The Assassin's Touch

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Please go on.” Sano knew from experience that the men were about to criticize him, regardless of their disclaimers.

  “You certainly have made progress toward straightening out the regime’s finances,” Uemori said in grudging admission.

  Sano had sent his private spies to watch the treasury and the rice warehouses. He’d caught thieves, recovered loot, and restored the flow of money into the Tokugawa coffers.

  “And you’ve reestablished a semblance of law and order in the city,” Ohgami said. During the past three years, Sano had built up a large personal army, which he’d assigned to patrol the streets and help out the police.

  “We thank you for taking on tasks that another man in your position might perceive as below his station,” Uemori said.

  Sano nodded, acknowledging that he’d been given the dirty work of the regime. He’d done what he had to do, and he couldn’t help being proud of what he’d achieved. “But... ?” he prompted.

  Ohgami spoke delicately: “Your methods have been rather, shall we say, unconventional.” That was not a positive attribute in a society that valued conformity and custom.

  “I’ll say.” General Isogai chuckled. “It was brilliant of you to punish the thieving officials and the idle bums by sending them to help out in flood disaster zones. And I like how you made the daimyo tax cheats run jails on their estates. That’s turning rotten plums into good wine.”

  Ohgami coughed. “The shogun and Lord Matsudaira appreciate your competence. And you’re much admired by many people.” Sano had built up a large following of military allies among daimyo and Tokugawa vassals who respected him because he was honorable as well as powerful. They included the two elders—who were top advisers to the shogun—and General Isogai, who could lend the might of the Tokugawa army to anyone he wished.

  “But you’re feared by others because of your control over society,” said Ohgami. “You’ve made a lot of powerful enemies.”

  Which included people Sano had punished. General Isogai said, “How many assassination attempts on you have there been this year? Three?”

  “Four.” Sano had been ambushed, attacked on the street, shot at, and almost poisoned. He now employed a food-taster and never went anywhere without bodyguards.

  “Police Commissioner Hoshina hasn’t missed the opportunity to lure your enemies into his camp,” said Uemori.

  Hoshina had been Sano’s foe for seven years, working tirelessly to bring Sano down.

  “I’m aware of that.” Sano’s expression hinted that if the men had some news, they’d better come out with it now.

  “What you may not be aware of is that Hoshina has begun a new campaign to discredit you,” Uemori said. “Some of his new allies have great influence with the shogun and Lord Matsudaira.”

  “Lord Matsudaira can’t afford to lose their support,” Uemori added. “No matter how much he respects you and depends on you, he may give in to their pressure to get rid of you because he’s afraid to offend them and have them turn on him.”

  The possibility hadn’t escaped Sano’s notice. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He experienced a twinge of surprise at the life he led. How far he’d come from his humble origin as a son of a ronin, earning his rice by teaching martial arts! Such bizarre twists of fate had brought him here! And his exalted status was a mixed blessing.

  He hated living in constant fear for his life, with hardly a moment of solitude or freedom. Politics was dirty business. He would have prefered a good, clean sword battle any day. And the higher he rose, the greater the danger of falling. Most days Sano was confident that he could stay on top, but he was almost forty years old and sometimes he felt his mortality. His hair was turning gray. Stiff muscles irritated him. A bad beating three years ago, from an assassin dubbed the Ghost, didn’t help. Still, his job as chamberlain was not only his duty but his destiny, a source of satisfaction as well as trouble.

  General Isogai said, “Here’s something else to keep in mind: If you go down, so do a crowd of other folks.” His gaze touched on each elder before returning to Sano.

  “The time may be coming when we and your other allies can no longer afford to be associated with you,” said Uemori.

  “For the sake of self-preservation, we may be forced to make different arrangements,” Ohgami concluded.

  Sano had foreseen the possibility of losing their support; allegiances constantly shifted in the bakufu. But that didn’t lessen his dismay that it could happen so soon. Should his allies desert him, Sano would be doomed to demotion, banishment, and perhaps death. His family would suffer even more.

  “I appreciate your loyalty, and I understand your position,” he said in an attempt to appease the men. “What would you have me do?”

  General Isogai answered, blunt, forceful: “Back off on making any more enemies.”

  “Placate the ones you already have,” Uemori said.

  “Try to avoid getting in any more trouble,” said Ohgami.

  During the tense, unfriendly silence that followed, Detective Marume appeared in the doorway. “Excuse me, Honorable Chamberlain.” The tall, burly samurai had been a member of Sano’s detective corps when Sano was sosakansama; now he was a bodyguard and general assistant. “Sorry to interrupt, but Hirata-san is here to see you.”

