Read The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery Online
Authors: Laura Joh Rowland
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The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery (34 page)
BOOK: The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery
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oI'll ask you again, Sano said. oWhere were you the night Spaen disappeared?
Dr. Huygens took a step backward, but his eyes met Sano's bravely. oIn my room; sleep. I no kill Spaen.
oDid you smuggle goods from the Deshima warehouse to a cove in the harbor?
oI no smuggle. I no kill!
oDid you plant the bullet in Spaen's body?
oNo! No! Clumsily Huygens dropped to his knees before Sano, hands clasped in entreaty. oFriend, he said, weeping. oI sorry I no tell you Spaen hurt me. But I no kill. I know nothing of smuggling. Please, trust. Forgive.
Sano puffed out his breath in angry frustration. There was no physical evidence tying Huygens to Spaen's murder or the smuggling, yet Sano was now convinced of the doctor's guilt. Huygens had once killed a fellow student in a fit of drunken temper. If he hadn't really reformed, he could have done the same to Jan Spaen. His betrayal of Sano's trust finalized the case against him. Sano should never have trusted a barbarian; their worlds were too far apart, their values too different. The whole investigation was compromised, the evidence tainted. And unless Sano's next actions yielded good results, he would lose his life and honor.
oI have to go, he said.
He stripped off the unconscious guard's helmet, long sword, armor tunic, robe, and leg guards. He removed his own outer clothes and donned the stolen uniform, keeping his short sword. The guard was bigger than he, and the armor fit too loosely, but he needed the disguise. He crammed the inert body into an empty cupboard, threw his rope and hook in, and shut the door.
oIf anyone comes, tell them the guard went outside, Sano told Dr. Huygens, who nodded as if eager to please. Then he slipped out the back door.
Chapter 30
HIS FACE partially hidden by the visor and side flaps of his stolen helmet, Sano crossed the yard. His heart tripped when the three guards outside the barbarians' house looked up at him. He nodded as he passed. They nodded in reply, then returned to their card game. Sano released his breath: the first obstacle cleared. Reaching the fence, he opened the gate and stepped into the perimeter passage, nerves taut.
Here lay the peril of a face-to-face confrontation with someone who could identify him as an imposter, while he was trapped between the fences. Would that he could subdue any passing patrol guards he met without adding murder to his list of crimes!
Sano hurried along the fan curve of the island. Now he heard brisk footsteps coming from behind. A blare of panic echoed in his head, and he quickened his steps. On his left appeared the gate he sought. Sano slipped through it and into the garden of the office compound. This was deserted; with the barbarians imprisoned indoors and all approaches to Deshima covered, the staff had relaxed security here. Beyond an ornamental pond and more trees, the chief's long, two-story house, with the thatched roof, large entry porch, and latticed balcony Sano remembered from his first visit, stood against the south wall. Along the west wall were the deputies' and interpreters' office cottages, the building where the Dutch sold their goods, the fireproof storehouses, and the stables. Sano detected no activity. When he noticed the barred windows of Ohira's house, his hopes dwindled, yet he saw an advantage to the situation. He might have trouble getting inside the house without being seen, but the presence of Ohira's staff might prove a boon rather than an obstacle.
Sano walked boldly up to the door, as would a guard on official business. He passed through the entry porch and into a dim, empty corridor with low ceiling, bare plank floor, and mullioned paper walls. From the first room to his right came the rustle of paper. Sano froze outside the door and listened.
The ceiling creaked above him: someone upstairs. But the first floor seemed vacant, except for this room. A furtive glance inside revealed a spacious office with a study niche on a raised platform at one end, furnished with a large desk and built-in shelves, iron chests, wooden cabinets and screens, and a row of smaller desks beside the windows. At one of these knelt a young samurai. His profile to Sano, he wrote on a scroll, frowning in concentration.
Remembering his past career as a clerk and scholar, Sano experienced a sharp pang of nostalgia. He steeled his heart against the youth who evoked those peaceful, bygone days. Drawing his short sword, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. The clerk looked up. A cry of surprise died on his lips as Sano grabbed his collar and put the sword to his throat.
oDon't scream, or I'll kill you, Sano said in the clerks ear.
