“Because there are connections and patterns that are invisible to us.
And because I remember the last thing Goro’s mother said to me when she cursed me.“
The words spoken two years ago echoed in Reiko’s mind, a threatening prophesy of the future now about to come true. “ ‘Someday you’ll find out what it’s like to be punished for something you didn’t do.”“
A walled enclave within Sano’s compound held valuables that included money, government records, and spare household furnishings. “I want to look at those weapons that Hirata-san found,” Sano told the guard who let him and Marume and Fukida through the gate. The weapons were the only material clue found during his entire investigation. He hoped a close examination of them would yield important facts. “Where are they?”
Square, identical storehouses, built with thick plaster walls, tile roofs, and iron doors to protect their contents from fire, stood in rows like a small, deserted city. “Here,” the guard said, opening the door of one storehouse.
Marume and Fukida entered and opened the shutters. Following them inside, Sano breathed dank air that smelled of metal and grease. He peered through the dimness at the thirty wooden crates on the floor.
“I need more light than this,” he said.
The detectives helped him move the crates onto the pavement outside. Fortunately the rain had paused. An eerie, silver glow lit the early evening sky. The air was still warm, and Sano and his men sweated while working. When they had the crates lined up between the storehouses, they removed the lids.
Fukida picked up and read a paper that lay atop the arquebuses inside one crate. “Detective Arai did an inventory of the guns. There are twenty in each crate, six hundred total. All appear to be in good working order.”
“Are those his only observations?” Sano asked, concerned not just because they were so limited.
When Fukida nodded, Marume said, “What else do we need to know?”
“Where Lord Mori got them would be helpful.” Sano wondered why Hirata had left an important task to his subordinate, apparently without checking the results.
“That might tell us who was conspiring with him to overthrow Lord Matsudaira,” Marume agreed. “But didn’t Hirata-ran say he searched the crates for documents to show where the guns came from and didn’t find any?”
“Yes. But documents aren’t the only means of tracing guns.” Sano thought Hirata should have been aware of this fact, should have taken it into account. “Help me inspect these for gunmaker’s marks.”
Looking over each gun, they found characters and crests, etched into the barrels or branded on the wooden stocks, that identified the craftsmen who’d made them. “Four different gunmakers so far,” Marume said after they’d gone through twenty crates. “Two of them have big workshops in Edo. They supply guns to the Tokugawa army.”
“Maybe someone in the army is in on the conspiracy,” Fukida said.
“They also make guns for the daimyo,” said Marume. “Don’t count them out.”
These possibilities heartened Sano. The army and the daimyo class could offer plenty of treason suspects besides himself—but he shouldn’t jump to conclusions. “There have been thefts from the arsenal during the three years since the war,” Sano pointed out. “These guns could have gotten into Lord Mori’s warehouse via the black market.”
“I don’t recognize the other two marks,” Fukida said.
Nor did Sano. “They must belong to craftsmen in the provinces.”
He and his men were down to the last three crates. As soon as Sano lifted out a gun he saw on its stock a circular crest with a chevron inside. He felt a mixture of triumph and dismay.
“Is something wrong?” Fukida asked.
“That’s a new mark,” Marume said, peering at the gun. “I don’t recognize it.”
“Neither do I,” said Fukida.
“I do,” Sano said. He had good reason to, whereas his men didn’t and neither did Detective Arai, who’d done the inventory and overlooked the marks. “It belongs to a workshop in the Hatchobori district. They make guns for the Edo police force.”
“I didn’t know the police had guns,” Marume said. “They don’t carry them.”
“Many of the commanders have them for target practice. That’s their hobby.” A former police commander himself, Sano knew this. “They’ve built up quite a collection.”
“This is just what we’ve been looking for.” Excitement animated Fukida’s serious features. “A clue that points to Police Commissioner Hoshina.”
“He could have been putting together a gang to overthrow Lord Matsudaira’s regime and do away with you at the same time,” Marume said to Sano.
“Maybe he recruited Lord Mori and put him in charge of collecting guns for another war,” Fukida said.
“Maybe Lord Mori had second thoughts,” Marume said, “and Hoshina was afraid he would report the conspiracy. That would explain why he’d have wanted Lord Mori dead.”
“What if he went to the Mori estate and happened to see Lady Reiko there?” Fukida speculated.
Marume pantomimed shooting a bow and arrow. “Two birds at once. Down goes Chamberlain Sano as well as Lord Mori.”
The detectives had followed Sano’s line of thought to a conclusion that obviously delighted them. Sano was gladdened, too, that the guns had implicated Hoshina in murder and treason, but less happy about how and when this clue had come to light.
Fukida handled a gun, frowning at the telltale mark. “I wonder why Sosakan Hirata didn’t notice this. He used to be a police officer.”
“It seems as if he’d have recognized—” Marume interrupted himself. He and Fukida glanced at Sano, then away.
