The Cloud Pavilion

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Nanbu hesitated. Sano knew that if Nanbu answered, it would mean he was guilty, but Sano would have to spare Nanbu or renege on the deal and violate his code of honor.

  “I don’t know where it is,” Nanbu said slowly.

  Sano had had just about all he could take from these men whose true, ugly colors he’d seen even if they weren’t guilty of these par tic ular crimes. If Nanbu didn’t talk right now, he would kill him. The thought must have shown on his face, because Nanbu recoiled from him in terror.

  “I don’t know where it is because it doesn’t stay in the same place all the time,” Nanbu hastily amended. “It moves.”

  “How can it move?” Sano said, wary of a trick.

  “It’s a boat,” Nanbu said.

  When Reiko arrived in Asakusa, she found Chiyo waiting for her in the street a few blocks from the Kumazawa estate. Chiyo clutched the folds of the black drape she wore over her head. She huddled against a wall as pedestrians and mounted samurai moved past her. She looked small, frightened, and vulnerable. Reiko supposed this was the first time she’d left home since Sano had brought her back. When Chiyo spied Reiko’s palanquin, she ran up to it and spoke through the window.

  “Many thanks for coming. I’m sorry I can’t invite you to the house.”

  “I understand,” Reiko said. “What is the trouble you mentioned in your message?”

  Gasping, Chiyo bent over and clasped her chest. Not only was she afraid to be out of doors; she was still weak and ill. Reiko told the bearers to set down the palanquin, opened the door, then said to Chiyo, “Come in. Sit down.”

  Chiyo obeyed. When she’d recovered her breath, she said, “This morning, Jirocho came to the house. My father’s soldiers have orders not to let him in, but he stood by the gate and shouted Fumiko’s name until she heard him and went running outside. She was so glad to go with him, it broke my heart.”

  “What changed his mind?” Reiko asked.

  “I asked him that. He said he had a new plan for finding out who violated her. And he needed Fumiko to make it work.”

  Sano wouldn’t be pleased that Jirocho had taken the law into his own hands. “What is Jirocho’s plan?”

  “Jirocho knows about the three suspects that your husband found.” The words spilled from Chiyo in breathless haste. “He sent a message, the same message, to Nanbu, Ogita, and Joju. It said that Fumiko has identified him as the one who violated her, and unless he wants her to tell Chamberlain Sano, he should meet Jirocho this evening and pay him a thousand koban.”

  Reiko stared in surprise and confusion. “But Fumiko didn’t get a good look at the man. Has she suddenly remembered more?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. She wouldn’t talk about it,” Chiyo said. “Jirocho is gambling that one of those men will think so.”

  Now Reiko saw Jirocho’s intent. “He’s setting a trap. He’s hoping that whoever violated his daughter will show up to pay the blackmail, and then Jirocho will kill him. But why did he take Fumiko?”

  “He wanted her to go with him to the meeting,” Chiyo said. “If someone shows up, Jirocho thinks she’ll remember, and she’s supposed to say whether he’s the one. Jirocho wants to be certain.”

  The gangster boss didn’t want to kill the wrong man, who might show up for reasons that Reiko didn’t have time to discuss. Jirocho especially wouldn’t want to kill someone as important as Nanbu, Joju, or Ogita without being absolutely sure it was worthwhile.

  “Where is the meeting?” Reiko asked.

  “In the paupers’ cemetery in Inaricho. At the hour of the boar.”

  That was not long from now. Reiko felt a stir of apprehension on Fumiko’s behalf.

  “I’m afraid,” Chiyo said. “If one of those men is the criminal and he shows up, I can’t imagine that he’ll just let himself be killed.”

  “Neither can I.” Reiko remembered Sano’s descriptions of Ogita, Nanbu, and Joju. They hadn’t sounded like easy targets, and they surely wouldn’t go to meet a blackmailing gangster alone.

  “There’s bound to be trouble. I begged Fumiko to stay with me, but she’ll do anything to please her father. That’s all she wants. I asked my father to intervene, but he said it was none of his business.” Anxious and frantic, Chiyo said, “Reiko-san, I have no one to turn to except you.” She clasped her hands, extended them to Reiko. “Please, will you save Fumiko?”

  “Of course I will,” Reiko said.