Held immobile against Sano, the youth whimpered, oYes, master. His upturned face was white; his eyes rolled. Sano could feel the thin body trembling. His own heart was racing. Please let me not kill this innocent man!
oThe records of the goods brought to Japan by Director Spaen, Sano said, keeping his voice low, calm, and authoritative. As commanding officer of Deshima, Chief Ohira had the responsibility for keeping an inventory of Dutch imports. oWhere are they?
The clerk gulped. His rapid, panicky breaths sounded as loud as screams. Sano glanced toward the door, afraid the other staff members might hear. oBe quiet, and I won't hurt you. He pulled the blade back so it no longer touched the man's throat. oShow me the records, and I'll let you go.
oThere. Over there... The clerk's shaking hand pointed to the study niche, where a long scroll, covered with inked characters, lay open on Chief Ohira's desk.
oIs that all of them?
oYes. Yes!
Still gripping the clerk tight, Sano sheathed his sword. Then he untied the clerk's sash, bound his ankles with one end, wrists with the other.
oNo, moaned the clerk. oPlease...
Sano wadded a sheet of paper and stuffed it into the clerks mouth, muffling his voice. He hurried over to Chief Ohira's desk and examined the scroll, which was dated two years ago. Chinese silk, British wool, and Indian cotton, he read; Cambodian deer hides; nutmeg from the Spice Islands; Dutch spyglasses... Each item was described in detail. But Sano was more interested in what was missing from the list. As he'd hoped, he found no mention of the firearms or clocks found in the smugglers' cave. And the scroll bore Chief Ohira's round, red personal seal "proof that he'd falsified the warehouse inventory, leaving out goods he knew would be sold illegally and thus never reported to Edo.
Elation surged in Sano as he rolled the scroll and tucked it under his loose-fitting armor tunic. This was the evidence he needed to convince the tribunal of his innocence; evidence that proved the smuggling had preceded his arrival in Nagasaki, and incriminated one of the chief witnesses against him.
Then, before he turned to leave, he saw on the desk a sheet of paper partially filled with characters: an unfinished copy of the inventory. From between entries Sano had already read, descriptions of the smugglers' loot leapt out at him. The paper was clean, white, and crisp; the calligraphy Ohira's. The chief, anticipating an audit of his records, had been preparing a new inventory that accounted for items missing from the original.
The placement of both lists, side by side and out in the open, intrigued Sano. Of course, with the whole Deshima staff in on the conspiracy, Ohira had no reason to hide compromising documents. But Sano glimpsed a deeper motive for Ohira's action "one he could exploit. He folded the page, tucked it inside his armor, and started to leave the room. The sound of the front door opening stopped him. Hurrying footsteps pounded the corridor. Sano whirled and ran for the window.
oThere's a trespasser on the island! shouted a familiar voice. oEverybody get out and search for him. Now!
More footsteps; excited voices. oHe knocked out the man who was guarding the barbarian doctor, Sano heard Nirin explain to someone. Desperately he rattled the window bars, which held firm. The office door flew open. Sano turned as Nirin burst into the room.
oKenji, go to the mainland and fetch Chief Ohira immediately, the commander ordered. oTell him " His startled gaze took in the clerk, bound and gagged, and Sano at the window. Fury suffused his face. oYou. He spoke on a disgusted laugh. oI might have known.
In a motion so fast that his image blurred, Nirin whipped his sword from its scabbard and lunged. The blade whistled through the air, straight toward Sano's neck. Sano had his stolen long sword ready, but its unfamiliar weight and grip disconcerted him. He almost failed to parry Nirin's stroke. Their blades met in a jarring clash of steel. Swinging his sword free, Sano tried a cross-body cut.
His blade glanced harmlessly off the commander's armor tunic. Nirin laughed and launched another assault. Sano, unaccustomed to fighting in armor, found himself at a serious disadvantage. He saw that Nirin was no better a swordsman than himself; his own helmet, tunic, and leg and arm guards shielded him. But this style of combat demanded a different strategy. All strikes must target an unprotected area of his opponent's body: face, neck, thighs, or upper arms. As Sano thrust and parried and circled, his wounded shoulder grew sore. The tunic chafed against the bandage. And he could tell that Nirin knew about his handicap.
