“This is one of three wells that we believe were poisoned by the Black Lotus during the past year,” said one of the commoners, a dignified, white-haired man. Reiko supposed that he and his comrades were village elders and he was their senior, giving Minister Fugatami a report on incidents involving the sect. He lowered the bucket into the well and drew it up, full. “The water has a peculiar odor.”
Fugatami sniffed the water and grimaced. “Indeed.” He dipped a hand into the bucket, examined the liquid that ran off his fingers, then said to his attendants, “Note that the water also has an oily texture and faint greenish hue.”
“People have complained of the odd taste,” said the elder. “Fifty-three have become ill with diarrhea after drinking. Fortunately, none have died, and we’ve sealed the bad wells, but we’re worried about possible future incidents.”
Angry rumbles of agreement arose from the spectators; a baby cried. The elders silenced the crowd with stern looks.
“Why do you think the Black Lotus is responsible?” asked Fugatami as his attendants wrote down the data.
“There was never any problem with wells until Black Lotus priests and nuns began frequenting Shinagawa in large numbers. Neighborhood watchmen have seen them loitering at night near the wells that were later found to be bad.”
Alarm and elation stirred in Reiko. Mass poisoning was a serious new addition to the list of accusations against the Black Lotus. However, it might induce Sano to investigate the sect.
“There have also been four reported instances of a pungent smoke drifting through the streets,” said the senior elder. “Breathing the smoke causes chest pain, coughing, and shortness of breath. The last instance was three months ago, and a shopkeeper saw two Black Lotus nuns running away just as the smoke began.”
“Was the source of the smoke identified?” Minister Fugatami asked.
“Yes. Please come this way.”
With the senior elder leading, Minister Fugatami, his entourage, and the crowd headed down the street to a tiny Shinto shrine. Reiko and her guards squeezed through the torii gate. Inside stood a primitive altar that held candles, incense sticks, offerings of food, and a gong to summon the deity.
“A pile of burning rags was found there,” the senior elder said, pointing to a spot beside the fence. “They reeked of the odor. The watchman who found them was almost overcome by the fumes.”
Even as she regretted the townspeople’s suffering, Reiko welcomed more evidence of the sect’s evil nature.
“There were no deaths?” Fugatami said.
“No,” said the senior elder, “but we fear that death will occur if these incidents continue. Four families were stricken with stomach pains and vomiting earlier this month, after visits from Black Lotus priests. It seems that the priests are spreading disease.”
Or poisoning the food and drink of people who allow sect members into their homes, Reiko thought.
“The most serious incident was an explosion,” said the senior elder.
The crowd accompanied him across a bridge over the Meguro River to a neighborhood in a poor section of town. There, amid teahouses and shops, Reiko saw a pile of charred beams, planks, roof tiles, and burnt debris where a building had once stood. A bitter, sulfurous odor lingered around the site.
“The Black Lotus sect owned that building,” the senior elder said. “They held prayer sessions and recruited followers there. Six nights ago, the building exploded with a huge boom, then caught fire. Luckily, there was no one inside or nearby, and the fire brigade put out the fire before it could spread.”
“Did you examine the ruins?” Minister Fugatami asked.
“Yes. We found empty jars and some iron chests that had been blown apart, but we don’t know what caused the explosion.”
The sect must have used the building as a storage site for poison and headquarters for their activities in Shinagawa, but Reiko didn’t understand why they’d destroyed their own property.
“Someone could have been killed or badly injured,” said the senior elder. “Also, the number of kidnappings connected with the Black Lotus has increased—there have been nine this past month. Things are getting worse, but when we went to the temple to talk about the incidents, the sect denied any involvement. Honorable Minister, we beg you to help us protect our people.”
The other elders echoed his plea. Minister Fugatami said, “You’ve done well by bringing the matter to my attention. I promise to do everything in my power to determine what is going on and put a stop to any wrongdoing by the Black Lotus. Now I must return to Edo.”
