Sherlock Holmes In Japan

by Vasudev Murthy

  My first impression of Tokyo as the train entered the city at about five o’clock in the morning was of a crowded and congested city. We were received at the station by the Japanese lady that Sherlock Holmes had spoken of, Miss Masako Nohara. I was struck by her extraordinarily confident demeanour and the manner in which she carried herself. She was attractive but not overly so. There was no question of being deferential; she spoke to us as equals. Her English was fluent, without the slightest trace of an accent. It was evident that she was very well travelled and knowledgeable.

  ‘I am delighted to see you again, Mr Holmes,’ she said, as we settled into our carriage. ‘I was never in doubt that you would arrive here unharmed, but I gather it has been quite an adventure.’

  ‘Yes, a long and interesting journey, Miss Nohara. Dr Watson and I have certainly had some interesting experiences. And how is Mr Oshima now?’

  ‘He has recovered. He sends you his regards and hopes to receive a complete report soon. Tell me, though, why did you come through Kyoto?’

  ‘We thought we had been compromised. It made sense to seek a different access point. We sheltered at Kyoto for a few days.’

  ‘I am sure you were involved, somehow, in the recent incident at the Kinkaku-ji temple. I heard from my sources that two Englishmen had helped the police there deal with a rather delicate problem, concerning the suicide of a senior priest.’

  ‘An opportunity to glean another insight into the workings of the human brain.’

  ‘Well, we could do with you here, Mr Holmes. The police are not – shall we say – adequately progressive and scientific in their methods.’

  We reached the guest house to be greeted warmly by Jiro Hamada, the former sumo wrestler and bodyguard who had helped Holmes earlier by introducing him to Japan and its language and culture. While I refreshed myself, Holmes and Miss Nohara spoke on many matters for a couple of hours and she then excused herself, promising to be back by noon. Holmes then turned his attentions to his preparations, playing a few snatches on his violin while referring to the sheet music he had brought with him. In the midst of a singularly serious situation, it is remarkable that he could turn to music and keep his mind occupied.

  Miss Nohara then escorted us to the Office of Intelligence Research. Sherlock Holmes took with him several sheets of paper on which he had made copious notes.

  We reached Oshima-san’s office and were escorted inside by his aide, Mr Suzuki. Hamada-san sat outside, on guard, on Miss Nohara’s instruction.

  Oshima-san bowed.

  ‘It has been too long, Holmes-san, too long, ne! Two years! I am delighted to see you well and back again in Japan.’

  He turned towards me. ‘This is a great honour, Dr Watson. I have heard so much about you. I am hopeful that we shall have time to discuss some of the many cases that you have chronicled so admirably. Perhaps one day the story of the services rendered to our nation by Holmes-san and you will be made known.’

  ‘Miss Nohara mentioned that you had been ill but I did not expect to see you this pale and weak. You seem to have lost weight as well,’ remarked Holmes thoughtfully.

  ‘Yes, an unexpected illness. I had a delicacy, a fish called fugu, which requires great care in preparation because it is very poisonous. Perhaps the cook erred. Nevertheless, I am quite well now.

  ‘You did well not to communicate till you actually reached the shores of Japan, Holmes-san. We are unsure of so many things now. Professor Moriarty’s reach is deep inside Japan as well. I cannot imagine your struggles in reaching Japan. We received news of you last from Bangkok. Then you seemed to have given everyone the slip. Most commendable.’

  Holmes sat back in a large chair with half-closed eyes.

  Oshima-san’s attendant opened the door to enquire if he could bring in some tea, but Miss Nohara waved him away impatiently and asked him to return in fifteen minutes. The door was shut. Oshima-san, Miss Nohara and I waited, expectantly, for Holmes to speak.

  Holmes stood abruptly and shook his head.

  ‘No, Mr Oshima. What I have to say must be presented to the entire group that is familiar with the objectives of Operation Kobe55. The ramifications are so extreme that we simply cannot afford to keep this information with us any longer. Japan will be at war with every European power. Diplomacy will be stood on its head – no one will trust the other. A rot has set in that needs to be savagely excised, without delay.’