The commander centered his attack on Sano's upper body, forcing him to fight with his sword raised, which strained the injury even more. Sano managed few counterstrokes while Nirin chased him around the room. He leapt backward over desks, bumped cabinets and screens. He heard shouts from the doorway. Clerks and guards burst into the room.
oStand back, Nirin told them, slashing at Sano. oHe's all mine.
Sano was gasping in pain, sweaty and panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled down his chest. Nirin, not even winded, closed in on him. Completely on the defensive now, Sano dodged and parried. His shoulder weakened. Nirin aimed a cut at Sano's neck. Their blades crossed, locking Sano's arm in a high, awkward twist. Pain shot from his shoulder to his hand. He let go the sword, and the spectators cheered. Nirin raised his weapon in both hands. Sano leapt backward just in time to avoid the slice. He drew his short sword, but with his reach reduced, he couldn't get close enough to Nirin to score a cut. The commanders longer, heavier sword battered his. If this continued, the fight was lost.
Ducking a swipe aimed to sever his head, Sano kicked a screen into Nirin's path. The commander stumbled, throwing out his arms to regain his balance. Sano didn't use the chance to slay his opponent: He needed Nirin alive. Darting behind the commander, Sano grabbed the back collar of Nirin's armor tunic and jerked him upright. He jammed his sword under the commander's right arm, with the tip of the blade touching the unprotected armpit.
oDrop your weapon! he ordered.
Nirin went rigid. Slowly he turned to Sano, eyes sharp with terror and hatred. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Cries of dismay issued from the men at the door. When Sano repeated the order, Nirin dropped his blade.
oNow unsheathe the other one, and throw it over there, Sano said. oGood. Now fold your arms.
Nirin did, and his wide sleeve fell, hiding Sano's sword.
oLet him go, blurted a guard.
Ragged breaths tore Sano's chest as his body fought to restore its depleted energy. oWe're going to walk off the island together, he said to Nirin. Holding the commander by the armor, Sano marched him toward the door. oOut of the way, Sano told the guards and clerks, oor he dies.
Mouths agape in shock, the men didn't budge. Sano thrust the blade upward, felt it bite flesh. Nirin flinched, croaking, oDo as he says.
The men sprang away from the door. Sano propelled Nirin down the corridor and out of the house. oDon't follow, or I'll kill him, Sano called over his shoulder, halting the guards' rush across the garden after them.
oIf you think you can get away with this, you're crazy. Outrage and fear mingled in Nirin's voice. oThere are troops all over the island. You'll never get past them.
Sano fought his own doubt. oYes, I will, because you're going to help me. He kicked open the gate and shoved Nirin through. oNot one word, unless I tell you to speak. His heart seized when he saw guards swarming the street, hunting the trespasser.
oOver here! Nirin called. oHe's got me.
All heads turned toward them; all sound and motion stopped. Then came the outcry. Guards surrounded Sano and Nirin, swords drawn. Sano remembered a hostage incident he'd once resolved. Now he was the villain. A nightmarish sense of unreality fell over him.
oLet us through, or I'll kill him, he shouted.
He jerked his sword forward, exposing the hilt. The crowd quieted, looking to their leader for orders. Nirin sucked in his breath as the blade poked his armpit, then forced a laugh. oYou can't kill me. You need me to escape. Don't listen to him. He's bluffing.
The crowd stirred, but Sano felt Nirin's uncertainty, and saw it on the other men's faces. He knew what they were thinking: Anyone mad enough to break into Deshima was mad enough to murder his hostage. Finally the crowd parted. Sano and Nirin proceeded, step by step, down the endless street.
oWhere is Chief Ohira? Sano asked Nirin.
The commander shot a venomous glance at Sano. oMy superior's whereabouts are none of your business, he said as they neared the main gate. oI will tell you nothing. And you have to keep me alive to get past the bridge guards.
oWhere is Ohira? Sano jabbed Nirin again, provoking a stifled groan. After the bridge, he must pass the main guardhouse, the heavily occupied promenade, and the troops in town, but he would handle one thing at a time. oI'll hurt you if I must.
They reached the gate. oOpen it! Sano ordered the sentry. oAnd make sure no one follows us.
