by I. J. Parker
Nakahara had paled and slumped back down. The clerks looked alarmed and waited to let the director respond. But Nakahara was bereft of words, and it was Tameaki who rose and bowed to Akitada. There was a gleam of excitement in his sharp eyes. “Please allow me to notify the proper authorities, sir. May I suggest that we send word tonight to the harbor police and to the warden of the quarter where you were attacked?”
Trust Tameaki to be the only useful person here. “Yes, thank you,” said Akitada and glowered at the stupefied Nakahara.
“Where did the attack take place, and what did the criminals look like?” Tameaki asked, reaching for brush and paper.
Akitada sat down abruptly. He was asking too much of Nakahara, and it was already night. He said, “I’m not sure what the area is called. It was a derelict spot. I saw poor tenements, mostly shuttered, a great deal of debris, and one large building behind a tall wall. I was cornered by two rough men in a blind alley just behind this building. It must be about half a mile from the harbor.”
Tameaki frowned. “I don’t know . . . “
Yuki finally woke from his astonishment. “That might me near the Hostel of the Flying Cranes. It’s a bit run down, but it has a tall wall in back. They keep the wall repaired to keep out the riffraff from the other side.”
Akitada cheered up and nodded. Perhaps his “guide” had at least told the truth about the hostel. But he wrestled with another problem. He did not know how badly hurt the two thugs had been. What if the police found two dead men and wanted to know what had happened. It could not be helped. He said, “Tell the police and the warden that the two men were tall and about my age. One was heavy-set and muscular. The other was lean. I did not have time to look for any distinguishing characteristics. Their clothes were ordinary jackets and pants. What a laborer might wear.”
“That’ll be enough.” Tameaki ran out, black robe flying.
“Umm,” said Nakahara, “should we rush into this? Your clerk has not been gone so very long. Calling up so many people . . . well, it will upset things.”
Akitada felt no pity. All authority had been taken out of the man’s hands. His junior clerk had made the decision for him and sprung into action. “Things are already upset,” he said. “In your position, it’s advisable to seem in control.”
Nakahara ran a shaking hand over his face. “Is that why they sent you? Because they think I’m not doing my job? What do they want from me?”
Yuki had been following this, gnawing his lower lip. Now he said loyally, “The director couldn’t have known that Sadenari would get lost and that you, sir, would run into those thugs. The waterfront is full of rough people. Surely that’s all it was. All this talk of pirates! I told Sadenari there have always been pirates. Pirates are normal on the Inland Sea.”
Nakahara nodded eagerly. “That’s right. As long as things don’t reach the point of that Suitomo thing, it’s really just a matter of ship captains being more careful.”
Suitomo had been a Fujiwara governor of one of the western provinces who had decided that he could enrich himself more quickly by becoming a pirate chief. The court had tried to appease him with gifts and honors until it had no choice but to raise an army against him.
Akitada gave Nakahara a look, and he subsided into silence. The lackadaisical attitude he expressed toward the depredations by pirates was either due to stupidity, or the man was in this up to his neck. Akitada’s eyes went to the goods piled nearly to the rafters of Nakahara’s office, and he got angry again.
“What is all this stuff?” he asked, pointing at it.
Nakahara flushed. “It should have been warehoused, but this way it’s more convenient. It saves the clerks and servants running back and forth.”
“That isn’t what I asked you.”
Nakahara sighed. “We do inspections of all ships that pass through Kawajiri and continue inland. Any goods that aren’t listed on their manifests or that seem otherwise suspicious are confiscated and brought here.”
Walking over to the piles, Akitada inspected them. “Some of these look foreign, and if I’m not mistaken, there are valuable art objects among them.”
“I know. Maybe they were stolen, or else people are making private purchases from Chinese and Korean merchants. All I can say is that they were found on ships with otherwise legitimate cargo.”
“Either way, it is illegal.”
Nakahara raised his chin. “Exactly. And we confiscate them for that reason.”
Ignoring the fact that he had finally made his host angry, Akitada held up a carved lacquer vase and blew a thick cloud of dust from it. “It looks as though most of these things have been here for a long time. Should they not have been shipped to their proper owners?”
“I’ll do so gladly if you tell me who their owners are,” Nakahara snapped, looking daggers.
“You haven’t checked them against the lists of stolen items?”
“The lists are not specific. What we find is single pieces. And when we question the captains of the ships about such goods, they always claim they have no idea where they came from.”
Akitada sat down again and thought this over. It was all very careless and improper, but perhaps not criminal. “What did you mean when you said you keep these things here to save the servants steps?” he asked after a moment.
To his surprise, Nakahara did not meet his eyes this time. There was a brief silence, then he said, “Sometimes it becomes necessary to use this or that to pay for a service.” No longer belligerent, he sounded defeated.
Raising his brows, Akitada asked, “How do you mean?”
Nakahara shifted in his seat. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but this office has not received any funds for a number of years. My own salary is arrears.”
