“Your life is in danger, and I haven’t even named you yet,” Midori lamented to the baby clasped against her bosom. Tradition required that parents wait until the sixth day after the birth to name a child and celebrate its arrival. “Oh, Reiko-san, will we be home for her naming day?”

As Reiko beheld Midori and the baby, resignation spread through her, as if turning the blood in her veins to stone. The need to save the innocent child outweighed all the hazards and sacrifices associated with her new plot against the Dragon King.

“I promise we’ll be home by then,” Reiko said.

As Hirata, Marume, and Fukida rounded the curve of the clearing, the castle’s revolving view presented more wings, guarded by more sentries. Then Hirata saw a section where roofs had caved in on structures with gaping holes in the walls and trees growing out of the rooms. Vegetation enmeshed scattered rubble in what appeared to be an utter, deserted ruin that the kidnappers neglected to guard.

“Let’s try there,” Hirata said.

They sprinted across the narrow strip of open ground in the clearing and darted into the ruins. They thrashed through high weeds and stumbled amid debris. Fukida tripped on a pile of wreckage and fell; Marume yanked him to his feet. As they circumnavigated a corner formed by two broken walls on an exposed foundation, sudden light dazzled Hirata.

Toward him marched a brawny young samurai, carrying a lantern. Hirata, Fukida, and Marume faltered to a standstill. The samurai saw them and froze; his eyes registered that they were intruders. He drew his sword. His mouth opened to call his comrades.

Marume lunged. He lashed out his sword. It cut the samurai across the throat. A look of horror came over his face as the wound spurted blood. He gurgled, and the lantern dropped from his hand. He collapsed dead on the ground.

Hirata and the detectives stared at the corpse, then each other, unnerved by the sudden violence and their narrow escape. Then Hirata took a closer look at the dead man’s face. A disturbing chord resounded through him because he didn’t recognize the man-this wasn’t one of Lord Niu’s. Hirata reasoned that he didn’t know all his father-in-law’s many retainers, but he felt increasing doubt that the daimyo was responsible for the kidnapping.

“We should hide the body,” said Fukida.

Before he or Hirata or Marume could move, someone nearby called, “What was that noise? Ibe-san, are you there?”

Footsteps hurried toward Hirata and his comrades. They backed away from the corpse and sped around the wrecked building. Huddling at its base, they peered around the corner and watched another young samurai kneel beside the corpse.

“Ibe-san! What happened?” he exclaimed, holding his lantern near his comrade’s lifeless face. He looked fearfully around him. Hirata saw that this man, too, was unknown to him. Then the samurai took off running. “Ibe’s been killed!” he shouted. “Someone has invaded the island!”

The night came alive with answering voices and sounds of motion. Men streamed out from the castle grounds. A bolt of horror stunned Hirata. He felt Marume and Fukida tense beside him as their worst fears became reality.

“What do we do now?” Marume said.

Shouts rang out as the kidnappers raised the alarm. “We run,” Hirata said.

They raced out of the ruins, crossed the clearing, and plunged into the woods. Torchlights flashed; shadowy figures came speeding toward them. They zigzagged between trees, ducking beneath foliage, crouching to avoid notice as their pursuers multiplied in number. Hirata wished with all his heart that he had obeyed Sano’s orders rather than attempted the rescue himself. If he’d done his duty, he would have arrived back in Edo by now and reported the location of the kidnappers. Sano could have sent the whole detective corps to rescue the women. But instead, Hirata was running for his life and was no use to Midori. If he, Marume, and Fukida got caught, there would be no one to tell Sano where the women were. Hirata bitterly regretted his choice.

“We have to get across the lake,” he said, “but our raft is too far away. Let’s steal the boats and maroon the kidnappers.”

They raced toward the shore. Arrows whizzed through the air, striking ground and tree trunks near their feet. When they reached the forest’s edge, they saw two men standing on the dock, guarding the boats. Winded and panting, they veered back into the forest.

“We can swim to the mainland,” Fukida said.

But their pursuers wove a tightening net around the island, chasing them away from the shores. They found themselves in the woods near the main palace. Skeletal guard turrets protruded from a crumbled wall. Four sentries loitered outside a gateway that led to grounds filled with a jungle of shrubbery. Beyond the grounds, the moon floated above the palace. Carved metal dragons set in the roof gables proclaimed a silent warning. Light shone through grills that covered the second-story windows. Hirata deduced that this was the kidnappers’ stronghold, a place to avoid. But exhaustion forced him and Marume and Fukida to stop and rest.

“Let’s hide someplace until they think we’ve escaped,” he said.

Just then, runners came crashing through the forest behind them. Instinctively they fell flat on the ground and lay still. Two men galloped right past Hirata’s face. Their feet kicked damp leaves onto him. They burst through the clearing and rushed into the palace. Hirata raised his head and saw them standing inside the dimly lit entranceway, with a third man who’d joined them.

“We have bad news,” Hirata heard one of the arrivals say in a breathless voice.

“What is it?” The third man’s voice was gruff, tinged with irritation and anxiety.

“There are trespassers on the island.”

“Who are they?” demanded the gruff-voiced man, who seemed to be the leader

“We don’t know.”

The leader said, “How do you know they’re here?”

“They killed one of our men. And we found a raft hidden in the forest near the shore.”

Hirata learned that life could go from bad to worse in a mere instant. The kidnappers not only knew that he and Marume and Fukida were here; they’d discovered his means of conveying the women to safety. His hope of trying another rescue attempt later died within him.

“I’ve got two men hiding near the raft, in case the trespassers go back to it,” said the man who’d brought the news.

“Round up all the others,” the leader said, his manner curt and authoritative. “I want everyone out searching.”

Furthermore, Hirata didn’t recognize the leader’s voice. This fact confirmed that someone other than Lord Niu had organized the kidnapping. Lord Niu might have hired a mercenary army to help, but he was smart enough not to delegate command of such a risky operation to somebody other than one of his longtime trusted vassals. Hirata knew all those, and the man in the castle wasn’t one. Now Hirata absorbed the full, horrific truth about his predicament.

The kidnapping wasn’t just a scheme by his father-in-law. It was part of something he couldn’t begin to understand. He and Marume and Fukida were trapped on the island by a stranger with unknown motives even more evil than Lord Niu’s.

“Capture the trespassers and bring them to me,” said the leader.

The men hastened from the castle. But even as the consequences of his actions appalled him, Hirata postponed his self-recriminations. There was no use wishing he’d done what he should have. There seemed but one remedy.

“We’ll have to kill off the kidnappers,” Hirata said, “until there’s few enough of them left that we can sneak inside the palace, get the women, and escape.”

“Or until the kidnappers catch us,” Marume and Fukida said in unison.