“When?” Sano said, frowning in surprise. “Where?”
“About two years ago. Here in Edo. He’s grown up and changed since we last met, and I couldn’t place him. But now it’s come back to me.” Hoshina said, “He’s an inspector for the Ministry of Temples and Shrines.”
Thoughts crystallized in Sano’s mind as he comprehended how the Dragon King, the Black Lotus, and the kidnapping fit together. The Ministry of Temples and Shrines was responsible for monitoring religious sects, making sure they obeyed the laws and didn’t rise up against the ruling regime. Therefore, the Ministry had a major share of the task of eradicating the Black Lotus and employed inspectors to travel around the city, looking for illegal religious activity.
“Dannoshin Minoru’s work put him in contact with Black Lotus outlaws,” Sano deduced. “That’s how he found the secret temple and met Profound Wisdom. But instead of reporting them to the police, he used them. He got Mariko to spy on Lady Keisho-in. He probably used his connections in the bakufu to plant the girl inside Edo Castle. He got a band of Black Lotus ronin to help him ambush Lady Keisho-in’s procession and kidnap her.”
“Are you going to tell the shogun now?” Hoshina grabbed Sano by the arm. “Take me with you. When he hears that I’ve identified the kidnapper, he’ll be so grateful that he’ll set me free and give me back my position.”
Trust Hoshina to try to turn the situation to his personal benefit and reap all the credit instead of just the fraction he deserved, Sano thought. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, flinging off Hoshina’s hand. “I still have to find out where the Dragon King is holding the hostages and rescue them.”
Maybe Hoshina had redeemed himself by providing the vital piece of information. But the Dragon King would be awaiting news of Hoshina’s execution. How much longer would he wait before he decided the shogun had disobeyed his order and he made good on his threat to kill his captives?
Had the identification of Dannoshin Minoru come too late to save the women?
25
Detective Marume dragged a load of long, thin logs into the forest clearing where he and Hirata and Fukida were building the raft upon which they would cross the lake and bring back the women. A day had passed since they’d arrived on the Izu Peninsula, and they still had yet to invade the kidnappers’ island. The air was cool and misty, and the sun hidden behind layered gray and white clouds, but Marume was sweating from the hard labor of cutting and hauling wood. Stripped down to his loincloth and sandals, his dagger gripped between his teeth, he looked like a savage. He dropped the logs beside Hirata.
“Do you need more wood?” Marume asked, panting.
Hirata aligned the logs with the others that comprised the raft and tied them together with braided reeds. He wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve. “I don’t think so.” He looked at his hands, which were filthy and marked with bloody cuts, then at the raft. “It’s big enough, isn’t it?”
The raft was a lopsided square platform, approximately twice as long as Hirata’s height. Rough logs of various widths, bristling with trimmed stubs, were joined side by side with clumsily knotted reeds. Hirata felt more crestfallen than proud of his work. Fukida brought over the oars he’d fashioned by cutting two forked branches and weaving dense, unruly mats of sticks and reeds between the forks. He tossed the oars atop the raft and gave Hirata an apologetic glance. All three men gazed doubtfully at the product of their efforts.
“Will it float?” Marume said, voicing the thought on everyone’s minds.
“It has to,” Hirata said firmly.
They’d invested the whole previous afternoon and evening, as well as this morning, in his decision to attempt the rescue instead of returning to Edo. The raft had taken longer to build than Hirata had anticipated. First, they’d had to backtrack from the lake and camp in a secluded place off the road, where any kidnappers who happened to leave the island wouldn’t notice them. The search for suitable timber, and the struggle to hack it to the right size, had consumed hours. By the time they’d devised methods for constructing the raft and oars, darkness had forced them to stop work until sunrise. They’d spent a cold, uncomfortable night trying to sleep on the ground, while a ceaseless mental debate had kept Hirata awake.
Had he made the wrong decision? What would happen when Sano found out he’d disobeyed orders? Had building the raft wasted precious time that he should have spent on traveling home and reporting that he’d found the kidnappers and hostages? Hirata had also worried about Midori. He’d wondered if he and Marume and Fukida could manage the rescue. But his unwillingness to leave his wife’s vicinity had solidified his resolve. And he must wrest Midori away from the kidnappers. He couldn’t leave her at the mercy of Lord Niu or whatever other insane villain had her.
Now Hirata said, “We’ll wait until late tonight. Then we’ll invade the island.”
Accompanied by thirty of their detectives and troops, Sano and Chamberlain Yanagisawa rode into the bancho, the district west of Edo Castle where the lower Tokugawa vassals resided. The afternoon sun, chased by gathering storm clouds, flickered patterns of light and shadow over small, run-down estates enclosed by live bamboo fences. The streets were narrow, muddy, soiled with horse dung, and teeming with mounted samurai. Flies buzzed in ditches overflowing with sewage. The vassals lived in squalor because the regime could afford only meager stipends for a huge military class during peacetime.
Sano and Yanagisawa had already reported to the shogun that they’d identified the Dragon King as Dannoshin Minoru, inspector for the Ministry of Temples and Shrines. The shogun had ordered them to find out, by the end of the day, whether Dannoshin really was the Dragon King, and where he was hiding the women. If they failed, the shogun said, he would execute them, and Police Commissioner Hoshina. Now Sano’s party arrived at Dannoshin’s estate.
With its thatched roof and plain, half-timbered construction, the estate was nearly identical to the others crammed into the labyrinthine bancho, differentiated only by Dannoshin’s name written on the gate. After dismounting there, Sano and his detectives followed Yanagisawa and his contingent into a gravel courtyard shaded by the bamboo leaves. An old man dressed in a faded indigo kimono came hurrying out of the house.
“Who are you?” the man said, clearly startled to behold the army of samurai and the Tokugawa crests on their garments. He backed up the steps in alarm before bowing. “What can I do for you, masters?”
“We’re looking for Dannoshin Minoru,” said Chamberlain Yanagisawa. “Tell us where he is.”
“He’s not home,” the old man said.
Advancing up the flagstone path with his troops, Yanagisawa demanded, “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me. I’m just his servant.”
“Then we’ll just have a look around,” Yanagisawa said.
While he and his men rushed into the house, Sano went up to the servant, who hunched timidly on the veranda.
“When did your master leave?” Sano asked.
“Seven days ago.” Anxious to propitiate, the servant volunteered, “The night before that, a girl came here. She and my master talked. After she left, he told me to pack him some clothes and provisions for a journey.”
The girl was Mariko, Sano deduced. She’d brought the news of Lady Keisho-in’s impending trip. Dannoshin had then made preparations to outpace and ambush Keisho-in and hired Black Lotus mercenaries to help him. One of them must have ridden back to Edo after the kidnapping, posted the ransom letter on the castle wall, then vanished unnoticed by anyone.
Sano led his detectives into the house. Beyond the entry way, Yanagisawa’s men swarmed the corridor, pushing open doors in the paper-and-wood wall partitions, tramping through rooms, hunting occupants. The smell of incense tinged the air. The house’s interior was dingy and ill-furnished. Sano supposed Dannoshin had hoarded his money to fund his revenge against Hoshina and pay for help from the Black Lotus. But perhaps the sect had cooperated partly because he could have turned its members in to the police if they refused.
From somewhere in the back of the house, Yanagisawa called, “Sosakan Sano!”
“Go and help search the premises,” Sano told his men.
He jostled past the troops and found Yanagisawa in a chamber, standing before a teak table. The table held candles with blackened wicks, incense burners full of ash, and an ornately carved black lacquer cabinet.
“It’s a funeral altar,” Yanagisawa said.
