Profound Wisdom lunged toward the door. The detectives caught him and shoved him down on his knees. Sano stood over him. “Did Mariko come here seven days ago?” Sano repeated.
Fists clenched, the priest huffed at Sano as though ready to explode from hatred. Then the breath seeped out of him; defeat slackened his face and posture. “She did,” he muttered.
“Why?” Sano said.
“To report on the shogun’s mother. She said Lady Keisho-in was planning to travel the next day.”
Vindication elated Sano: His theory had proved correct. “So Mariko got permission to leave Edo Castle that night because she wanted to see you,” he said. “She was your spy.”
And Profound Wisdom appeared a likely suspect in the kidnapping. A leader in a sect persecuted by Police Commissioner Hoshina, the priest boasted many followers willing to kill for revenge. The bizarre poem about the Dragon King seemed a product of his insanity.
But Profound Wisdom shook his head. “Not my spy.”
“Then why did she report to you?” Sano asked as his elation turned to confusion.
“The news Mariko brought was for someone else.”
“For whom?” Sano said, increasingly baffled.
“A man. He worships at my temple,” Profound Wisdom said. “Mariko came here to see him. He wasn’t here. She left the message in case he should come, then went to look for him.”
Now it appeared, to Sano’s disappointment, that Profound Wisdom was neither the Dragon King nor the final stage in the search for Reiko. “Who is this man?” Sano said.
“I don’t know,” the priest said sullenly.
Sano gripped his stole. “Tell me, or the word goes out right now that you betrayed the Black Lotus.”
Although Profound Wisdom recoiled in terror, he cried, “I speak the truth! I don’t know his name.”
Sano flung Profound Wisdom down; he folded his arms and waited. Eager to placate Sano, the priest explained, “He joined the Black Lotus about three years ago. One day this past winter, he said he needed a quiet, obedient girl to work for him. I introduced him to Mariko. He got her a position as a maid to the shogun’s mother. She was supposed to find out whenever Lady Keisho-in was leaving the castle, where she was going, and what route she would be taking. Mariko would either tell me or send me a message, and I would relay the news to the man when he came to the temple.”
Now Sano speculated that this unknown man was the Dragon King. He must have been looking for the right opportunity to abduct Lady Keisho-in. But Sano wondered how he’d gotten Mariko a position in Edo Castle. And Profound Wisdom’s tale struck a note of disbelief in Sano.
“Since when do you, a high Black Lotus priest, do favors for a follower whose identity you don’t even know?” Sano said.
“Since he became a patron of the Black Lotus,” said Profound Wisdom. “He gave me large donations. He paid me for Mariko, and for taking her messages for him. I did other things for him, too.”
Money bought service even from Black Lotus priests who usually tyrannized their followers, Sano noted. It also helped the sect survive in a hostile climate. Sano deduced that Mariko had met the man that night, and he’d paid her in gold coins, which she’d hidden in her room until she could give them to her priest.
“Later on the night that Mariko brought her message,” Profound Wisdom said, “the man came here. He wanted some good fighters. I asked why, but he just counted money into my hand. I gathered eighty-five rōnin and some peasant toughs and sent them to Shinagawa to meet him the next day.”
A thrill of revelation sped through Sano’s veins. Shinagawa was the Tōkaidō post station nearest Edo. The man, whom Sano now believed was the Dragon King, had borrowed an army to pursue Lady Keisho-in’s party, massacre her attendants, and kidnap the women. His initial hunch had been half right: The Black Lotus was involved in the crimes, though not chiefly responsible for them. The merchant Naraya had spoken a partial truth when he’d blamed the kidnapping on the Black Lotus. But Sano’s thrill immediately turned to horror.
Black Lotus samurai were a vicious scourge that killed at the slightest provocation. Now Sano’s earlier fears gained substance. The Black Lotus had Reiko. Although her role in High Priest Anraku’s downfall had been hushed up, the secret could have leaked. If the Black Lotus kidnappers knew what she’d done, Reiko was doomed no matter what plans the Dragon King had for her.
“How can you not know who the man is?” Sano said as his terror boosted his ill will toward Profound Wisdom. “I thought you Black Lotus priests were supposed to be all-seeing, all-knowing. What happened? Did your spies let you down?”
