The Case of the Sharaku Murders (23 page)

“No, not yet.”

“Well, don't. You can't always be Mr. Nice Guy, Ryohei. Academia's a dog-eat-dog world. What was the point of going to Akita unless you're going to get credit for your own work? It's got nothing to do with the professor. Just don't say anything. As long as you don't bring it up, I'm sure the professor wouldn't think of it. Anyway, just think how upset Saeko would be if that happened.”

Ryohei was taken aback. But Yosuke was right. The theory belonged to Saeko too. “Got it,” he said. “I'll do my best.”

With that, Ryohei rang off.

November 12

IN THE AFTERNOON, Ryohei set out for his university in Kichijoji.

While at the art history department he'd received a call from Yoshimura asking if he could meet at a café. When he arrived, Yoshimura had already finished his first cup of coffee. Ryohei sat down and Yoshimura ordered two more cups.

“Last night I went over to the professor's house,” began Yoshimura, looking grave. “He showed me your paper.”

“I see…”

Yesterday afternoon Ryohei had taken the seventy-page paper he had just finished writing over to Nishijima's house.

“To be honest, I'm a bit annoyed with the professor,” continued Yoshimura, bitterly. “He never said a word to me about what you were working on.”

“Well… at first it wasn't clear whether it would lead anywhere,” mumbled Ryohei.

He couldn't help wondering why Yoshimura had asked to meet him.
Surely not just to make catty remarks
,
he thought gloomily.

“I find your theory about Shoei entirely convincing,” said Yoshimura. “I've got no complaint with
that
.
Sato's catalogue is irrefutable.”

What's this?

Yoshimura had never spoken to Ryohei like this before.

“That said, I don't think it will sound quite so convincing coming from you.”

Ah, I should have known
.

There had been something about Professor Nishijima's attitude yesterday that had given Ryohei pause. The professor had repeatedly said he would need to “pave the way” for Shoei's introduction to the world. Ryohei had ignored the remark and left without saying anything more. Afterward the professor must have called up Yoshimura and asked him to come over.

“Think of it this way,” Yoshimura went on. “It's like a child with a toy water pistol—no matter how much he pulls the trigger he can't hurt anyone. Now, the professor's behind you one hundred percent. But his support won't carry as much weight as it should because you're his student. People will think he's only doing it out of a sense of duty. The UCS crowd will say he doesn't really buy your theory and is only backing you out of obligation.”

It's not the message, it's the messenger—is that the problem?

Ryohei had not fully considered this possibility.

“If that happens,” went on Yoshimura, “your great discovery will come to nothing—the Shoei hypothesis will be written off as just hot air. We can't let that happen. That's how strongly the professor believes in your theory.”

Ryohei said nothing.

“Even if you
weren't
his student he'd be just as supportive, but people will think… Anyway, the professor's quite worried.”

“I'm sorry,” Ryohei mumbled.

“There's no need to apologize. It can't be helped. But I'm sure you understand how the professor feels. He loves Sharaku more than anyone. It must be awful for him to think that now, finally, we know who Sharaku really was, but people will dismiss it as just another crackpot theory. He has no problem with you presenting your paper. But if it results in Sharaku's true identity being ignored, it will be your own fault.”

“How so?” Ryohei shot back.

“You're still young—a mere child in academic terms. There aren't many people who would listen seriously to what you have to say. They'll tear your theory apart. Not only that, but they'll find fault with things that have nothing to do with it. There are plenty in the Ukiyo-e Connoisseurship Society crowd who are old hands at doing just that. To make matters worse, you're the professor's student. They'll go after you for that reason alone. If Sharaku's identity gets lost for reasons that have nothing to do with the theory itself, you'll have no one to blame but yourself.”

As much as Ryohei hated to admit it, Yoshimura had a valid point. It was precisely because the same thought had occurred to Ryohei that he had been inclined to let Nishijima take the credit for his work in the first place. He began to waver. It pained him to think his theory might be dismissed for such petty reasons.

“Look, even if
I
had made the discovery it would still be an uphill battle,” continued Yoshimura. “People envy the professor because he's powerful. The UCS gang will use every trick in the book to try to crush me and discredit the theory. They don't care who Sharaku really was.”

“Really? I wouldn't go
that
far,” countered Ryohei. “Anyway, I'm sure people would listen to
you
.
”

“No, they wouldn't. Sharaku's too hot a topic even for
me
,
” retorted Yoshimura.

His insinuation was clear.

“In short,” he added, cutting to the chase. “At this point only the professor is powerful enough to publish this theory.”

“What's your goal?” asked Yoshimura, his tone suddenly softening.

“Or perhaps I should say, what's your goal
as a scholar
?
I'm sure you want to leave your mark on the world and all that. But scholarship is not like politics. The purpose isn't to become rich or powerful—it's to see your ideas become acknowledged by the world at large in one way or another. Isn't that the true joy of scholarship?”

Ryohei understood all this, but he'd never expected to hear such sentiments coming from Yoshimura. After all, this was a guy who made no bones about wanting to get ahead in the world and had gone to work for a museum straight out of university.

