women were,” the proprietor said, then gasped because Hirata had compressed his nerves again. “No, I really don’t, honest! All I did was set Jinshichi and Gombei up with my clients and take my share of the money. What they did after that was between them and the clients.”
“Tell me the names of your clients,” Sano said.
Fresh terror blazed in the proprietor’s eyes. Sano could feel his body shaking inside, vibrating the floor, even though he was paralyzed. “I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me.”
“If you don’t tell us, I’ll kill you,” Hirata said.
The proprietor crumpled into a heap as if his bones had dissolved. Sano couldn’t begin to imagine what spell Hirata had wrought. The proprietor lay limp, gasping with panic. From outside the enclosure came the voices of the maids, chatting among themselves, unaware that anything untoward was happening.
“All right,” the proprietor said. “If you’ll just let me go, I’ll talk.”
“You didn’t let him go, did you?” Reiko said as she served Sano his dinner at home late that night.
“No, of course not.” Sano had begun the story of what had happened at the teahouse. Now he hungrily ate raw mackerel laid on rice balls and dumplings stuffed with vegetables. “Hirata and I closed down the teahouse. We took the proprietor to Edo Jail. Later, I’ll figure out exactly what crimes he’s guilty of arranging and your father can put him on trial. I’ve put a watch on the Drum Teahouse, in case Jinshichi and Gombei should show up there.”
“Who were the clients?” Reiko asked eagerly.
Before he answered, Sano looked through the open doors that led to other rooms, to see if Masahiro was listening. He’d resolved not to let his son hear any more conversations about detective work. He saw Masahiro exactly where he’d been when Sano arrived home—sitting in bed two rooms away, Akiko curled up beside him. Masahiro was reading his sister a story. Even though he’d spent the whole day indoors, being punished, he seemed contented enough.
“The clients are three individuals who’ll be in big trouble if I find out that they touched my cousin,” Sano said. “Gombei and Jinshichi did dirty work for some prominent men. I’m not personally acquainted with them, but I’ve heard of them all. One is a rice broker named Ogita.”
“I’ve heard of him, too,” Reiko said. “Doesn’t he buy and sell rice from the shogun’s family lands?”
“That’s him. He’s made a lot of money at it.” Enough to pay for women to be kidnapped and delivered to him for his pleasure, Sano thought. “The second man is the official in charge of the shogun’s dog kennels.”
Due to the law that protected dogs, and the public nuisance they caused, the government had established kennels for the strays. Someone had to maintain the kennels, and that duty had fallen to Nanbu Bosai. He was a Tokugawa vassal from an old, respected clan. But good family connections didn’t preclude twisted sexual tastes—or crime.
“Who is the third suspect?” Reiko asked.
“A priest named Joju,” Sano said.
“The one who’s famous for those rituals?”
Joju’s unique, extraordinary rituals had captured the attention of the public, which was avid for new diversions. “The very one,” Sano said. “But we don’t know if any of the three men is responsible for the attacks.”
He faced the disturbing possibility that Jinshichi and Gombei had kidnapped the women for other clients that the proprietor of the Drum Teahouse didn’t know about. He recalled what he’d seen at Edo Morgue, and another disturbing possibility occurred to him. “Dr. Ito examined Tengu-in’s body,” he said, and told Reiko about the disease found on the nun.
“Oh, no.” Clearly stricken by horror, Reiko voiced Sano’s fear: “Does that mean Chiyo and Fumiko might have it, too?”
“Let’s hope not,” Sano said. “In the meantime, I intend to find out the truth abou
t our suspects tomorrow.”
“I must warn you that Jirocho isn’t content to leave the investigation to you,” Reiko said, and described the scene at Major Kumazawa’s house.
Sano was glad his uncle had spurned the gangster’s proposition that they join forces, but displeased by the thought of Jirocho running wild in pursuit of blood. “That’s bad news,” Sano said, “but I won’t let Jirocho get in my way.”
Hirata raced through the corridors of his mansion. His children stampeded after him, whooping and laughing. Their footsteps shook the floor. Hirata swerved around corners. Taeko and Tatsuo crashed into walls. Midori called from her chamber, “All this noise is giving me a headache!”