  Sano was surprised; although Hirata was technically his chief retainer, they didn’t have much to do with each other these days. While Sano ran the government, Hirata kept busy investigating crimes.

  “It can’t wait.” Marume’s expression was somber rather than characteristically jovial.

  Sano dismissed General Isogai and the elders. As he and Marume walked down the corridor, Sano said, “What’s this about?”

  “Your wife. There’s been some kind of trouble.”

  “Reiko?” Alarm jolted Sano. He hurried to his private quarters. There he found Hirata and Reiko kneeling in her chamber. With them was Reiko’s old childhood nurse O-sugi.

  Hirata looked relieved to see Sano. “Greetings.” “What’s going on?” Sano noticed that Hirata appeared healthier, more fit, yet strangely older than the last time they’d met a few months ago. But Reiko quickly captured his attention.

  She was wrapped in a quilt, shivering violently despite the summer heat. Her hair hung in damp strings. Her face wore a stunned, sick expression. Her complexion was blanched, her lips colorless. O-sugi hovered anxiously near her, holding a bowl of hot tea. Reiko beheld Sano with blurred eyes, as if she couldn’t quite figure out who he was.

  “What’s wrong?” he exclaimed as he knelt beside her. He started to take her in his arms, but she flung up her hands to prevent him.

  “Don’t touch me!” she cried. “The blood. It’ll get on you.” “We washed it off, little one,” O-sugi said in a soothing voice. “It’s all gone.”

  “What blood?” Sano demanded, growing more confused and alarmed by the moment. A disturbing thought occurred to him. “Was it the baby?” He feared Reiko had lost their child.

  “No, the baby’s fine,” O-sugi assured him, but worry clouded her kind, wrinkled face. She held the tea bowl to Reiko’s lips. The steam smelled of medicinal herbs. “Try to drink, dearest. It will make you feel better.”

  Reiko pushed the bowl away. An attack of dry heaves doubled her over.

  Sano turned to Hirata. “What happened?”

  Hirata’s grave expression warned Sano that the problem was serious. “I found her at Lord Mori’s estate.” Surprise jarred Sano. He couldn’t think what business Reiko had there. “When was this?”

  “About an hour ago,” Hirata said.

  Sano hadn’t known that Reiko had left the house. On most nights since she’d become pregnant this time, they’d not shared a bed. Sano often came home late from work, and he’d slept in a guest room rather than disturb her rest. They had so little time together; they seldom talked. He was dismayed to realize that she could have been gone almost every night and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  “What was she doi
ng at Lord Mori’s estate?” Sano asked Hirata.

  “I don’t know. She hasn’t said.” Hirata glanced warily at Reiko as O-sugi tried to comfort her. “But...” He inhaled a deep breath. Sano recalled the many times when Hirata had fulfilled the chief retainer’s duty of telling his master things he needed to hear but wouldn’t like. “Lord Mori has been castrated and stabbed to death. I found Lady Reiko alone with him in his bedchamber. She was naked and covered with blood. I’m sorry to say that it looks as if she killed him.”

  Sano felt his jaw drop as shock slammed through him.

  “If she were anybody other than your wife, I’d have arrested her and taken her to jail,” Hirata added. “Instead, I gave her the benefit of doubt and brought her home.”

  Even while Sano stared at Reiko in dazed disbelief and horror, his mind calculated ramifications. His wife caught at the scene of a murder was bad enough. That the victim was an important daimyo who happened to be a major ally of Lord Matsudaira promised disaster. The penalty for murder was death by decapitation, and although die law was lenient for high-ranking members of the samurai class, in this case even Sano’s power might not protect Reiko even if she was innocent.

  If indeed she was.

  Sano experienced fresh horror. This was his wife of eight years, the mother of his son, the woman he passionately loved, whose character he held in the highest esteem. She would never murder anyone!

  Yet what had she been doing naked in Lord Mori’s bedchamber? They’d drifted so far apart; did he even know her anymore?

  He seized her shoulders and demanded, “Did you kill Lord Mori?”

  “No!” Reiko’s reply was loud with hurt and outrage. But confusion drifted across her gaze. “At least I don’t think I did.” Her manner turned plaintive: “I couldn’t have, could I?”

  “Of course not,” O-sugi said, staunchly loyal to Reiko.

  But Sano was far from satisfied by Reiko’s answer. He turned to Hirata, who shrugged helplessly and said, “That’s what she told me.”

  “Well, if you didn’t kill Lord Mori, who did?” Sano asked Reiko.

  “I don’t know.” Tears leaked from her eyes.