An uncomfortable silence fell.
Sano knew they were thinking the same thing he was: Hirata didn’t even look for the marks. He missed an important clue.
“No harm done,” Marume said, too loudly.
“We have the evidence against Hoshina now,” Fukida said.
Sano sensed their desire to protect Hirata, their friend and former comrade. He tried not to calculate what Hirata’s mistake might have cost him, although he couldn’t help wondering, What if I’d had this information about the guns yesterday?
He said, “Do you think we have time for a ride to the police district before the rain starts again?”
Marume and Fukida grinned, happy at the prospect of gathering more timber for Hoshina’s funeral pyre. “We have time, rain or not,” Marume said.
23
Quays and warehouses abounded in Hatchobori, the district where the police commanders known as joriki lived in estates grouped together like an island amid the townspeople’s dwellings. They were famous for the airs they put on and the bribes they took. As Sano rode along a quay with his entourage, they passed a joriki riding with his attendants. Sano recognized him as Hayashi, a former colleague. He wore expensive chain mail, probably his latest gift from a lord whose retainers had gotten in a brawl and who’d paid him to hush up the affair. He bowed coldly to Sano: He still resented the fact that Sano had been promoted over him, especially because Sano had been a misfit in the exclusive police brotherhood.
The shooting range was a favorite haunt of the joriki. It was surrounded by wharves for firewood and bamboo poles, invisible behind a wall topped with sharp iron spikes. Lanterns hung over the gate flamed and smoked in the damp evening air. Two samurai youths lolled inside a guard booth. When Sano’s party stopped before them, they rose and bowed.
“Chamberlain Sano wants to go inside,” Detective Marume said.
The guards exchanged fearful glances that seemed an odd response to such a simple request. They had similar square jaws and chunky physiques; they looked like brothers. One said, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed today.”
“The field is flooded,” the other hastened to explain.
“That’s no problem,” said Marume. “Chamberlain Sano isn’t here to shoot. He only needs to see the guns.”
&
nbsp; The guards spoke in rapid, panicky succession: “Nobody except the police commanders is allowed in the arsenal.” “Police Commissioner Hoshina’s orders.”
“The honorable chamberlain outranks your boss,” Marume said. “Open up.”
The guards reluctantly obeyed. Riding in, Sano asked them, “Who’s the caretaker of the arsenal these days?”
“Me,” mumbled the younger man.
“Come with us.”
Inside was a long patch of muddy ground, weed-covered in some places, under water in low spots. At one end stood flat, wooden, man-shaped figures riddled with bullet holes and a suit of armor mounted on a wicker horse. Opposite was the arsenal, a shed with stone walls, an iron-shingled roof, and an iron door and shutters. A similar, smaller building held ammunition and gunpowder. As Sano and his men rode toward the arsenal, he heard his name shouted. He turned and saw Captain Torai, chief retainer to Police Commissioner Hoshina, riding after them so hard that his horse’s hooves splashed up fountains of water.
“What a surprise to see you here,” Torai said as he caught up with Sano. “I didn’t know you were interested in shooting.”
“Only when I see someone I’d like to shoot,” Sano said.
Torai’s grin gave his face a wolfish cast. “May I be of assistance?” he said, obviously eager to find out what Sano was up to.
“No, thank you.” Sano kept riding.
“He wants to see the guns,” blurted the caretaker, who hurried alongside him on foot.
“Oh?” Torai sped up his horse, placing himself between the arsenal and Sano. “Why?”
“Just testing a theory,” Sano said.
Torai blocked the door to the arsenal. “What theory?”
“Do you want us to get rid of him, Honorable Chamberlain?” Detective Marume asked.
“It’s my duty to oversee anything that happens here,” Torai said, belligerent now.
Sano decided Torai might come in handy. “Stay if you wish, but get out of the way.” As he and his men dismounted, he ordered the caretaker, “Open the arsenal.”
When he stepped inside, the caretaker held up a lantern to illuminate walls lined with iron cabinets. Detectives Marume and Fukida opened these, revealing hundreds of compartments that each contained guns rolled up in oiled cloth.
Marume’s breath whistled out of him. “This is enough weapons to start a war.”
“There’s certainly more than I remember.” Sano wondered if Police Commissioner Hoshina was indeed plotting a coup, and building up the arsenal in preparation.
“So what?” Torai asked from the doorway.
Ignoring him, Sano asked the caretaker, “Do you keep an inventory of the guns?”
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” The youth looked even more nervous. He removed a ledger from a cabinet and opened it to show pages filled with characters.
“We’re going to look through all the guns, compare them to the inventory, and see if any are missing,” Sano said.
“They aren’t,” Torai said. “Unless you’re blind, you can see that all the compartments are full.”
