Furthermore, a good detective wouldn’t let a suspect influence his judgment.

“After your daughter died, you told Hoshina-san that you would make him pay,” Sano reminded Naraya.

The merchant grimaced in annoyance. “Is that what he told you? Well, I suppose he’s so desperate that he’ll say anything to help himself. Or maybe my daughter’s death meant so little to him that he’s forgotten what went on between us. But my memory is as clear as if it happened yesterday. This is what I said to Hoshina-san: ‘Someday you’ll suffer for what you did to my daughter. You can’t escape the bad karma you’ve created. Someday the wheel of fate that crushed my daughter will crush you.’

Exultation shone through Naraya’s fear. “And it looks as though my prediction is going to come true.”

Repeated interrogation of Naraya proved futile because Naraya only reiterated his protests of innocence. At last, Sano and his detectives left the factory and gathered outside by their horses. The afternoon sunlight glared dully on the canal; boatmen shouted curses; a beggar limped along the dusty road, empty bowl in hand.

“Keep a secret watch on Naraya,” Sano told two of his men. “Follow him wherever he goes. Maybe he’ll do something to show he’s the kidnapper and lead us to the women.”

“Yes, Sōsakan-sama,” chorused the detectives.

But Sano feared Naraya was another dead end on another hunt in the wrong direction. He regretted all the more his decision to prevent Hoshina’s execution and give up a chance to save Reiko. He wondered how Chamberlain Yanagisawa fared with the Kii clan and he hoped for better results than Naraya had produced, because otherwise they were out of luck.

As he mounted his horse, sudden recollection buoyed Sano’s mood. There was one more potential lead to the Dragon King, overlooked in the commotion generated by the ransom letter.

“We’re going back to Edo Castle,” Sano said. Slapping the reins, he galloped down the street, while his two detectives hurried to catch up with him.

17

The storm on the island diminished to a light rain that dripped through the roof of the ruined keep. Inside, amid the puddles and dank gloom, Reiko, Midori, Lady Yanagisawa, and Keisho-in sat clustered together and watched the door creak open. The fierce samurai who had almost ravished Reiko strode into their prison. After him came two younger samurai whose threadbare clothes and surly air branded them as rōnin.

“You,” the fierce samurai said, jabbing a finger at Reiko. “Come with us.”

Alarm struck Reiko. “What for?” Her voice shook with the fear that sickened her heart.

During the hours that had passed since the kidnappers had captured her outside the castle, she’d had little to occupy her except trying to predict what they would do to her and the other women. Common sense told her that the kidnappers couldn’t just keep them here like this forever. The leader she’d met must have another purpose. Reiko’s instincts warned that something worse would happen. Now it seemed the time had come.

“Don’t talk back,” the fierce samurai ordered. His scowl deepened. “Just do as you’re told.”

Midori whimpered; Lady Yanagisawa emitted an ululating groan like a cat’s growl. Reiko felt them clutch her hands, trying to prevent her departure.

“She’s not going,” Keisho-in said with panicky bravado. “Get out. Leave us alone.”

The samurai sneered, then nodded to his comrades. They seized Reiko and tore her from her friends’ grasp.

“Oh, Reiko-san,” Midori wailed.

Lady Yanagisawa made inarticulate sounds of protest. Keisho-in shouted, “Let her go, you filthy, disgusting beasts!”

As the men roughly propelled Reiko toward the door, she glanced backward at her friends. Their faces expressed their horror at losing her and their hope of salvation.

“I’ll be back,” she told them with a confidence she wished she felt. “Don’t worry.”

Outside the door, two peasant thugs crouched. They leered at Reiko as her escorts urged her to the stairway. One of the younger men descended first. Their leader positioned himself behind Reiko, gripped her shoulders, and forced her to walk down the stairs ahead of him. The third man followed. Splinters from the rickety steps needled her bare feet. On the lower levels, more guards lounged, smoking tobacco pipes. As Reiko and her escorts neared the door, the cruel samurai took hold of her right arm, while one comrade restrained her left. The other dogged her heels. The tip of his sword pricked her back. Her heart hammered and her stomach churned.

Where were they taking her? Did they mean to finish the assault that their leader had interrupted?

They dragged her from the keep. The clouded sky darkened the afternoon. Rain pelted her face; the stone landing felt cold and slick under her toes. The men led her past still more guards who loitered on the steps, and along an unfamiliar path through the forest. Three more samurai joined their procession. The trees dripped water; moisture saturated the air, which smelled of loam and decaying leaves.

Reiko barely noticed the sharp twigs that gouged her feet, because an awful thought occurred to her.

The kidnappers intended to murder their victims. They’d chosen her to be the first to die.

Panic compressed Reiko’s chest; her breath emerged in wheezes as she tried to control her fear. She longed for Sano, but three days had gone by since her abduction, and he hadn’t come. He would not come in time to rescue her now.

Suddenly the forest was behind her, and the path edged the lake, a dull silver mirror of the sky, rimmed by misty woods and mountains on the opposite shore. Would the kidnappers drown her? Reiko imagined Masahiro never knowing why his mother didn’t come home. The panic swelled, dizzying Reiko; she stumbled. Borne along by the men, she passed a ramshackle dock that extended into the water. She spied three boats secured to the pilings. The boats were simple wooden shells, with oars laid inside. Her will to survive outbalanced her fear of death, and her spirits momentarily rose. Now she knew that here were her means of transport across the lake, if not how to gain them.

The cruel samurai hustled her past the boats. His grin said he’d read her thoughts and scorned her hope.

On their right loomed what appeared to be the main palace. A paved square, and a crumbling wall studded with ruined guard turrets, fronted the lake. Beyond the wall rose a building crowned with tile roofs whose gables boasted tarnished copper dragon crests. Reiko’s captors led her through portals where a gate had once hung. Moss-coated stone lanterns flanked the path through a wilderness that had once been a garden. The buildings seemed intact, though the plaster had flaked off them, exposing weathered wood. Ivy entwined the foundation posts and window grills. The quiet seemed alive with the ghosts of warlords from a bygone era. A shiver chilled Reiko as the men marched her up a flight of steps, into the palace through an open doorway, and along a dim corridor. Torn, moldy paper hung from the lattice walls. Dark stains marred the floorboards, and Reiko sensed that blood had been shed where she now walked. The place breathed a wicked miasma that increased her dread.

Would her blood soon spill here?

They turned a corner and entered a reception chamber. The smoky, bittersweet scent of incense laced the atmosphere. Jagged cracks in sliding doors along the wall gave a view of a veranda outside. Beyond an expanse of rotting tatami, the man in the dragon kimono stood waiting on a dais. Behind him stretched a faded mural that portrayed a fanciful underwater scene of blue waves and green seaweed flowing over gardens and pavilions. He watched Reiko and his men cross the chamber and stop before him. Again his sinister, brooding stare burned into Reiko. Again the peculiar longing in his eyes disturbed her.