Red Chrysanthemum (26 page)

“We have the evidence against Hoshina now,” Fukida said.

Sano sensed their desire to protect Hirata, their friend and former comrade. He tried not to calculate what Hirata’s mistake might have cost him, although he couldn’t help wondering,
What if I’d had this information about the guns yesterday?

He said, “Do you think we have time for a ride to the police district before the rain starts again?”

Marume and Fukida grinned, happy at the prospect of gathering more timber for Hoshina’s funeral pyre. “We have time, rain or not,” Marume said.

23

Quays and warehouses abounded in Hatchobori, the district where the police commanders known as
joriki
lived in estates grouped together like an island amid the townspeople’s dwellings. They were famous for the airs they put on and the bribes they took. As Sano rode along a quay with his entourage, they passed
a joriki
riding with his attendants. Sano recognized him as Hayashi, a former colleague. He wore expensive chain mail, probably his latest gift from a lord whose retainers had gotten in a brawl and who’d paid him to hush up the affair. He bowed coldly to Sano: He still resented the fact that Sano had been promoted over him, especially because Sano had been a misfit in the exclusive police brotherhood.

The shooting range was a favorite haunt of the
joriki.
It was surrounded by wharves for firewood and bamboo poles, invisible behind a wall topped with sharp iron spikes. Lanterns hung over the gate flamed and smoked in the damp evening air. Two samurai youths lolled inside a guard booth. When Sano’s party stopped before them, they rose and bowed.

“Chamberlain Sano wants to go inside,” Detective Marume said.

The guards exchanged fearful glances that seemed an odd response to such a simple request. They had similar square jaws and chunky physiques; they looked like brothers. One said, “I’m sorry, but we’re closed today.”

“The field is flooded,” the other hastened to explain.

“That’s no problem,” said Marume. “Chamberlain Sano isn’t here to shoot. He only needs to see the guns.”

The guards spoke in rapid, panicky succession: “Nobody except the police commanders is allowed in the arsenal.” “Police Commissioner Hoshina’s orders.”

“The honorable chamberlain outranks your boss,” Marume said. “Open up.”

The guards reluctantly obeyed. Riding in, Sano asked them, “Who’s the caretaker of the arsenal these days?”

“Me,” mumbled the younger man.

“Come with us.”

Inside was a long patch of muddy ground, weed-covered in some places, under water in low spots. At one end stood flat, wooden, man-shaped figures riddled with bullet holes and a suit of armor mounted on a wicker horse. Opposite was the arsenal, a shed with stone walls, an iron-shingled roof, and an iron door and shutters. A similar, smaller building held ammunition and gunpowder. As Sano and his men rode toward the arsenal, he heard his name shouted. He turned and saw Captain Torai, chief retainer to Police Commissioner Hoshina, riding after them so hard that his horse’s hooves splashed up fountains of water.

“What a surprise to see you here,” Torai said as he caught up with Sano. “I didn’t know you were interested in shooting.”

“Only when I see someone I’d like to shoot,” Sano said.

Torai’s grin gave his face a wolfish cast. “May I be of assistance?” he said, obviously eager to find out what Sano was up to.

“No, thank you.” Sano kept riding.

“He wants to see
the
guns,” blurted the caretaker, who hurried alongside him on foot.

“Oh?” Torai sped up his horse, placing himself between the arsenal and Sano. “Why?”

“Just testing a theory,” Sano said.

Torai blocked the door to the arsenal. “What theory?”

“Do you want us to get rid of him, Honorable Chamberlain?” Detective Marume asked.

“It’s my duty to oversee anything that happens here,” Torai said, belligerent now.

Sano decided Torai might come in handy. “Stay if you wish, but get out of the way.” As he and his men dismounted, he ordered the caretaker, “Open the arsenal.”

When he stepped inside, the caretaker held up a lantern to illuminate walls lined with iron cabinets. Detectives Marume and Fukida opened these, revealing hundreds of compartments that each contained guns rolled up in oiled cloth.

Marume’s breath whistled out of him. “This is enough weapons to start a war.”

“There’s certainly more than I remember.” Sano wondered if Police Commissioner Hoshina was indeed plotting a coup, and building up the arsenal in preparation.

“So what?” Torai asked from the doorway.

