A mutiny would explain the commotion, Reiko thought. It would also explain why the Dragon King hadn’t summoned her since yesterday, when he’d revealed the reason for his crimes and she’d failed to convince him to leave the island. Defending himself against traitors would keep him too busy. But another possibility gave her hope.

“Maybe someone has come to rescue us,” Keisho-in said, voicing Reiko’s thought.

“Oh, I hope it’s Hirata-san and Sano-san!” Eagerness shone on Midori’s face. “Maybe they’ll get us out of here soon.”

Reiko also hoped their husbands had come to their rescue. But if so, what was taking them so long? And she couldn’t feel Sano’s presence, as she always did when he was near.

Lady Yanagisawa joined Reiko near the window. “Might the noise signify a battle between the rescuers and the Dragon King?” Lady Yanagisawa whispered.

“I’m afraid that may be the case,” Reiko whispered back. “Almost a day has passed since the noise began, and we’re still captive. That could mean the Dragon King is successfully defending his stronghold.”

Distress etched Lady Yanagisawa’s face. “If his men kill the rescuers, salvation will never come.”

Reiko nodded unhappily as another unwelcome thought occurred to her. “No matter whether someone’s trying to save us or there’s a mutiny-either one means trouble for us. An attack by the bakufu could panic the Dragon King into carrying out his threat to kill us. But we could also be killed in a war between him and his own men.”

What she’d decided yesterday still seemed to hold true: “Unless I can get to the Dragon King, kill him, and free us, we’ll die.” Even though Reiko prayed that he would send for her again, she longed for rescue to come and spare her the need to do what she planned.

Crouched behind a moss-covered boulder in the gardens within the castle, Hirata, Marume, and Fukida spied two peasant hoodlums striding in their direction through the tall grass. Both carried iron clubs and wore the watchful air of hunters. Hirata was glad the island afforded many hiding places, and the sunless day helped him and his comrades blend into the landscape. But he wasn’t so glad that the kidnappers had begun stalking them in teams. They’d lost the advantage they’d had against lone pursuers. Every time they got close to the part of the castle where Midori was, the kidnappers chased them away. A night, morning, and afternoon of covert warfare had diminished their stamina. Exhaustion, hunger, and strain plagued Hirata, as did his cold. How much longer could they continue their deadly game?

The hoodlums passed them. Marume sprang from behind the boulder. Grabbing the nearest hoodlum, he flung his strong arm across the man’s throat. One brutal squeeze, one strangled cry, and the hoodlum dropped dead. His partner turned, saw Marume, and raised his club. Hirata lunged and swung his sword, gashing the hoodlum’s belly. As the bleeding, groaning man crumpled, Hirata saw two samurai sneaking up behind Fukida, who squatted near the boulder.

“Look out!” Hirata called.

Fukida whirled, sword in hand. He parried strikes from the samurai, then struck one down with a deep, slanting cut to the torso. Hirata and Marume felled the other in a frenzy of clashing swords. Weary and panting, bloodstained from minor injuries, Hirata and the detectives beheld the corpses.

“That’s eighteen so far,” Marume said. “I wonder how many more kidnappers are left.”

“Too many,” Hirata said.

That they’d eliminated some of the enemy seemed to have hardly diminished its numbers. Hirata felt no remorse at slaying men who’d stolen his wife and murdered a hundred people, but the ceaseless round of killing had eroded his spirit. He only hoped he could endure long enough to save Midori.

Suddenly he heard movement behind a wrecked cottage nearby. He saw the cylindrical barrel of a gun poking around the corner. Panic lurched his heart. “Run!” he said.

He and Fukida and Marume launched themselves across the gardens. The shot boomed; the bullet pinged off the boulder. More gunfire roared; running footsteps followed them. They sprinted, crouching low to the ground, through trees that screened the castle from the lake, which rippled like gray lava. Halted at the shoreline, they looked desperately around for somewhere to hide. At the water’s edge, tall reeds waved in the breeze. Low, sooty clouds scudded over the woods and hills on the mainland. Hirata, Marume, and Fukida plowed through the reeds, into water up to their thighs. They crouched in the cover of the reeds.

Two samurai burst from the forest. Each carried an arquebus; containers for gunpowder and bullets dangled at their waists. They paused to survey the area. Their gazes bypassed the spot where Hirata and the detectives waited in motionless suspense. Then they retreated into the forest. Hirata and his comrades exchanged a look that expressed more apprehension than relief.

“That they’re using guns now means they’ve given up trying to capture us,” Hirata said. “They’re shooting to kill.”

“Our close calls are getting closer every time,” Fukida said.

“We can’t keep this up forever,” Marume said. “Eventually they’ll get us.”

Hirata couldn’t deny that likelihood. But he said bravely, “We don’t have to keep this up forever. Just long enough to reduce the castle’s defense and smuggle out the women.”

30

Time on the island crept at an agonizing, relentless pace, through a cold night, a bleak dawn, and a day of intermittent storms. Now another night descended. Gunshots blared closer to the palace with each passing hour. Inside the women’s room, the baby wailed in Midori’s arms.

“The shooting frightens her,” Midori said. “I wish it would stop.”

Keisho-in and Lady Yanagisawa, bundled in quilts against the night chill, looked up at the window. Their anxious faces shone white in the moonlight. Reiko stirred in her own quilt. She understood how samurai women must have felt during wartime, anxiously waiting while men fought. What she wished for was one chance to slay the Dragon King. But two days had passed since she’d seen him. What effect would the attack have on his demented mind? Instead of summoning her for another erotic tryst, would he order his men to kill her and her friends?

More gunfire resounded. As Midori and Keisho-in cried out and the baby shrieked, the door opened. Ota stood at the threshold. His hostile eyes flashed at Reiko.

“My master wants to see you,” he said.

Anticipation and dread melded inside Reiko. As she rose and walked toward Ota, she felt herself embarking on a course that would decide her destiny, tonight.

Ota pointed at the other women. “Behave yourselves while I’m gone.”

He cut an ominous glance at the baby, then positioned Reiko against the wall of the corridor outside the room. He held the blade of his sword to her throat while he closed the door and rammed the metal beam through the latches. Evidently, he intended to leave her friends alone; he didn’t call other men to guard them. Reiko wondered why the sudden lapse in security. But whatever the reason, she was glad, because if she managed to kill the Dragon King, she could liberate the other women.

Ota walked her along the roofed, open passageway that connected the castle buildings and traversed a garden. Reiko looked for the men who usually loitered around the castle, which seemed eerily deserted. Through a screen of tall, tangled shrubs on her left she spied two guards hurrying past. Between them they carried a long, limp bundle. Reiko’s eyes widened: The bundle appeared to be a dead body. She deduced why the guards were absent.

Someone was killing them off.

Ota propelled her through a door to the palace. As they climbed the stairs, she heard the Dragon King say, “Haven’t you caught the intruders yet?”