The Assassin's Touch

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Ejima was a victim of dim-make,” answered Sano.

  “The death-touch?” Lord Matsudaira stared in amazement, as did the elders and Yoritomo. The shogun merely looked confused. The music and dancing continued while the boys joked and laughed together.

  “That’s difficult to believe,” Kato said, always ready to deride Sano and raise doubts about his judgment. “Dim-makeis a lost art.”

  “What evidence do you have?” Ihara said.

  “When Ejima’s body was prepared for the funeral, a bruise was observed on his head. It had the shape and markings of a fingerprint.” This was the story Sano had invented to cover up the illegal dissection. “According to the martial arts literature, this is a sure sign of the death-touch.”

  “Books are hardly adequate confirmation,” Kato scoffed.

  “One can find something in them to support any argument whatsoever,” Ihara said, backing up his comrade.

  Sano understood why they were so anxious to dispute that Ejima’s death was murder. “Nonetheless, I stand by my opinion. But let us defer to His Excellency to settle the issue.”

  The shogun looked pleased to be consulted, yet daunted. He turned to Lord Matsudaira.

  “Chamberlain Sano is the expert on crime,” Lord Matsudaira said. “If he says it was dim-make, that should suffice.”

  Sano also understood that Lord Matsudaira was so eager to confirm that Ejima was murdered that he would accept an unusual method whether or not he believed in it.

  “Well, ahh, then so be it,” the shogun said, clearly glad that Lord Matsudaira had spared him the need to think. “The, ahh, official cause of the death is as Chamberlain Sano says.”

  Lord Matsudaira nodded in approval. Kato and Ihara tried to hide their displeasure, and Sano his relief that his ploy had worked and the autopsy remained a secret. He wondered how long his luck would hold.

  Yoritomo flashed a congratulatory smile at Sano. During the past six months they’d become friends, despite the fact that Sano had once been Yoritomo’s father’s enemy. Sano had taken pity on Yoritomo, and had found him to be a decent, thoughtful young man who deserved better than a life as the shogun’s sexual plaything and a pawn of his father’s cronies, especially since his status as heir to the regime was by no means certain. That Yanagisawa had produced such a fine son amazed Sano, who had acquired yet another responsibility— as mentor to his former enemy’s child.

  “What about the three other recent deaths?” Lord Matsudaira asked Sano. “Were they also caused by dim-mak?”

  Kato interrupted, “Do you mean the supervisor of court ceremony, the highway commissioner, and the treasury minister?”

  “I do,” said Lord Matsudaira.

  “All those deaths can’t possibly be murder,” Ihara protested.

  Sano observed Ihara and Kato growing nervous at the turn the discussion had taken.

  “We’ll see about that,” Lord Matsudaira said in an ominous tone. “Chamberlain Sano?”

  “Whether Supervisor Ono, Commissioner Sasamura, or Treasury Minister Moriwaki were murdered hasn’t been determined yet.” Sano earned a grunt of disappointment from Lord Matsudaira, and relieved looks from the elders.

  “I’ll investigate their deaths tomorrow,” Hirata spoke up.

  “At least someone recognizes the need to investigate before jumping to conclusions,” Kato said under his breath. Lord Matsudaira asked Sano, “Have you any idea who killed Ejima?”

  “Not yet. Tomorrow I’ll begin looking for suspects.”

  “Maybe you needn’t look very far.” Lord Matsudaira fixed an insinuating gaze on the elders.

  They tried to hide their consternation. “Even if you believe that someone in this day and age has mastered the technique of dim-make, you can’t think it’s anyone in the regime,” Ihara said. Sano knew that he and Kato had feared all along that Lord Matsudaira would accuse them of killing his officials in order to undermine him.

  “Anyone who doesn’t have the skill or the nerve to commit murder could have hired an assassin who does,” Lord Matsudaira said.

  “The same goes for anyone who accuses others,” Kato retorted. “Some men are not above committing crimes in order to strike at their enemies.”

  Lord Matsudaira’s gaze turned wary because Kato had fired his accusation back at him.

