by I. J. Parker
Tora tried to puzzle that out and failed. ‘What about the fires?’
‘Someone’s been setting them.’
‘I know that already.’ Tora made for the door.
‘Wait. Jirokichi’s really frightened about those fires. I think he may have found out something and…’ She wailed, ‘Maybe they killed him because he knows who’s behind it.’
‘Oh, stop crying,’ Tora said. ‘You don’t know that. It could be something else altogether. Where did he go last night?’
She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘He never says exactly, but he thought there’d be a lot of gold at this place. He needed the gold because of what he gave you.’ She shot him an accusing look. ‘And he got no thanks for it.’
‘I don’t want his damned gold. He’ll get it back. I got angry because he snuck into my house at night and…’ Tora tried to explain and failed. ‘Well… it’s the way he did it. Besides, I can’t take gold for helping some poor bastard who’s getting beaten up by hoodlums. It wouldn’t be right.’
She was astonished. ‘What do you mean, “It’s the way he did it”?’
Tora blushed. ‘He was in my place at night while me and my wife… I mean, anyone would be furious if strangers wandered around their house at any hour of the night.’
She stared at him, then burst into hysterical laughter. ‘You thought he was spying on you and your wife making love?’ she gasped. ‘Wait till he hears! Oh.’ She stopped laughing and put her hand over her mouth. Her face crumpled again.
Tora said, ‘Maybe he got caught and someone decided to teach him a lesson for snooping.’
She wailed, ‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Only, it must’ve been about the fires.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean anything serious. He could be dragging home with a black eye any moment. Aw, for the gods’ sake, Hoshina. Tell me where he went, and I’ll go take a look.’
She stopped wailing. ‘Some rich man’s house in the Fifth Ward. I don’t know his name.’
‘A merchant? What sort of business?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘He must’ve said something. What about the house? Did he describe it?’
‘No. But he was afraid of rain because steep roofs get slippery then. It didn’t rain last night. Do you think he’s gone and broken his neck?’
‘My guess would be that he’s good at his job, so don’t worry. I’ll see if I can find him. Now, maybe you can tell me something else. I’m looking for a young monk. His name’s Kansei. He may be with the same crowd that got hold of Jirokichi the first time. Did Jirokichi mention a monk?’
She shook her head. ‘What would a monk be doing with those bastards?’
Tora sighed. Maybe Tojiro’s girlfriend would know something. ‘You ever hear of three deaf mutes? Middle-aged and mean-looking?’
She nodded. ‘They’re collectors.’
Tora was pleased. Collectors worked for armed men who sold protection against thieves and robbers to merchants, but such a business was often run by the criminals themselves. The dying Kaneharu had talked of his father paying, but his neighbor had blamed the fire on the old man being a miser.
‘You mean someone’s running a protection racket?’
‘They collect anything owed: rent, loans, and service. It’s a way to make a living.’
‘But they also collect for protection? Who’s behind that?’
‘An ex-soldier and his men. They keep watch over the market and some businesses that had trouble with vandals and thieves.’
‘Would they be setting the fires?’
She shook her head. ‘No. Jirokichi isn’t afraid of them. He’s afraid of someone else. Now please go. Maybe Jirokichi can tell you more when you find him.’
What Tora had learned was interesting, if not very helpful, but he retraced his steps, returning to the eastern city and the Fifth Ward.
Each ward in the more densely populated areas consisted of sixteen blocks arranged in a square and had a gateway on its southern periphery. The Fifth Ward contained mostly the homes of lower-ranking government officials and a few wealthy merchants. The first fire Tora had encountered had been in the adjoining Sixth Ward, a commercial area, but even here, there was fear. He saw a small altar erected and fresh flowers and fruit before it, and a holy man with bells around his neck danced around it, singing songs as people watched.
Stopping at the warden’s office, Tora asked if any trouble had been reported the night before.
The warden was eating his midday rice and was not inclined to be interrupted by someone wearing threadbare clothing. He shook his head and continued chewing.
‘Did you see or hear of any gangs of rowdy boys hanging about?’