  Impatience girded Sano against the sympathy that rose in him. He shook Reiko. “What happened? Tell me!” “I don’t know,” she wailed. “I can’t remember.” Sano had heard this from too many murder suspects trying to hide their guilt. “I don’t believe you. What were you doing with Lord Mori? I want a straight answer.”

  She drew a long, shaky breath, swallowed, and rubbed her face. “I was looking for the boy. I was only trying to help.”

  That made no sense. “What boy? Help whom?” Reiko spoke over his questions: “I never meant to hurt anyone. Lord Mori was a terrible, evil man.”

  Coldness stabbed like ice crystals into Sano’s bones. What she’d said could be interpreted as a confession to murder. He clutched Reiko tighter. “Maybe you don’t realize it, but you’re in serious trouble. If you want me to help you, you must tell me the truth. Now what happened?”

  “I am telling you the truth!” Hysteria raised Reiko’s voice. She twisted in his grasp. “You’re hurting me. Let go!”

  Sano held on, shouting at her in desperation: “Did you kill Lord Mori? Tell me!” As Reiko sobbed and babbled incoherently, he felt someone watching them. He turned and saw Masahiro standing in the doorway.

  “Mama? Papa?” Seven years old, tall and serious for his age, Masahiro carried a wooden sword. His white jacket and trousers were dirty and his hair tousled from martial arts lessons. “What’s the matter?”

  Sano was dismayed by the sudden awareness that he spent even less time with his son than with Reiko. Masahiro was growing up so fast that Sano barely knew him. Sano’s job as chamberlain had taken its toll on his whole family. He hastened to try to shield the boy from the present horror. “Masahiro, go outside.” “But why is Mama crying?” Masahiro said. “What are you doing to her?” “Nothing. It’s all right,” Sano said. “O-sugi, take him outside. Now!”

  The nurse bustled Masahiro away. Reiko buried her face in her hands and wept. “I can’t believe things have turned out so badly! And I still haven’t found him!”

  Sano shook his head in incomprehension. But whatever had happened, he must take quick action to protect Reiko and minimize the damage. Turning to Hirata, he said, “Who else knows about this?”

  “Just my men and myself.” Hirata reconsidered. “And by now, probably everyone in the Mori estate.”

  That would be hundreds of people, including the daimyo’s family members, retainers, and servants. Sano blew out his breath. “Well, keep the news from spreading any further for as long as possible.”

  “I’ve already closed off the estate,” Hirata said.

  “Good. What have you learned about the murder?”

  “Nothing yet. I thought I’d better bring Lady Reiko home.” “I want you to go back to the estate and startfiguring out what happened,” Sano said. “I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

  “Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” Hirata bowed and left.

  Sano wished he could be in two places at once. It had been three years since he had investigated any crimes but he wanted to handle this one personally. Reassuring himself that Hirata knew what to do, Sano faced his immediate problem: Reiko. He grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face.

  “Reiko,” he said, “listen to me.”

  Trembling, she gazed at him with red, streaming eyes.

  “Lord Mori has been murdered,” Sano said, speaking slowly and clearly. “You look so guilty that if you were an ordinary citizen instead of my wife, you’d be executed. You still might be, unless we can come up with a reasonable explanation for why you were at the crime scene. Now tell me!” “I did!” Reiko cried, her voice rising shriller in fresh, insistent agitation.

  “You have to do better than that, or not even I can save you.” Fear and frustration turned Sano’s manner harsh. “Now one more time: What were you doing there?”

  Words poured from Reiko in a babbling torrent: “I went to spy on him. I saw him do it.” Keening and sobbing, she wrenched her hands out of Sano’s. “I wanted to stop him, but I was too late!”

  Madness this all sounded! In desperation, Sano slapped her cheek. Reiko screamed. She drew back and stared at him, more shocked than hurt—he’d never struck her before. But she was suddenly quiet.

  “I’m sorry,” Sano said, regretful and ashamed. “I didn’t know how else to bring you to your senses. We don’t have much time. And all this excitement isn’t good for the baby.”

  The mention of the baby seemed to revive Reiko’s awareness. She clasped her hands protectively across her swollen belly, sat up straight, and nodded. Her breath was still raspy with sniffles and emotion, but steadier.

  “That’s better,” Sano said, relieved. “So many things happened. One thing led to another,” Reiko murmured. “I don’t know where to start.”

  At this rate, the news of the murder would spread all over town and a maelstrom of hazard and scandal would engulf them before Sano learned anything from her. He mustered his patience. “Start at the beginning.”

  The dazed confusion cleared from Reiko’s face, like mist dissolving in sunlight. She looked more like her usual alert, sharp-witted self. “The letter. It started with the letter. In cherry blossom time.”