Black Lotus

28

The next morning, before Reiko could to go to the palace women’s quarters to look for Midori, she passed Sano’s office and heard Hirata’s voice say, “There’s news from Edo Jail. Haru was attacked last night.”

Alarm halted Reiko. She quickly backtracked and entered the office. Inside, Sano was seated at his desk, and Hirata kneeling opposite him. The pair saw her, and their faces took on uneasy expressions.

“Please excuse us. We’re discussing business,” Sano said.

He and Reiko had spent another night in separate rooms, and Reiko guessed from his drawn features that he hadn’t slept any better than she. His tone clearly said that he didn’t want her there, but she ignored the hint.

“What’s happened to Haru?” she said.

“Haru isn’t your concern anymore,” Sano said with controlled patience. “Please go.”

Reiko didn’t budge. After a tense moment, Sano reluctantly nodded to Hirata.

“The prison guards found Haru screaming in her cell,” Hirata said. “She’d been beaten.”

“Who did it?” Reiko said, horrified.

“There was no sign of her attacker,” Hirata said, “and Haru seems unable to speak.”

Sano rose. “We’d better look into this.”

“I’m going with you,” Reiko said. She would talk to Midori later. Right now she had to offer Haru whatever help she could.

“A wife can’t tag along on official business,” Sano said, visibly irritated. “And Edo Jail is no place for you.”

“No harm will come to me as long as you’re there to protect me,” Reiko pointed out. “It sounds as though Haru is in the same condition she was in after the fire. If she won’t talk to the jailers, she probably won’t talk to you, either. She needs someone who will at least listen to her side of the story.”

Sano hesitated, and Reiko saw him weighing his desire to keep her apart from Haru against his need for facts. At last he nodded in resignation. “All right.”

An hour later, they arrived at Edo Jail. Sano, Hirata, and three detectives rode their horses across the rickety wooden bridge that spanned the canal fronting the prison. Guards followed on foot, escorting Reiko’s palanquin. Outside the iron-banded gate, the riders dismounted, and Sano went to the guardhouse to speak to the sentries. Reiko stepped out of the palanquin, looking curiously up at cracked, mossy stone walls and dilapidated roof gables that rose above the slums of Kodemmacho district. This notorious place of death and defilement didn’t look as bad as she’d imagined.

The sentries opened the gate. Sano and his men walked into the compound. Following with her guards, Reiko entered a courtyard. There loitered rough-looking prison guards, armed with daggers and clubs. They bowed to Sano and stared rudely at Reiko. Wishing she weren’t so conspicuous, she stuck close behind her husband until he and Hirata entered a dingy wooden building. As Reiko waited, she heard lewd mutters from the prison guards. She became aware that the place stank of sewage. Piteous cries drifted from the tiny barred windows of a huge fortress with dingy plaster walls. Reiko shuddered. At last Sano and Hirata returned, accompanied by an older samurai, presumably the warden. He frowned at Reiko in surprise.

“My wife has come to administer charity to the prisoner,” Sano explained curtly.

The warden’s face assumed a blank expression that hid whatever he thought about the unconventional behavior of the shogun’s sōsakan-sama. He said, “Please come with me.”

As the whole party moved toward the fortress, Reiko listened to the conversation between Sano and the warden, who walked with Hirata several paces ahead of her.

“Have you found out who hurt Haru, or why?” Sano said.

“Not yet,” the warden said.

“What is Haru’s condition?”

“She’s very shaken and still won’t talk.”

They reached the prison fortress, and sentries opened the heavy door. A cacophony of screams and moans burst upon Reiko. As she followed Sano and the other men down a labyrinthine corridor, the stink of feces, urine, vomit, and rotting garbage engulfed her; flies swarmed. She held her sleeve over her nose. In the meager sunlight that shone through high windows, she saw dirty water leaking from under the closed doors of the cells that lined the corridor. Within these Reiko heard women muttering, pacing, thumping the walls. She lifted the hem of her kimono out of the filth and trudged on.

The warden opened the door of a cell, then stood aside to let Sano and Hirata enter. Reiko slipped in after them. She saw Haru lying on a pile of straw on the floor, facing away from the door. There were raw welts on her bare legs and bloodstains on her gray robe. Her body shook in continuous tremors. Appalled, Reiko forgot her own discomfort.

“Haru-san!” she exclaimed, moved by pity.

The girl turned her head. Reddish-purple bruises ringed both eyes. Her nose and lips were swollen and caked with blood. At the sight of Sano and Hirata, she recoiled in terror. Then she saw Reiko. A weak, plaintive cry issued from her. Heedless of the dirty floor, Reiko knelt and gathered Haru in her arms. Haru sobbed and clung to her, while Reiko angrily eyed the warden, who’d let this happen.

“I want a basin of hot water and cloths so I can clean her,” Reiko said to him.

The warden looked surprised that she’d spoken, then affronted. He turned to Sano.

