"Greetings, Uchida-san," Hirata said.
Uchida was a middle-aged samurai with flexible, comic features. He'd held his job since Hirata had been a child, and was a trove of information about crime, criminals, and all police business in Edo.
"What can I do for you today?" Uchida asked.
"I need your help with a case I'm investigating." Hirata explained, "Chamberlain Sano's cousin Chiyo was kidnapped."
"So I've heard." Uchida's mobile features drooped with concern. He lowered his voice. "Raped, wasn't she? Poor girl. Well, I'm glad she's home safe. I hope you catch the bastard. How can I help?"
"Her father told Chamberlain Sano that when she went missing, he reported it to the police," Hirata began. "Have you heard about that, too?"
Uchida pulled a grimace. "Major Kumazawa stalked in here like a conquering general. He demanded that we drop everything and look for his daughter. But we couldn't, could we? Put every man on the search and let the criminals run wild in the meantime?"
"Of course not," Hirata agreed. "But I hope someone made an effort to find Chiyo."
"Sure we did," Uchida said. "A missing person is a missing person. We were duty-bound to investigate even if Major Kumazawa didn't exactly make us eager to do it."
If Major Kumazawa hadn't been so high-handed, the police might have worked harder and rescued Chiyo sooner, Hirata thought. "What did the investigation turn up?"
"Nothing," Uchida said. "Our officers in Asakusa had a look around the shrine where she disappeared, but nobody there saw anything. But I've got a bit of news that might be related to the crime."
"What?" Hirata said, surprised. "Did you tell Major Kumazawa?" The man hadn't given Sano any information from the police, as far as Hirata knew.
"I didn't get a chance," Uchida defended himself. "He threw a fit because we didn't all jump at once, then he stormed out of here before I could speak."
"Well, cough it up," Hirata said.
Uchida paused, letting the suspense build, until prodded by a frown from Hirata. "Chamberlain Sano's cousin isn't the only woman to be kidnapped lately. There have been two others."
11
"Is anyone following us?" Yanagisawa said.
"No, master," said one of his two bodyguards.
They were riding along a rain-swept quay in the Hatchobori district. Their wicker hats concealed their faces; their straw capes covered the identifying crests on their garments. Yanagisawa glanced furtively over his shoulder at the watercraft moored at the quay. He didn't see anyone except laborers hurrying goods from barges to ware houses. But this was a time for extra caution.
The other guard said, "Your precautions seem to have worked."
After leaving Edo Castle, Yanagisawa and his guards had traveled by palanquin to the estate of a daimyo who was an ally. They'd borrowed horses, donned rain gear, and ridden out the back gate. They'd surely lost anyone who'd followed them from the castle. Now they turned down a street where shops, restaurants, and teahouses occupied narrow storefronts. The street was deserted except for a samurai-one of Yanagisawa's own troops-who stood outside a teahouse distinguished by a giant conch shell hung above its entrance.
Yanagisawa's party dismounted. The samurai opened the door. Yanagisawa and his bodyguards stepped inside, where two more of his soldiers waited in a room with a tatami floor and a low table for drinks, otherwise empty. They'd cleared out the proprietor and customers in advance of Yanagisawa's arrival.
"Are they here yet?" Yanagisawa asked, shedding his wet hat and cape.
The soldiers pointed to a doorway covered with a blue curtain. As he moved toward it, Yanagisawa felt excitement speed his pulse. He was embarking upon the plan he'd outlined to his son last night. His success depended upon the people he was about to meet.
Pushing aside the curtain, he stepped into another room. On the tatami floor knelt two old women. Both in their sixties, they wore rich silk robes patterned in muted colors that gleamed in the gray light from the barred window. Their faces were made up with white rice powder and red rouge, their hair upswept and anchored with lacquer combs. They both looked out of place in these humble surroundings. Otherwise, they could not have been more different.
The younger woman boldly spoke first. "You have kept us waiting for more than an hour." Her speech was crisp, precise, high-class. She had an emaciated figure on which her rich garments hung like cloth on sticks. Her face was narrow, with elegant bone structure, but the right side was distorted, its muscles bunched together, the eye half closed, as if in pain.
