Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro 03 - Way of the Traitor

by Way of the Traitor(lit)

  Huygens nodded and smiled, and Sano knew the doctor grasped his meaning, and sympathized with his plight. He felt closer to this barbarian than to his compatriots who accepted the laws without question. An increasing sense of alienation frightened Sano. In his estrangement from lord and regime, could not the seeds of treason take root?

  oYou go school? Huygens asked. At Sano's assent, he said, oWhat learn?

  oHistory, Sano answered. oCalligraphy; mathematics; military strategy; the Chinese classics; the martial arts. After I left school, I taught those subjects. But never science. Sano felt ashamed of his ignorance, and newly resentful of the laws that had restricted his education.

  oAh. Huygens bobbed his head enthusiastically. oYou scholar, teacher. He thumped his chest. oLike me.

  They smiled at each other. The tentative friendship between them deepened, and Sano gave in to an impulse to confide. oI would have remained a scholar and teacher for the rest of my life, he said, obut for family obligations. He described how his father, eager to improve their clan's status, had gotten him the job of police detective, which had led to his current position. oHave you any family?

  The cheerfulness vanished from Huygens's plump face. oWife and son dead, he said somberly. oFather want me be scholar. In Netherlands, I doctor. I teach and study there; Paris and Rome, too. But no more.

  He paused, as if mentally translating an explanation into Japanese. Sano waited, intrigued at the prospect of seeing into the life and soul of a barbarian.

  Then the doctor forced a smile and said, oWe look Spaen's body now. We learn. Good, maybe. Yes? He walked back to the corpse, took up the knife, and beckoned. oBring lamp, please?

  Disappointed, Sano hesitated while other concerns took precedence over his wish to further their acquaintance. Witnessing a dissection in the relative safety of Edo Morgue, which even the most conscientious spies avoided, was one thing; to do so with a barbarian on Deshima, with guards lurking nearby, after the solemn oath he'd taken... Madness! But Sano wanted the truth about Director Spaen's death. Without it, he might never identify the killer.

  He picked up a lamp, joined Dr. Huygens at the table, and held the light over the corpse.

  The doctor cut away pieces of torn flesh from in and around the chest wound. With the pincers, he lifted out blood clots, bone fragments, a snail that had lodged inside the opening. The odor of spoiled meat rose to Sano's nostrils. His stomach convulsed. To distract himself and thus prevent sickness, he concentrated on unclasping the chain around Spaen's neck and removing the crucifix, an important clue that he didn't want buried with the body.

  oWhat are you looking for? he asked, suppressing a gag and hoping the procedure would be over soon.

  Huygens spoke a word Sano couldn't understand. Deeper and deeper he probed, twisting the pincers, churning the flesh. Foul-smelling liquid oozed from the wound. Nausea kept Sano from pressing for an explanation, and in the silence he heard the ocean lapping against Deshima's foundations, and voices in the street. He hoped the guards would stay away. Then, with a soft click, the doctors pincers struck something hard.

  oAh! Dr. Huygens exclaimed.

  Failing to grasp the object with the pincers, he dropped them on the table, fetched a small saw, and cut away a bloody rib. Sano closed his eyes against the horrible grinding noise. When he opened them again, he saw Dr. Huygens reach into the wound.

  oAh! Triumphantly the doctor pulled his slimy hand out of Spaen's chest. In a water bucket, he rinsed the pebble-sized metal sphere he'd found, then held it up.

  Sano's heart began a slow descent as recognition struck him. oA bullet. Director Spaen was shot.

  oShot. Yes! Dr. Huygens nodded and pantomimed firing a gun. In his excitement, he lapsed into Dutch, but Sano could guess what he was saying.

  oAfter Spaen died, the killer tried to remove the bullet, and failed. Sano spoke reluctantly, delaying the inevitable conclusion. oSo he cut up the area around the gunshot wound, to disguise the hole. He hacked and struck the body to make it look like Spaen had been stabbed and beaten to death. Perhaps he's a Christian, and attached the crucifix as a gesture of atonement. Then he threw the body in the sea, hoping it would never be found.