  She couldn’t bear the thought of the poor girl caught between her rapist and her father any more than Chiyo could. She felt her heartbeat quicken with excitement, urgency, and uncertainty about what to do.

  “I’ll tell my husband. He’ll send out his troops,” she said, then reconsidered. “No—that will take too long. They’ll never get there in time.” Reiko looked at her own entourage of five guards plus Lieutenant Tanuma. She had an army of seven, including herself.

  Lieutenant Tanuma said in alarm, “No, Lady Reiko. We’re not going. Your husband would kill me.”

  “I’m going with or without you,” Reiko said, “and he’ll kill you if you don’t come.”

  “All right,” Tanuma said, glum in his certainty that he was dead no matter what he did. “But I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Reiko turned to Chiyo. “You’d better go home. I’ll tell you what happens.”

  Chiyo stayed seated in the palanquin beside Reiko. “No,” she said, quiet but firm. “I’m going, too.”

  Dismay struck Reiko. “I can’t let you.”

  “Why not? Because we might see something disturbing? Because you don’t think I can bear it?”

  “Because you’re not trained in combat, and I can’t promise we’ll be able to protect you. You might get hurt.”

  Chiyo smiled sadly. “What could hurt me worse than what has already happened? What have I to lose?”

  “Perhaps much more than you think,” Reiko said. “You don’t know what the future holds. Your husband and children—”

  “Are gone for good.” Chiyo sounded resigned to the fact decreed by custom. “All I have is Fumiko, and she needs me.” Chiyo’s soft features hardened with determination. “If you put me out of your palanquin, I’ll walk all the way to Inaricho. You can’t stop me.”

  A chamber in the office area of Sano’s estate served as a command post for the search for Lady Nobuko. Sano, Yanagisawa, and Yoritomo knelt on the floor while Detectives Marume and Fukida unrolled a map of Edo. The map was crisscrossed by painted blue lines that represented streams and canals. The wider blue ribbon of the Sumida River divided Edo proper from the eastern suburbs. Sano and Yanagisawa pored over the map like generals charting a battle strategy.

  “Nanbu said he ‘heard’ the boat was here,” Sano said, pointing to a spot on the Nihonbashi River. “But he also said that was last month.”

  “At least we know we’re looking for a floating brothel and we have one possible location,” Yanagisawa said. “Good work, Sano-san.”

  Sano thought how strange it was to hear Yanagisawa pay him a compliment. It was even stranger that Yanagisawa didn’t seem to mind that this estate belonged to Sano now.

  “Nanbu also gave me a description of the boat,” Sano said. “It’s approximately forty paces long, with a single mast, a square sail, a cabin with a red tile roof on the deck, and three sets of oars below.”

  Once the kennel manager had realized that his cooperation could save him from being punished for Lady Nobuko’s kidnapping, he’d spewed information so fast that he’d reminded Sano of a horse with diarrhea.

  “I’ve sent troops to seize the boat if it’s there, or to trace it if it’s not,” Sano said. “I expect a report soon.”

  “In case they don’t find it, we’d better start searching all the waterways,” Yanagisawa said.

  Sano took up a writing brush and dipped it in ink. He happened to glance toward the door and saw Masahiro standing outside the room, watching with avid curiosity. Sano frowned. Masahiro retreated. Sano said, “I’ll cross ou
t the waterways that a boat that size can’t pass.”

  “I’ll help you,” Yoritomo said.

  He seemed to have put aside his animosity toward Sano, but then he was smart enough to realize that if they didn’t band together and find Lady Nobuko, both families would suffer.

  Even after Sano and Yoritomo marked off the waterways that were too narrow or shallow to accommodate the floating brothel, there remained the whole Sumida River, plus wide stretches along other rivers and canals. Yanagisawa took the brush from Yoritomo and drew a line around half the area. “My army will search these,” he told Sano. “Yours can do the others.”

  He and Yoritomo left. Marume said, “I hate to think of how many boats there are that fit the general description.”

  “And ours has no name or other distinctive features, according to Nanbu,” said Fukida.

  “Whoever owns it wouldn’t want to call attention to it,” Sano said. All brothels outside the Yoshiwara licensed pleasure quarter were illegal. Nanbu had claimed he didn’t know the name of the boat’s owner.