  “Maybe we should examine Chamberlain Sano’s own motive for designating the deaths as murders and conducting an investigation.” Ihara eyed Sano.

  The shogun frowned in baffled annoyance as he divided his attention among the music, the dancing, and the conversation. Yoritomo looked unhappy because Sano had come under attack. Sano knew that Kato and Ihara feared his friendship with Yoritomo, which undermined their own influence over the young man. Without Yoritomo, and his connection with the shogun, they would be exposed targets for Lord Matsudaira. Better for them to strike at Sano even though he’d tried to make peace with them.

  “My sole aim is to discover the truth,” Sano said.

  “The truth as it suits you and Lord Matsudaira,” Kato said with a grimace of disdain, then addressed the shogun: “Your Excellency, the murders—if such they are—should be investigated by someone who has no personal stake in the outcome and can be objective. I propose to lead a committee to get to the real truth of the matter.”

  “You have at least as much at stake as anyone else,” Lord Matsudaira said scornfully.

  “A committee is a fine idea,” said Ihara. “I’ll be on it.”

  Sano wondered if they wanted to take over the investigation because they feared that he would expose them as murderers, or try to frame them if they weren’t guilty. Sano couldn’t let them sweep one crime, and possibly four, under the tatami, or frame Lord Matsudaira and take him down in the process. It was time to pull rank.

  “I’m glad to hear that you’re so willing to investigate Chief Ejima’s murder,” Sano said to Kato and Ihara. “I always welcome such dedication from my subordinates.” The elders were technically subordinate to him, even though their age and seniority gave them special standing. “If I need your help, I’ll ask for it. Until then, you will restrict your role to advising His Excellency in your usual capacity.”

  Rage at this putdown clenched Kato’s and Ihara’s jaws, but they couldn’t openly defy a direct order.

  “You’ve always been satisfied with Chamberlain Sano’s service,” Lord Matsudaira told the shogun. “He’s the man best qualified to investigate. Let him continue.”

  “Well, ahh, that sounds like a good idea,” said the shogun. Disagreements bothered him, and he spoke with a timid desire to have this one settled.

  “Just because Sano has succeeded in the past doesn’t mean he’s guaranteed not to fail you now, Your Excellency,” Kato said with an urgency born of panic.

  “This case is too serious for him to handle alone, no matter his expertise,” Ihara added.

  Sano sensed them thinking that if Lord Matsudaira had his way, and they were implicated in the deaths of four high Tokugawa officials, they would be executed for treason. Not even their connection to Yoritomo would save them.

  “Enough of all this advice!” the shogun suddenly exclaimed. Perhaps he sensed the undercurrents in the conversation, Sano thought; perhaps he felt a need to assert his authority. “I shall decide who investigates the murder of, ahh—” He fluttered his hands in confusion. “Whoever those people were. Everyone just be quiet and let me think!”

  The musicians ceased playing; the dancers froze in mid-step; the boys’ chatter faded. An uncomfortable hush descended upon the room. Lord Matsudaira’s face was stern with displeasure at losing control over the situation. The elders sat as still as if in deep meditation, willing the shogun to favor them. The shogun fidgeted with self-doubt and his dread of making a mistake. Sano saw his fate teetering on his lord’s whim. The murder investigation now involved much more than the quest for a killer. Sano’s own survival was at risk.

  Yoritomo leaned close to the shogun and whispered
in his ear. Sano frowned, as startled as Lord Matsudaira, the elders, Hirata, and the detectives looked. The shogun raised his eyebrows while he listened to Yoritomo; he nodded.

  “I’ve made my decision,” he said, confident now. “I will allow Chamberlain Sano to investigate the murder and apprehend the killer.”

  Relief, but also misgivings, filled Sano. Hirata and the detectives nodded at him in approval. Lord Matsudaira’s face expressed a mixture of gratification at getting his way and vexation that his former rival’s son had such influence over the shogun. The elders tried to hide their disgruntlement. Yoritomo beamed at Sano.

