A faint smile touched Yanagisawa’s lips. “What an apt name for the kidnapper.” He paused, chin in hand, mulling over the list. Then he appeared to reach a decision. “You interrogate the merchant,” he said. “Leave the Kii clan to me. We’ll meet tonight, at the hour of the boar, to compare results.”
Sano wondered if Yanagisawa did, after all, want to save Hoshina and mend their broken affair; but of course, his primary aim was to catch the kidnapper. Yanagisawa wanted credit for rescuing Lady Keisho-in, as Hoshina had suggested; and Sano recalled instances where his longtime adversary had appropriated facts he’d discovered. Though Sano cared less about who got credit than about saving the women, he worried that Yanagisawa might somehow jeopardize the investigation. Yet Sano had no control over Yanagisawa.
“As you wish,” Sano said. He bowed, rose, and left the room, anxious to solve the mystery himself and rescue the hostages before Yanagisawa did something to endanger Reiko.
16
You shouldn’t have tried to escape,” Lady Keisho-in said, fixing a malevolent gaze on Reiko. “You were stupid to put us all in danger for nothing.”
Thunder boomed, and the tower shuddered. Lightning illuminated the prison in intermittent flashes, while rain cascaded down through the damaged ceiling. The women sat crowded together in the driest corner of the room. Reiko humbly bowed her head, deploring her own failure even more than Keisho-in did.
“But she couldn’t have known we were trapped on an island,” Midori said. When the guards had brought Reiko back to the prison, and she’d told the other women what had happened, Midori had wept with disappointment; but now she rose to Reiko’s defense. “It’s not her fault that our plan didn’t work.” Midori smiled wanly at Reiko. “I’m grateful to you for trying to save us.”
“Thank you,” Reiko said, appreciating Midori’s loyalty.
“Don’t make excuses for her,” Keisho-in rebuked Midori. “If she hadn’t misbehaved, those men might treat us better. They might at least feed us, or clean this room.” The kidnappers had brought no food since the pail of soup that Reiko had thrown at the boy, and the women were all starving because they’d not eaten since yesterday’s meal. The stink from waste buckets grew worse by the hour.
“And what good are you, Midori-san? You just sit around like a quail ready to lay an egg. I don’t know why I ever wanted you on my trip.”
Chastened, Midori said, “I’m sorry.”
Keisho-in turned her ire on Lady Yanagisawa: “And you’re even more useless.” Fury sparked in her bloodshot old eyes. “When those men came, why didn’t you fight them the way you were supposed to?”
Lady Yanagisawa sat hunched in shame, her plain face bleak with misery. Reiko had just learned that the guards had come to the prison soon after she’d run away. They’d found their comrades tied up and unconscious, and herself missing. They’d taken the sword from Lady Yanagisawa, who’d meekly surrendered, and assailed the women with curses, threats, and demands to know where Reiko had gone.
“… I was afraid,” Lady Yanagisawa whispered, wringing her hands. “I’m sorry.” She turned a beseeching gaze on Reiko. “Will you please forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Reiko patted her shoulder. “You did right to surrender. Fighting would have done more harm than good.” Though dismayed by Lady Yanagisawa’s cowardice, Reiko was glad the kidnappers hadn’t hurt her friends.
“Next time I go on holiday, I won’t take any of you,” Keisho-in declared. “I’ll take strong, brave men who can get me out of trouble instead of into it!”
Reiko, Midori, and Lady Yanagisawa sat silent, avoiding one another’s gazes and forbearing to mention that none of them had wanted to accompany Keisho-in and would have stayed home if they could. None of them dared remind her that the kidnappers had slain her strong, brave bodyguards, or that there might not be a next time. Nor did they point out that she had eagerly approved Reiko’s plan until it failed, and venting her frustration on them didn’t improve their plight.
“As far as I’m concerned, you only made everything worse.” Keisho-in crossed her plump arms and pouted at Reiko.
Disconsolation filled Reiko because she couldn’t deny that Keisho-in spoke the truth. She heard muttered conversation from the guards now stationed outside the door. Sounds of footsteps and stirring below indicated that other men inhabited the tower’s lower levels. Even if she somehow managed to get out of the room again, she could never sneak past them all. Reiko stretched out her legs and unhappily contemplated her naked feet. The guards had taken the shoes and socks from all the women. Even if they somehow located a boat and crossed the lake, how far could they get barefoot, before the kidnappers caught up with them?
Reiko mourned that her efforts had decreased their chances of gaining freedom. If she couldn’t save them, could anyone?
The merchant Naraya operated his soy sauce factory in the Kanda district, north of Edo Castle. The factory inhabited a building that had a shop at the front and occupied a block across the road from a canal, where barges floated along water edged with houseboats. Bridges led between populous neighborhoods on both sides of the canal.
Sano, riding up the street with four detectives, smelled the factory before he saw it. The rich, salty odor of soy sauce pervaded the warm air. He and his men dismounted outside the factory and ducked under the blue entrance curtain that bore Naraya’s name in white characters. Inside the store, ceramic jars filled shelves that lined the walls. Clerks waited on customers. Their chatter ceased as they saw the newcomers.
“I want to see Naraya,” Sano told a clerk. “Where is he?”
“He’s in the factory,” the clerk said, glancing at a curtained doorway at the rear of the room. “Shall I fetch him for you, master?”
“No, thank you. I’ll find him.” Sano wanted to catch his suspect off guard. As he led his men through the doorway, he counseled himself against jumping to conclusions about Naraya. He’d already erred in blaming the Black Lotus for the kidnapping. He couldn’t afford another mistake that would sidetrack the investigation. He must not ruin his chance for a fresh start.
They entered the cavernous factory. Smoke and steam diffused the sunshine from the windows and skylights. Aromas wafted from vats of soybeans boiling on charcoal hearths and wheat roasting in ovens. Sweating workers, clad in loincloths and headbands, poured steaming beans onto wooden pallets, ground the wheat in mortars, lugged tubs of malt and brine, and mixed the ingredients. Amid the activity bustled a middle-aged man dressed in a blue kimono.
“Gently, gently!” he admonished workers who were straining viscous, fermented brew through cloth bags. “Treat the product with respect, or it’ll go bad.”
His authoritative manner identified him as Naraya. He paused at a row of barrels, tasted their contents, then shook his head. “Not ready yet,” he told the workers. “Let the spirit of the soy sauce develop longer.”
Then Naraya caught sight of Sano and the detectives. Hastening over to them, he bowed and said, “Good day, masters. How may I serve you?”
Closer inspection showed Sano that Naraya was some fifty years old, with droopy cheeks and jowls. His skin, teeth, sparse gray hair, and the whites of his eyes had a brown tinge, as though he’d absorbed the soy sauce he manufactured. Brown stains discolored his fingernails and cheap cotton robes. Despite his status as one of Edo’s wealthy, prominent merchants, Naraya looked like a small-time shopkeeper.
Sano introduced himself, then said, “I’m investigating the kidnapping of Lady Keisho-in, and I need your assistance.”
“Oh. I see.” Naraya spoke in a hushed tone that recognized the gravity of Sano’s purpose, but he frowned as though mystified. “Of course I’ll gladly do whatever I can. May I first offer you and your men some tea at my house?”