  “Finding it could take forever,” Marume said glumly.

  Hirata entered the room. He said, “Maybe not.”

  Sano and Hirata stood over the two oxcart drivers, who lay in a muddy courtyard inside Edo Jail. Jinshichi’s and Gombei’s hands were tied behind their backs and their ankles bound with rope.

  The big, muscular Jinshichi glowered at his captors from beneath his heavy brow. In the short time he’d spent on the run, his whiskers had grown into a bristly beard. The scar on his cheekbone was flushed red with anger, but he didn’t speak.

  Gombei, the wiry younger man, squirmed as he said to Sano, “Why are we under arrest again?” He now had three teeth missing. He’d lost another one during the tussle with Hirata, while resisting arrest. His grin oozed blood. His cunning eyes sparkled with fright. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Then why did you run away from the men I sent to watch you?” Sano said.

  “We got tired of being spied on,” Jinshichi said sullenly.

  “It’s not our fault they couldn’t keep up with us,” Gombei said. Nervous ness edged his good humor.

  “We’re innocent,” Jinshichi said. “We already told you so.”

  “Why were you hiding out on Ishikawajima?” Hirata asked.

  Despite some misgivings, Sano had decided to let Hirata participate in the interrogation. Hirata had caught the drivers; he deserved to help question them. And his mysterious pursuer hadn’t yet made another appearance.

  “We weren’t hiding,” Gombei said with earnest sincerity. “We couldn’t go to work because your soldiers would have found us. We needed to make money.”

  Sano was fed up with evasions. Instinct and evidence told him the men were guilty of kidnapping if not rape. “What’s the matter, didn’t you make enough by kidnapping women?”

  “We didn’t touch those women,” Jinshichi said, surly and vexed. “They told you so themselves.”

  Gombei grinned and licked blood from his lips. “You had to let us go last time.”

  “Not this time.” Although Sano was opposed to torture, for once he must bend his own rules. But he would employ the mildest form of torture, one used primarily for women.

  Into the courtyard walked two jailers. They were eta, toughs dressed in ragged clothes stained with sweat, grime, and blood from previous torture sessions. Sano said, “Perform kusuguri-zeme on these prisoners.”

  Kusuguri-zeme was the term for torture by tickling. It was considered harmless, and perhaps sexually arousing for male torturers when they performed it on women. The eta didn’t look thrilled by the prospect of applying it to the oxcart drivers, but Jinshichi and Gombei chortled.

  “Do you really think you can tickle us into confessing?” Gombei said.

  “We’ll see,” Sano said.

  The eta crouched beside the drivers, removed their sandals, and began tickling their feet. Gombei flinched and giggled. A smile tugged Jinshichi’s mouth. Soon both men were laughing uproariously. The eta worked with grim concentration. Hirata’s face was expressionless, his emotions under control. Sano suppressed the urge to laugh. Mirth was contagious.

  “Don’t let them make you say anything,” Jinshichi ordered Gombei as they guffawed and thrashed.

  “I won’t,” Gombei said, gasping for breath. His body jerked involuntarily; distress showed through his humor. “No matter what.”

  The eta proceeded to tickle the men’s armpits. Gombei and Jinshichi bucked, contorted, and tried to roll away from their tormenters. Their laughter took on a ragged, hysterical edge.

  “Did you kidnap my cousin Chiyo?” Sano said. The men just kept laughing. Sano prompted, “She was the woman with the baby. At Awashima Shrine. You took her, didn’t you?”

  “No,” Gombei blurted between giggles.

  Jinshichi shook his head, panted, and roared.

  “Suit yourselves,” Hirata said.

  The eta poked their fingers between Jinshichi’s and Gombei’s ribs, along their waists. Soon the men were covered with mud, sobbing while they laughed. Suddenly it didn’t seem funny to Sano anymore. The line between mirth and misery had been crossed. Kusuguri-zeme didn’t inflict permanent damage, but it caused as much distress as pain did. It was cruel torture indeed. Sano stoically forced himself to watch. He told himself these men were criminals who deserved to suffer until they talked.

  “I can’t bear it any longer,” Gombei whimpered while he laughed and choked. “Make them stop, and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know!”