  “That’s enough of this, ahh, serious talk,” the shogun told Sano, his companions, Lord Matsudaira, and the elders. “You’re all dismissed. Keep me informed on the, ahh, progress of the investigation.” He gestured at the musicians, dancers, and other boys. “Let the party resume.”

  In the corridor outside the shogun’s private chambers, Lord Matsudaira and the elders marched past Sano. “I trust that you’ll solve this case to my satisfaction,” Lord Matsudaira said. His tone emphasized their comradeship, yet hinted at dire consequences for Sano if he failed.

  The elders bowed to Sano. Their courtesy said they feared he would incriminate them; the hostility in their eyes said this wouldn’t be the last time they opposed him as long as he was allied with Lord Matsudaira.

  “You would do well to remember how you got where you are,” Kato said. Sano had been appointed chamberlain because his independent spirit had made him the one man that Lord Matsudaira and the remnants of Yanagisawa’s faction could agree upon. Kato was telling Sano that they’d helped put him in power and they could cut him down if he caused trouble for them.

  Yoritomo emerged from the doorway. Ihara said to him, “Are you coming with us?”

  “No. I’ll see you later.” Yoritomo halted beside Sano.

  Disapproval colored the elders’ faces. “Don’t forget who your real friends are,” Ihara said.

  The elders departed in a huff. Sano and Yoritomo walked down the corridor together. Hirata and the detectives trailed them. Sano said, “I must thank you for putting in a word for me with the shogun.”

  Yoritomo blushed with pleasure at Sano’s gratitude. “After all you’ve done for me, it was the least I could do,” he said.

  He looked so happy, so eager for approval, that Sano hated to say what he must. “But you shouldn’t have interfered. You can’t afford to upset Kato or Ihara for my sake. That was foolish. Never do it again.”

  “Please forgive me. I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Yoritomo hung his head, mortified by Sano’s criticism. “I only wanted to help you.”

  “Helping me is not your duty,” Sano said gently but firmly. That the father had once done everything possible to ruin him, and the son risked his own safety to protect him! “And you should stay out of politics. They can be deadly.”

  “Yes .. . I understand what you mean.”

  Yoritomo’s chastened tone said he’d caught Sano’s allusion to his banished father. Sano knew that although Yoritomo adored and missed his father, he hadn’t been blind to Yanagisawa’s faults. As they stopped at the door that led out of the palace, Yoritomo gazed earnestly at Sano.

  “But if you ever need me to do anything for you ...” Yoritomo’s eyes shone with the love and hero-worship that he’d transferred from his absent father to Sano. “Just ask me.”

  His devotion made Sano uncomfortable even as it moved him. All he’d done to win it was spend a little time chatting with the boy over a drink or on a walk through the castle now and then. But this was more kindness than anyone else had paid him without expecting anything in return. “Well, let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

  Yoritomo went back to the shogun’s party. Sano and his retinue headed through the dark, winding passages of Edo Castle toward his compound. He looked forward to telling Reiko about his new case, and he felt a sharp nostalgia for the days when they’d investigated crimes together. This wouldn’t be just like old times. Everything had changed.

  Chapter 8

  “Watch, Mama, watch!”

  Masahiro pranced along the corridor in the private quarters of the chamberlain’s compound. The floor emitted loud squeaks where his little feet trod. Reiko strolled after him, wincing at the noise. One of her son’s favorite pastimes was playing with the nightingale floor, designed to give warning that an intruder was in the house. When Sano and Reiko had moved into Yanagisawa’s former residence, they’d discovered that it was riddled with nightingale floors. And soon Masahiro had memorized all the places they squeaked.

  “Look, Mama!” he cried. As he backtracked down the passage, the floor made not a sound.

  “Very good.” Reiko smiled, proud that he’d also memorized the places where one could tread silently. She thought him very clever for a boy not quite three years old. “Now it’s time to get ready for bed.”

  After they’d bathed together, while she was tucking him in bed, Sano came and joined them. “You’re home early,” she said. “I’m glad to see you.”

