The guards reluctantly obeyed. Riding in, Sano asked them, “Who’s the caretaker of the arsenal these days?”
“Me,” mumbled the younger man.
“Come with us.”
Inside was a long patch of muddy ground, weed-covered in some places, under water in low spots. At one end stood flat, wooden, man-shaped figures riddled with bullet holes and a suit of armor mounted on a wicker horse. Opposite was the arsenal, a shed with stone walls, an iron-shingled roof, and an iron door and shutters. A similar, smaller building held ammunition and gunpowder. As Sano and his men rode toward the arsenal, he heard his name shouted. He turned and saw Captain Torai, chief retainer to Police Commissioner Hoshina, riding after them so hard that his horse’s hooves splashed up fountains of water.
“What a surprise to see you here,” Torai said as he caught up with Sano. “I didn’t know you were interested in shooting.”
“Only when I see someone I’d like to shoot,” Sano said.
Torai’s grin gave his face a wolfish cast. “May I be of assistance?” he said, obviously eager to find out what Sano was up to.
“No, thank you.” Sano kept riding.
“He wants to see the guns,” blurted the caretaker, who hurried alongside him on foot.
“Oh?” Torai sped up his horse, placing himself between the arsenal and Sano. “Why?”
“Just testing a theory,” Sano said.
Torai blocked the door to the arsenal. “What theory?”
“Do you want us to get rid of him, Honorable Chamberlain?” Detective Marume asked.
“It’s my duty to oversee anything that happens here,” Torai said, belligerent now.
Sano decided Torai might come in handy. “Stay if you wish, but get out of the way.” As he and his men dismounted, he ordered the caretaker, “Open the arsenal.”
When he stepped inside, the caretaker held up a lantern to illuminate walls lined with iron cabinets. Detectives Marume and Fukida opened these, revealing hundreds of compartments that each contained guns rolled up in oiled cloth.
Marume’s breath whistled out of him. “This is enough weapons to start a war.”
“There’s certainly more than I remember.” Sano wondered if Police Commissioner Hoshina was indeed plotting a coup, and building up the arsenal in preparation.
“So what?” Torai asked from the doorway.
Ignoring him, Sano asked the caretaker, “Do you keep an inventory of the guns?”
“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” The youth looked even more nervous. He removed a ledger from a cabinet and opened it to show pages filled with characters.
“We’re going to look through all the guns, compare them to the inventory, and see if any are missing,” Sano said.
“They aren’t,” Torai said. “Unless you’re blind, you can see that all the compartments are full.”
Marume and Fukida unwrapped guns, which included pistols as well as arquebuses, bearing the marks of many different craftsmen. Some were old, elaborate works of art; others modern, plain, and utilitarian. Sano and the caretaker marked off each in the ledger. By the time they were finished and emerged from the arsenal, they’d found thirty compartments that held, instead of guns, wooden dowels wrapped in cloth.
“How about that,” Sano said. “Thirty arquebuses are unaccounted for. What happened to them?”
Captain Torai looked surprised, and disturbed. Sano thought he hadn’t expected any weapons to be missing. Torai turned on the caretaker. “Well?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, uh, maybe the police commanders borrowed them and forgot to tell me.”
“There you have it.” Torai sounded relieved, although uncertain as to what trap he was trying to evade.
“Never mind the excuses,” Sano said. “I can tell you exactly what happened to those guns. Ssakan Hirata confiscated them with some others from a warehouse that belonged to Lord Mori. They’re a sign that someone on the police force was conspiring with Lord Mori to stockpile weapons and stage a coup. And my candidate is Police Commissioner Hoshina.”
“That’s absurd!” Torai was clearly less alarmed than disbelieving.
“Are you so sure?” Sano asked. “How much do you know about what he does when you’re not with him?”
Torai made a sound of disgust. “Hoshina-san isn’t the only person who had access to the arsenal. Someone else on the police force could have taken the guns.”
He turned a hard, searching gaze on the caretaker, who looked terrified. By this time Sano had no doubt that he was an accomplice, whether willing or not, to the theft. The caretaker started to back away across the shooting range.
