Ogita stalked to the dais and spread out the rice contracts that lay upon a table. He jabbed his ink-stained finger at the huge sums written on the contracts. 'With what I earned today, I could buy ten women for each day of the year, to do whatever I want. You can't really think I would stoop to kidnapping anybody, especially a relative of a man important to my business.'
Hirata couldn't deny that Ogita had a point. But a man could become sexually obsessed with a particular woman who was beyond his reach, and none other would satisfy. 'There's a witness to the effect that you did.'
'Oh? Who?' Anger tightened Ogita's double chin.
Hirata explained about Jinshichi, Gombei, and the proprietor of the Drum Teahouse.
'Never heard of them,' Ogita said. 'But I'm not surprised that they've said bad things about me. People like to shoot arrows at the highest apples on the tree.'
Hirata gazed at the contracts, disturbed because he'd hoped to bring Sano more than the expected denials from this suspect, and to make up for the fact that his men had lost the oxcart drivers.
'That's more money than you'll see in your lifetime,' Ogita said crassly, mistaking Hirata's somber expression for envy. He lowered his voice. 'I'm going to offer you a deal. You leave me out of your investigation, and I'll make it worth your while.'
Hirata stared in disbelief. 'Are you trying to bribe me?'
'Let's just call it a little private business arrangement.' Ogita smiled. Nobody had offered Hirata a bribe since his police days. His longtime reputation for incorruptibility, and Sano's, were well known. 'Forget it,' Hirata said. 'You can't stop me from investigating you by paying me off.'
'Suit yourself.' Ogita's smile persisted, but turned as menacing as a mouth carved in an armor face guard. 'If you don't like that deal, then how about this one?
'Three of Chamberlain Sano's biggest allies owe me a lot of money. If you cause me any trouble, I'll call in their debts. They'll be ruined financially, and I'll make sure they know you're to blame. Think about where that will leave Chamberlain Sano.'
The allies would surely withdraw their support from Sano. They would also try to influence the shogun to throw him out of the regime, and they would look for another leader.
Who would that be but Yanagisawa?
If three major allies defected from Sano, the balance of power would tip in Yanagisawa's favor, which could give Yanagisawa the impetus to resume his campaign to destroy Sano. Hirata faced a serious dilemma.
'Well?' Ogita said.
In his mind Hirata heard Sano's voice: I won't give in to blackmail. If I lose my allies and Yanagisawa makes his move, so be it. I'll take the risk for the sake of justice. Hirata admired Sano for his principles, but his own principles were different in this case. As Sano's chief retainer, Hirata was duty-bound to protect Sano even if it meant going against his wishes. He couldn't allow Ogita to make good on his threat.
As he vacillated, another thought confused the issue: Maybe Ogita wasn't responsible for the kidnappings or rapes. If so, Hirata would have put his master in jeopardy for nothing.
Hirata never knew what he would have said. Just then, the menacing pulse of energy vibrated through the air, striking him dumb. His whole body snapped to sudden, fearful attention. As his nerves began that ominous tingling and his blood raced, he forgot Ogita. His enemy was close at hand. Ears pricked and nostrils flared to catch the man's scent, Hirata silently vowed that this time he would find his enemy; this time they would fight, and he would win.
The pulse emanated from the teahouse's back room. Drawing his sword, Hirata advanced toward the curtained doorway.
'What are you doing?' Ogita said, puzzled.
Detective Arai said, 'Hirata-san?'
Ignoring them, Hirata yanked the curtain aside. Beyond the doorway was a spacious room for parties. Two maids were rolling fresh tatami mats onto the floor. The pulse drew Hirata to another doorway. Ogita and the detectives followed.
'Is something wrong?' Detective Inoue said.
Hirata shushed him with a gesture of his hand. He peeked through the second curtain and saw a large, dim storeroom. Sake barrels were stacked in rows. Three servants unloaded more barrels from a handcart. Hirata slowly put one foot after another into the room. Screeches and howls resounded from other dimensions that impinged on his mind.
A bright flare of energy erupted from behind a row of barrels. Hirata lunged around them toward the energy. The servants yelled in fright, running for cover. Ogita cried, 'Have you gone mad?'
Hirata slashed his sword at the place where he thought his enemy was hiding. But there was no one. His sword cut through a sake barrel. Pungent liquor spilled. Sensing the presence behind him, Hirata whirled, charged, and slashed. His blade cleaved more barrels. The space between the rows was vacant.
'Don't just stand there,' Ogita said to the detectives. 'Stop him before he wrecks my place!'
The detectives grabbed Hirata, but he threw them off. He kept attacking empty air. He didn't know whether he imagined feeling the energy or his foe had projected it toward him, a trick that only the most expert martial artists could manage.
Now the presence seemed to move outside the teahouse. Hirata rushed through the back door, into a yard where fireproof store houses with iron roofs stood. The daylight on their whitewashed walls struck his eyes. Blinded and reckless, he followed the pulsating energy down a path between the store houses. At the end of the path, cornered by a bamboo fence, stood a dark figure holding a sword.
Anticipation and a thirst for blood raged within Hirata. He rushed forward and swung his sword with all his strength.
His blade cut flesh and bone. A scream of agony pierced his ears, drowned out the noise in his mind. The pulsation stopped. The blindness and rage cleared from his vision. Triumphant and panting, Hirata sheathed his sword and looked down at the man he'd killed.
Crumpled on the earth lay a peasant boy not more than thirteen years old. His body was cut clean through across the middle. Viscera and blood pooled around him and a broom he'd dropped. His babyish face was frozen in an expression of terror.
Ogita and the detectives ran up behind Hirata. As they all stared at the carnage, Ogita exclaimed, 'You killed my servant!'
It hadn't been his enemy he'd cornered, Hirata realized too late. It had been an innocent bystander. The sword Hirata had thought he'd seen was only the broom the boy had been holding.
'No!' Hirata cried. He knelt by the boy, patted his cheeks, and rubbed his hands in a frantic effort to revive him. But it was no use; not even a mystic martial arts expert could bring the dead boy back to life.
Hirata felt the pulse of his foe's energy, fading into the distance, like a taunt.
'You won't get away with this,' Ogita said, loud with fury. 'Even if you are the shogun's investigator, you'll pay!'
The detectives pulled Hirata to his feet, away from the dead boy. Inoue said, 'Come on, Hirata-san, we'd better go.'
As they led him out of the yard, Hirata realized that his troubles had just gone from bad to much worse. And that was exactly what his enemy had intended.
30
Across the Rygoku Bridge from Edo proper, along the Sumida River, spread the city's largest entertainment district. Buildings on either side of a broad, open space housed plays, freak shows, music, wild animal exhibits, and every imaginable sort of diversion. Vendors sold noodles, dumplings, and sweets at food-stalls. Adults stood under eaves and awnings, waiting for the rain to stop, but youngsters roamed, heedless of the weather. Children who worked in the district ran about on errands. Sons and daughters of merchants mingled with beggar children and a few samurai youths in a circle around a man juggling umbrellas.
Masahiro, dressed in the garden boy's kimono and hat, blended right in with the other children.