  From outside came voices, moving nearer. The examination was over, and Sano almost wished it had never happened.

  oPrepare the body for the funeral, he told Dr. Huygens.

  The results had changed the focus of his investigation and placed him in the dangerous position he'd hoped to avoid. Treason... the word echoed in his mind as the threat of death and disgrace loomed closer.

  The barbarians on Deshima had no guns; all their weapons were confiscated when they entered the harbor. Therefore, the killer was Japanese: a fellow citizen, whom Sano must pursue at the risk of his own life.

  Chapter 9

  REFRESHED FROM A good night's sleep and armed with a revised plan for investigating Jan Spaen's murder, Sano returned to Deshima early the next morning. The previous day's balmy weather had fled. Sculpturesque clouds swirled across the sky; a chill wind blew in from the sea.

  oI want divers to search the water around Deshima for a gun and knife, Sano told the officers in the guardhouse. oI want the names of everyone on duty and all visitors present the night Director Spaen disappeared. These were his prime Japanese suspects.

  The chief officer showed Sano the duty roster, then opened the ledger where he'd recorded Sano's visit to Deshima yesterday. oThere, he said, pointing to a single name.

  oPeony? Sano read, surprised. oA woman?

  oDirector Spaen's courtesan, the officer explained. oShe spent the night in his bedchamber. We found her there alone the next morning. She didn't know where Spaen had gone, so Chief Ohira sent her home.

  Prostitutes were the only women allowed on Deshima. Could this one have killed Spaen? Guns were not common weapons; only high-ranking officers owned them. And though Sano hadn't asked about visitors earlier, it seemed odd that Chief Ohira hadn't mentioned Peony. She could be a crucial witness, if not a suspect.

  oWhere can I find Peony? Sano asked.

  oShe lives at the Half Moon Pleasure House.

  Despite his doubts about Peony's potential as a suspect, Sano's spirits rose. By attributing the crime to a low-class citizen, he might avoid treason charges. The bakufu wouldn't care what happened to a prostitute, or punish him for condemning her instead of a barbarian. However, the more probable suspects were Chief Ohira, who'd already withheld important information, and the guards.

  oWhen does the second watch come off duty? Sano asked reluctantly.

  Through the seaward door of the guardhouse came the sounds of footsteps on the bridge, male voices, and laughter. oHere they are now, the officer said.

  A group of perhaps forty samurai filed into the room. All wore identical leather armor tunics and shinguards, metal helmets, and swords at their waists. They carried spears, bows, and quivers. Sano believed that no barbarian could have left the island without Japanese assistance, or disposed of a corpse without it. And what better suspects than the men who controlled security on Deshima?

  Sano introduced himself to them, then said, oForm ranks. State your names and positions.

  A tall, lean man with hawklike features stepped forward. oI am Nirin, commander of the second watch. His subordinates lined up in pairs; each member of these shouted his name, then both voiced their shared position together. Sano could tell from their sullen expressions that they considered him an outsider who meant trouble for them.

  oWere all of you on duty the night Director Spaen disappeared? Sano asked.

  oYes, honorable master, they chorused.

  oI'm going to ask you some questions, Sano said, already anticipating the problem Deshima's security system posed for him. He turned to the men assigned to guard Spaen, and asked, oDid you have any contact with the director between the last inspection and daybreak?

  oNo, master, said one guard. oThat's right, seconded his partner.

  Sano next addressed deG
raeff's and Dr. Huygens's guards. oDid you see your barbarians during those hours?

  A series of oNo, master replies.

  oAnd what about you? Sano asked the patrol guards. oDid you see any Dutchman with Spaen, or near his quarters?

  More negative answers. The Deshima watch was structured to protect the troops, as well as to ensure security. Each man had a built-in alibi should any question of wrongdoing arise. A guard exposed his partner's misdeeds only at the risk of sharing the punishment.

  oDo the officers report to you during their rounds? Sano asked the guardhouse captains, who assented. oAt any time during the night, did anyone look like they'd been in a fight? Did they have blood on their clothes or weapons?