But her tone was fond, indulgent. Hirata knew she loved having him at home, romping with the children. He’d been gone for too much of their short lives, and he’d had to win back their love.
He ran ahead of them and darted into a room. Taeko and Tatsuo sped toward him in hot, uproarious pursuit. Hirata jumped out of the room and shouted, “Boo!”
They recoiled and screamed. Now he was chasing them. They all spilled out the door, down the steps into the dark garden. “Try to find us, Papa!” Taeko called.
She and her little brother ran off to hide. Hirata ambled after them. The wet grass soaked his socks. Fireflies glimmered. In their weak, fleeting light Hirata spotted Taeko behind a stone lantern and Tatsuo peeking around a pine tree. He pretended not to see the children, but they screamed when he came near them and bolted. They rustled so loudly through the grass that Hirata didn’t need mystic martial arts powers to hear where they went.
Midori appeared on the veranda and called, “That’s enough. Come inside. It’s time for the children to go to bed.”
Taeko and Tatsuo let out woeful cries and begged her to let them play a little longer.
A pulse of energy traveled through the darkness, through Hirata. His breath caught. His flesh rippled as he detected the same presence that he’d encountered at Shinobazu Pond. It was inside Edo Castle, somewhere nearby.
Hirata froze, listening with all his might. The peaceful night vibrated with howls and screeches beyond the range of normal hearing. He moved his gaze from side to side in an attempt to see the invisible threat. His pupils dilated. His vision expanded. The whole interior of Edo Castle, its buildings, streets, and passages, formed an image like a distorted map, composed of echoes and memory, around the periphery of his eyesight. He couldn’t locate the presence, but he could feel the danger.
“Taeko! Tatsuo! Get in the house!” he shouted.
He sped toward his children, scooped up Taeko with one arm and Tatsuo with the other. Frightened by his alarm and his rough handling, they started to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Midori said. “What are you doing?”
Hirata vaulted onto the veranda and threw the crying, screaming children in the door. He said to Midori, “You, too!”
“Have you gone mad?” she demanded. “What is it?”
“Someone’s out to get me.” Hirata stood between her and the threat, his arms flung wide to shield her. He gazed into the night, his heart pounding.
“Someone’s always out to get you,” Midori said. “That’s the problem with being the man that everyone wants to beat. Why upset the children?”
“He’s here,” Hirata said.
“Where? I don’t see anyone.”
Hirata didn’t, either, but the energy still pulsed with ominous power. “Just do as I told you: Go in the house!”
Determined to protect his family, cursing himself because he’d left his swords in the house and there was no time to fetch them, he started down the steps, his body his only weapon.
Midori followed him. “Why are you scared?” she asked. During his time away from home she’d developed a strong will of her own, and she often disregarded his orders. Furthermore, she wasn’t quite convinced that her husband lived in dimensions she couldn’t see. “You can defeat anybody. Besides, this estate is full of guards. Nobody can get in to hurt us.”
Hirata raced in spirals through the garden. He felt like a cat chasing a string it couldn’t see, while an unseen hand jerked the string this way and that, just out of reach. The pulse came from all directions and none. As he left the garden and barreled down a passage between buildings in his estate, Midori fell behind. He faintly heard her calling him to come back and calm down. He burst through a gate that led to the street outside the estate.
“Where are you?” he yelled. “Show yourself!”
The sounds of dogs barking and troops patrolling on horse back in the distance were his only answer. The street bordered by the walls of other estates was empty, serene under the moonlit clouds. But Hirata felt no peace.
His enemy had access to Edo Castle. Stone walls and the Tokugawa army hadn’t kept him out. He could get close enough to attack Hirata whenever he wanted.
Day broke as Sano and Detectives Marume and Fukida and a few troops rode west out of town. The highway extended along a ridge, bypassing the temples of Zj district. Bells and gongs tolled. Distant pagodas rose into the humid air and disappeared into clouds edged with gold by the sun.
Sano and his entourage traversed the suburb of Kojimachi, which boasted factories where soybeans were fermented and processed into bean paste. The odor enveloped Sano like a salty, rotten tide. He and his men continued on to the farther suburb of Yotsuya.
He heard the Tokugawa dog kennel before it came into view.