“You've made a major discovery,” Yoshimura went on. “None of us in Professor Nishijima's inner circle would deny that. All the more reason why we don't want to see your theory destroyed. As a scholar, it's incumbent upon you to ensure the world at large acknowledges your work, even if that means letting someone else take the credit. Now, if you choose to do it yourself the professor and I will back you all the way. But that will take years. You'll need to start slowly and gradually build consensus for your theory. You'll have to be low-key about it at first and… well, not to put too fine a point on it, it would simply take too long. Leave everything to me. In less than six months I'll see to it that your theory is accepted by everyone in the field.”

“You have some sort of plan?” asked Ryohei.

“Early next month—at the latest—we'll publish your paper under the professor's name, in both Japanese and English. Then I'll fly to Europe and the US with the paper and visit all the scholars I know over there. I'll try to persuade them to attend the EAA's annual meeting here in Tokyo on the twenty-first of next month. We'll invite people from all the major newspapers, magazines, and journals to attend and hand out copies of the paper to everyone at the meeting. Then, after the professor delivers his talk, we'll have some foreign scholars get up and endorse the theory. By the end of the meeting it will have the backing of the entire EAA. The art journals are already on our side, so they're not going to raise any objections. Finally, in about March, the professor will publish a book with Shoei's paintings and Sharaku's prints side by side one another.”

They've thought that far ahead
.

Ryohei was dumbfounded.

“You'll have to keep a low profile for a while,” Yoshimura went on. “But your name will be on the book as the professor's collaborator when it comes out in the spring. There's really no downside for you. If you tried to do it all on your own you'd never get half that far. So, what do you think? Are you with us?” Yoshimura stared at Ryohei.

“So you mean the professor will be addressing the meeting alone…”

“I'm afraid so. It has to be that way. It's got to look like the professor's discovery. That's the only way to get the media's attention. But look at it this way—the Shoei hypothesis will become the dominant theory in the field. That's what you want, isn't it?”

“Yes, but…”

“By the way, I hear the professor's decided to send you to Boston.”

“Uh-huh….”

“See—that shows how much confidence he has in you. He'll do everything in his power to promote your theory.”

Why bring Boston into it all of a sudden?

Ryohei started to feel uncomfortable.

“You'll get much better treatment over in the States if you go as the professor's collaborator on a major new discovery,” Yoshimura went on, “rather than as the lone proponent of an unproven theory. That's another reason not to waste any time.”

Of all the devious
…

“And if by some chance the theory should come unraveled,” added Yoshimura ominously, “then your trip to Boston won't be the only thing to suffer.”

November 13

YOSUKE STARED into his glass and watched the ice cubes melting. One of the cubes burst with a loud
crack!

He and Ryohei were sitting in
More
,
Yosuke's neighborhood bar.

“So, in the end you agreed to let Yoshimura handle everything?” he asked Ryohei, flabbergasted.

“I'm sorry…” replied Ryohei apologetically. “I know it was selfish of me…”

“Well, after what Yoshimura said, I can't exactly blame you. I didn't know about the Boston trip. I can understand you wouldn't want to jeopardize it.”

“Actually, it had nothing to do with Boston. That came up way before this whole Sharaku thing.”

“But in the end it comes down to that. If you'd kicked up a fuss the professor might have decided not to send you to Boston. You agreed to go, right? They knew you wanted it and used it to blackmail you to get what they wanted.”

“I suppose you're right. But that's not what mattered most to me,” replied Ryohei feebly. “It was more a question of whether I'd be able to convince people of the theory on my own. I was furious at Yoshimura for saying I couldn't, but I knew in my mind he was right. I'm just no match for the professor.”

“Yoshimura's just using you. If that's going to be your attitude, people like Yoshimura will walk all over you. I can understand you want the Shoei hypothesis to be accepted, but I wonder if it was really necessary to hand it to the professor on a silver platter.”

“But in academia it's more or less common knowledge professors often publish their students' work as their own.”

“Yes, but there are limits. This was your big chance to make a name for yourself. A more ambitious person would've taken credit for it himself, whatever the consequences. You can be sure of one thing: Yoshimura would have. That's how important this discovery is.”

“I'm sorry,” said Ryohei contritely, bowing his head. “I just don't have the clout to pull it off.”

“Clout, huh? Is that what everything in this world comes down to?” muttered Yosuke. “Two people say the same thing but the rest of us only listen to one of them.” His tone was one of resignation.

“I
do
feel bad for Saeko…”

“Don't worry, I'll try to explain things to her,” said Yosuke. “Although I'm sure she'll accuse us of being spineless. She doesn't understand how academia works. Anyway, as far as I'm concerned this proves once and for all the professor's washed up. He hasn't published anything new for over a decade, but at least he still has his reputation. But if he could stoop to stealing his own student's work he doesn't deserve to call himself a scholar.”

“But,” objected Ryohei, “it might all be Yoshimura's idea.”

“You're not serious, are you? I wouldn't put it past him, that's for sure. But that greedy fool doesn't do anything unless there's something in it for him. He wouldn't have taken the trouble of talking to you unless the professor had put him up to it. He's just toadying to the professor. Part of his reward is no doubt this trip abroad he mentioned.”

“Maybe you're right.”

“Take my word for it, he's just trying to milk this for all its worth. Plus, he'd rather have the professor take the credit than see someone younger than him basking in the limelight. That way he saves face. As for his promise that your name will appear on the professor's book, I'm pretty dubious about that. You'd be a fool to take it at face value.”

“I don't care,” persisted Ryohei. “Just so long as the theory is accepted.”