Nirin stiffened; sweat ran down his face. It was clear that he feared maiming more than death. He spoke through clenched teeth. oDo as he says.
Dr. Huygens took a step backward, but his eyes met Sano's bravely. oIn my room; sleep. I no kill Spaen.
oDid you smuggle goods from the Deshima warehouse to a cove in the harbor?
oI no smuggle. I no kill!
oDid you plant the bullet in Spaen's body?
oNo! No! Clumsily Huygens dropped to his knees before Sano, hands clasped in entreaty. oFriend, he said, weeping. oI sorry I no tell you Spaen hurt me. But I no kill. I know nothing of smuggling. Please, trust. Forgive.
Sano puffed out his breath in angry frustration. There was no physical evidence tying Huygens to Spaen's murder or the smuggling, yet Sano was now convinced of the doctor's guilt. Huygens had once killed a fellow student in a fit of drunken temper. If he hadn't really reformed, he could have done the same to Jan Spaen. His betrayal of Sano's trust finalized the case against him. Sano should never have trusted a barbarian; their worlds were too far apart, their values too different. The whole investigation was compromised, the evidence tainted. And unless Sano's next actions yielded good results, he would lose his life and honor.
oI have to go, he said.
He stripped off the unconscious guard's helmet, long sword, armor tunic, robe, and leg guards. He removed his own outer clothes and donned the stolen uniform, keeping his short sword. The guard was bigger than he, and the armor fit too loosely, but he needed the disguise. He crammed the inert body into an empty cupboard, threw his rope and hook in, and shut the door.
oIf anyone comes, tell them the guard went outside, Sano told Dr. Huygens, who nodded as if eager to please. Then he slipped out the back door.
Chapter 30
HIS FACE partially hidden by the visor and side flaps of his stolen helmet, Sano crossed the yard. His heart tripped when the three guards outside the barbarians' house looked up at him. He nodded as he passed. They nodded in reply, then returned to their card game. Sano released his breath: the first obstacle cleared. Reaching the fence, he opened the gate and stepped into the perimeter passage, nerves taut.
Here lay the peril of a face-to-face confrontation with someone who could identify him as an imposter, while he was trapped between the fences. Would that he could subdue any passing patrol guards he met without adding murder to his list of crimes!
Sano hurried along the fan curve of the island. Now he heard brisk footsteps coming from behind. A blare of panic echoed in his head, and he quickened his steps. On his left appeared the gate he sought. Sano slipped through it and into the garden of the office compound. This was deserted; with the barbarians imprisoned indoors and all approaches to Deshima covered, the staff had relaxed security here. Beyond an ornamental pond and more trees, the chief's long, two-story house, with the thatched roof, large entry porch, and latticed balcony Sano remembered from his first visit, stood against the south wall. Along the west wall were the deputies' and interpreters' office cottages, the building where the Dutch sold their goods, the fireproof storehouses, and the stables. Sano detected no activity. When he noticed the barred windows of Ohira's house, his hopes dwindled, yet he saw an advantage to the situation. He might have trouble getting inside the house without being seen, but the presence of Ohira's staff might prove a boon rather than an obstacle.
Sano walked boldly up to the door, as would a guard on official business. He passed through the entry porch and into a dim, empty corridor with low ceiling, bare plank floor, and mullioned paper walls. From the first room to his right came the rustle of paper. Sano froze outside the door and listened.
The ceiling creaked above him: someone upstairs. But the first floor seemed vacant, except for this room. A furtive glance inside revealed a spacious office with a study niche on a raised platform at one end, furnished with a large desk and built-in shelves, iron chests, wooden cabinets and screens, and a row of smaller desks beside the windows. At one of these knelt a young samurai. His profile to Sano, he wrote on a scroll, frowning in concentration.
Remembering his past career as a clerk and scholar, Sano experienced a sharp pang of nostalgia. He steeled his heart against the youth who evoked those peaceful, bygone days. Drawing his short sword, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. The clerk looked up. A cry of surprise died on his lips as Sano grabbed his collar and put the sword to his throat.
oDon't scream, or I'll kill you, Sano said in the clerks ear.