As the crowd dispersed, the elders expressed their appreciation to Fugatami. The minister looked toward Reiko and nodded to her. She and her guards walked back to her palanquin. She sat inside and waited. Soon Fugatami appeared at the window.
He greeted her formally, then said, “I regret that the ssakan-sama was unable to be here.”
“My husband regrets that his business kept him away,” Reiko fibbed politely, “but I thank you for permitting me to observe your investigation for him.”
“What I’ve seen and heard today, added to your monk’s story about the Black Lotus, should be enough to persuade my superiors to outlaw the sect,” Minister Fugatami said with satisfaction. “Even those who are followers cannot justify protecting an organization associated with so many crimes.”
Reiko hated to disappoint him, but she had to bring him up to date on developments since they’d spoken yesterday. “My husband has inspected the Black Lotus Temple. He wasn’t able to locate the novice monk—according to the sect, Pious Truth doesn’t exist. Nor could my husband find any sign of prisoners, torture, or underground chambers.”
“Indeed.” Fugatami’s expression turned grave. “I suppose that the Black Lotus has permanently silenced the monk.”
“You think they killed him for talking to me?” Suddenly the air seemed to turn colder; an eerie lull of quiet interrupted the shouts and laughter from inns and teahouses on the main road.
“I do,” Fugatami said grimly. “And without an inside witness, my case against the sect weakens. However, there’s still hope if I can enlist your husband as an ally. I will be presenting a complete report on the Black Lotus to the Council of Elders tomorrow afternoon. Will you convey to the ssakan-sama my invitation to join us? I should be grateful if you could persuade him to support me tomorrow when I ask the Council of Elders to close down the sect and dismantle the temple.”
“I’ll do my best,” Reiko promised, without much faith in her ability to persuade Sano to do anything just now. Still, if Pious Truth was alive and in danger, she must try to rescue him; if the sect had killed him, she must avenge his death. She hoped that dismantling the temple might uncover evidence that would help Haru, for she hated to think she was defending a murderer, even in a crusade against other murderers. And Reiko could not rid herself of a stubborn, visceral inclination to believe in Haru’s innocence.
“These incidents and their increasing frequency attest that the evil within the Black Lotus is growing stronger and the sect is progressing toward trouble of major proportions,” Minister Fugatami said. “I do not know what it might be, but I fear that Shinagawa is only the beginning.”
20
I bring fulfillment to the world,
Like a rain that spreads its moisture everywhere,
To those superior and inferior,
Of proper or improper demeanor,
Of keen and dull wit,
I rain upon all equally.
—FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA
Abbess Junketsu-in stood at the open second-story window of the abbot’s residence, gazing over the Black Lotus Temple. Beneath a lusterless gray twilight sky, the precinct lay deeply shadowed by its trees and arbors. As temple bells tolled for evening rites, a cool wind wavered the flames in stone lanterns along the paths. The day’s pilgrims had already gone; the nuns and priests had vanished indoors. Biting her lip, Junketsu-in watched Ssakan Sano and his detectives walki
ng toward the main gate. Her nerves were still on edge from the questions he’d asked her earlier about her relationship with Nurse Chie.
“Do not be afraid of the ssakan-sama,” High Priest Anraku said from behind her.
Startled, Junketsu-in closed the window and turned. Anraku moved so quickly and noiselessly that she never heard and seldom saw him coming; he just appeared, as if by magic. And he could always read her mind. Now he reclined upon a raised bed draped in a canopy of red and gold tapestry and heaped with embroidered cushions. His brocade stole and saffron robe gleamed in the light from brass lamps. One wall of his room was covered by a mural in which the Buddha lay in a jeweled, flaming coffin. An altar held a huge bronze phallus and smoking incense; curtained archways led to adjoining rooms. Anraku had designed his private chambers to imitate a palace he’d seen while his spirit traveled through India. At the sight of him, desire pierced Junketsu-in. She lowered the drape that covered her hair and drew herself up to show off her elegant figure.
