The Cloud Pavilion (11 page)

“I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that,” Sano said. “When I was looking for Chiyo, I came across many people that you and your men had bullied and threatened while you were looking for her.”

“So we shook them up a little,” Major Kumazawa said. “I did what I had to do.”

“That’s not the way to conduct an investigation,” Sano said. “At best, it’ll make people less willing to cooperate than if you treated them politely. At worst, you’ll get false confessions, punish innocent folks, and waste your time. If you keep on, you’ll only make my job harder. So don’t interfere.”

Major Kumazawa glared. “It’s my daughter who was hurt. It’s my right to avenge her.”

“I certainly understand your position.” If Akiko were hurt, Sano wouldn’t let anyone stand between him and her attacker. “But I’m not going to change mine. Stay out of the investigation. That’s an order.”

Major Kumazawa flushed with humiliation because Sano had pulled rank on him yet again. “And if I don’t obey?” he said, even though they both knew he must.

“You saw all the people in my anteroom. Hundreds of them come to see me every day. They all want me to do things for them. I don’t need this investigation to keep me busy.”

Now Major Kumazawa laughed, scorning Sano’s hint that he would abandon the quest for justice for Chiyo unless Major Kumazawa cooperated. “No, but you won’t walk away from Chiyo. Everybody knows your reputation. Once you’ve committed to doing something, you don’t give up. You’re an honorable man, I’ll give you that. You would never break your word.”

That had always been true in the past. Sano kept his promises and stayed the course even at the risk of his life. But things had begun to change when his mother had been accused of murder and Sano had learned that his background was different from what he’d always believed. During his investigation into the murder, he’d done things he’d never thought himself capable of; in particular, staging the trial and execution of Yoritomo, his onetime friend. Sano felt as if discovering the truth about his family had altered him in some fundamental way.

He no longer knew what he would or wouldn’t do.

He wanted justice for Chiyo, but he was vexed by how his uncle treated him even while he was doing the Kumazawa clan a favor. Come to think of it, Sano was fed up after years of other people, the shogun among them, demanding service from him while throwing obstacles at him. Bushido dictated that he do his duty to his lord and his family without minding how they treated him or expecting rewards, but still . . .

Might he walk away from this investigation before it was done?

It wouldn’t hurt to let his uncle think so.

“There’s always a first time,” Sano said.

Shinobazu Pond was a popular attraction in the Ueno temple district. Lotus plants bloomed on its wide expanse. A causeway led from the shore to an island in the middle, upon which stood a shrine dedicated to the goddess Benten. Along the embankments around the pond, teahouses offered splendid views and rooms for lovers to spend the night.

Today Hirata found the pond desolate in the rain that had started to fall again. Egrets stood like white specters among the lotus leaves in the mist. Lumber lay piled in the mud near the approach to the causeway. Teahouse proprietors stood on their verandas, gloomily surveying the scene. When they saw Hirata climb off his horse and walk toward them, they brightened and called, “Welcome, honorable master!”

One youthful, agile man with an ear-to-ear smile ran from his teahouse and intercepted Hirata. “Come in, come in. May I serve you a drink?”

“Yes, please,” Hirata said, glad to get out of the rain.

Inside a room that smelled of mildewed
tatami
, the proprietor heated sake over a charcoal brazier. Two other men wandered in, perhaps hoping to woo Hirata to their establishments later. Hirata drank. The liquor was cheap and harsh, but it relieved the chill of the wet day. Introductions were exchanged; then Hirata said, “I’m investigating the kidnapping of Jirocho’s daughter.”

The three men nodded. The proprietor, whose name was Kanroku, said, “We heard about it. Such a terrible shame.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even Jirocho,” said another man, called Geki. He was in his fifties, with a sardonically humorous face accented by bushy eyebrows.

“Did you see anything suspicious the day Fumiko was kidnapped?” Hirata said.

“Not a thing. We didn’t even know she was gone until Jirocho sent his men looking for her,” Geki answered.

The third man, named Hachibei, who was old, white-haired, and spry, said, “Neither did anyone else we know. Everybody said it was as if she’d vanished into thin air.”

Just as Chiyo had, Hirata recalled. “What about when she turned up?” he asked.

“That I did see,” Geki said, “being that I’m the one who found her.”

“Tell me what happened,” Hirata said.