"It was best that we not arrive at the same time and be seen together," Yanagisawa explained.
"Still, you took far too long getting here, Honorable-"
Yanagisawa raised his hand. "We'll not use our real titles or names," he said, kneeling opposite the women. "You can call me 'Ogata.' I'll call you 'Lady Setsu.' "
"Surely such theatrics are not necessary here." She swept a disdainful gaze around the shabby room, the window that gave a view of an empty alley in a neighborhood where no one they knew ever came.
"There are spies everywhere," Yanagisawa said, "as you well know."
"Lady Setsu" nodded, conceding his point. Her right eye leaked involuntary tears.
"Me, what about me?" the elder woman piped up. She had a babyish voice and a doughy face that reminded Yanagisawa of a rice cake dusted with powdered sugar. "What shall I be called?" She giggled. "I've always liked the name 'Chocho.' "
Butterfly, Yanagisawa thought. How inappropriate for such an old, fat woman. " 'Lady Chocho' you shall be," he said, putting on his most gallant, charming manner. "It's most suitable. You are as pretty and graceful as your namesake."
Lady Chocho preened, delighted by his flattery. Yanagisawa smiled. He'd already won an ally. But her companion frowned.
"It was quite inconvenient and uncomfortable to travel so far in such bad weather," Lady Setsu said, "particularly since my health is poor, as you well know."
Yanagisawa knew she suffered from terrible headaches that caused spasms in her face. "Yes, I do know, and I apologize for bringing you all the way out here," he said contritely.
Lady Chocho had borne the fruit that was key to his plan, whose acquisition was the object of this meeting. But Lady Setsu had a say in the matter, too.
"I didn't mind coming," Lady Chocho said, beholding Yanagisawa with the admiration that he often excited in both women and men.
Lady Setsu shot her a glance. Lady Chocho quailed and bowed her head. Lady Setsu had much influence over her friend, Yanagisawa knew from his informants.
"Why did you choose such a squalid dump?" Lady Setsu brushed at her sleeves as if afraid of fleas.
"Because it has no connection to us, and we'll never use it again," Yanagisawa said. "Those are my favorite criteria for places to hold secret meetings."
"Very well. I suppose you have a good reason for summoning us?" Lady Setsu's voice hinted that it had better be good. Even though he was the shogun's second-in-command, her age, her pedigree, and the irritability caused by her pain made her insolent.
"Yes," Yanagisawa said. "I've a proposal to make."
Suspicion narrowed her good eye. "What sort of proposal?"
"For a collaboration that would benefit us both."
Lady Setsu permitted herself a thin, bad-humored smile, which only appeared on the side of her face not distorted by the headache. "What can you offer that would induce us to collaborate with you?"
She pronounced the last word as if she thought him a demon incarnate, which she probably did. Yanagisawa didn't mind. He would rather be feared and reviled than discounted.
"I can offer you a chance at what you most want in the world," he said.
Lady Chocho tugged Lady Setsu's sleeve. "What's he talking about?"
"Quiet," Lady Setsu ordered. To Yanagisawa she said, "Why do you think that we want for anything? We're quite comfortably situated."
"That could change." Yanagisawa paused to let her absorb the ominous
impact of his words. "The shogun's health is uncertain."
Lady Setsu regarded him suspiciously. "His Excellency was well enough to attend the martial arts tournament yesterday."
She was well informed, Yanagisawa observed. "Just last month he was wretchedly ill. You must be aware that he grows feebler with every passing year."
"Well, yes. But he often fancies himself ill when he isn't really."
"Still, he's an old man. He's expected to die sooner rather than later."
Lady Setsu hastened to say, "He's been threatening to die for ages." Just as Yanagisawa had hoped, the prospect of the shogun's passing deeply worried her. "He hasn't yet."
"Nobody lives forever," Yanagisawa pointed out. "And when he does die, the regime will change hands. The new dictator will have little use for people close to the past shogun." In case she missed his hint, he added, "People such as you."