“You found her like this?” Sano asked him.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve not treated her injuries?” Disapproval cooled Sano’s voice.

“It’s not our practice to pamper criminals,” the warden said defensively.

“Get the bath supplies,” Sano ordered, “and fetch Dr. Ito.”

The warden left to obey. Reiko’s anger extended to Sano. He didn’t really care about Haru; he just wanted to keep her alive for her trial. Having arrested her, he was partly responsible for her suffering. Reiko averted her eyes from him and soothed Haru until the girl quieted.

“What happened, Haru-san?” Reiko said gently.

Haru pressed her damp, feverish face against Reiko’s shoulder. She mumbled, “There were three men. They hurt me.”

She began weeping again. Reiko patted her back. “It’s all right, you’re safe now.” She would have liked to give Haru more time to tell the story at her own pace, but Sano and Hirata were waiting for information, and Reiko feared they would intercede if she delayed too long. “Who were the men?”

“I don’t know. They wore masks.” Huge sobs convulsed Haru. “I tried to fight back, but they-they-”

Her hand moved down over her pubis. Now Reiko noticed how much blood there was on the lower portion of Haru’s robe, and understood what else the gang had done. She whispered, “Oh, no.” Glancing up, she saw her own comprehension and pity reflected on Sano’s face, but his reaction didn’t ease her ire toward him.

“We need to question all the jail personnel,” Sano said to Hirata. “Assemble them outside.”

Hirata departed. Two prison guards brought in clean rags and a basin of steaming water. An elderly man with a stern face and white hair accompanied them. He wore the dark blue coat of a physician and carried a wooden chest.

“Good morning, Sano-san,” he said.

“Thank you for coming, Ito-san,” said Sano. “Please allow me to introduce my wife.”

Reiko and Dr. Ito exchanged bows, regarding each other with mutual interest. “It’s an honor to meet you,” Reiko said.

“The honor is mine,” Ito replied sincerely. He saw Haru, and concern deepened the creases in his forehead. “This is my patient? Perhaps you would be kind enough to assist while I treat her?”

Haru shrank away from him, whimpered, and clung to Reiko.

“Don’t be afraid,” Reiko said. “We’re going to make you feel better.”

She leveled a cool gaze at Sano, hinting that Haru needed privacy and he should remove himself. He gave her a warning look, bade farewell to Dr. Ito, then left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

In the prison’s main courtyard, Sano found Hirata with the hundred men who staffed Edo Jail. The few samurai officials stood together. Forty guards had lined up in rows nearby. These were petty criminals-thieves, gangsters, brawlers, confidence men-sentenced to work in the jail. They sported cropped haircuts, cotton kimonos and leggings, and various clubs, daggers, and spears. Apart from the rest knelt the eta. Everyone bowed to Sano.

“Who was on duty in the women’s wing last night?” Sano asked them.

Three men stepped forward from the ranks of the guards.

“You found Haru after she was attacked?” Sano said.

“Yes, master,” chorused the guards.

“Do you know who attacked her?”

They shook their heads, but Sano saw their feet shift uneasily. He didn’t think they had beaten Haru, but he guessed whom they would want to protect. He walked along the rows of guards, scrutinizing them, until one caught his attention. This guard was in his twenties, with slitty eyes under a low brow. While the other men wore old, faded, patched kimonos, the indigo fabric of his garment was dark and new.

“Where were you last night?” Sano asked him.

“Asleep in the barracks.” The guard stood with his hands clasped behind him.

Sano grabbed the guard’s hands, yanked them around, and inspected them. Raw, red scratches marked the wrists. “How did you get these?”

“I was playing with a cat,” the guard muttered, pulling out of Sano’s grasp.

“A cat named Haru?”

On a hunch, Sano lifted the guard’s kimono. He saw a dingy loincloth covered with brownish bloodstains: The man had changed his outer clothes after assaulting Haru, but not his underwear. Disgust filled Sano. His belief that Haru was a killer limited his sympathy for her, but he abhorred people who preyed on the helpless.

“Who were your accomplices?” he demanded.

Down the row, another guard started running toward the gate. Hirata and two other detectives chased and caught him. They forced him to the ground. Sano walked over to the captive; who lay facedown while the detectives held him.

“He’s one of the attackers,” Hirata said, pointing to the scratches on the guard’s arms.

The warden joined them. “These two men are known for sporting with female prisoners,” he said.

Then the attack on Haru was an ordinary incident of violence at Edo Jail and unrelated to the murder case, Sano thought. Still, he needed to be certain. He addressed the guard: “Why did you torture Haru?”

“We just wanted a little fun,” the man whined.

“Who was the third accomplice?”

“We didn’t do anything that doesn’t happen here all the time,” the man said.

“Never mind the excuses,” Sano said. “Answer me.”

“There wasn’t anyone else. Just the two of us.”