“It was an hour or so before dawn. I woke up because I needed to make water. When I was finished, I heard whimpering out there.” Geki pointed toward the embankment. “I went to have a look.” His humorous face turned somber. “She was lying on the ground. Her clothes were torn and she was bleeding between her legs. I recognized her right away. She used to hang around here a lot.”

“She was always either by herself or with some young toughs from her father’s gang,” Kanroku the proprietor said. “I thought it was wrong for Jirocho to let her run wild like that.”

“Me, too,” old Hachibei said, “but who are we to tell a gang boss what to do?”

“I always said Fumiko would get in trouble someday, and I was right,” the proprietor said wisely.

“People are saying that she wasn’t kidnapped, that she went with a man, and then he got tired of her and dumped her,” Geki said. “If it’s true, then Jirocho was right to throw her out. I’d have done the same.”

People were eager to blame the victim for the crime, Hirata thought. He asked, “When you found her, did you see anyone else around?”

“Not until I called for help and people woke up and came outside. Then I sent a servant to tell Jirocho. He came and took her home.”

And then, upon learning she was damaged goods, he’d punished her.

“Did you hear anything?” Hirata asked.

Geki shook his head, then stopped as a look of sudden, surprised recollection came over his face. “Wait. I did.”

Hirata felt a stir of excitement. “What?”

“Wagon wheels clattering,” Geki said. “An oxcart.”

Maybe it was the same one that had been sighted in the alley where Sano’s cousin had been dumped. “But you didn’t see it or the driver?”

“Not then,” Geki said, “but maybe the day before. It could have been the fellow who brought that lumber outside.”

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know his name.”

“Can you describe him?” Hirata said hopefully.

“He was about twenty-five,” Geki said. “He had two missing teeth.” He pointed at the two teeth to the right of his own big, yellowish front ones.

“Yes, that’s right,” the proprietor said. “I saw him, too. If he’s the man that hurt Fumiko, I hope you catch him, the bastard.”

After Major Kumazawa left, Sano felt simultaneously fatigued and riled up, as if he’d been in a fight that had no winner. And so he had. He rolled his shoulders, easing tense muscles. He’d put off his usual business of governing Japan, and he still had a long day of work ahead of him. He received the rest of his callers. By the time everyone was gone, it was late in the evening. Seated at his desk, Sano reviewed the most urgent reports and correspondence until his secretary came to the door and said, “Toda Ikkyu is here.”

“Bring him in.”

Toda entered, knelt, and bowed. He resembled a shadow in his gray clothes, in the dim light, his nondescript face bland.

“What have you to report, Toda-
san
?” Sano asked.

“I spent the day following our friend Yanagisawa.”

“How did you manage that?” Sano’s own men had been unable to follow Yanagisawa very long before he shook them off his trail.

“It’s easy when you know the art of stealth,” Toda said. Most samurai looked upon stealth as a dark art, unworthy of the Way of the Warrior. But that never bothered Toda, or Yanagisawa. “If he goes inside a building, don’t wait for him at the front door; he’ll come out the back. Don’t expect him to look the same as he did when he went in—he’ll have put on a disguise. And you should change your own appearance occasionally, or he’ll spot you. You don’t need a fancy disguise; a different hat will do.”

“Thank you for the tips,” Sano said. “I’ll pass them on to my men. Where did Yanagisawa go?”

“To a teahouse in Hatchobori district, for what appeared to be a secret meeting.”

Intrigued, Sano said, “With whom?”

“Two old ladies.”

Sano had expected to hear that Yanagisawa had met with some
daimyo
, presumably to enlist their support in another bid for power. “Who were they?”

“I don’t know,” Toda said. “They were already secluded inside the teahouse when Yanagisawa and I arrived. And I didn’t get a good look at them when they left. He called them ‘Lady Setsu’ and ‘Lady Chocho.’ But those are false names. He said as much. I did overhear some of their conversation.”

“And just how did you manage that?”

Amusement crinkled Toda’s eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

“What did they talk about?”

“The possibility of a marriage between someone connected with the ladies and someone connected with Yanagisawa.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything out of the ordinary,” Sano said, feeling let down. “Yanagisawa does have four sons, including Yoritomo, all single and all of marriageable age.”

“And a daughter. Don’t forget Kikuko.”