Fear flashed across her expression. Yanagisawa knew he had her in his grasp now. "People such as yourself," she retorted.
"True," Yanagisawa said. "I'd like to know that when the dictatorship does change hands, I'll be safe. Wouldn't you?"
Lady Setsu said grudgingly, "I see your point."
"I don't," Lady Chocho said, pouting because they'd left her out of their discussion.
Yanagisawa turned to her with his most charming smile. "My point is that we have so much in common that we're destined to be great friends."
"Oh, I'd like that." Lady Chocho simpered.
Lady Setsu flicked a tolerant glance at her companion, then said to Yanagisawa, "What is your proposal?"
He hid his glee that he'd coaxed her this far. He must exercise caution. "The first step would involve a wedding."
"I love weddings!" Lady Chocho clapped her hands in delight. "Who's getting married?"
Comprehension dawned on Lady Setsu's face. "Your nerve is astounding. You take my breath away."
"He takes mine away, too," Lady Chocho said with a giggle.
"So you don't like my plan?" Yanagisawa prepared to argue, cajole, and eventually convince.
"I didn't say that." Lady Setsu's manner expressed reluctant admiration for his ingenuity. "But you realize there are serious obstacles."
"None that I can't get around."
Her painted eyebrows rose in surprise; she shook her head. "I always knew you were ruthless, but until this moment I didn't realize how much so."
"Well, what do you think?" Yanagisawa said. "Shall we be partners?"
"I say yes," Lady Chocho said, ready to join him in anything he proposed whether she understood it or not.
But Lady Setsu said, "I refuse to make a major decision in such a hurry. There are other people whose future is at stake."
"Of course," Yanagisawa said. "I didn't mean to imply that the interests of all parties wouldn't be taken into account. Forgive me if I gave you that impression. I was about to suggest that everyone involved should meet and have a chance to approve of the plan."
For a moment Lady Setsu beheld him with silent outrage that he would forsake all sense of propriety and ask her to be his accomplice. But they both knew how much she dreaded the future, the unknown. Better to ally herself with a demon who was familiar than to depend on the whim of strangers.
"I will take the next step, but that is all I will commit to now," she said.
"Good enough," Yanagisawa said. "Shall we have a drink?"
"Oh, yes," Lady Chocho said.
Yanagisawa poured cups of sake from a decanter on the table. Lady Setsu covertly removed a vial from her sleeve and dosed her sake with opium potion. Yanagisawa said, "Here's to our joining forces in the near future."
"I can't wait," Lady Chocho said, batting her eyes at Yanagisawa.
"We'll see about that," Lady Setsu said.
They drank and bowed. The women left the teahouse first. Then Yanagisawa and his men took their leave. As they rode home in the rain, he congratulated himself on a mission almost accomplished.
In the alley outside the teahouse, beneath the window of the room where Yanagisawa had met the two women, a pile of trash stirred. Broken planks shifted; an old bucket foul with rotten fish entrails rolled free as a man dressed in beggar's rags emerged. Toda Ikkyu stood and flexed his cramped muscles. He'd overheard everything Yanagisawa and the women had said. The paper panel that covered the window had blocked out sights but not sound. Now Toda had interesting news to report to Chamberlain Sano-or not.
12
Below the highway between Asakusa and Edo, raindrops pattered into the rice fields. Sano and his entourage rode past pedestrians who looked like moving haystacks in their straw capes. Ahead Sano saw Hirata galloping on horse back toward him from the city.
"Any luck?" Hirata said as he turned his mount and rode alongside Sano.
"Yes and no," Sano said. "We located the place where my cousin Chiyo was dumped by her kidnapper. An oxcart was seen there, but we couldn't find it."
"When you don't want oxcarts, they're all around, blocking the streets and stinking up the city," Marume said. "When you do, there's not a single blessed one in sight."
Sano had led his men back to the construction site where they'd seen oxcarts yesterday, only to find the site deserted due to the rain. Sano and his men had combed the Asakusa district, but all the oxcarts seemed to have vanished.
"We'll have to go to the stables and track down the drivers who were working in Asakusa yesterday and when Chiyo was kidnapped," Sano said.