“I was not aware of it.” It was likely, and it would explain much. “I’m sorry if I’ve sounded harsh,” Akitada added. “Such irregularities happen sometimes, but I wasn’t informed in your case. So you’ve sold some of the confiscated goods in order to cover expenses?”
Nakahara nodded miserably.
They sat in silence, contemplating the dilemma faced by officials who were not given the means to carry out their duties. Akitada had once been in the same position.
Tameaki returned at this point and said, “Begging you pardon, but as I was leaving the building, I ran into Professor Otomo. He wishes to have a word with Lord Sugawara.”
Akitada, embarrassed about his accusations of Nakahara, welcomed the interruption. With an apology, he rose and followed Tameaki to a small anteroom on the east side of the main hall.
He found the white-bearded Otomo pacing nervously, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Ah, Lord Sugawara,” he said, bowing. “Please forgive this rude and unannounced visit, but the burden on my conscience is getting too heavy. I had to come and speak to you.”
Akitada gestured to cushions placed side by side near a small writing desk. He wondered what this was all about. Could Otomo, with his Korean ancestry, have become involved in piracy? Most of the foreign merchants who brought goods to Naniwa these days were Koreans, but they carried shipping permits. Still, the sea between the two countries was treacherous because of Korean pirate ships.
Otomo sat and looked down at his clenched hands. He sighed deeply. When he raised his head, his eyes widened. “I do beg your pardon, sir. You’ve been injured?”
“It’s nothing. I took a tumble. Please go on.”
Another sigh. “You may recall showing me the amulet last night? You said you purchased it in Eguchi.”
Still mystified, Akitada nodded.
“And I told you it was the sort of thing bestowed on a treasured daughter in our culture. That is true, but I did not mention another matter. It is that which brings me here. Forgive me, but I’m about to betray a confidence.”
Akitada said cautiously, “You may speak freely unless the matter is criminal or a threat to the nation.”
Otomo sighed again. “May
I ask if the amulet is in any way connected with the young girl that drowned?”
A little embarrassed, Akitada nodded. “Yes. She was wearing it. How did you know?”
“You see,” the professor said, his voice brittle with emotion, “I suspect that young girls from Koryo may have been brought here and forced into service in the brothels of Eguchi and elsewhere.”
Akitada raised his brows. “I would have thought that we have enough willing females to follow the trade.”
“I know it sounds very strange, and I don’t blame you for doubting me. When you showed me the amulet and later mentioned the dead girl found in the river, I was afraid that another poor child had chosen death. She’s not the first one. There were two others, also drowned and called suicides. A month ago, a friend of mine — forgive me if don’t mention his name — wrote me an anxious letter, saying that he had met a Korean girl in Eguchi, but when he went back and asked for her again, he was told that she had committed suicide. He was very upset.”
“That could have been a coincidence. There probably aren’t many girls of Korean descent in the business, but such things happen. Apparently, suicides are frequent.”
“But that’s the point, sir. Think about the misery suffered by girls who’ve been brought from Korea. They don’t speak your language. And they’re very unhappy.”
“Yes, I see. And you think my dead girl is one of those?”
“Yes, I do. When you showed me the amulet and mentioned the drowned girl, I found I could not remain silent.”
Silence fell. Otomo sat with his head bowed, waiting. Akitada was troubled by Otomo’s tale. On the whole, he was inclined to believe him, but many things argued against it. How had the young women been brought all this way? Such a thing might have happened in Kyushu, which was much closer to the Korean peninsula. There was a constant coming and going of merchants and fishermen between both countries. But the Inland Sea was closed to all but their own ships and a few well-known merchant ships from Koryo. These had applied for and received special permission to travel to the capital, but their ships would have been most carefully inspected in Kyushu and again at Naniwa. Could the pirates be involved in this?
He asked the obvious question. “Why? Why bring Korean women here when hiding them from the authorities must be very difficult and dangerous? I am told brothel towns are very carefully supervised.”
Otomo shook his head. “I do not know.”
Akitada thought. “This amulet—you said it would only be given to girls of rank.”
“Ah, yes. My friend claimed his girl was well educated. She knew Korean poetry and songs, and she could read and write. The singing . . . it’s possible that they like young girls who have a special talent like that. I wonder, could you let me have the amulet long enough to make some inquiries?”
Akitada reached into his sash and froze.
“What’s the matter, sir?”
There was no amulet in Akitada’s sash. He realized what had happened. He must have thrown it in the dirt along with his money when the two ruffians confronted him in the blind alley. He got up. “I would like to but seem to have misplaced it. You must forgive me. My clerk has gone missing, and I’m worried. I promise, I’ll look for the amulet and think about your story.”
Otomo rose immediately and bowed deeply. “Thank you. I thought I should speak to you and offer an explanation for the poor girl’s death. Please pardon my arrival at such an inconvenient moment.”
“Not at all,” said Akitada as they walked out together. When they reached the entrance doors, he paused. “Do you think there could be an organization smuggling in foreign women?”
“I hope not, sir, but I admit I have wondered about the same thing.”