  The eta looked to Sano, who nodded. They stopped tickling, rose, and backed away from the prisoners. Gombei moaned and wept with gratitude. Jinshichi said to his partner, “You stupid coward.” He was gasping as hard as if he’d run all the way across town. Both men’s faces were awash in dirt and tears. Sano felt almost as relieved as they did.

  “Did you kidnap my cousin?” Sano repeated.

  “Yes,” Gombei said weakly. “We gave her a potion that we buy from a druggist in Kanda. It makes people go to sleep, and they can’t move.”

  Jinshichi muttered in disgust, but he nodded.

  “Who hired you to kidnap her?” Sano asked.

  “I don’t know his name,” Gombei said.

  “He’s lying,” Hirata told Sano.

  “Ogita, Nanbu, or Joju,” Sano said. “Which one was it?”

  Startled, Gombei said, “How—?”

  “How did I find out who your customers are?” Sano explained, “I’ve been checking into your background since we last met. The proprietor at the Drum Teahouse told me about your side business. He was happy to supply the names.”

  “I’ll kill that rat,” Jinshichi fumed.

  “If you live long enough,” Marume said. “Tell Chamberlain Sano which one raped his cousin.”

  “It was Ogita,” Jinshichi said, reluctant to confess, yet eager to avoid more tickling.

  At last Sano knew the truth. At last he had a target for the anger he felt on behalf of Chiyo and his newfound clan. He thought of Ogita lying to his face, and an intense hatred filled him like venom infusing his veins, like hot smoke suffocating his lungs. He wanted to lash out at the merchant and strike him down. But Ogita wasn’t here, and now wasn’t the time for Sano to let loose his temper.

  “Ogita wanted a woman who’d just had a baby,” Gombei said. “He wanted to drink milk from her breasts while he had sex with her. You can’t get that in Yoshiwara. So we went to Awashima Shrine. It always has plenty of new mothers. All we had to do was pick one who looked easy. I pretended I was hurt, I called for help, and she came right to me.”

  That he could speak so casually about his crime! Sano felt his hatred grow to encompass the oxcart drivers for their part in Chiyo’s rape.

  “I didn’t know she was your cousin,” Gombei said. “If I had, I’d have kidnapped somebody else.”

  Sano wanted to grab the man by his hair, grind his face into the dirt, wipe off its sheepish e
xpression, then cut off his head. But he wasn’t finished with Jinshichi. “You did kidnap somebody else, didn’t you? The girl Fumiko.”

  “No,” Gombei said. “We never—”

  “Was she for Nanbu, or Joju?” Sano said.

  Jinshichi said, “Keep quiet! He’ll kill us!”

  Sano motioned to the eta. They moved toward the prisoners. Gombei hastily said, “No! Please! All right! She was for Nanbu. He happened to see her when he and his men were catching dogs at Ueno Temple. He wanted her, but he found out she was the daughter of Jirocho the gangster, and he was afraid to take her himself. So he hired us.”

  Sano was almost as disgusted by Nanbu’s cowardice as by his taking pleasure at the expense of a helpless young girl. “Did he hire you to kidnap the nun, too?”

  “No. That was Joju. He likes high-class old ladies.”

  It was the priest who’d infected the nun with genital disease. He was responsible for her suicide and therefore indirectly guilty of murder. Sano thought about the similarities between the nun and the shogun’s wife. He glimpsed a light through the dark tangle of this investigation.

  “He’s confessed to everything,” Jinshichi said with a bitter look at his partner. “Just kill us now.”

  “Not quite everything,” Sano said. “There’s another victim besides the three we’ve discussed. The nun wasn’t the only woman you kidnapped for Joju, was she?”

  An air of caution fell over the men. They seemed to shrink into themselves under its weight. Their gazes avoided each other as well as Sano and his men. Gombei said, “There were only three.”

  “Four,” Sano said.

  “Can’t you count that high?” Hirata mocked the drivers.

  “Maybe they have short memories and they’ve forgotten about the shogun’s wife,” Sano said.

  “What?” Jinshichi and Gombei spoke in unison; they stared in disbelieving, apparently genuine shock.

  “The shogun’s wife went missing yesterday,” Sano said. “I think she was kidnapped.” He pointed at the two men. “By none other than you.”