  Sano looked tired yet alert. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  Masahiro jumped into Sano’s arms. Sano tossed him into the air. They laughed and played tag around the room. “Please don’t excite him,” Reiko said. “He’ll never go to sleep.”

  “But I hardly ever see him,” Sano said regretfully, as he held their son on his lap and Masahiro chattered happily. “I want to be a good father, but every day just slips by without a chance. I want to teach Masahiro about life, martial arts, and the Way of the Warrior, like my father did me.” Sano’s father had operated a martial arts school in which Sano had spent most of his childhood. “But time is going to be even tighter than usual.”

  After much fuss, Reiko and Sano finally settled Masahiro in his bed. They went to their chamber, where Reiko poured sake for them.

  “The chief of the metsuke has been murdered,” Sano said. “Lord Matsudaira has ordered me to investigate.”

  As he explained the particulars of the crime, and the dangers involved, and the consequences of not solving it, Reiko felt as much excitement as alarm. Sano said, “This murder case has the potential to fan the flames of political conflict into another war. Lord Matsudaira is vulnerable because his officials are under attack. I’m once again caught between the two factions.”

  He had farther to fall nowadays, but Reiko knew he’d never failed to solve a case in the past, and a murder investigation was something they could share, unlike the administrative work that usually occupied him. “It sounds like a most fascinating case,” she said. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Working on his case as well as her own would keep her very busy, but having too much to do was far better than not enough.

  “Maybe later.” Sano drank his sake, then said, “What did you do today?”

  Reiko noted how quickly he’d changed the subject; she felt the distance that had grown between them. Why didn’t he want to discuss the case any further? He sounded almost as if he didn’t want her involved. But they’d been partners in detection during nearly four years of marriage. Reiko decided to take Sano’s words at face value and assume that he would let her help if she could.

  “I have a new case of my own,” she said.

  As she told him about Yugao, the trial, and her father’s request, Sano looked as much troubled as interested. “This woman Yugao is a hinin?”

  “Yes. That’s why the police didn’t really investigate the murder of her family and she didn’t get a fair trial.”

  “And you’re going to look for evidence that may prove she’s innocent despite the fact that she confessed?”

  Reiko was puzzled by the note of disapproval she heard in Sano’s voice. “Yes.”

  Chin in hand, Sano said, “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Reiko asked in surprise. She’d thought Sano would be glad she had something as worthwhile to do as defending a downtrodden member of societ
y.

  He spoke with reluctance. “Our situation has changed since I was sosakan-sama. I’m much more closely watched than I was then. So is my family. We’re all held to a higher standard of behavior nowadays. Things we used to do won’t go unnoticed anymore. The consequences of associating with the wrong people are the same, but the risk is far greater.”

  “Are you saying that I shouldn’t associate with Yugao because she’s an outcast and it will reflect badly on you?” Reiko could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  “For you to befriend and assist her goes against the taboo that bans contact between hinin and ordinary citizens,” Sano said. “And for my wife to defy the ban will give the impression that I don’t respect the customs that govern society. But that’s only part of the problem.”

  Reiko stared at him in open-mouthed amazement. Was this her husband talking? Sano had never used to care so much about public opinion. He certainly wouldn’t have put it ahead of justice. She began to understand why he didn’t want her involved in his investigation.

  “The main problem is that your father has asked you to interfere with the justice system,” Sano went on. “I have much respect for him, but he’s pushing the limits of his authority by ignoring the evidence against Yugao—as well as her confession—and asking his daughter to investigate the murders.”

  “I guess I hadn’t thought of it in that light.” Reiko had been focused on helping her father, preventing a possible miscarriage of justice, and her own desire for detective work. Although Sano had a good point, she protested: “But the murders should be investigated. There’s no one else to do it, and I have experience with matters of this sort.”

  “I know you do.” Sano’s tone was placating, reasonable. “But you have no official standing. And in spite of that fact, the magistrate clearly intends for the results of your investigation to override those of the police.” He shook his head. “This is bending the law. I can’t condone it. I can’t afford to look as if I favor outcasts and let off self-admitted criminals.”