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 months 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’ 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 the 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 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 toward 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-s
an 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’ right were Sasaki-san, Sugiyama-san, 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 the 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 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, yet his elegant 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.
The emperor addressed Holmes through Otawa-san since his command over the English language was poor.
‘I am grateful to you for having taken so much trouble for the sake of Japan over the past three years. I am ready to listen to what you have to say.’
Holmes nodded.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I have much to say and I ask for your patience and that of my colleagues here.
‘I arrived in this wonderful country, escorted by your esteemed ambassador to Switzerland Mr. Sugiyama, and was briefed on Operation Kobe55 by Mr. Oshima. Thereafter, I met all the members of the group, one by one. I regret the recent passing of Mr. Nishikawa, Mr. Takenaka, and Mr. Kasama. I believe that they fell in the line of duty, assassinated by forces inimical to Japan, perhaps bent on creating a crisis for the country and lowering its standing in the eyes of the international community. I must compliment the members of this group for having recognized the cancer as it developed and taking a courageous decision to deal with it.
‘You may be aware that I spent a few months in Japan in the company of Jiro Hamada, primarily in Tokyo and Osaka, to become acquainted with the many aspects of Japanese culture. He taught me the basics of your fine language, introduced me to the sport of sumo, took me to the kabuki theatre and to music performances. All this was to let me immerse myself in the culture and pick up the nuances of Japanese customs. The other reason was, of course, to learn about the Yakuza from experts in Mr. Sasaki’s organization. Why did I do this? Quite simple—I had to prepare for my assignment in Europe and had to plan my course of action. What was the assignment? To independently gauge the extent of the Yakuza’s infiltration into the Japanese Diplomatic Services and understand how the nexus with Professor Moriarty’s organization and the Shanghai Opium Triad was operating. Let me make myself clear once again—that is what I understood the assignment to be. However, I was quite unprepared for what I discovered—but I shall come to that later.
‘Working closely with Mr. Oshima, Miss Nohara, Mr. Otawa, Mr. Sasaki, Mr. Nishikawa, and Mr. Yoshida, I first prepared for myself the infrastructure I would need in order to operate undercover in Europe. Since the world at large was convinced that I had been killed at Reichenbach Falls, I needed time to allow the matter to die down and to prepare a separate identity. This I did with the assistance of Mr. Yoshida, who created an elaborate set of identities for me, sometimes as an American businessman, other times as an English banker, elsewhere as a Spanish violinist, and more. My financial needs were to be taken care of by Mr. Nishikawa’s arrangements; I needed clear assurance that I would have access to money when necessary. Mr. Sasaki’s undercover network was to help me with weapons and access to police information when needed. Mr. Oshima arranged for my activities in Europe to be seen as legitimate—I was set up to import sake from a bona fide manufacturer in Sapporo and other liquors from other countries. All this was very important; we believed that it might take over a year to fully assess the extent of the problem and develop a plan. Mr. Takenaka in France and Mr. Sugiyama in Switzerland were judged to be best placed to help me with diplomatic couriers when I needed to communicate with Mr. Oshima or Miss Nohara or provide me with a safe haven if necessary.
‘I visited Shanghai on my way to Europe and met Mr. Kasama, your dynamic consul there. I was thoroughly impressed by him. A perceptive and dilligent man, he was very knowledgeable about the activities of the Shanghai Opium Triad. In fact, he had independently developed his own intelligence network and was aware of the expansion plans of the Triad to a far greater extent than anyone else. This was not surprising given his location. He was also a gregarious person, who had developed good relations with members of the Diplomatic Services of other countries who were stationed in China. Indeed, I recall that my first appreciation of the enormity of the problem came from Mr. Kasama’s insights.
‘I spent two weeks in Shanghai with Mr. Kasama. We visited a couple of opium dens together, incognito, since he wanted me to understand firsthand the extent of the opium business and how it affected people. It was there that I noticed a few Europeans walking about—some were customers, while some seemed to actually be involved in running dens. That is when Mr. Kasama broke the news to me at a small restaurant.
‘Holmes-san, you will find Europeans of every nationality involved in the opium den business.’
/> ‘Not surprising,’ I said. ‘People are driven by the same desires everywhere.’
‘But what may be surprising to you is that there are some European diplomats who are involved—not just as consumers of opium but as active business partners.’
‘What?’
‘That is correct. Certain diplomats are in the employ of the Triad. They have business interests and are often used as couriers—not necessarily of opium, but to guarantee the movement of funds.
‘It is possible that it is not just the Japanese Diplomatic Service that has been compromised at many levels—the rot has spread to the other consuls based in Shanghai as well. From there it will move elsewhere.’
Holmes turned to me. ‘Watson, do you recall the mysterious affair of Miss Bryant, who said she was the tutor to the children of the Japanese consul in Shanghai? That was an obvious lie as I knew Mr. Kasama, the consul-general, and he did not have children. She turned out to be an expert in Chinese martial arts in the pay of the Shanghai Triad, assigned to assassinate anyone who took too active an interest in the affairs of the Triad. It was she who slipped a sleeping potion in your tea, entered your cabin via the porthole and killed Mr. Hashimoto, your friend. And do you recall hearing some sounds earlier that you were wondering about? That was her practising for the kill. She had the slim build needed to enter the narrow porthole and the high intelligence to stage such a daring murder. I believe she had discovered that Mr. Hashimoto was in fact a member of the Japanese Secret Police returning to Japan after a meeting with Scotland Yard.’
‘That…that…is astounding, Holmes!’ I stammered, recalling the pleasant lady who had travelled with us. She was actually a cold-blooded trained assassin!
‘You would also recall that the ship’s doctor commented that he was puzzled by the nature of the wound. You did not have a specific response at that time, but I noticed that the wound was particularly narrow and deep and that the knife had been plunged in under the ribs at the diaphragm and then up cleanly into the heart. Death must have been very quick. I conjecture that Miss Bryant hung down from the side of the bridge, broke open the porthole, quickly entered the cabin and surprised Mr. Hashimoto. She struck him under the ribs, the long knife directly hitting his heart, precisely as planned. This was the work of a professional assassin, gifted with ruthlessness, knowledgeable about the human anatomy, using the right instrument and fully aware of the advantage of the element of surprise.’
Sherlock Holmes, The Missing Years, Japan Page 21