Ignoring him, Sano asked the caretaker, “Do you keep an inventory of the guns?”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” The youth looked even more nervous. He removed a ledger from a cabinet and opened it to show pages filled with characters.

“We’re going to look through all the guns, compare them to the inventory, and see if any are missing,” Sano said.

“They aren’t,” Torai said. “Unless you’re blind, you can see that all the compartments are full.”

Marume and Fukida unwrapped guns, which included pistols as well as arquebuses, bearing the marks of many different craftsmen. Some were old, elaborate works of art; others modern, plain, and utilitarian. Sano and the caretaker marked off each in the ledger. By the time they were finished and emerged from the arsenal, they’d found thirty compartments that held, instead of guns, wooden dowels wrapped in cloth.

“How about that,” Sano said. “Thirty arquebuses are unaccounted for. What happened to them?”

Captain Torai looked surprised, and disturbed. Sano thought he hadn’t expected any weapons to be missing. Torai turned on the caretaker. “Well?”

“I don’t know. Maybe, uh, maybe the police commanders borrowed them and forgot to tell me.”

“There you have it.” Torai sounded relieved, although uncertain as to what trap he was trying to evade.

“Never mind the excuses,” Sano said. “I can tell you exactly what happened to those guns.
Sosakan
Hirata confiscated them with some others from a warehouse that belonged to Lord Mori. They’re a sign that someone on the police force was conspiring with Lord Mori to stockpile weapons and stage a coup. And my candidate is Police Commissioner Hoshina.”

“That’s absurd!” Torai was clearly less alarmed than disbelieving.

“Are you so sure?” Sano asked. “How much do you know about what he does when you’re not with him?”

Torai made a sound of disgust. “Hoshina-san isn’t the only person who had access to the arsenal. Someone else on the police force could have taken the guns.”

He turned a hard, searching gaze on the caretaker, who looked terrified. By this time Sano had no doubt that he was an accomplice, whether willing or not, to the theft. The caretaker started to back away across the shooting range.

“Not so fast,” Sano said.

The caretaker faltered to a stop. Sano intended to find out exactly what he knew about the missing guns. A little pressure and surely he would incriminate Hoshina. Now a look of concern came over Torai’s face as he read Sano’s thoughts.

“Go back to your duties,” he told the caretaker.

“Stay,” Sano commanded. His troops surrounded the man. “You’re coming with me.”

“Hoshina .san is loyal to Lord Matsudaira. He’s not involved in any coup,” Torai insisted.

“Maybe you’re right. There are other ambitious men on the police force.” Sano stared at Torai. Maybe he wasn’t really surprised about the missing guns. “What have you been up to behind your master’s back?”

Another man might have been alarmed because the tainted wind of treason had blown onto him. Police Commissioner Hoshina certainly had; yet Torai feigned puzzlement, looked behind him as if to see who Sano was talking about, then shrugged and grinned. “You’re just stabbing in the dark to save yourself.”

“You have all the answers, don’t you?” Tired of verbal sparring, frustrated because Torai had pointed up the flimsiness of the evidence he’d found, Sano shifted the conversation to another track. “Well, if you’re as smart as you seem, you can tell that your master is in trouble.”

“Not as much trouble as you are,” Torai said with malicious pleasure.

“You’re wrong,” Sano said. “The only evidence against me is a story told by a medium who’s recanted it and is now on my side. The evidence against Police Commissioner Hoshina is guns from this arsenal found in an illegal cache.”

“What about the notes in your handwriting that were also found with the cache?”

“Planted there,” Sano dismissed them scornfully, although he was perturbed because the news had reached his enemies. “Don’t put too much stock in them. Weigh the evidence. Guns are heavier than papers with ambiguous scribbles on them. Hoshina’s side of the balance is heading down faster than mine. You don’t want to join him at the bottom. I’m going to offer you a deal.”

The captain arched his brows, skeptical yet listening.

“Turn witness against Hoshina,” Sano said. “Give him up for treason and the murder of Lord Mori. In exchange, you can keep your head and your rank.”

“Forget it,” Torai said disdainfully, without a moment’s hesitation. “You’re the traitor. Your wife’s the murderer. Hoshina-san is innocent. I’m not bailing out on him, especially when you’re not in a position to keep any promises.”