  Oshima-san was silent for a moment. ‘I can certainly bring in the ministers and the chief of Police. Sugiyama-san reached Tokyo from Switzerland yesterday to attend to some matters. Of course, you may perhaps not be aware that the list of eleven has been reduced to eight over the past three months, with the unfortunate deaths of Nishikawa-san, the minister of Finance, Takenaka-san, our ambassador to France and Kasama-san, our consul in Shanghai.’

  Sherlock Holmes spun around. ‘Really? I was not aware of this. A singular coincidence – three deaths in the past three months! What were the circumstances?’

  ‘Nishikawa-san had a heart attack at a cabinet meeting. Takenaka-san died in his sleep in Paris and Kasama-san slipped in his study in Shanghai and suffered a fatal concussion when his head hit the edge of a table.’

  ‘Did you not find that unusual?’

  Miss Nohara spoke. ‘Certainly, when you look at it in totality, it does seem peculiar. I personally looked into the deaths of the ambassadors, but the police and medical reports appear to be above reproach. There was no poison detected in the first case and the injuries in the second were consistent with the shape of the object that caused the concussion. Nishikawa-san’s death was not unexpected as he had long suffered from a weak heart. And –’

  ‘No!’ Holmes shook his head, disagreeing vehemently. ‘No! I am afraid I must insist – insist! – on a meeting this evening at five o’clock – three hours from now – of the remaining members. There is absolutely no time to lose. These deaths are not mere accidents or isolated events; the matter is converging by the second. Anarchy is mere days away. Our lives are in serious danger. I must insist further that Dr Watson be present at the meeting. The time for action is now. The Kobe55 Committee must meet immediately and that must include the emperor!’

  Oshima-san shifted uneasily in his seat. ‘An immediate audience with the emperor? I am afraid that is impossible. There is protocol and it would take days for his palace officials to grant us an audience. I can convey your message to the emperor’s private secretary in a sealed envelope if you insist on secrecy, but I –.’

  Holmes slammed his fist down on Oshima-san’s table. ‘The entire committee! I want the entire committee! Not one member less. I insist! The emperor must hear me. Japan’s very existence is in grave danger. We have no time for protocol. Do you understand, Mr Oshima?’

  Oshima-san demurred. ‘It would be very, very difficult, Holmes-san, please understand. Everyone is preparing for the Obon vacation …’

  Sherlock Holmes stood up, his eyes flashing angrily. ‘In that case, Mr Oshima, we must let events play out their course. There cannot possibly be anything more critical to the future of Japan; yet I find you strangely bound by absurd protocol and crippling procedure and thinking about the Obon vacation. I appear to have wasted the past three years of my life in a pointless pursuit. I have also endangered the life of my closest associate and dear friend. We shall leave Japan at once! I wish you a good day. Watson, let us –’

  Miss Nohara intervened. ‘Holmes-san, we are very grateful for your work and sincerely apologize for the inconvenience you have experienced. Doubtless you appreciate that this is not a very normal situation. Please give us a moment to collect our thoughts. ‘

  She spoke in Japanese to Oshima-san for about five minutes. The conversation was animated, but it seemed clear that Miss Nohara was making a very persuasive argument.

  Oshima-san finally held up his right hand and stopped Miss Nohara. He looked weary. ‘Holmes-san, I shall call Otawa-san and Sasaki-san and seek their immediate intervention.
They may help. If they refuse, or if the information you present to the committee proves of little value, my career is obviously over. Nevertheless, in deference to the sincere efforts you have made on our country’s behalf, I shall try.’

  Holmes bowed. ‘I would not ask this of you unless I had every reason to believe it necessary. You have trusted me thus far. Please trust me one more time.’

  Oshima-san placed calls to the minister of Internal Affairs and the chief of Secret Police and spoke to both at length. After what seemed an interminable wait, a call came through. It seemed that Holmes’s request had been granted. The emperor would see us at five o’clock and the remaining members of the committee would also be there.

  ‘Never in living memory, Holmes-san, has the emperor granted an audience at such short notice, without his secretaries already having an idea of the nature of information to be presented. I congratulate you.’ Oshima-san smiled. ‘Let us proceed immediately. We may have time for some tea; Suzuki-san always keeps some ready for us.’