The sound of the dogs barking and howling blared over the roofs of the shops and teahouses that lined the main road, the temples, and the estates that belonged to various daimyo and Tokugawa vassals.
“What a din!” Marume exclaimed. “How can anybody stand to live around here?”
The din grew louder as Sano and his men forged onward. The smell hit them as they reached the kennel. One of three maintained by the government, it was a huge compound enclosed by a stone wall, set between the city’s outskirts and the farm houses, fields, and woodland beyond. It radiated an overwhelming stink of feces.
Marume held his nose. Sano tried not to breathe as he rode up to the unguarded gate. His troops entered first. As Sano followed with his detectives, the stench nauseated him and the barking deafened him. Some forty thousand dogs lived here, all strays picked up in the city, protected by the shogun’s laws of compassion, kept fed, sheltered, and off the streets. A muddy yard surrounded rows of barracks, their doors open to reveal the dogs in cages inside.
A pack of loose dogs came bounding toward Sano. They were huge, some with shaggy brown or black fur, others sleek and blotched. They barked and growled as they charged. They all wore leather collars bristling with metal spikes. Their teeth were sharp in their snarling mouths. Their eyes blazed with intent to kill.
“Look out!” Fukida yelled.
Sano’s and his men’s horses shied, whinnied, and reared. A shrill whistle pierced the uproar. The dogs immediately retreated. They stood around Sano and his men, ears flat, growling deep in their throats. Four samurai strode across the yard toward Sano. Their trousers were tucked into high leather boots. They wore grins that said this wasn’t the first time they’d loosed their dogs on visitors and they enjoyed the spectacle.
“Greetings,” said the leader. About forty-five years old, with graying hair, he was short, but he had a broad build that he inflated by thrusting out his chest and stomach. He walked with his legs spread apart and his arms held away from his body, so that he took up as much space as possible. His eyes sparked with cunning and aggression under their heavy lids. His lips were thick and sensual, his jowls flaccid. He called to the dogs, who crowded around him, wagging their tails. He caressed their heads. “Scared you, didn’t they?”
Sano took an immediate dislike to the man. “Nanbu Bosai, I presume?”
“That I am. And you are . . . ?” Dismay appeared on Nanbu’s face as he recognized Sano. “Honorable Chamberlain, if I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have set the dogs on you. A thousa
nd apologies.”
“Now who’s scared?” Marume said with satisfaction.
Nanbu bowed. His three men, all younger than he but cut along the same brutish lines, followed suit. He said, “Welcome to my humble establishment.”
Sano heard rancor beneath Nanbu’s anxiety to please. The position Nanbu held came with disadvantages as well as a high stipend and respect from the shogun. Nanbu probably couldn’t get the smell of the kennels out of his nose, and he was the shogun’s chief dogcatcher. He and his assistants had to roam the streets of Edo and capture strays. The law forbade the public to jeer at the dogcatchers, but the law was often disobeyed. But Sano withheld his sympathy from the man. Nanbu might be responsible for Chiyo’s kidnapping and rape.
“May I ask what brings you here?” Nanbu said. “Do you need some guard dogs?”
“Is that what you call them?” Sano looked askance at the animals.
“They’re pretty good, if I do say so myself. They cornered you, didn’t they?” Nanbu said, not quite in jest. “I train them and sell them. Lord Kii has some at his estate. So do plenty of other daimyo. All these dogs eat up a lot of food. Might as well put them to work.”
“I don’t want a guard dog,” Sano said. “I came to talk to you.”
“Me?” Nanbu pointed to his puffed-out chest. “To what do I owe the honor?”
To all appearances, he spoke with the surprise and pleasure of any official singled out for the chamberlain’s attention.
“We have acquaintances in common,” Sano said.
“Oh? May I ask who they are?”
“Jinshichi and Gombei.”
Nanbu frowned, in mild confusion. “I’m sorry, but those names don’t sound familiar.”
Unconvinced that Nanbu didn’t know the oxcart drivers, or that the man was innocent, Sano said, “The proprietor of the Drum Teahouse tells a different story.”
“The Drum Teahouse?” Nanbu pondered. Sano couldn’t tell if he was actually trying to remember the place or planning to teach the proprietor a lesson for informing on him. “He must be mistaken. I’ve never been there.”
The Cloud Pavilion Page 19