Sano realized that Torai was made of stronger stuff than his superior. Torai had stood his ground whereas Hoshina had nearly caved in. Whether or not he really believed in Hoshina, he was determined to stick with him. Torai was the type of samurai who aligned the course of his life with his master’s and never deviated, for good or bad. Every regime in history had been built on men like Torai; no warlord could rise to power without them.

“Very well,” Sano said. “You’ll regret your decision when you find yourself kneeling beside Hoshina on the execution ground.”

“Your wish is not mine to fulfill,” Torai retorted. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m not wasting any more time on this conversation.”

He stomped out of the arsenal. Sano, Marume, and Fukida watched from the doorway as he mounted his horse and rode away through the deepening night.

“He should have jumped at your offer,” Fukida said. “You have a stronger case than ever against Hoshina.”

“Unfortunately, my case is founded on logic that won’t convince everyone,” Sano said. “We know that as well as Torai does. Let’s go back to the castle and find Hirata-san. Maybe he’s had better luck with his inquiries today than we with ours.”

As he and his men rode off, Sano did not look forward to the talk he must have with Hirata.

They arrived home as the wet, gray day melted into grayer twilight. But Sano had no chance to look for Hirata. His chief aide met him at the door and said, “The Honorable Elders and the Supreme Commander of the Army are waiting to see you.”

Sano desperately needed to continue his investigation, but he couldn’t put off his three important allies. He joined Ohgami, Uemori, and General Isogai, who sat in his audience chamber. Their solemn expressions warned Sano that this was not a social call. “Greetings,” he said, bowing to them, then taking his seat on the dais.

They bowed in return. General Isogai said, “We warned you.” His loud voice and shrewd gaze were hard.

“But you didn’t stay out of trouble.” Disapproval marked Ohgami’s pensive features. “First your wife is involved in the murder of Lord Mori; then you’re implicated in treason.”

“Merciful gods, you attract problems like shit draws flies!” Uemori coughed in disgust, his jowls wobbling.

Sano remembered his last meeting with them, when they’d advised him that his political position was shaky and he should exercise caution. It seemed as if ages had passed since then. The last thing he needed now was their censure. “Unforeseen circumstances arose. You can hardly blame me for them.”

“Perhaps not,” Ohgami said, “but we do fault you for the way you’re handling this murder investigation.”

“You’ve managed to antagonize both Lord Matsudaira and the shogun,” General Isogai said, “not to mention that you’ve opened yourself up wide to attack by Police Commissioner Hoshina.”

“This is exactly what you don’t need,” Ohgami said.

“And neither do we,” Uemori said.

The three men glared at Sano. He felt his own antipathy stir toward them. As usual, their criticism didn’t help, and they were wasting time he couldn’t afford to waste.

“Well, my honorable colleagues,” he said, “I thank you for your show of support.”

“We’re here to do more than show support,” Ohgami said. “We’re going to tell you exactly what to do to get yourself out of this sorry mess.”

“Go right ahead. Some practical solutions would be helpful for a change,” Sano said.

The elders looked to General Isogai, who said, “Let Lady Reiko take the blame for Lord Mori’s murder.”

“What?” Astonishment struck Sano. He couldn’t believe he’d understood correctly or hide his horror.

“You heard me,” General Isogai said. “As far as Lord Mori’s murder is concerned, Lord Matsudaira and the shogun want blood for blood. Throw Lady Reiko to the executioner, and they’ll be satisfied. As far as the treason is concerned, a little sacrifice on your part would go a long way toward convincing them that you’re their loyal subject.”

“That’s out of the question.” Sano was so incensed by this preposterous advice that he lost self-control and sputtered with rage. “Lady Reiko is my wife.” He didn’t mention that he loved her. Love had no place in his colleagues’ world. “I would never sacrifice her for anything.”

The elders grimaced in disdain. General Isogai said, “You can get yourself another wife. There are many other women you can choose from. What’s important is your political position.”

“And yours,” Sano said, bitter. “You’re asking me to put the mother of my son and our unborn child to death in order to save your own skins!”

“It’s fortunate that you already have an heir,” Ohgami interjected. “You can always beget another one later if you need it. And of course we’re concerned that if you go down, you’ll take us with you. But let’s not be crude.”