  We stepped outside and saw a gruesome spectacle.

  Hamada-san was sprawled in a chair, a few feet from the threshold of Oshima-san’s room, frothing at the mouth. A cup of tea was on its side on the floor beside him, its contents spilt. On a small table near him was a tray filled with empty cups and a kettle of tea.

  Holmes sprang to Hamada-san’s side and grabbed his wrist to feel his pulse, while I examined the jugular vein for signs of life.

  ‘There is still a slight pulse. Summon a doctor. A stomach pump may help him!’

  Oshima-san’s and Miss Nohara’s faces blanched.

  ‘Dr Watson …?’ asked Miss Nohara, in an unsteady voice.

  I nodded. ‘He appears to have been poisoned, but is still alive.’ Miss Nohara rushed out to fetch a doctor.

  Holmes bent down and lifted the tea cup from the floor and sniffed at the residue. ‘Yes, he has been poisoned. I cannot say with what, but I certainly sense the faint odour of an unfamiliar chemical.’

  ‘Perhaps you can call your security forces immediately, Mr Oshima.’

  ‘They have penetrated to the very heart of my office!’ Oshima-san was leaning against the wall, completely shaken.

  ‘No one in this building is above suspicion, Mr Oshima! Please detain your aide, Mr Suzuki, as a start. That tea in the kettle was intended for us. Mr Hamada helped himself to some and unfortunately came in the way of the assassin’s plans.’

  Three policemen rushed into the little room and took charge. Oshima-san spoke to them rapidly and one sped out.

  ‘I have asked him to trace Suzuki-san,’ Oshima-san explained.

  In a minute, the policeman was back.

  ‘Suzuki-san left the building some ten minutes ago; he was apparently in a hurry. Obviously no one asked him where he was going and why.’

  ‘Now the only place that can give us safety is the emperor’s palace, Mr Oshima. If the Yakuza has penetrated this far, you can be sure that we will be watched as we leave this building. Mr Suzuki may well have heard of our plans and may have set up another incident enroute to the palace –’

  Miss Nohara interrupted, ‘There is more than one way to the Imperial Palace. Let us leave this minute!’ She gave each of us a small snub-nosed revolver. The meaning was clear.

  We rushed outside after locking Oshima-san’s office, leaving the doctor and the police to supervise matters pertaining to Jiro Hamada’s poisoning.

  For safety, we decided to take a public coach to the palace rather than Oshima-san’s personal carriage. Miss Nohara gave instructions to the coachman and we seemed to move in a direction logically opposite to the Tokyo Imperial Palace. At a suitable point far from the office, Miss Nohara gave fresh instructions and the coach meandered in various directions, finally turning again towards the palace.

  The roads were clear and while we kept our revolvers cocked for any eventuality, no fresh incident occurred as we approached the palace gates.

  At the gates, we alighted and Oshima-san approached the guards. They had already been notified to expect us and we were rushed through without hindrance.

  The Imperial Palace was everything one might imagine it to be – large, lush, with beautifully maintained lawns, buildings with the most delicate and exquisite façades. I was not oblivious to the fact that I was soon to meet Emperor Meiji, who was already being given critical acclaim, Holmes said, for the ongoing Meiji Restoration; Japan was asserting itself as a world power and this emperor was the architect. History was soon to be made. Though I had, even then, no hint of what Sherlock Holmes was planning to share, I could guess that it was to be of extraordinary import.

  We were escorted to an ornate meeting room with a very long, oval-shaped mahogany table in the centre. The Savonarola chairs with elaborate zabuton cushions, the noren silk curtains on the windows, the breathtakingly beautiful bonsai arrangements around the room, the large gold and silver foil paintings from the Azuchi-Momoyama era on the wall – everything spoke of the utmost elegance and refinement in taste. At one corner, a gentle fire had been lit to keep the room warm; it was unseasonably chilly in August. Except for the emperor, who had not yet arrived, all the others were already seated. Holmes knew them from his previous sojourn in Japan. Sugiyama-san was of course present and a smile of acknowledgment passed between them. They shook hands first, their pleasure at seeing each other evident. We went around the room, bowing and shaking hands.