"Maybe I can save you the trouble," Hirata said.
Sano had figured that Hirata must have good news or he wouldn't have come looking for him, but he was surprised nonetheless. "Don't tell me the police actually investigated Chiyo's kidnapping and turned up some suspects?"
"No," Hirata said, "but their chief clerk says that two other women were kidnapped before your cousin was. Both were missing for a couple of days. Both were found near the places where they were taken."
Sano felt a mixture of excitement and dismay. He hated the thought that two more women had suffered, but the other crimes might provide clues. "Who are these women?"
"One is an old nun named Tengu-in," Hirata said. "She lives in a convent in the Zj Temple district."
"Merciful gods," Fukida said. "Who would rape a nun?"
"She was taken on the first day of the third month and found two days later," Hirata said. "The other is a twelve-year-old girl."
That shocked the detectives speechless. Sano, thinking of his own young daughter, felt sick with horror.
"She was kidnapped on the third day of last month, found two days later. Her name is Fumiko," Hirata said. "I happen to know her father. His name is Jirocho."
"The big gangster?" Sano said.
"None other."
The gangster class had proliferated since the civil war era some hundred years ago, when samurai who'd lost their masters in battles had become rnin and wandered Japan, raiding the villages. Brave peasants had banded together to protect themselves. Today's gangsters were descendants of these heroes. But times had changed. The Tokugawa government enforced law and order throughout Japan. No longer needed to protect the villages, the gangsters had turned to crime. Their ranks had swelled with thieves, con artists, and other dregs of society.
"When I was a police officer, I arrested Jirocho a few times," Hirata said, "for extorting money from market vendors." There were two distinct types of gangster-the bakuto, gamblers who ran illegal gambling dens, and the tekiya, who were associated with trade and sold illicit or stolen merchandise. Jirocho belonged to the latter type. "He made them pay him for not stealing their goods, driving their customers away, and beating them up."
"Why's he still on the loose?" Marume asked.
"Friends in high places," Fukida said.
Hirata nodded. Sano knew that Jirocho and other gang bosses bribed government officials to let them carry out their business. As chamberlain, Sano tried to discourage this corrupt practice, but it was hard to catch the officials colluding wi
th the gangsters, and the gangsters actually benefited the government. They helped to keep the growing merchant class under control and provided public services such as money-lending and security. Still, Sano thought this cooperation between government and gangsters boded ill for the future.
"Well, now Jirocho is a possible witness in a crime rather than the perpetrator," Sano said. "Marume-san, you and Fukida-san will go to the stables and track down our oxcart driver. Hirata-san, you can question Jirocho and his daughter. I'll take the nun."
The Zj Temple district was a city within the city, home to forty-eight subsidiary temples, the Tokugawa mausoleum, and thousands of priests, nuns, monks, and novices. The high stone walls of Keiaiji Convent shut out the noises from the marketplace, the traffic of pilgrims and peddlers in the streets, and the chanting of prayers in nearby monasteries. Pine trees cleansed the air in spacious grounds landscaped with mossy boulders and raked white sand. The large building resembled a samurai mansion rather than the typical convent in which nuns lived in cramped, impoverished austerity. The abbess received Sano in a room furnished with a pristine tatami floor and a mural that showed Mount Fuji amid the clouds.
"I've come to inquire about Tengu-in, your nun who was kidnapped," Sano said.
The abbess wore a plain gray hemp robe, the uniform of Buddhist holy women. Her head was shaved; her scalp glistened with a thin fuzz of silver hair. She was as short and sturdy as a peasant, with broad features set in a square face and an air of authority.
"Ah, yes. It was a dreadful thing to happen," she said. "And to such a virtuous woman, yet."
Sano inferred from her hushed tone that the nun had been raped as well as kidnapped. "My condolences to her, and to you and her sisters," he said. "It must have been very upsetting for everyone here."
The abbess shook her head in regret. "Yes, indeed, especially since Tengu-in was such a favorite."
Her use of the past tense didn't escape Sano. Had her community ostracized Tengu-in because she'd been violated? "Is she still here?"
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