Crestfallen, Profound Wisdom twisted his mouth. “I had them follow the man every time he left the temple. Every time, they lost him. He was good at sneaking away.”
“Describe what he looks like,” Sano said, avid in pursuit of the Dragon King, who seemed almost close enough to touch yet still eluded him.
The priest scrutinized Sano, using him as a standard of comparison. “He’s younger and heavier than you. His eyes are rounder, his lips puckered.”
That description fit thousands of men. Sano’s hopes waned. “Is he a samurai or commoner?”
“I don’t know. He always wears a hood under his hat.” The hood had concealed whether the Dragon King had the shaved crown and topknot of the warrior elite. “But he didn’t wear swords.”
Then he could be a peasant, artisan, or merchant—or a samurai disguising his class. “Was there anything notable about his voice or manner?” Sano asked.
“His voice was deeper and quieter than yours. He moved as if… ” The priest searched for the right words. “As if he was afraid but wanted everyone to think he was brave.”
This detail might help identify the man—if Sano could find him first. “Did he say or do anything that gave you any information about him?”
Profound Wisdom meditated, the blackness of his eyes deepening with recollection. “He paid me to conduct a ritual for him. He wanted to communicate with someone who had died.”
Certain Black Lotus priests claimed the ability to speak to the dead and receive messages from them, Sano knew. “Who was it?” His instincts vibrated alert as he sensed the advent of a clue.
“A woman. He said her name was Anemone.”
“What happened?”
“The ritual was held in the temple here,” Profound Wisdom said. “I went into a trance, and I felt a gate within my mind open to the spirit realm. I called out, ‘Hail, spirit of Anemone. Please come and speak.’ ”
Sano had once raided another temple during a similar ritual, and he could picture Profound Wisdom seated on a dais, eyes closed in concentration, while monks and nuns chanted prayers. He imagined the flickering candlelight, heavy incense smoke, and the mystical atmosphere that induced the crowd of eager onlookers to believe in the priest’s fraud.
“A woman’s voice spoke from my mouth,” Profound Wisdom continued. “It said, ‘I am here. Why do you summon me?’ The man grew very excited. He cried, ‘Anemone! It is I. Do you recognize me?’ ”
Sano envisioned a hooded figure kneeling in supplication before Profound Wisdom, who’d impersonated the dead woman.
“The spirit answered, ‘Yes, my dearest,’ ” said Profound Wisdom. “The man began to weep. He said, ‘Anemone, I will avenge your death. Your spirit can rest in peace after the man who was responsible for your murder is punished.’ She whispered, ‘Avenge my death. Punish him.’ Then the gate to the spirit world closed. My trance broke. The man jumped up and shouted, ‘No! Anemone, come back!’ ”
Even though the priest was a charlatan, he knew how to tell people what they wanted to hear, Sano thought; and by echoing the man’s words instead of inventing conversation, and cutting short the ritual, Profound Wisdom had avoided exposing the spirit as a fake. Yet Sano was more struck by the significance of what the man had said than impressed by Profound Wisdom’s cleverness. He stood immobile while his thoughts registered the one potential clue
in Profound Wisdom’s story and raced on to strategies for connecting it to the Dragon King. Outside, lanterns lit the yard bright as day as laborers hauled loads of dirt to fill in the underground temple. Profound Wisdom eyed Sano with a contempt that didn’t hide his fear.
“I’ve told you everything I know,” he said. “Is it enough that you won’t brand me a traitor?”
“Enough for now,” Sano said, though the clue was tenuous.
“What are you going to do to me?”
“I’ll let you live awhile, in case you remember anything else about the man.” Sano addressed his detectives: “Take him to Edo Jail. Okada-san, you guard him so that nothing bad happens to him. Watanabe-san, tell Magistrate Ueda that I ask him to delay Profound Wisdom’s trial because he’s a witness in the kidnapping investigation. I’m going back to the castle. I’m late for my meeting with Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”
“I’m certain that the murder of Anemone is the murder that the ransom letter refers to, and the motive behind the kidnapping,” Sano said.