  ‘Mr Otawa, a great pleasure meeting you again. This is my colleague and trusted friend, Dr Watson.’

  ‘Of course, of course! You are very well known here in Japan, Dr Watson. I am most honoured to make your acquaintance,’ said the minister of Internal Affairs, bowing. He was a small, stout man with quite a presence, accentuated by a large head and piercing, intelligent eyes.

  ‘Mr Yoshida. We meet again. Thank you for assisting me in Berlin, Stockholm and Madrid.’

  ‘Holmes-san, I am so grateful to you. The citizens of Japan will never know how much they owe you. But I know and so does the emperor. Thank you. Though I must ask how you know about my intervention,’ the slim, elderly Minister of Foreign Affairs said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

  ‘Let that be a diplomatic secret, Mr Yoshida. And here is my esteemed colleague, Dr Watson. Without him, I would not have been able to reach Japan again.’

  ‘His fame precedes him, Holmes-san. We are honoured to have you here,’ Yoshida-san said, in his suave and cultured voice.

  Sasaki-san, the chief of the Secret Police, came forward and bowed to Sherlock Holmes. His English was poor, but nothing could diminish his obviously charismatic and powerful presence. He was short and stocky, and carried himself with great confidence and authority.

  ‘I thank you, Holmes-san,’ said Sasaki-san, simply. ‘Very difficult journey, very difficult problem, ne. Arigato gozaimashita.’

  ‘Mr Sasaki, thank you.’

  We seated ourselves. Holmes sat, by default, at the end of the table, opposite where the emperor was to sit. I sat on his immediate left and further along were Miss Nohara and Oshima-san. To Holmes’s right were Sasaki-san, Sugiyamasan, Yoshida-san and Otawa-san.

  It was 4:55 p.m.

  The Imperial Palace

  You say, my friend, that Majesty stems not from the

  accidents of heredity, but dedication to the truth.

  When the truth flows from the heart, he is the Emperor

  for those few minutes. A palace is simply the home

  of he who is always the Emperor.

  In perusing my notes, I find that Holmes surpassed himself in every possible way during that definitive meeting with Emperor Meiji and the other members of the team who knew of Operation Kobe55. From the time I had known him, Holmes had approached each assignment with a clinical mind; matters of the state or matters touching upon crime or others of significant import to his clients were handled with utmost precision and professionalism. Even today, I am unable to make public certain cases of great sensitivity. Those that t
he reader has learned about are no longer likely to make a difference to the lives and careers of men or women who were involved. In a few instances, Holmes suggested that I make changes in describing events or locations; I always obliged because I knew what that great mind was capable of calculating.

  With so many years having elapsed after the event, perhaps the reader might wonder at the dilemma confronting me. Does the reader not deserve to know the facts? Or does the sensitivity of the matter not warrant secrecy for at least another hundred years? Sherlock Holmes recommended the former, for, in his view, the lessons derived from our experience touched upon so many aspects of diplomacy and crime that it could even serve as a kind of elaborate monograph on aspects of diplomatic convention and crime detection. I do believe an aspect of his ego was involved in his coming to such a conclusion. This, in my view, was quite forgivable. Sherlock Holmes did not believe in unnecessary modesty and, in his view, this particular case represented the apex of his career.

  The emperor was announced and we all stood as he walked in swiftly, accompanied by two guards. He was not in his formal robes, but his elegant Yukata kimono and bearing made it clear that he was royalty; he glanced in our direction and nodded. We bowed low and waited for him to sit down and permit us to be seated as well. He did so with a wave of his hand.

  Emperor Meiji was in his late thirties at that time and presented an impressive sight. Holmes had told me that he was a strong and far-sighted visionary. He was also an introspective poet of some standing and given to the study of the classics.

  Standing behind him, at attention, were his guards.

  He looked slowly across the assembly and then directly at Sherlock Holmes. A current of respect flowed between them and then the moment passed as Holmes bowed.

  Otawa-san stood up and bowed again to the emperor, addressing him in Japanese. He told me later that he had sought permission from the emperor to have Sherlock Holmes present a report of immense significance and sought pardon for requesting an audience at such short notice.