Another shake of the head.
‘I know they were busy in the Sixth the other night. They knocked me down as they ran from the fire there.’
The warden frowned, swallowed, and said, ‘You the one tried to save the Kaneharus?’
News clearly traveled between wardens. Tora said, ‘That would be me. My name’s Tora. You keep yourself well informed.’
‘My business,’ said the warden, taking another bite and chewing thoughtfully as he studied Tora.
‘So? About those gangs?’
‘No gangs in my ward.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘I’m sure. No gangs here. No trouble.’ The warden was becoming angry at the imputation that he did not keep good order.
Tora sighed. ‘Thanks. Enjoy your meal.’
He wandered about for a while. Most of the houses were substantial, and quite a few had steep roofs. He asked people on the streets if they had heard any fighting or strange noises during the night. Mostly, the answer was no. People slept at night, and their sleeping quarters were in the backs of houses. One maid, who was airing out the family quilts, claimed she had heard screams, but her mistress shouted from the door that the girl was given to nightmares.
Tora left after that, feeling that he had done more than enough for Jirokichi and his troublesome girlfriend. What was he doing anyway, helping a common burglar? Jirokichi would turn up safe and sound, and Tora would give him back his gold.
End of story.
He left by the covered gateway that led out on to Rokujo Avenue, a broad street that passed between the Fifth and Sixth Wards. On the steps of the gateway sat an old beggar on a pile of rags. He held out an empty wooden bowl to Tora. The man was blind, his eyeballs bluish white below thin lids. Tora dropped a couple of coppers in the bowl.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ muttered the beggar, bowing from the waist in the general direction of the passer-by. ‘May the Buddha bless you, sir.’
‘You’re welcome, uncle.’ Looking at the beggar’s emaciated figure, Tora asked, ‘Have you eaten today?’
The old man thought this over, pushing his lips in and out in concentration. ‘Not today,’ he finally decided. ‘But I’ll eat now.’ He grinned, revealing a few yellowed teeth, and shook the bowl, making the coins rattle around inside.
Tora felt a little ashamed of his small gift. ‘Do you live nearby?’
The beggar nodded and pointed over his shoulder.
‘You live in the Fifth Ward?’ Tora thought that extremely unlikely. Wealthy people tended to keep beggars out of their neighborhoods.
‘There’s a hole in the wall of the gate. I sleep in there. Not bad in the summer, but I near froze to death last winter.’
Tora walked back under the roofed gateway and looked. Sure enough: there were a few loose boards in the wooden wall on one side. Perhaps a cart had backed into it and loosened them, and the beggar had helped matters along. Inside, he glimpsed more rags and an earthenware water pitcher. A thought occurred to him, and he returned to the beggar.
‘By any chance, did you see… I mean, did you hear anyone passing last night? Anyone who might have been in trouble? Or some young hoodlums?’
To his surprise, the beggar nodded. ‘Right. On both counts. Two boys go
ing in. Recognized their voices from my hole. Talking about the Rat.’
‘The Rat? You mean an animal, or someone called the Rat?’
‘The Rat’s no animal. He’s a saint. He left me something when he passed by.’
Tora crouched beside the beggar, holding his breath against the stench that met his nose. ‘That was last night? The Rat passed you last night, and then the boys came?’
The beggar nodded.
‘Those boys, they’re the ones I mean,’ Tora said. ‘Did they come back out? Were they alone?’
‘Came back dragging someone. He was moaning. Don’t think they caught the Rat, though. He can make himself invisible.’
Tora’s heart beat faster. ‘Thanks, old man,’ he said, jumping up. ‘I’ll be back.’
He loped off looking for a food vendor. Near a bridge, he found a couple selling hot fish wrapped in cabbage leaves and rice cakes filled with vegetables. Spending nearly all his money, he bought one of each and ran back to the beggar.
‘Here,’ he said, placing the food in the beggar’s hands. ‘Eat. And then, if you can tell me where I can find those two boys, I’ll come back tomorrow with a gold coin.’