“‘Fear is a destroyer of the spirit,’” Anraku quoted from the Black Lotus Sutra. “‘Insignificant men derive power from people’s fear of them. Resist fear, and the power is yours.’”
“But Haru has said bad things about me.” Fresh anxiety filled Junketsu-in as she remembered what Sano said the girl had told him about the abbess’s mistreatment of Chie.
“The ssakan-sama doesn’t believe her,” Anraku said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Nor did he believe her when she said that Priest Kumashiro argued with Commander Oyama, or that Dr. Miwa tried to force himself upon a woman who was also murdered.”
Junketsu-in had heard that Sano had also interrogated Kumashiro and Miwa today. Perhaps they’d told Anraku; perhaps he’d divined the facts upon which he based his opinions. She almost wished Sano would believe Haru’s tales about them. The doctor was a repulsive lecher, and Kumashiro treated her like filth; they envied her position close to Anraku, and she despised them both. Still, any threat to them also threatened her, and the entire sect.
“The fact that Sano is checking Haru’s stories disturbs me,” Junketsu-in said. Anraku frowned—he forbade his followers to challenge his wisdom—but Junketsu-in rushed on, compelled to warn him. “Sano has been here all afternoon, talking to people and poking around. If he continues this way, eventually he’ll find something to support Haru’s accusations.” Anraku didn’t like anyone to question him, but Junketsu-in ventured timidly, “What did you and Sano talk about during your meeting this afternoon?”
With a swift grace, Anraku rose and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I decide what you need to know, and I shall tell you if and when I choose.” He spoke in the quiet, menacing voice reserved for followers who displeased him. “What are the Three Great Laws of the Black Lotus that I have taught you?”
“You are the Bodhisattva of Infinite Power,” Junketsu-in stammered, fearful of his anger. “You alone know each person’s individual path through life. They who obey the Bodhisattva of Infinite Power will achieve Buddhahood.”
“Then accept my authority, or suffer punishment.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she apologized hastily, knowing too well that her position as his chief female official was tenuous. “I’m just worried that Sano will blame you for the fire and murders.” Whether he’d burned the cottage or killed with his own hands, wasn’t Anraku ultimately responsible for everything that happened here?
“Do you dare imply that Sano is any match for me?” Anraku’s expression turned ominous, and Junketsu-in cringed. “If your faith in me is so weak, I can find another woman who deserves the attentions I’ve bestowed upon you.”
“No! Forgive me!” Junketsu-in pleaded.
The pressure of his hands enflamed her desire and awakened memories of other hands that had touched her during the years when her name hadn’t been Junketsu-in but Iris. The first man had been her father, who’d owned a tofu shop in Ginza. At night Iris, her parents, and her two younger sisters had all slept together in the single room of their living quarters. When Iris was eight years old, her father crept under her quilt and began fondling her.
“Don’t make any noise,” he whispered.
While the rest of the family slept, he mounted and entered her. His hand over her mouth stifled her cries of agony. After he was done, he said, “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you. Be good, and I’ll make you happy.”
The next morning Iris was so sore she could hardly move, but she heeded her father’s words and acted as if nothing had happened. Later, he bought her a beautiful doll. For the next few years Iris tolerated her father’s nocturnal attentions, and he rewarded her with toys, pretty kimonos, and sweets. He petted and praised her while ignoring the other girls. She was allowed to play instead of helping her meek, subservient mother with the housework. Iris enjoyed the power that the secret gave her, until her father stopped visiting her bed and her sister Lily became his new favorite.
Suddenly Iris was the family drudge. She hated her father for abandoning her and missed her privileged position. But she was now thirteen years old and pretty. While cleaning the tofu shop, she noticed men on the street eyeing her. One, a handsome young carpenter, stopped to talk.
Iris said, “If I let you have me, what will you give me?”
