“Think harder!”

“I’m doing the best I can!” Hoshina stomped the floor, sounding close to tears.

Sano realized that his own impatience was only worsening the situation. “Let’s try a different approach,” he said. “Who besides Dannoshin knew about your affair with Anemone?”

“Nobody.” Hands falling limp at his sides, Hoshina seemed near the breaking point. “We were very discreet. She sneaked me into a cottage in the garden late at night, while everyone was sleeping.”

“Who knew?” Sano repeated, because somebody had known, and that somebody had transformed into the Dragon King twelve years later.

Hoshina shook his head in despair. Then his drooping posture straightened. “Wait,” he exclaimed, his dull eyes lighting. “Anemone had a son by Dannoshin. He was about fifteen years old-a strange, repulsive boy.” Hoshina made a moue of distaste. “Whenever I went to the house, he would creep around and stare at me. And once, when Anemone and I were making love, we heard a noise in the bushes outside the cottage. It must have been him, spying on us.”

At last they were making progress, Sano thought with relief. “What was the boy’s name?”

“Dannoshin Minoru,” Hoshina said, and grinned, proud of himself for remembering.

“The son of Anemone is a likely person to want her death avenged,” Sano said.

“He must be the Dragon King.” Hoshina bounced on the balls of his feet and smacked his hands together, obviously exhilarated by the thought that his ordeal might be nearing a happy end. “He must have been plotting my downfall ever since Anemone died.”

“Now all I need to do,” Sano said, “is find out what became of him, pick up his trail, and follow it to wherever he’s hiding the hostages. I’ll go tell the metsuke to start combing the archives for information on Dannoshin Minoru.”

“Don’t bother,” Hoshina said. His mocking attitude resurfaced. “I’ve just remembered something else: I saw the fellow recently. I know where he’s been.”

“When?” Sano said, frowning in surprise. “Where?”

“About two years ago. Here in Edo. He’s grown up and changed since we last met, and I couldn’t place him. But now it’s come back to me.” Hoshina said, “He’s an inspector for the Ministry of Temples and Shrines.”

Thoughts crystallized in Sano’s mind as he comprehended how the Dragon King, the Black Lotus, and the kidnapping fit together. The Ministry of Temples and Shrines was responsible for monitoring religious sects, making sure they obeyed the laws and didn’t rise up against the ruling regime. Therefore, the Ministry had a major share of the task of eradicating the Black Lotus and employed inspectors to travel around the city, looking for illegal religious activity.

“Dannoshin Minoru’s work put him in contact with Black Lotus outlaws,” Sano deduced. “That’s how he found the secret temple and met Profound Wisdom. But instead of reporting them to the police, he used them. He got Mariko to spy on Lady Keisho-in. He probably used his connections in the bakufu to plant the girl inside Edo Castle. He got a band of Black Lotus rōnin to help him ambush Lady Keisho-in’s procession and kidnap her.”

“Are you going to tell the shogun now?” Hoshina grabbed Sano by the arm. “Take me with you. When he hears that I’ve identified the kidnapper, he’ll be so grateful that he’ll set me free and give me back my position.”

Trust Hoshina to try to turn the situation to his personal benefit and reap all the credit instead of just the fraction he deserved, Sano thought. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, flinging off Hoshina’s hand. “I still have to find out where the Dragon King is holding the hostages and rescue them.”

Maybe Hoshina had redeemed himself by providing the vital piece of information. But the Dragon King would be awaiting news of Hoshina’s execution. How much longer would he wait before he decided the shogun had disobeyed his order and he made good on his threat to kill his captives?

Had the identification of Dannoshin Minoru come too late to save the women?

25

Detective Marume dragged a load of long, thin logs into the forest clearing where he and Hirata and Fukida were building the raft upon which they would cross the lake and bring back the women. A day had passed since they’d arrived on the Izu Peninsula, and they still had yet to invade the kidnappers’ island. The air was cool and misty, and the sun hidden behind layered gray and white clouds, but Marume was sweating from the hard labor of cutting and hauling wood. Stripped down to his loincloth and sandals, his dagger gripped between his teeth, he looked like a savage. He dropped the logs beside Hirata.

“Do you need more wood?” Marume asked, panting.

Hirata aligned the logs with the others that comprised the raft and tied them together with braided reeds. He wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve. “I don’t think so.” He looked at his hands, which were filthy and marked with bloody cuts, then at the raft. “It’s big enough, isn’t it?”

The raft was a lopsided square platform, approximately twice as long as Hirata’s height. Rough logs of various widths, bristling with trimmed stubs, were joined side by side with clumsily knotted reeds. Hirata felt more crestfallen than proud of his work. Fukida brought over the oars he’d fashioned by cutting two forked branches and weaving dense, unruly mats of sticks and reeds between the forks. He tossed the oars atop the raft and gave Hirata an apologetic glance. All three men gazed doubtfully at the product of their efforts.

“Will it float?” Marume said, voicing the thought on everyone’s minds.

“It has to,” Hirata said firmly.

They’d invested the whole previous afternoon and evening, as well as this morning, in his decision to attempt the rescue instead of returning to Edo. The raft had taken longer to build than Hirata had anticipated. First, they’d had to backtrack from the lake and camp in a secluded place off the road, where any kidnappers who happened to leave the island wouldn’t notice them. The search for suitable timber, and the struggle to hack it to the right size, had consumed hours. By the time they’d devised methods for constructing the raft and oars, darkness had forced them to stop work until sunrise. They’d spent a cold, uncomfortable night trying to sleep on the ground, while a ceaseless mental debate had kept Hirata awake.

Had he made the wrong decision? What would happen when Sano found out he’d disobeyed orders? Had building the raft wasted precious time that he should have spent on traveling home and reporting that he’d found the kidnappers and hostages? Hirata had also worried about Midori. He’d wondered if he and Marume and Fukida could manage the rescue. But his unwillingness to leave his wife’s vicinity had solidified his resolve. And he must wrest Midori away from the kidnappers. He couldn’t leave her at the mercy of Lord Niu or whatever other insane villain had her.

Now Hirata said, “We’ll wait until late tonight. Then we’ll invade the island.”

Accompanied by thirty of their detectives and troops, Sano and Chamberlain Yanagisawa rode into the bancho, the district west of Edo Castle where the lower Tokugawa vassals resided. The afternoon sun, chased by gathering storm clouds, flickered patterns of light and shadow over small, run-down estates enclosed by live bamboo fences. The streets were narrow, muddy, soiled with horse dung, and teeming with mounted samurai. Flies buzzed in ditches overflowing with sewage. The vassals lived in squalor because the regime could afford only meager stipends for a huge military class during peacetime.

Sano and Yanagisawa had already reported to the shogun that they’d identified the Dragon King as Dannoshin Minoru, inspector for the Ministry of Temples and Shrines. The shogun had ordered them to find out, by the end of the day, whether Dannoshin really was the Dragon King, and where he was hiding the women. If they failed, the shogun said, he would execute them, and Police Commissioner Hoshina. Now Sano’s party arrived at Dannoshin’s estate.