  The captains shook their heads. Nirin said, oJust what are you implying?

  Ignoring him, Sano addressed the gatekeepers. oDid you let anyone or anything out the water gates?

  Nirin stood between his men and Sano, feet planted wide, bow held upright like a spear. oWe had nothing to do with the murder. We had no reason to kill Spaen, or cover up for the barbarians. Angry rumbles of agreement came from the guards.

  Hand on his sword, Sano stared Nirin down. oThere was a storm that night. Did your men really watch over the island as usual "or sit in the guardhouses and stay dry?

  oIf you're accusing us of negligence, then you owe us an apology. Nirin spat on the floor just far enough away from Sano's feet not to constitute an open insult. oWe're not layabouts. Like you Edo folk, said his scornful glance. oOr liars.

  Someone was lying about something, Sano thought. If the Deshima guards had performed their duties properly, they couldn't have failed to notice a murder taking place. Their collusion seemed a more likely possibility. But Sano saw no immediate way to break the conspiracy of silence.

  oTell me about Director Spaen's courtesan, Peony.

  Lewd mutters and laughter came from the guards, while Nirin frowned. oWhy are you asking us all these questions anyway? We've already told your retainer everything.

  oYou have? Sano experienced an unpleasant jolt of surprise. oWhen was this?

  oYesterday. He came here when we were outside practicing archery before going on duty.

  oI see. With difficulty Sano kept his expression neutral. While he'd been inspecting Deshima and questioning the barbarians, Hirata had disobeyed orders again! And he'd told Sano nothing of this illicit investigation. Last night they'd had a quiet dinner together at the mansion before retiring to their separate chambers. Conversation had been stilted; Hirata had seemed uneasy, and now Sano knew why. Angry with himself for not preventing the incident, Sano decided that he must find something to occupy Hirata's time. Perhaps Hirata could perform the inspection for which they'd come to Nagasaki.

  oWell, Sano said, otell me anyway.

  With a sly smile, Nirin said, oDirector Spaen treated Peony like dirt. He cursed her and called her names, and had the interpreters translate so she knew what he was saying. He would force her to carry away his chamber pot, then trip her and make her clean up the mess. And sometimes we heard noises coming from his bedchamber when she was there. Slaps. Blows. Screams.

  oIf you're looking for someone with cause to kill Spaen, you won't find better than Peony.

  NAGASAKI'S PLEASURE QUARTER occupied the slope of a hill south of town, and was surrounded by a high wall that kept the women from escaping and the revelry contained. As Sano rode through the guarded gate and began searching for the Half Moon Pleasure House, he noticed many similarities between Edo's Yoshiwara and this smaller quarter. The brothels had barred windows in which courtesans sat like exotic caged animals, flirting with potential customers. From eaves hung red curtains printed with the name and crest of each establishment. Samurai and commoners thronged the streets, browsed the windows, and drank in teahouses. But Nagasaki's houses boasted balconies and roof terraces with a harbor view, where paper lanterns fluttered and shrubs bloomed. A procession moved past Sano toward the gate: mounted samurai, escorting ten palanquins. Through the windows, Sano saw plain-faced, gaudily dressed courtesans leaving the quarter as the Yoshiwara's never did.

  oChinamen's whores! Barbarian's whores! a group of strolling samurai jeered at the women. oGive the sailors some fun in the foreign settlements tonight!

  The women hid their faces and wept in shame: Serving foreigners was a distasteful task reserved for courtesans so unattractive that Japanese men shunned them. Recalling the barbarians' foul odor, hairy bodies, and crude manners, Sano pitied the women. Many had been sold into prostitution by poor families, or sentenced to the quarter as a punishment for petty crimes. Being forced to consort with foreigners added to their disgrace.

  Down the street, a familiar figure suddenly caught Sano's eye. Alarm stabbed him. oHirata!