The blind man took the food with trembling fingers. For a moment he just sat there, then he muttered a choked, ‘May you live in paradise in the next life, young man. I don’t know where they came from. They just came. I could smell them, and then I heard them talking.’ He extended the food. ‘Do you want it back?’
‘No, of course not. Eat.’ Tora crouched beside the beggar and watched him eat fish and cabbage leaf in large gulps, then take huge bites from the rice cake. ‘Slow down,’ he said, ‘or you’ll choke.’
The beggar promptly choked and turned nearly blue coughing. He gestured frantically behind him. Tora slapped his bony back, then recalled the pitcher and dashed to get it. It was half full of water. The beggar drank, caught a deep breath and wiped the tears from his face.
‘I’m blessed,’ he said. ‘If you’d left me, I’d be dead now.’
Tora saw nothing blessed about the beggar’s life, but did not say so. Instead he pursued the question of the hoodlums. ‘You said they just came. Have they ever come before?’
‘Maybe. I seem to remember the smell.’
Tora sighed. Putting his hand on the old man’s shoulder, he said, ‘Thanks, old man. Keep out of their way. They’d just as soon kill a man than walk around him.’
‘You’re right about that.’
Tora got up to walk away, then stopped and turned. ‘You recognized them by their smell, you said?’
‘Yes. People smell. You smell of baby spit. They smelled of malt.’
Tora grinned. The old man had a very good nose. Yuki had, in fact, spit up on his shoulder that morning. Malt, he thought. Malt is used by sake brewers. It was something. He thanked the old beggar again and went off whistling.
His good humor did not last. If the same hoodlums had Jirokichi, the poor Rat was most likely already dead. Still, he suddenly felt a great urgency and walked more quickly.
At the Western Market, he pounded on the door of Hoshina’s wine shop. She opened it a crack, saw him, and threw the door wide.
‘What is it? Have you found him?’ she asked, the words spilling out in mingled hope and fear.
Tora stepped in and closed the door again. ‘No. But I picked up something. A blind man in the Fifth Ward heard some young louts talking about Jirokichi. He says they smelled of malt. I wondered if you might know where I could look for them.’
‘Oh, I hope those evil bastards haven’t got him again. They nearly killed him last time.’
‘Malt,’ Tora reminded her.
She looked confused. ‘You mean a place that sells malt? Or a brewery?’
‘I don’t know. It’s got to be someplace where they either work or live.’
‘Them, work?’ She snorted. ‘Never. They’re thieves and robbers.’ Seeing Tora’s impatient face, she thought. ‘About six blocks west of here are warehouses. Some belong to breweries. They’re supposed to be watched, but a lot of scum hang out around there. Some of the warehouses are empty.
‘Where?’ Tora had his hand on the door.
She described the place where he had almost got a knife in his back.
He nodded. ‘Wish me luck.’
He covered the distance at a steady trot, fearing already that he would find the bloodied corpse of Jirokichi in some corner among garbage and at the mercy of wild dogs. Then he would have to go back and tell Hoshina. He had not been very good at saving lives lately.
When he reached the alley – for the third time – he sniffed the air. Yes, there was the unmistakable, if faint, smell of malt. Glancing first one way, then the other, he decided that the most likely warehouse was near the middle of the block and on the right side. The Fragrant Peach was just down the road and around the corner. Tora decided to have a look at the warehouse first.
He walked down the deserted lane, which was little more than two weedy ruts where an occasional cart had passed.
The warehouses were long, low buildings, their flat roofs made of boards weighted down by large stones. The fourth building was the one with the malt smell. It looked abandoned, its chained gate leaning drunkenly, the access unmarked by wheels. The fence was unbroken, but the gate gave enough to allow a man to slip in and out.
Tora pushed it cautiously and peered inside. The warehouse lay still in the afternoon sun, its doors closed. It was hot in the barren yard, and flies buzzed nearby. Tora did not like the idea of flies. He shuddered and withdrew his head. The dust around his feet showed the footprints of people going in and out, some in shoes and some barefoot. Then he saw something else: a small brown spot in the pale dirt. And there was another a few feet away. He bent down, licked a finger and touched the spot. A sniff verified his suspicion: someone had dripped blood here.