Sano would never forget Yanagisawa’s beautiful but feeble-minded daughter, Kikuko. She’d once almost drowned his son. And her mother—Yanagisawa’s deranged wife—had once tried to kill Reiko. When Yanagisawa had been exiled to Hachijo Island, his wife and daughter had gone with him. When he’d escaped, they’d stayed behind, but they’d recently returned and he’d installed them in a mansion in Kamakura. Sano had spies watching them, in case they should come back to Edo and threaten his family again.

“It stands to reason that Yanagisawa would want to marry off his children,” Sano said.

Toda nodded. “He needs to make politically advantageous matches for them.”

“But why the secrecy?” Sano said.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Toda shrugged.

Sano thought about how oddly Yanagisawa had been acting. Maybe he had decided that if he couldn’t seize power by military might, he would achieve it through marriage. But with what family? A quick mental review of prominent clans and their eligible sons and daughters didn’t provide the answer. There were so many, and no apparent explanation for why marriage negotiations with them should need to be kept under wraps.

“Continue your surveillance on Yanagisawa,” Sano said. “Find out who those women are and who’s the prospective bride or groom.”

“Will do.” Toda bowed and rose.

As he left the room, Sano wondered if there was anything Toda had heard or seen but neglected to mention.

As he mounted his horse outside the teahouse at Shinobazu Pond, the witnesses waved to Hirata from the veranda. He waved back and had started to ride away in search of other witnesses who’d seen the oxcart, when a sudden strange sensation came over him. It was an energy aura so powerful that the damp, drizzly air throbbed and scintillated. Not he, not even his teacher or the other venerable mystic martial artists he knew, had an aura as strong. Filled with awe, he yanked on the reins, brought his horse to a stop. He looked around for the source of the energy.

The embankment was deserted and dark. The teahouse proprietors had gone inside their buildings, and there was no one in sight. Rain pelted the lotus leaves in the pond. All appeared as peaceful and desolate as before. But Hirata felt alarm raise every hair on his body. Someone he couldn’t see was watching him. His hand instinctively flew to his sword. His heart began to race, his own energy gathering in preparation for combat. He’d seldom had cause for fear; there were few men in all of Japan that he couldn’t beat. But then why did he feel so certain that he was in the presence of danger?

The impulse to flee vied with the impulse to hunt for the person whose aura threatened him. Before Hirata could succumb to either urge, the aura vanished as suddenly as if some great, cosmic machine had ceased to run. All Hirata heard or felt was the rain. He was alone.

Down the corridor from Sano’s office, Masahiro crouched on the floor, lining up his toy soldiers. He watched the man dressed in gray come out of the office. As the man walked away from Masahiro, he looked over his shoulder and smiled faintly before he vanished around a corner.

Masahiro told himself that he hadn’t meant to listen in on his father’s business.

Well, maybe he had.

He was curious about what Father did. Someday he would inherit Father’s position. Father had said so. He should try to learn as much as he could, shouldn’t he? There was nothing dishonest, sneaky, or wrong with that. He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He’d overheard Father’s whole conversation with the man named Toda. Now Masahiro thought about what they’d said. Toda seemed to be a spy. Father had sent him to follow Yanagisawa, the evil enemy who had tried over and over to destroy Father. Masahiro had heard Father and Mother trying to figure out why Yanagisawa wasn’t attacking them anymore. Masahiro was interested in the secret meeting with the two old ladies. Why was it important whom Yanagisawa’s children married?

And what did “politically advantageous” mean?

Masahiro had heard the term spoken around the estate, but the adults never explained. But he understood that Yanagisawa was up to something, and Father thought it was bad. Masahiro wished he could help Father. While he played with his toys, he felt sorry for himself. If only he could grow up quicker!

A sudden idea lit up his mind like the fireworks that were shot into the sky over the river in the summertime. Masahiro smiled. He knew what he could do!

Father had said to stay out of the kidnapping investigation, but this should have nothing to do with it. And Masahiro didn’t think it would be dangerous. Father and Mother shouldn’t mind.

The door to the office slid open. Before his father stepped out, Masahiro snatched up his soldiers, darted around the corner, and hid. He felt guilty because he suspected that Father wouldn’t like him eavesdropping.

He wouldn’t tell Father or Mother what he was going to do. They might say no. It would be a surprise for them. Masahiro was sure they would be pleased.