Held immobile against Sano, the youth whimpered, oYes, master. His upturned face was white; his eyes rolled. Sano could feel the thin body trembling. His own heart was racing. Please let me not kill this innocent man!
oThe records of the goods brought to Japan by Director Spaen, Sano said, keeping his voice low, calm, and authoritative. As commanding officer of Deshima, Chief Ohira had the responsibility for keeping an inventory of Dutch imports. oWhere are they?
The clerk gulped. His rapid, panicky breaths sounded as loud as screams. Sano glanced toward the door, afraid the other staff members might hear. oBe quiet, and I won't hurt you. He pulled the blade back so it no longer touched the man's throat. oShow me the records, and I'll let you go.
oThere. Over there... The clerk's shaking hand pointed to the study niche, where a long scroll, covered with inked characters, lay open on Chief Ohira's desk.
oIs that all of them?
oYes. Yes!
Still gripping the clerk tight, Sano sheathed his sword. Then he untied the clerk's sash, bound his ankles with one end, wrists with the other.
oNo, moaned the clerk. oPlease...
Sano wadded a sheet of paper and stuffed it into the clerks mouth, muffling his voice. He hurried over to Chief Ohira's desk and examined the scroll, which was dated two years ago. Chinese silk, British wool, and Indian cotton, he read; Cambodian deer hides; nutmeg from the Spice Islands; Dutch spyglasses... Each item was described in detail. But Sano was more interested in what was missing from the list. As he'd hoped, he found no mention of the firearms or clocks found in the smugglers' cave. And the scroll bore Chief Ohira's round, red personal seal "proof that he'd falsified the warehouse inventory, leaving out goods he knew would be sold illegally and thus never reported to Edo.
Elation surged in Sano as he rolled the scroll and tucked it under his loose-fitting armor tunic. This was the evidence he needed to convince the tribunal of his innocence; evidence that proved the smuggling had preceded his arrival in Nagasaki, and incriminated one of the chief witnesses against him.
Then, before he turned to leave, he saw on the desk a sheet of paper partially filled with characters: an unfinished copy of the inventory. From between entries Sano had already read, descriptions of the smugglers' loot leapt out at him. The paper was clean, white, and crisp; the calligraphy Ohira's. The chief, anticipating an audit of his records, had been preparing a new inventory that accounted for items missing from the original.
The placement of both lists, side by side and out in the open, intrigued Sano. Of course, with the whole Deshima staff in on the conspiracy, Ohira had no reason to hide compromising documents. But Sano glimpsed a deeper motive for Ohira's action "one he could exploit. He folded the page, tucked it inside his armor, and started to leave the room. The sound of the front door opening stopped him. Hurrying footsteps pounded the corridor. Sano whirled and ran for the window.
oThere's a trespasser on the island! shouted a familiar voice. oEverybody get out and search for him. Now!
More footsteps; excited voices. oHe knocked out the man who was guarding the barbarian doctor, Sano heard Nirin explain to someone. Desperately he rattled the window bars, which held firm. The office door flew open. Sano turned as Nirin burst into the room.
oKenji, go to the mainland and fetch Chief Ohira immediately, the commander ordered. oTell him " His startled gaze took in the clerk, bound and gagged, and Sano at the window. Fury suffused his face. oYou. He spoke on a disgusted laugh. oI might have known.
In a motion so fast that his image blurred, Nirin whipped his sword from its scabbard and lunged. The blade whistled through the air, straight toward Sano's neck. Sano had his stolen long sword ready, but its unfamiliar weight and grip disconcerted him. He almost failed to parry Nirin's stroke. Their blades met in a jarring clash of steel. Swinging his sword free, Sano tried a cross-body cut.
His blade glanced harmlessly off the commander's armor tunic. Nirin laughed and launched another assault. Sano, unaccustomed to fighting in armor, found himself at a serious disadvantage. He saw that Nirin was no better a swordsman than himself; his own helmet, tunic, and leg and arm guards shielded him. But this style of combat demanded a different strategy. All strikes must target an unprotected area of his opponent's body: face, neck, thighs, or upper arms. As Sano thrust and parried and circled, his wounded shoulder grew sore. The tunic chafed against the bandage. And he could tell that Nirin knew about his handicap.
