“I almost wish it were me,” Naraya said. “Such a clever, clever retaliation for the wrongs Hoshina-san has done.” He pumped his fists and chortled; then belated prudence sobered him as he comprehended his dangerous position. “But I didn’t kidnap those women off the Tōkaidō. I haven’t even left Edo in months. Ask anyone here.” He gestured toward the factory.

But Sano knew that the workers owed Naraya their loyalty and would lie for him. “When did you learn that Lady Keisho-in was going on her trip?” Sano asked.

“Not until the news broadsheets announced that she’d been kidnapped,” Naraya said. “I couldn’t have done it.” Sudden thought narrowed his eyes. “Besides, didn’t I hear that Lady Keisho-in’s entourage was massacred? A hundred people killed?” Naraya shook his head, deploring the carnage. “I could never, never shed blood-not even to avenge my daughter’s death. And I’m not foolish enough to commit treason just to strike back at Hoshina-san.”

Sano thought of how Magistrate Ueda had compromised his professional honor and bent the law for Reiko’s sake. Sano knew that he himself would risk whatever danger and pay whatever price necessary to punish anyone who hurt Masahiro. Paternal devotion was stronger than prudence, and Naraya’s denials didn’t convince Sano.

“Maybe you wouldn’t kill or kidnap with your own hands,” Sano said. “But you wouldn’t have needed to leave Edo or do your own dirty work.”

Naraya snorted in disdain. “I don’t have the men or the money to carry off an ambush like that.”

Yet although Sano knew that hired muscle came cheap, and Naraya could afford it, he wondered whether Edo ruffians could have so easily slain Tokugawa troops. Sano’s misgivings about Naraya’s guilt increased. Shifting course, he said, “When did you move to Edo?”

The merchant blinked, disconcerted by the abrupt change of subject. “Two years ago,” he said.

“Your family ran the business in Miyako for many generations. Why did you relocate it here?”

“Competition was tougher every year,” Naraya said, and Sano watched him squint as he tried to figure out the point of the questions. “Business is much, much better in Edo.”

“Your decision had nothing to do with the fact that Hoshina-san had moved here the year before?” Sano said.

“No.” The merchant frowned in perplexity, then acquired an owlish look of wisdom. Pointing a finger at Sano, he said, “You think I followed Hoshina-san. You think I came to Edo to do him harm. But I didn’t. The day I heard he’d left Miyako, I celebrated because he wouldn’t foul the place anymore. If there were any other city as big as Edo, I’d have gone there instead, so I wouldn’t have to breathe the same air as him.”

Suddenly Sano lost all tolerance for restrained, deliberate interrogation. His urgent need to solve the case, save Reiko, and avoid execution flared up in him. He grabbed Naraya by the front of his kimono.

“No more denials!” he shouted at the merchant. “If you kidnapped the women, you’d better tell me!”

Startled, Naraya inhaled a loud gulp of breath. Fright widened his eyes. “I didn’t,” he protested.

If there was any chance that he was the Dragon King, Sano wasn’t going to let Naraya dupe him. He slammed the merchant against the building and yelled, “Don’t lie to me!”

“It’s the honest truth,” Naraya said. “I didn’t kidnap anybody. I swear on my ancestors’ honor.”

“What have you done with my wife?” Though Sano hated resorting to brute force, he had two choices: He could be nice to the merchant and leave empty-handed, or pressure Naraya and perhaps elicit the facts he sought. Sano shook Naraya back and forth. "Where is she?”

“I don’t know!” Naraya’s head thumped on the wall. "Please, let me go. You’re hurting me.”

“Talk, and I’ll stop.” Sano shook him harder and faster.

The merchant grabbed Sano’s hands and tried in vain to pry them off him. His feet kicked Sano’s shins. “Help! Help!” he screamed.

“Tell me!” Sano ordered.

Workers rushed out of the factory, armed with paddles, clubs, and iron shovels, ready to defend Naraya. The detectives drew their swords.

“I’m innocent,” Naraya cried. “Torture me until I confess, then kill me-but it won’t bring back the women, because I didn’t take them. I don’t know where they are!”

Sano saw Naraya’s terrified face, and a brawl impending. He realized he’d gone too far. Beating Naraya’s head to a pulp would do Reiko no good, even if Naraya was the Dragon King. Sano released his hold on Naraya. The merchant sat down hard on the filthy ground.

“Go back to your business,” Sano told the workmen.

They obeyed; the detectives sheathed their blades. Sano leaned against the wall, spent by his violent impulse and horrified that his life seemed a nightmare in which he must start and restart this investigation for all eternity, and never find Reiko. He looked at the suspect he’d almost killed. Naraya reclined with eyes closed and limbs splayed, moaning. Blood from his head smeared the wall.

“Are you all right?” Sano said, fearful that he’d beaten Naraya senseless.

Naraya opened his eyes. “No thanks to you,” he said, and cracked a weak smile. “But no hard feelings. I understand that you’re very, very upset, because I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. And I really want to help you.” With a pained grunt, he stood up and said timidly, “May I make a suggestion?”

Drained of energy for more verbal combat, Sano said, “Go ahead.” His hope that Naraya was the Dragon King had diminished so much that he needed all the advice he could get-even from a suspect.

“If you really want to find the kidnapper,” Naraya said, “you should forget me and look into other people Hoshina-san hurt. He made himself very, very unpopular around Miyako. Maybe his other old enemies came here after his blood. Maybe they took the shogun’s mother.”

“Maybe you’re just trying to cover your own crimes by diverting suspicion elsewhere.” Sano spoke with scorn, although he recognized that unless he found evidence against Naraya, he would have to do as the merchant suggested.

“I’m just trying to do the shogun a favor and keep you from making a big mistake,” Naraya said. “May I tell you where else I think you should be looking for the kidnapper?”

Sano’s silence indicated assent.

“Inside the Black Lotus,” Naraya said.

“The Black Lotus?” Sano frowned, startled that the sect should crop up after the investigation had turned away from it. He regarded Naraya with skepticism, wondering if the merchant was just directing blame toward the notorious scourge. “Why do you say that?”

Naraya looked around, as if fearful of eavesdroppers. He spoke in a low, confidential tone: “I’ve heard that the police are very, very rough on the Black Lotus folks they arrest. Hoshina-san has his own secret jail where he and his men torture them into informing on their comrades. While he asks them questions, his men drip molten copper into their eyes. They all talk, eventually.”

The news disturbed Sano. Although he abhorred the Black Lotus, he disapproved of torture, and he was finding more to dislike about the man he’d obligated himself to save. And he couldn’t dismiss Naraya’s story as mere rumor. The police had lately made a large number of Black Lotus arrests. If those stemmed from a personal crusade headed by Hoshina, then he’d been responsible for executions that the Black Lotus would view as murder.

“The Black Lotus has as much reason to want revenge on Hoshina-san as I do,” Naraya said. “Besides, it has many, many crazy people who would slaughter a Tokugawa procession and kidnap the shogun’s mother if their priests ordered them.” Naraya echoed the reasoning that had initially caused Sano to suspect the Black Lotus.

Yet Sano warned himself against reverting to his original theory. Even if the Black Lotus priests did want Hoshina dead, they would more likely assassinate him-as they’d done other foes-than concoct the kidnapping plot. They would know that eliminating Hoshina wouldn’t end their persecution by the bakufu. Sano also thought other elements of the crime didn’t fit the Black Lotus. The ransom letter bespoke a personal attack against Hoshina, not religious warfare. The poem didn’t sound like Black Lotus scripture, which derived from ancient Buddhist texts, not dragon legend.