“And you suggest we investigate your theory that the mysterious Black Lotus follower is the Dragon King?” said Chamberlain Yanagisawa.
“I do.”
Midnight had passed while Sano rode from Ginza to Edo Castle. Now he and Yanagisawa sat in the chamberlain’s estate, in an office whose walls were hung with maps of Japan. Sano had just finished telling Yanagisawa about Mariko, the gold coins, the visit to her mother, and the raid on the Black Lotus temple. In the grounds outside the open window, cicadas droned; torches carried by patrolling guards smeared smoky light across the darkness. Sano reflected that crises forged strange alliances. He and Yanagisawa had become a partnership he’d never thought possible.
“If my memory serves me well, there was nobody named Anemone on your list of deaths associated with Police Commissioner Hosh-ina,” said Yanagisawa.
He was as immaculately groomed and stylish as always, but dark hollows circled his bloodshot eyes. His long fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the desk. Sano deduced that something even worse than the problem of Hoshina had beset him since they’d last met that morning. But he’d volunteered no explanation, and politeness forbade Sano to ask.
“You’re right. Anemone wasn’t on the list,” Sano said.
“Then according to Hoshina, he didn’t kill the woman,” Yanagisawa said, “so why would the kidnapper blame her murder on him, or want him executed for it?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” A thought occurred to Sano. “It’s possible that the Dragon King blames Hoshina for a death that wasn’t his fault at all.” Sano realized with chagrin that his own dislike of Hoshina had led him to assume Hoshina was guilty as accused.
“Maybe the Dragon King has kidnapped Lady Keisho-in to force the execution of the wrong person.”
“In that case, the list is useless,” Yanagisawa said, “and we’ve been hunting suspects in the wrong places.”
The thought of a day wasted, and the women still missing, weighed heavily upon the hot, close atmosphere. “But at least we have a new, better suspect,” Sano said.
Yanagisawa emitted a mirthless chuckle. "A suspect with no name, and his whereabouts unknown. How do you know that Black Lotus priest didn’t invent him to save his own skin? We can’t afford to squander any more time on fruitless chases.”
“What choice do we have except to investigate the man?” Sano said, although he shared Yanagisawa’s misgivings. “I’ve run out of ideas. My men have been looking for the person who posted the ransom letter, but with no luck. I talked to the merchant Naraya today, and I don’t think he kidnapped the women.” Sano described his interview with Naraya. “May I ask if you questioned the Kii clan members? Are they any likelier culprits than Naraya?”
Yanagisawa inhaled on his tobacco pipe and expelled smoke that obscured his features. “I don’t know.”
His curt tone prohibited Sano from asking for details. “Then what do you suggest we do?” Sano said.
“My troops can go hunting Lady Keisho-in, as I proposed at the start. That would be a better strategy than searching for a man who may not exist.” Grimness hardened Yanagisawa’s bloodshot eyes. “I spent the evening with the shogun, listening to him fret about his mother. He’s threatening to execute Hoshina, send out the army, and banish you and me for floundering in the dark. We may not be able to stall him for the seven days he gave us.”
“We must,” Sano said, as strongly opposed to Yanagisawa’s plan as ever. Increasing desperation would make the chamberlain more ruthless in his desire to save Lady Keisho-in, and more careless toward Reiko and Midori. "Going after the kidnappers is too dangerous for the hostages. At least wait until we know who the Dragon King is. Maybe then, when we understand him, we can find a way to persuade him to return the women without a battle that could kill them.”
And although Sano had no news from Hirata, he still hoped his retainer would find the hostages so that when the time came for a rescue mission, he could plan how best to stage it.
The chamberlain sat silent, his thumb and forefinger bracketing his chin, while he considered Sano’s arguments. Obstinacy hardened his gaze.
“If your troops should bungle the rescue because they don’t know where to go or whom they’re dealing with, and Lady Keisho-in dies, you’ll be in worse trouble than you are now,” Sano reminded Yan-agisawa.
A moment passed as they stared each other down. Outside, the whine of the cicadas rose to a frenetic pitch. Then Yanagisawa dropped his hand from his chin.