The commander centered his attack on Sano's upper body, forcing him to fight with his sword raised, which strained the injury even more. Sano managed few counterstrokes while Nirin chased him around the room. He leapt backward over desks, bumped cabinets and screens. He heard shouts from the doorway. Clerks and guards burst into the room.
oStand back, Nirin told them, slashing at Sano. oHe's all mine.
Sano was gasping in pain, sweaty and panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled down his chest. Nirin, not even winded, closed in on him. Completely on the defensive now, Sano dodged and parried. His shoulder weakened. Nirin aimed a cut at Sano's neck. Their blades crossed, locking Sano's arm in a high, awkward twist. Pain shot from his shoulder to his hand. He let go the sword, and the spectators cheered. Nirin raised his weapon in both hands. Sano leapt backward just in time to avoid the slice. He drew his short sword, but with his reach reduced, he couldn't get close enough to Nirin to score a cut. The commanders longer, heavier sword battered his. If this continued, the fight was lost.
Ducking a swipe aimed to sever his head, Sano kicked a screen into Nirin's path. The commander stumbled, throwing out his arms to regain his balance. Sano didn't use the chance to slay his opponent: He needed Nirin alive. Darting behind the commander, Sano grabbed the back collar of Nirin's armor tunic and jerked him upright. He jammed his sword under the commander's right arm, with the tip of the blade touching the unprotected armpit.
oDrop your weapon! he ordered.
Nirin went rigid. Slowly he turned to Sano, eyes sharp with terror and hatred. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Cries of dismay issued from the men at the door. When Sano repeated the order, Nirin dropped his blade.
oNow unsheathe the other one, and throw it over there, Sano said. oGood. Now fold your arms.
Nirin did, and his wide sleeve fell, hiding Sano's sword.
oLet him go, blurted a guard.
Ragged breaths tore Sano's chest as his body fought to restore its depleted energy. oWe're going to walk off the island together, he said to Nirin. Holding the commander by the armor, Sano marched him toward the door. oOut of the way, Sano told the guards and clerks, oor he dies.
Mouths agape in shock, the men didn't budge. Sano thrust the blade upward, felt it bite flesh. Nirin flinched, croaking, oDo as he says.
The men sprang away from the door. Sano propelled Nirin down the corridor and out of the house. oDon't follow, or I'll kill him, Sano called over his shoulder, halting the guards' rush across the garden after them.
oIf you think you can get away with this, you're crazy. Outrage and fear mingled in Nirin's voice. oThere are troops all over the island. You'll never get past them.
Sano fought his own doubt. oYes, I will, because you're going to help me. He kicked open the gate and shoved Nirin through. oNot one word, unless I tell you to speak. His heart seized when he saw guards swarming the street, hunting the trespasser.
oOver here! Nirin called. oHe's got me.
All heads turned toward them; all sound and motion stopped. Then came the outcry. Guards surrounded Sano and Nirin, swords drawn. Sano remembered a hostage incident he'd once resolved. Now he was the villain. A nightmarish sense of unreality fell over him.
oLet us through, or I'll kill him, he shouted.
He jerked his sword forward, exposing the hilt. The crowd quieted, looking to their leader for orders. Nirin sucked in his breath as the blade poked his armpit, then forced a laugh. oYou can't kill me. You need me to escape. Don't listen to him. He's bluffing.
The crowd stirred, but Sano felt Nirin's uncertainty, and saw it on the other men's faces. He knew what they were thinking: Anyone mad enough to break into Deshima was mad enough to murder his hostage. Finally the crowd parted. Sano and Nirin proceeded, step by step, down the endless street.
oWhere is Chief Ohira? Sano asked Nirin.
The commander shot a venomous glance at Sano. oMy superior's whereabouts are none of your business, he said as they neared the main gate. oI will tell you nothing. And you have to keep me alive to get past the bridge guards.
oWhere is Ohira? Sano jabbed Nirin again, provoking a stifled groan. After the bridge, he must pass the main guardhouse, the heavily occupied promenade, and the troops in town, but he would handle one thing at a time. oI'll hurt you if I must.
They reached the gate. oOpen it! Sano ordered the sentry. oAnd make sure no one follows us.
Nirin stiffened; sweat ran down his face. It was clear that he feared maiming more than death. He spoke through clenched teeth. oDo as he says.
BOOK: The Way of the Traitor: A Samurai Mystery
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