“Not so fast,” Sano said.
The caretaker faltered to a stop. Sano intended to find out exactly what he knew about the missing guns. A little pressure and surely he would incriminate Hoshina. Now a look of concern came over Torai’s face as he read Sano’s thoughts.
“Go back to your duties,” he told the caretaker.
“Stay,” Sano commanded. His troops surrounded the man. “You’re coming with me.”
“Hoshina-san is loyal to Lord Matsudaira. He’s not involved in any coup,” Torai insisted.
“Maybe you’re right. There are other ambitious men on the police force.” Sano stared at Torai. Maybe he wasn’t really surprised about the missing guns. “What have you been up to behind your master’s back?”
Another man might have been alarmed because the tainted wind of treason had blown onto him. Police Commissioner Hoshina certainly had; yet Torai feigned puzzlement, looked behind him as if to see who Sano was talking about, then shrugged and grinned. “You’re just stabbing in the dark to save yourself.”
“You have all the answers, don’t you?” Tired of verbal sparring, frustrated because Torai had pointed up the flimsiness of the evidence he’d found, Sano shifted the conversation to another track. “Well, if you’re as smart as you seem, you can tell that your master is in trouble.”
“Not as much trouble as you are,” Torai said with malicious pleasure.
“You’re wrong,” Sano said. “The only evidence against me is a story told by a medium who’s recanted it and is now on my side. The evidence against Police Commissioner Hoshina is guns from this arsenal found in an illegal cache.”
“What about the notes in your handwriting that were also found with the cache?”
“Planted there,” Sano dismissed them scornfully, although he was perturbed because the news had reached his enemies. “Don’t put too much stock in them. Weigh the evidence. Guns are heavier than papers with ambiguous scribbles on them. Hoshina’s side of the balance is heading down faster than mine. You don’t want to join him at the bottom. I’m going to offer you a deal.”
The captain arched his brows, skeptical yet listening.
“Turn witness against Hoshina,” Sano said. “Give him up for treason and the murder of Lord Mori. In exchange, you can keep your head and your rank.”
“Forget it,” Torai said disdainfully, without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re the traitor. Your wife’s the murderer. Hoshina-san is innocent. I’m not bailing out on him, especially when you’re not in a position to keep any promises.”
Sano realized that Torai was made of stronger stuff than his superior. Torai had stood his ground whereas Hoshina had nearly caved in. Whether or not he really believed in Hoshina, he was determined to stick with him. Torai was the type of samurai who aligned the course of his life with his master’s and never deviated, for good or bad. Every regime in history had been built on men like Torai; no warlord could rise to power without them.
“Very well,” Sano said. “You’ll regret your decision when you find yourself kneeling beside Hoshina on the execution ground.”
“Your wish is not mine to fulfill,” Torai retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m not wasting any more time on this conversation.”
He stomped out of the arsenal. Sano, Marume, and Fukida watched from the doorway as he mounted his horse and rode away
through the deepening night.
“He should have jumped at your offer,” Fukida said. “You have a stronger case than ever against Hoshina.”
“Unfortunately, my case is founded on logic that won’t convince everyone,” Sano said. “We know that as well as Torai does. Let’s go back to the castle and find Hirata-san. Maybe he’s had better luck with his inquiries today than we with ours.”
As he and his men rode off, Sano did not look forward to the talk he must have with Hirata.
They arrived home as the wet, gray day melted into grayer twilight. But Sano had no chance to look for Hirata. His chief aide met him at the door and said, “The Honorable Elders and the Supreme Commander of the Army are waiting to see you.”
Sano desperately needed to continue his investigation, but he couldn’t put off his three important allies. He joined Ohgami, Uemori, and General Isogai, who sat in his audience chamber. Their solemn expressions warned Sano that this was not a social call. “Greetings,” he said, bowing to them, then taking his seat on the dais.
They bowed in return. General Isogai said, “We warned you.” His loud voice and shrewd gaze were hard.