He studied the tracks more closely. Among the footprints he found some straight lines – double lines, as if from someone’s feet being dragged through the dust. The lines came from the street and passed into the warehouse yard. He had found the place. Jirokichi had been brought here, probably alive but bleeding.
Tora considered the situation. He was alone and did not know how many of the bastards he would have to deal with. It was unlikely that there would be only two of them; the place looked like a hang-out for the whole gang. He did not dare check more closely, because they might have put out a guard. And he could not hang about outside on this deserted road either, in case one or the other decided to leave or come back.
Torn between the urgency of saving Jirokichi and his promise to Hanae to be careful, he chose duty to his family. He walked quickly to the Fragrant Peach.
By now the hour for the midday rice was past, and the place was dimly lit and empty of customers. The fire in the hearth had been banked, and the heavy cauldron was gone. Only the girl was there, sweeping the dirt floor.
‘Well met, pretty flower,’ Tora called out, hoping to overcome her hostility with charm. ‘Where do I find the local warden?’
She glowered at him. ‘We’re not open.’
‘Oh, come, you can answer a simple question.’
‘No time. Go away.’
Tora stood his ground. ‘How about your boyfriend, then?’
She flushed and cast a glance towards the back door. ‘I have no boyfriend,’ she snapped.
Tora grinned. So, the young scamp was hiding out back there, probably just biding his time before jumping her again. Boys his age never thought of anything but sex. ‘I saw you two together. You were very friendly to him in the alley outside.’
She stopped working and stared at him.
‘Maybe this is something you do on the side for money and to keep customers happy.’
With a shriek of fury, she raised the broom and rushed him. Tora jumped up easily, sidestepped her with a laugh, and caught her round the middle with one arm, while he twisted the broom from her fingers with the other. She struggled and spat
in his face. Tora dropped the broom and gave her a good shake. ‘All right, my girl,’ he said. ‘Enough of this nonsense. Someone’s in bad trouble and I need help. It’s either the warden or Tojiro.’
She stopped fighting him. Holding on to her, Tora swung about and found himself face to face with the gray-haired deaf mute.
Her daddy.
Carrying the cauldron.
Tora saw the coiled-up violence in the man’s eyes and knew it was about to explode like a volcano. The brute’s right hand started swinging the cauldron.
Tora released the girl so suddenly that she almost fell. She staggered away from him, leaving nothing but air between Tora and the volcano. The man’s right arm moved back. Tora scooted away a couple of steps. ‘No,’ he shouted at the top of his voice. ‘Don’t. I came for help.’
No use shouting at a deaf mute.
Daddy measured the distance and adjusted his aim. Tora took another step back and was up against a wall. Seeing the black cauldron coming at him, he pleaded with the girl, ‘Tell him Jirokichi’s in trouble.’
To his surprise – he had not expected it to work – her father stopped the swing of the ugly weapon and turned to his daughter. She gestured while he looked from her to Tora and frowned. Then he set the cauldron down to respond.
Tora took a shuddering breath.
She said, ‘He wants to know what this is about.’
Tora explained, still doubtful that it would make a difference. She translated, and her father’s face grew longer and he clenched his fists. Tora became nervous again, but the big man only gave him a sharp look, then nodded, and ran out the back door with surprising speed.
The daughter eyed Tora without much favor. ‘How come you know Jirokichi?’
Tora explained about how they had met, then asked, ‘Where did your father go?’
‘To get his friends. Come on,’ she said. ‘They’ll meet us there.’ She started for the door.
He caught her arm. ‘No, you’d better stay here. There’ll be a nasty fight. It’s not safe for a girl.’
She shook his hand off, glaring. ‘Shut up.’
With a sigh, he tagged along behind her. It would make things more difficult, having to look out for a slip of a girl. Still, he liked her spirit. But when he saw that she knew the way to the warehouse, he became uneasy again. He was confused by the strange relationships between Jirokichi, the girl, her deaf mute father, Tojiro, and the arson gang.