  The young retainer blanched when he saw Sano. He turned and darted into an alley. Obviously he hadn't come here for women or drink, but to pursue the lead he'd gotten from the Deshima second watch.

  oYou're going back to Edo, Sano muttered to his absent retainer. oTomorrow, if not today.

  He found the Half Moon Pleasure House, a small brothel near the quarter's back wall. Dismounting, he gave the reins to a stableboy, then introduced himself to the doorman.

  oI wish to speak to Miss Peony, he said.

  The doorman gaped. oBut master, we have many prettier courtesans. Surely "

  oMaybe he likes ugly girls, called a woman seated in the window. Her companions giggled.

  Sano had no time for argument or banter. oTake me to Peony, he told the doorman, onow.

  Inside the pleasure house, an attendant manned the entryway. Two courtesans chatted with clients in the reception room, but the real festivities wouldn't begin until after sunset. A servant led Sano to a courtyard garden, where flower beds and stunted pines surrounded a tiny pond. Female voices shrilled like discordant birdsong.

  oPeony, pour me some more tea. oPeony, fix my hair. oPeony, this bath is too hot. Add some cold water. oPeony, massage my back.

  On a veranda sat three women, all in bright dressing gowns. One held up a tea bowl while she filed her toenails. Another frowned into a hand mirror, poking at her upswept hairdo. The third shed her robe and flopped facedown. Through the open door beyond them, Sano saw a fourth woman's face protruding from a wooden bathtub. They chattered and giggled together, interjecting more orders:

  oPeony, my tea! oPeony, my hair! oWater! oI want my massage now!

  Shuttling frantically among them was the witness Sano had come to question. As he approached, he saw that all the other women were beautiful and no doubt belonged to the Half Moon's first rank of courtesans. But Peony was one of the biggest, ugliest females he'd ever beheld.

  Though no more than twenty years old, she was as dumpy as a middle-aged matron. The skirts of her plain blue cotton kimono, hiked up to allow easy movement, bared legs so bowed that she could have carried a rice bale between them. Her face was so flat it looked almost deformed, with sallow skin, narrow eyes, broad nose, and a puffy, loose-lipped mouth. Her only good feature was her hair "thick, luxuriant, and blue-black, piled untidily on her head.

  Peony picked up a teapot and splashed tea into the courtesan's upheld bowl. Then she hurried to the next woman and plucked pins from her hair. Her movements were awkward, jerky. The bathing courtesan shouted, and Peony dumped a bucket of water into the tub. Then she squatted and gave the prone woman's back a few strokes before the others complained and she jumped up to serve them. Her loose mouth quivered; her eyes welled with tears. Sano pitied her, and almost hated to cause her more trouble than she already had.

  oWhat are you doing here? demanded a loud male voice. oThis area is off-limits to clients.

  The women shrieked when they spied Sano. Peony dropped the teapot; it shattered on the veranda. Turning, Sano faced a swarthy man with the pugnacious scowl of a carved temple dog, dressed in expensive silk robes. He berated first Peony for breaking the teapot, then the servant for bringing Sano inside.

  oI'm Sano Ich
ir, the shogun's ssakan, Sano explained. oI'm here to ask Peony about the last night she spent on Deshima. Are you the proprietor?

  oYes. Minami Hideo, at your service. The proprietor's manner turned obsequious. oBut Peony has already been questioned by Chief Ohira. She didn't know anything, so he let her go. Isn't that right? He bent a menacing gaze on Peony, who nodded mutely, ducking her head and clasping her big hands.

  oIs there a place where she and I can talk in private? Sano asked.

  oCertainly. But you're wasting your time. Shrugging, the proprietor started across the garden. Peony shuffled after him, humble and downtrodden. Then Minami halted and stared at her bosom. oWhat have you got in there? Boldly he thrust his hand down the front of Peony's kimono and pulled out a silk fan.

  oThat's mine! shrieked the bathing courtesan. oI've been looking all over for it.