He gave her copper coins and took her in the alley behind the shop. New sensations stirred in Iris, who began to realize that sex could bring physical pleasure as well as material gain. Soon she had many lovers who paid her in money and gifts. When she was sixteen her father fell ill; right before he died, he married her off to his apprentice. Iris and her husband took over the shop. He was a weak man in thrall to her, she continued her affairs and used her earnings to build herself a luxurious home.
Unbeknown to her, she’d begun a journey that had brought her to the Black Lotus Temple, to this room where she now fell to her knees before Anraku.
“My faith in you is absolute,” she said, caressing his legs through the saffron robe. How she burned for him! How easily he could cast her off. “Your power and wisdom are supreme.”
To her relief, Anraku’s scowl dissolved into a benevolent smile. He grasped her hands, raising her. “Let us waste no more attention on trivial men like the ssakan-sama when our destiny looms on the horizon.”
“The time is near, then?” Excitement filled Junketsu-in.
“Very soon my prophecies will come true,” Anraku replied in a hushed, dramatic tone. In the flickering light, he gleamed; his hands were smooth and hard and warm on Junketsu-in’s. “Every follower of the Black Lotus shall achieve enlightenment in a celebration such as mankind has never known. You shall be at my side when I rule a new world.”
Junketsu-in thrilled at the thought, but a niggling doubt disturbed her. “Everything will happen no matter what?” she asked, though afraid to offend Anraku by revealing her fears that the fire and murders might thwart him.
“Destiny waits for nothing.” Dreams swirled in Anraku’s eye. “No one can stop me.”
Still, Junketsu-in’s doubt persisted. Could Anraku not understand that Sano’s investigation and Lady Reiko’s meddling might ruin his plans? On rare occasions such as this, when Junketsu-in’s innate common sense resurfaced, she even had misgivings about Anraku’s supernatural powers. Granted, he exercised formidable control over his followers; however, his strength derived as much from their labor and the political clout of his patrons. Faith had inspired his visions, but human might and method would make them fact. Was he a fool not to know this? Or was Junketsu-in a fool who didn’t understand the cosmic forces driving his schemes?
As usual, her attempt at objectivity failed. She only knew she loved Anraku, and that she owed him her life.
One spring evening twelve years ago, police officers had burst into Iris’s house while she was entertaining a lover. They shackled her and dragged her out to the street. The police commander said to her, “You’re under arrest for prostitution outside the licensed quarter.”
It was Commander Oyama, although Iris didn’t learn his name until later. His strong build and arrogant good looks attracted her. With an inviting smile, she said, “If you let me go, I’ll show you how grateful I am.”
He considered her offer. “Unshackle her,” he ordered his men, then followed Iris into her house. But after they’d finished, he went to the door and called to the waiting police: “Take her to jail.”
“Wait,” cried Iris. “You promised to let me go.”
Oyama laughed. “Promises to a whore mean nothing.”
The magistrate sentenced Iris to work as a prostitute in the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter for ten years. She reveled in the sex, but hated the cramped quarters and the mean brothel owner who kept the money she made. She despised Oyama for using her, and plotted revenge against him, but first she had to escape the Yoshiwara.
After three years she attracted a rich merchant who promised to pay off the brothel for her keep and bribe the bakufu to commute her sentence, but soon another courtesan stole his affection. Iris was furious. At a party in the brothel, she attacked her rival, clawing the woman’s face to shreds. The magistrate sentenced her to a flogging. Her hatred for Oyama grew, as did her need for revenge. Shortly afterward, she was sitting in the window of the brothel, on display for the passing crowds, when a priest approached her.
“Greetings, Iris,” he said. “I’ve come for you.”
She gave him a disdainful sneer, because priests were poor and therefore no use to her. But this one was very handsome, with one eye covered by a patch. “Tell the proprietor you want me,” Iris said, intrigued in spite of herself.
The next thing she knew, she and the priest were riding through the Yoshiwara gate in a palanquin. The priest was Anraku, and he’d bought her freedom.
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