Marume and Fukida unwrapped guns, which included pistols as well as arquebuses, bearing the marks of many different craftsmen. Some were old, elaborate works of art; others modern, plain, and utilitarian. Sano and the caretaker marked off each in the ledger. By the time they were finished and emerged from the arsenal, they’d found thirty compartments that held, instead of guns, wooden dowels wrapped in cloth.
“How about that,” Sano said. “Thirty arquebuses are unaccounted for. What happened to them?”
Captain Torai looked surprised, and disturbed. Sano thought he hadn’t expected any weapons to be missing. Torai turned on the caretaker. “Well?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, uh, maybe the police commanders borrowed them and forgot to tell me.”
“There you have it.” Torai sounded relieved, although uncertain as to what trap he was trying to evade.
“Never mind the excuses,” Sano said. “I can tell you exactly what happened to those guns. Sosakan Hirata confiscated them with some others from a warehouse that belonged to Lord Mori. They’re a sign that someone on the police force was conspiring with Lord Mori to stockpile weapons and stage a coup. And my candidate is Police Commissioner Hoshina.”
“That’s absurd!” Torai was clearly less alarmed than disbelieving.
“Are you so sure?” Sano asked. “How much do you know about what he does when you’re not with him?”
Torai made a sound of disgust. “Hoshina-san isn’t the only person who had access to the arsenal. Someone else on the police force could have taken the guns.”
He turned a hard, searching gaze on the caretaker, who looked terrified. By this time Sano had no doubt that he was an accomplice, whether willing or not, to the theft. The caretaker started to back away across the shooting range.
“Not so fast,” Sano said.
The caretaker faltered to a stop. Sano intended to find out exactly what he knew about the missing guns. A little pressure and surely he would incriminate Hoshina. Now a look of concern came over Torai’s face as he read Sano’s thoughts.
“Go back to your duties,” he told the caretaker.
“Stay,” Sano commanded. His troops surrounded the man. “You’re coming with me.”
“Hoshina .san is loyal to Lord Matsudaira. He’s not involved in any coup,” Torai insisted.
“Maybe you’re right. There are other ambitious men on the police force.” Sano stared at Torai. Maybe he wasn’t really surprised about the missing guns. “What have you been up to behind your master’s back?”
Another man might have been alarmed because the tainted wind of treason had blown onto him. Police Commissioner Hoshina certainly had; yet Torai feigned puzzlement, looked behind him as if to see who Sano was talking about, then shrugged and grinned. “You’re just stabbing in the dark to save yourself.”
“You have all the answers, don’t you?” Tired of verbal sparring, frustrated because Torai had pointed up the flimsiness of the evidence he’d found, Sano shifted the conversation to another track. “Well, if you’re as smart as you seem, you can tell that your master is in trouble.”
“Not as much trouble as you are,” Torai said with malicious pleasure.
“You’re wrong,” Sano said. “The only evidence against me is a story told by a medium who’s recanted it and is now on my side. The evidence against Police Commissioner Hoshina is guns from this arsenal found in an illegal cache.”
“What about the notes in your handwriting that were also found with the cache?”
“Planted there,” Sano dismissed them scornfully, although he was perturbed because the news had reached his enemies. “Don’t put too much stock in them. Weigh the evidence. Guns are heavier than papers with ambiguous scribbles on them. Hoshina’s side of the balance is heading down faster than mine. You don’t want to join him at the bottom. I’m going to offer you a deal.”
The captain arched his brows, skeptical yet listening.
“Turn witness against Hoshina,” Sano said. “Give him up for treason and the murder of Lord Mori. In exchange, you can keep your head and your rank.”
“Forget it,” Torai said disdainfully, without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re the traitor. Your wife’s the murderer. Hoshina-san is innocent. I’m not bailing out on him, especially when you’re not in a position to keep any promises.”
Sano realized that Torai was made of stronger stuff than his superior. Torai had stood his ground whereas Hoshina had nearly caved in. Whether or not he really believed in Hoshina, he was determined to stick with him. Torai was the type of samurai who aligned the course of his life with his master’s and never deviated, for good or bad. Every regime in history had been built on men like Torai; no warlord could rise to power without them.
“Very well,” Sano said. “You’ll regret your decision when you find yourself kneeling beside Hoshina on the execution ground.”
“Your wish
is not mine to fulfill,” Torai retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m not wasting any more time on this conversation.”
He stomped out of the arsenal. Sano, Marume, and Fukida watched from the doorway as he mounted his horse and rode away through the deepening night.
“He should have jumped at your offer,” Fukida said. “You have a stronger case than ever against Hoshina.”
“Unfortunately, my case is founded on logic that won’t convince everyone,” Sano said. “We know that as well as Torai does. Let’s go back to the castle and find Hirata-san. Maybe he’s had better luck with his inquiries today than we with ours.”
Red Chrysanthemum Page 22