body trembled under his white silk night robe. His usually mild eyes blazed, and Sano realized that he was furious as well as distraught.
“You tell them, Yanagisawa-san,” he said at last.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa nodded. In his beige summer kimono, he looked as suavely handsome as always. His enigmatic gaze encompassed Sano and Hirata. “This is Lieutenant Ibe,” he said, indicating the highway patrol guard. “He has just brought news that His Excellency’s honorable mother was abducted on the Tokaido yesterday, along with your wives and mine.”
Shock imploded in Sano. His mind resisted believing what he’d heard. He shook his head while Hirata uttered a sound of vehement denial. But the grave faces of the assembly told them that Yanagisawa had spoken the truth.
“How did this happen?” Sano said, fighting an onslaught of wild anxiety.
“The procession was ambushed on a deserted stretch of road between Odawara and Hakone post stations,” Yanagisawa said.
“Who did it?” Hirata demanded. His face was stricken with terror for Midori and his unborn child.
“We don’t know,” Yanagisawa said. “At present we have no witnesses.”
Sano stared in disbelief. “But there were some hundred attendants in the entourage. One of them must have seen something.”
Police Commissioner Hoshina and the Council of Elders bowed their heads. Yanagisawa said, “The entourage was massacred during the ambush.”
The audacity and violence of the crime struck Sano and Hirata speechless with horror. Sano regretted the deaths of his two detectives. Yanagisawa looked toward the highway patrol guard and said, “Lieutenant Ibe discovered the crime. He shall describe what he found.”
Lieutenant Ibe was a lean, sinewy man in his twenties. His bare arms and legs and his earnest face bore streaks of grime and perspiration from what must have been a swift, grueling ride to Edo. “There were bodies strewn along the road and in the forest,” he said, his eyes haunted by memory of what he’d seen. “They’d died of sword wounds. Blood was everywhere. The baggage seemed untouched-I found cash boxes full of gold coins in the chests. But the palanquins were empty, and the four ladies gone.”
A dreadful thought occurred to Sano. “How can you be sure they were abducted and not-” Killed, he thought, but he couldn’t say it. Hirata emitted a low, involuntary groan.
“We found a letter inside the Honorable Lady Keisho-in’s palanquin,” said the guard.
Chamberlain Yanagisawa handed Sano a sheet of ordinary white paper that had been folded, crumpled, then smoothed. Dirt and blood smeared a message crudely scrawled in black ink.
Your Excellency the Shogun,
We have Lady Keisho-in and her three friends. Let no one pursue us, or we will kill the women. You will be told what you must do to get them back alive. Expect a letter soon.
The message bore no signature. Stunned by fresh shock, Sano passed the letter to Hirata, who read it and gaped in astonishment. Lieutenant Ibe continued, “I fetched officials from Odawara, the last checkpoint that the procession passed. They matched the bodies to the names in the records.”
Checkpoint officials inspected the persons of everyone who passed through their stations, looking for hidden weapons or other contraband. Female inspectors were employed to search the women. Because the Tokugawa restricted the movements of women to prevent samurai clans from sending their families to the countryside in preparation for revolt, the law required female travelers to have travel passes. The officials copied the information on each pass, which listed the social position, physical appearance, and identifying birthmarks or scars of its owner.
“The female inspectors remembered the four ladies well,” said Lieutenant Ibe. “Everyone else was accounted for. The ladies were definitely not among the dead.”
This was inadequate comfort to Sano and Hirata, when their wives’ fate was unknown. They exchanged apprehensive glances.
“One survivor was found,” Police Commissioner Hoshina said. He was broad-shouldered and muscular, with an angular, handsome face. Ambitious to rise in the bakufu-the military government that ruled Japan -he took every opportunity to draw his superiors’ attention to himself. Now he conveyed facts he’d apparently learned from the highway patrol guard before Sano and Hirata arrived: “The officials identified the survivor as Lady Keisho-in’s personal maid, a woman named Suiren. She was badly wounded, and unconscious. Troops are bringing her to Edo. With luck, she’ll be here tomorrow.”
Perhaps she would identify the attackers, but what might happen to Reiko, Midori, Keisho-in, and Lady Yanagisawa in the meantime? Sano stifled his emotions and willed the detective in him to analyze the situation.
“Has the area around the ambush site been investigated for clues to where the kidnappers took the women?” he asked.
“The local police were on their way to the scene when I left,” said Lieutenant Ibe. “They may have found something by now.”
“The women’s guards, and the two detectives we sent, would have fought whoever ambushed the procession,” Hirata said, jittering with his effort to control his distress. “Some of the attackers must have been killed. Were their bodies found and identified?”
“There were signs of a battle, but we found no bodies except those of the ladies’ entourage,” Lieutenant Ibe said regretfully. “If any of the kidnappers died, their comrades removed them from the scene.”
“They massacred the attendants and defeated a squadron of Tokugawa troops. They removed their dead and carried away the four women. And no one saw that? Incredulity lifted Sano’s voice. “At this time of year, the highway is usually crowded with peasants going to market and tourists bound for the hot springs. Where was everybody when the procession was attacked?”
“That stretch of the Tokaido runs through mountainous terrain,” Hoshina said. “There are places where the road is bordered by a high cliff on one side and a steep drop on the other. Someone put up roadblocks made of heavy logs at two of these places. The procession was ambushed between them.”
Personally unaffected by the crime, Hoshina seemed to relish it, and Sano disliked him even more than their history of bad blood merited. They’d first clashed during a murder case in Miyako. Ever since the chamberlain had appointed him police commissioner, Hoshina had considered Sano a rival, sought to prove himself the superior detective, and constantly undermined Sano. Of course Hoshina would welcome Sano’s misfortune.
“No one passed during the attack because traffic was backed up at the roadblocks until the highway was cleared,” Hoshina finished.
Someone had employed many men and gone to great lengths to engineer the ambush, Sano observed.
“You’re dismissed,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa told Lieutenant Ibe. “You’ll stay in the castle barracks in case you’re needed for further questioning.”
No sooner had a guard ushered Ibe from the room than the shogun burst out, “I don’t understand how you can all, ahh, sit and chat while my mother is, ahh, at the mercy of such cruel villains! Are you so heartless?”
“We must all keep calm so we can absorb the facts and decide what to do,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said.
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi glared at him. “It’s easy for you to be calm. We all know you’re a cold, selfish brute who wouldn’t care if your wife, ahh, dropped off the face of the earth.”
The shogun doted on Yanagisawa, almost never criticized him, and usually seemed oblivious to his faults, but anxiety had sharpened the shogun’s wits and tongue. The elders winced at the personal insult, but Yanagisawa appeared unruffled. “I am very concerned about my wife’s safety,” he said.
Although he didn’t love his wife, she was a Tokugawa relative and therefore a valuable possession that comprised his family link to the regime, Sano knew. And woe betide anyone who stole anything that belonged to Yanagisawa.
The shogun rose awkwardly to his feet. Puffed up with rage, he declared, “I shall send out the army to rescue my mother!”
Sano and Hirata beheld him with consternation. Chamberlain Yanagisawa frowned, while Hoshina watched everyone with the air of a theatergoer enjoying a good play. Murmurs arose from the Council of Elders.
“With all due respect, Your Excellency, I must advise against sending the army after the kidnappers,” said