Perhaps the pirates engaged not only in robbery and murder on the high seas but also had a lucrative side business dealing in human beings. His encounter in the blind alley in Kawajiri and young Sadenari’s fate took on a more ominous significance.
Chapter Eight
The Hostel of the Flying Cranes
Akitada’s first thought had been to rush back to the place where he had been attacked to look for the amulet and his few gold and silver pieces. A foolish notion and proof that events had addled his usual common sense. Not only was it night and he did not know the way, but his very sore arm was a reminder that he had barely escaped from that neighborhood with his life. Besides, Sadenari was still gone, and that was beginning to weigh heavily on his conscience. The boy must be found before anything else.
Otomo’s idea that someone had been kidnapping Korean girls for prostitution he put away for the time being. Still, if his story was indeed true, it would have to be followed up. Quite apart from the sheer viciousness of such crimes, they could lead to serious problems with a neighboring nation they were mercifully at peace with at the moment.
He felt suddenly exhausted. Nothing else could be done this day. He went to his room without meeting anyone. There, he took off his outer clothes, unrolled the bedding, and fell asleep the moment he lay down.
Early the next morning he was on his way to Nakahara’s office when he saw the prefect coming across the courtyard. Apparently Munata had been alerted by Nakahara, or more likely by the efficient Tameaki.
Munata looked flushed, perhaps from his dash across the road. He sounded breathless as he bowed to Akitada. “I just heard. Can it be true, sir? You were hurt? This is outrageous. I assure you the culprits will be found and punished severely.”
Akitada’s arm and shoulder felt much better this morning, and he had washed the blood from his face and found only scratches underneath. “Thank you. I only have s few scrapes, as it happens. Someone distracted the villains, and I made my escape. Come inside. We must put our heads together and decide how to find my clerk.”
Nakahara and Yuki were having an argument. Nakahara waved his finger in front of Yuki’s face, and Yuki looked stubborn. He said, “You should have warned me, Morito. How was I to know that they’d send someone important to catch us out?”
Nakahara caught sight of them. “Shshhh!” he hissed at Yuki and rearranged his face into a smile. “Ah, Munata. Very good of you to come so quickly. I suppose, Lord Sugawara told you what happened?”
“Not in so many words,” said Munata, glancing at Akitada. “I hoped that he would fill me in on the details. Your clerk said that I was to call out the guard and send for Lieutenant Saeki and his men. Do I understand that His Lordship had an unpleasant encounter with hoodlums in Kawajiri and has misplaced his young companion?”
Akitada thought he detected a sneer and nearly growled. Gritting his teeth, he said, “Two ruffians attacked me with long knives, and there’s a good chance that the same thing happened to Sadenari. He’s a mere youngster and has been gone for a day and a night.”
Munata stared at him. “I see. Yes. How shocking . . . if true. I had no idea matters were so serious. Allow me to apologize for the prefecture. I shall look into it immediately.” He made a motion toward the door, but Akitada lost his temper and grabbed his sleeve.
“Not so fast, Munata. You’ll do more than ‘look into it’, as you put it. Sit down. There is also the matter of treason.”
Munata gaped at him. “Treason?” Akitada glared back. The prefect went to sit down.
Akitada sat down himself. “Nakahara will confirm that my real assignment here involved the recent pirate activity. It appears that someone has been passing confidential information to these pirates.”
“I find it hard to believe . . .”
Akitada cut in curtly, “I don’t care what you believe, Prefect. You will take your orders from me and stop arguing.”
Munata drew himself up. “I take my orders from the governor,” he said stiffly.
“Where is Oga anyway?” demanded Akitada, pointedly skipping the honorifics. Munata needed a reminder that Akitada’s standing in this instance was equivalent to Oga’s. He was here under direct orders from the Minister of the Right. Besides the Sugawara name was older
and more respected than the governor’s. “I understood that he was staying with you. Surely Nakahara’s clerk included him in the call for a meeting.”
“My home is on the outskirts of Naniwa,” said Munata. “I dispatched a messenger. Frankly, I hope this won’t make him angry.”
Akitada swallowed his disgust. “You will go to Kawajiri with soldiers to organize the local police there. Take however many people you have at your command. I want a ship-by-ship and house-by-house search made for my clerk. No ships or boats are to leave, and traffic on the roads must be inspected. I also want an armed escort to accompany me to the place where I was attacked. I plan to have a look at this Hostel of the Flying Cranes.”
Munata shot Nakahara a look, then got up with a bow, and left the room. Akitada looked after him. The prefect’s opposition was troubling.
The door closed, and silence fell.
After a moment, Akitada turned back to Nakahara. “Why is Munata so hostile?”
Nakahara shifted nervously. Perhaps he recalled his own flare-up the night before. “Munata is a strange man,” he said. “He’s perfectly agreeable until his ability is questioned. I think he feels strongly that you are doing so now.”
Such behavior by a lower-grade official would not be tolerated in the capital, but Akitada was not in the capital and in a place like Naniwa different rules might apply. That, of course, made his work harder. If he could not make people like Munata and Nakahara obey him, he would hardly do so with the governor, a man of rank, privilege, and power.