“But you didn’t stay out of trouble.” Disapproval marked Ohgami’s pensive features. “First your wife is involved in the murder of Lord Mori; then you’re implicated in treason.”
“Merciful gods, you attract problems like shit draws flies!” Uemori coughed in disgust, his jowls wobbling.
Sano remembered his last meeting with them, when they’d advise d him that his political position was shaky and he should exercise caution. It seemed as if ages had passed since then. The last thing he needed now was their censure. “Unforeseen circumstances arose. You can hardly blame me for them.”
“Perhaps not,” Ohgami said, “but we do fault you for the way you’re handling this murder investigation.”
“You’ve managed to antagonize both Lord Matsudaira and the shogun,” General Isogai said, “not to mention that you’ve opened yourself up wide to attack by Police Commissioner Hoshina.”
“This is exactly what you don’t need,” Ohgami said.
“And neither do we,” Uemori said.
The three men glared at Sano. He felt his own antipathy stir toward them. As usual, their criticism didn’t help, and they were wasting time he couldn’t afford to waste.
“Well, my honorable colleagues,” he said, “I thank you for your show of support.”
“We’re here to do more than show support,” Ohgami said. “We’re going to tell you exactly what to do to get yourself out of this sorry mess.”
“Go right ahead. Some practical solutions would be helpful for a change,” Sano said.
The elders looked to General Isogai, who said, “Let Lady Reiko take the blame for Lord Mori’s murder.”
“What?” Astonishment struck Sano. He couldn’t believe he’d understood correctly or hide his horror.
“You heard me,” General Isogai said. “As far as Lord Mori’s murder is concerned, Lord Matsudaira and the shogun want blood for blood. Throw Lady Reiko to the executioner, and they’ll be satisfied. As far as the treason is concerned, a little sacrifice on your part would go a long way toward convincing them that you’re their loyal subject.”
“That’s out of the question.” Sano was so incensed by this preposterous advice that he lost self-control and sputtered with rage. “Lady Reiko is my wife.” He didn’t mention that he loved her. Love had no place in his colleagues’ world. “I would never sacrifice her for anything.”
The elders grimaced in disdain. General Isogai said, “You can get yourself another wife. There are many other women you can choose from. What’s important is your political position.”
“And yours,” Sano said, bitter. “You’re asking me to put the mother of my son and our unborn child to death in order to save your own skins!”
“It’s fortunate that you already have an heir,” Ohgami interjected. “You can always beget another one later if you need it. And of course we’re concerned that if you go down, you’ll take us with you. But let’s not be crude.”
Sano was so astounded by their cold, venal insensitivity that he couldn’t speak.
“Let’s be rational instead,” Uemori said, deliberately mistaking Sano’s silence for agreement. “Lady Reiko was caught naked and covered with blood beside Lord Mori’s corpse. Her dagger was the murder weapon. She did it, there’s no question.”
“Do you really want to live with a woman who stabbed somebody to death and cut off his manhood?” General Isogai shook his head. “I don’t see how you can sleep at night.”
“She didn’t do it,” Sano burst out. Even though he knew Reiko hadn’t told him everything, he couldn’t admit to them, or himself, that she might be guilty.
They gave him pitying looks. “Believe she’s innocent if you want,” General Isogai said, “but we’ve heard that you haven’t turned up a scrap of evidence in her favor.”
“I will,” Sano declared. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“Time is what you don’t have,” Ohgami said. “You can’t protect her much longer.”
“The thing to do is cut your own losses,” General Isogai said. “Don’t let Lady Reiko drag you with her to the execution ground. Dump her.”
Their nerve infuriated Sano. He hated the fact that their solution was the wisest for a man in his situation. “I refuse!”
They exchanged glances that said they’d expected as much. “You’d best weigh your decision very carefully,” Ohgami said. “We warned you that if you continued on your reckless course, we might wish to sever our association with you.”
“We’ve done what we could on your behalf,” said Uemori. “We’ve assured your other allies that you’re in control of the situation and talked them out of withdrawing their support from you. We’ve urged Lord Matsudaira to give you the benefit of doubt. Those are the only reasons he’s allowed you a free rein thus far. But your attempts to clear Lady Reiko have been futile. We won’t be destroyed by your stubborn loyalty to her.”