“All right,” he said, “you win—for now.” But Sano had barely relaxed, when Yanagisawa added, “You have until noon to look for your mystery suspect. After that, I take over the investigation, and my troops will march.” His eyes narrowed in challenge. “Where do you propose to begin your search?”
The short time frame dismayed Sano. He rejected the idea of asking Hoshina about Anemone’s murder, because wouldn’t Hoshina have already mentioned it if it had anything to do with him? Then inspiration awakened in Sano. He looked out the window. The density of the darkness had lessened, but dawn was some hours away.
“It’s a little early to call on a metsuke intelligence agent,” Sano said, “but I daresay the circumstances justify rousting him out of bed.”
* * *
24
A loud moan broke the silence of the tower prison. Reiko emerged from fitful slumber, her eyes squinting in the faint gray moonlight. Across the room she saw Midori sitting up on her futon, arms cradling her belly. Pain drew her features into a grimace as she moaned again. Reiko flung off her quilt. Shivering in the chill, she hastened to kneel by Midori’s side.
“Midori-san, what’s wrong?” Reiko said.
“A bad cramp woke me up. It’s stopped now.” Midori’s grimace relaxed into a look of shame. “I’ve wet the bed.”
Reiko looked down and saw a bloody stain spreading over Midori’s futon and puddling on the floor. She felt its liquid warmth seep through her kimono and dampen her knees.
“Oh, no,” she said, grieved by the realization that the event they’d hoped would wait until they got home was happening now.
Lady Yanagisawa sat up in bed, clutching the quilt to her chin, blinking in sleepy confusion. Lady Keisho-in flopped onto her side and said in a hoarse, cranky voice, “What is it?”
“Midori’s water has broken,” Reiko said. “Her labor has started.”
The streets of the Hibiya administrative district were deserted except for watchmen dozing in guard booths outside the walled mansions, and dark except for lamps burning over the gates. Sano dismounted outside the mansion that belonged to Toda Ikkyu. An especially high wall secluded the premises from neighbors, who probably didn’t know Toda was a spy for the metsuke—the Tokugawa intelligence service that guarded the shogun’s power over Japan. Sano knew that Toda maintained an unobtrusive profile, the better to spy upon his bakufu colleagues.
“Tell your master that the shogun’s sōsakan-sama wishes to see him a
t once,” Sano ordered the watchman.
His title and authoritative manner brought quick results despite the fact that he’d arrived in the dead of predawn. A household retainer ushered him into a reception room that was decorated with bland, conventional landscape murals which seemed meant to hide rather than reveal its owner’s character. Soon a man appeared, barefoot, clad in a gray dressing gown, his eyes puffy with sleep.
“Good evening, Sōsakan-sama,” he said. “Or should I say good morning?”
“Good morning, Toda-san.” As they exchanged bows, Sano covertly studied his host to make sure he was really Toda. The spy was so nondescript that Sano always had difficulty recognizing him. He looked like anyone and no one, an advantage in a profession that depended on his avoiding notice. But his world-weary voice and manner jibed with Sano’s vague memory of Toda.
“I doubt this is a social call,” Toda said. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
“I have a favor to ask,” Sano said.
Toda grimaced. “Why am I not surprised?”
Sano had consulted Toda during past investigations because Toda had access to facts about many citizens, gathered by a legion of spies and informers all over the country.
“What do you want this time?” Toda said with veiled annoyance. He didn’t like sharing information; the metsuke jealously hoarded knowledge, the basis of their unique power.
“I need your help identifying a man I believe to be the kidnapper of Lady Keisho-in,” said Sano.
Toda’s eyes registered awareness that he had better cooperate. If Lady Keisho-in wasn’t rescued and the kidnapper brought to justice, the shogun would likely punish the whole bakufu, including the metsuke spies, who were responsible for discovering and neutralizing threats to the Tokugawa.
“What’s the matter? Have you abandoned your theory that the Dragon King is one of Police Commissioner Hoshina’s old enemies?” Toda could never resist a sly rejoinder. “Did the Kii clan and the merchant Naraya prove not to be the culprit?”
Sano Ichiro 8 The Dragon's King Palace (2003) Page 24