While her guards stood watch outside the cell, Reiko had helped Dr. Ito undress Haru and bathe her. Dr. Ito had applied healing salve to her wounds, bandaged them, and fed her a potion containing herbs to strengthen her system and opium to relieve pain. He’d promised to check on Haru later, then left. Now Haru lay on fresh straw, wearing a clean robe, covered by a blanket. Reiko sat beside her.

“Have you any idea why those men attacked you?” Reiko asked.

Haru’s bruised face relaxed as the sedative began to take effect. She said in a soft, drowsy voice, “He wanted me to confess to killing those people and setting the fire. He said that if I didn’t, he would hurt me even worse, then kill me.”

An ominous chill passed through Reiko. Apparently, Haru was talking about the gang’s leader, who’d had a purpose more sinister than blood sport. “Why did he want you to confess?”

“I don’t know.” Haru yawned. “He didn’t say.”

“Who was he?”

“… I don’t know.”

However, Reiko could think of a good explanation. The Black Lotus must have decided that forcing Haru to confess would stop the investigation into the sect. The thugs must be followers of High Priest Anraku, sent by him to threaten Haru. This scenario strengthened Reiko’s belief that Haru knew too much about the sect’s clandestine business, and Anraku wanted her to take her secrets to the grave. Reiko became determined to remove Haru from Edo Jail. Therefore, she must convince Sano that Haru needed special protection and had knowledge that would further his investigation.

“Haru-san, you must tell me what you saw and heard while you were living at the Black Lotus Temple,” Reiko said.

The girl stirred. She murmured, “What kinds of things?”

“Secret underground rooms and tunnels,” Reiko said. “Novices being starved, imprisoned, tortured, or killed.”

Haru tossed her head from side to side. Sleepy anxiety puckered her face.

Reiko thought she knew the reason for the girl’s agitation. “High Priest Anraku took you in and you feel indebted to him, but if you want to save yourself, you must tell the truth.”

“Anraku…” Haru’s voice trailed off on a sad, lonely note. “Why has he forsaken me?”

“What is the sect planning?” Reiko asked urgently. “Did Anraku order the attacks in Shinagawa? Is he going to do something worse?”

“No,” Haru protested weakly. “He’s good. He’s wonderful. I love him. I thought he loved me.”

She closed her eyes as if the conversation had exhausted her, and Reiko saw the veil of sleep descending upon her. Reiko believed that Haru knew more than a misguided sense of loyalty allowed her to tell. Might Anraku have enchanted Haru as he had other followers? Could Haru have been involved in his schemes? The cold touch of suspicion disturbed Reiko, yet as she looked down at Haru’s small, battered figure, her instincts insisted that Haru could still be basically good, despite the mistakes she’d made. Besides, it seemed improbable that the sect would have entrusted important facts to her. Still, Reiko wondered how strong was Anraku’s hold on Haru, and what Haru might have done for the high priest.

“Haru-san,” she said, “if you tell me what the Black Lotus is up to, I may be able to get you out of jail.”

The girl lay asleep, her breathing slow and even. Her eyelids fluttered, and a moan issued from her parted lips. She said, “I didn’t know he was there.”

“Who?” Reiko said, startled.

“Radiant Spirit,” Haru murmured. Her eyes remained closed; she was apparently talking in her sleep. “Chie’s little boy.”

“Chie had a child named Radiant Spirit?” Reiko wondered if this was fact, or a fabrication of Haru’s dreams.

Under the blanket, Haru twitched. “I didn’t want to him to get hurt,” she cried. “He wasn’t supposed to be there. It was an accident!”

“Where?” Premonition solidified into a cold, sinking weight inside Reiko.

“In the cottage,” Haru said.

Then she sighed, and her restless movements ceased. She slept peacefully while Reiko beheld her in horror. It sounded as though Haru meant she’d set the cottage on fire and accidentally burned the child because she hadn’t known he was inside. Had she started the fire to destroy the bodies of Commander Oyama and Chie-the people she really had intended to hurt, and had indeed killed?

The terrible possibility held Reiko in a stunned thrall. Over the pounding of her heart, she heard women shouting down the corridor, and a guard ordering them to be quiet. All her doubts about Haru rose up in her. The lies, the fire that had killed her husband, her repeated attempts to incriminate other people, her bond with High Priest Anraku-these all validated Reiko’s sudden notion that Haru had admitted while asleep a guilt her conscious mind refused to recall.

But Reiko didn’t want to believe that she’d mistakenly interfered with Sano’s attempts to serve justice. Perhaps she’d misinterpreted what Haru had said. The blows Haru had received to her head and the medicine Dr. Ito had given her might have confused her. One thing was certain. Much as Reiko hated to breach the code of honesty in her marriage with Sano, she couldn’t tell him about Haru’s unconscious ramblings, for that would escalate his campaign against Haru, and the Black Lotus would never be exposed.