“To speak bluntly,” General Isogai said, “it’s either her or us, and by us, I mean all your allies, not just we three in this room. Stand by her, and you stand alone.”
Sano didn’t hesitate for an instant, even though he knew that if he decided in favor of Reiko, he was not only finished as chamberlain, but without allies to counter Lord Matsudaira’s distrust of him and oppose Police Commissioner Hoshina’s campaign to ruin him, he was certain to be condemned to death as a traitor. “It’s her,” he said even though he knew he’d just drastically reduced his chances of saving Reiko.
Rising, he gestured toward the door. His companions looked disappointed but unsurprised as they stood and bowed. “Fine,” General Isogai said. As they left the chamber, he said, “Go ahead and dig your own grave.”
Reiko stood in the corridor near the reception chamber, watching General Isogai and the two elders walk out past her. They paid her no attention. She’d just returned from the city, she still wore her peasant clothes, and they didn’t recognize her. She’d come looking for Sano, and the door to the chamber had been open; she’d overheard the whole the conversation between him and the men. Now, sick with horror, she clutched the wall for support.
Sano rushed out of the chamber and bumped into her. “Excuse me,” he said, obviously mistaking her for a maid. Then he took a second, surprised look at her. “Reiko-san? Why are you dressed like that?” He clasped her shoulders. “You’re soaking wet. Where have you been? What’s the matter?”
She gulped, trying to quell the nausea that rose up in her throat. She couldn’t answer. A faint contraction tightened her stomach muscles around the baby inside her.
Dismayed comprehension branded Sano’s features. “How long have you been here?”
“Long enough,” Reiko managed to gasp out.
Sano picked her up and carried her to their private chambers, where he laid her on the floor cushions. He held her hand, watching her an
xiously while she sucked deep, tremulous breaths and her heart raced with panic that she was going into premature labor. Cold sweat drenched her skin, which was already chilled from the rain that fallen on her while she rode in the kago.
“I wish you hadn’t heard that,” Sano said. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry.” Anguish and self-hatred filled Reiko. “I’ve put you in such a terrible position.”
“It’s not so terrible that it’s hopeless,” Sano said, but as though trying to convince himself as well as her. “With friends like General Isogai and the elders, I hardly needed enemies. I’m better off without them.”
Reiko couldn’t believe that, and she saw that neither did Sano. Bereft of allies, accused of treason, tied to a wife accused of a politically sensitive murder, he could number his days in the regime—and in this world—as few. Still, she was outraged as well as hurt by the men’s attitude toward her. “They told you to abandon me! They want me to die so that all their problems will go away!”
“Never mind that,” Sano said firmly. “I told them I’d stand by you, and I will.”
He tightened his grip on her hand. His love and loyalty moved Reiko to such gratitude that tears streamed from her eyes. Yet she couldn’t let him be destroyed for her sake.
“I think you should do what they want,” Reiko said.
Sano stared at her as if she’d gone mad. Then irritation showed on his face. “This is no time to talk nonsense.”
He thought she was testing his commitment to her, trying to wangle reassurances by suggesting that he should give her up. Reiko saw that he was impatient because he didn’t want to play games; he didn’t understand that she was serious.
“I mean it,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his. “You should.”
As Sano exclaimed in angry protest, she said, “Tell Lord Matsudaira that I’ve confessed to murdering Lord Mori. Tell him that I promise to commit seppuku to atone for my disgrace and restore my honor.”
“Never!” Sano’s eyes brimmed with shock. “How can you even think of such a thing?”
“It’s the proper thing for me to do.” During childhood Reiko had been taught that honor, duty, and family were more important than the individual. She’d absorbed society’s values despite her unconventional personality. Now the time had come to abide by them. “All I ask of you is this: Convince the shogun to let me put off my death until after my baby is born.” Her voice trembled; she fought back tears. “Make him understand that the baby is innocent and doesn’t deserve to die.”
The Red Chrysanthemum Page 21