The Assassin's Touch

22

A dense morning mist shrouded Edo, blurring the distinction between earth and sky. Invisible boats floated on the rivers and canals. The voices of people crossing the bridges were links in chains of sound that spanned the water.

In the slum that bordered Edo Jail, four square blocks lay in ruins. Wisps of smoke still rose from the burned timbers, blackened and fallen roof tiles, and ash heaps where once many houses had stood. Desolate residents picked through the debris, trying to salvage their possessions. But the jail loomed intact beyond the wreckage. Across the bridge and in through its gate filed the prisoners who had been released when the fire had started yesterday. They’d voluntarily returned to finish serving their sentences or awaiting their trials. Two jailers, stationed with the guards at the gate, counted heads and checked names off a list.

When the last prisoner had walked inside, one jailer said, “This is a surprise. Usually they all come back. This time we’re missing one.”

Reiko stared out the window of her palanquin as it carried her out of Edo Castle, but she barely noticed the sights or sounds. Fear that her husband would die inhabited her mind like a malignant presence, crowding out the world around her. The sob caught in her throat grew larger by the moment. The idea of losing Sano, of living without him, was beyond unbearable.

When he’d told her the terrible possibility that the assassin had given him the touch of death, Reiko had wanted to cling tight to him, to anchor him to her and to life. She’d been alarmed when he’d said he had to go out.

“Where?” she’d asked. “Why?”

“To continue my hunt for the assassin,” he’d said.

“Now?”

Calm detachment had replaced his terror. “As soon as I’ve washed, dressed, and eaten.” He headed toward the bath chamber.

“Must you?” Reiko said, hurrying after him. She didn’t want to let him out of her sight.

“I still have a job to do,” Sano said.

“But if you have only two days to live, we should spend them together,” Reiko protested.

In the bath chamber, Sano poured a bucket of water over his body and scrubbed himself. “Lord Matsudaira and the shogun wouldn’t accept that excuse. They’ve given me orders to catch the killer, and I must obey.”

Reiko experienced a sudden furious hatred for Bushido, which gave his superiors the right to treat him like a slave. Never before had the samurai code of honor seemed so cruel. “If there’s one time when you should disobey orders, this is it. Tell Lord Matsudaira and the shogun that you’ve already sacrificed your life for them, and they should go catch the killer themselves.” Beside herself with desperation, Reiko pleaded, “Stay home, with me and Masahiro.”

“I wish I could.” Sano climbed into the sunken bathtub, rinsed his body, climbed out, and dried himself on the towel Reiko handed him. “But I have more reason than before to bring the assassin to justice.” He chuckled. “Not every murder victim gets a chance to take revenge on his killer before he dies. This is a unique opportunity I have here.”

“How can you laugh at a time like this?” Reiko demanded.

“Either I laugh or I cry,” Sano said. “And remember, it’s possible that the assassin didn’t touch me. If that’s the case, we’ll both be laughing about this pretty soon. We’ll be embarrassed that we made such a fuss.”

But Reiko saw that Sano didn’t believe it; nor could she. “Please don’t go,” she said as she followed him to the bedchamber.

He threw on his clothes. “I have only a short time to catch the assassin and prevent more deaths. And I will, if it’s the last thing I do.”

Neither of them voiced the fear that it might be. Sano turned to Reiko and held her close. “Besides, if I don’t, I’ll just worry and be miserable. That’s not how you want me to spend the last two days of my life, is it?” He said gently, “I’ll come back soon. I promise.”

Reiko had let him go, because even though she was hurt that he wouldn’t stay with her, she didn’t want to deny Sano the chance to spend his precious time as he chose. She’d decided that she should go about her own business rather than fret about a fate that she was helpless to change.

Now her procession halted in the fog outside Magistrate Ueda’s estate. She stepped from her palanquin and hurried in the gate, through the courtyard, which was empty at this early hour. She entered the mansion, where she found her father seated at his desk in his office. A messenger knelt before him. Magistrate Ueda was reading a scroll that the messenger had apparently just brought. He frowned, wrote a quick note, and handed it to the messenger, who bowed and left. Magistrate Ueda looked up at Reiko.

“You’re here early, Daughter,” he said. His frown relaxed into a smile that faded as he saw Reiko’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“The assassin broke into our house last night, and he-while my husband was asleep-”

She couldn’t go on because the sob in her throat choked her. She saw comprehension and horror in Magistrate Ueda’s look. He started to rise, his arms extended as if to gather her into them. She lifted a hand to stop him, for any sympathy would be her undoing.

“We don’t know that anything happened,” she said, her voice tight with self-control. “Sano feels just fine.” Reiko forced a laugh. “We’re probably worrying for nothing.”

“I’m sure that’s the case.” Magistrate Ueda’s expression was grave despite his reassuring tone.

“But that’s not why I’m here,” Reiko said, hastily changing the subject. “I’ve come to tell you that I’m finished with my investigation.” At least Sano needn’t worry that it would cause him more trouble. “You needn’t put off Yugao’s conviction.”

Magistrate Ueda expelled his breath and shook his head. “I’m afraid I’ll have to anyway.”

“Why? What happened?”

“That messenger who was just here brought me some disturbing news. Yesterday there was a fire near Edo Jail. The prisoners were released. They all came back this morning, except for Yugao.”

Shock hit Reiko so hard that she almost forgot her problems. “Yugao is gone?”

Magistrate Ueda nodded. “She took advantage of the fire and escaped.”

Horrified, Reiko dropped to her knees. Yugao was violent and deranged, she might very well kill again. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Yugao ran away. It’s a miracle that all prisoners don’t run when they’re let out for a fire,” she said.

“Perhaps not. Most of those sentenced to death are so broken in spirit that they accept their fate meekly. And they know that if they do run, they’ll be hunted down and tortured. Besides, all the prisoners know they can’t go back to where they came from; their neighborhood officials or police informants would turn them in. The petty criminals would rather face their punishment. Life on the run is harsh. Fugitives must resort to begging or prostitution or starve to death.”

“This is my fault,” said Reiko. “If I hadn’t been so determined to know why Yugao killed her family-if I hadn’t insisted on taking the time to find out-she would have been executed before that fire.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Magistrate Ueda said. “It was my decision for you to investigate the murders, and neither of us could have foreseen the fire. In hindsight, I should have accepted Yugao’s confession and immediately sentenced her to death. The responsibility for her escape is mine.”

Guilt sickened Reiko nonetheless. “What are we going to do?”

“I’ve sent orders to the police to search for her.”

“But how can they find one person among the million in this city?” Reiko said, filled with despair. “Edo has so many places where a fugitive could hide. And the police are so busy hunting outlaw rebels, they won’t look very hard for Yugao.”

“True, but what else is to be done?”

Reiko rose. “I’m going to look for Yugao myself.”

Magistrate Ueda’s expression was sympathetic yet dubious. “It will be even harder for you than for the police. They at least have many officers, civilian assistants, and neighborhood officials they can set after Yugao, while you’re just one woman.”

“Yes,” Reiko said, “but at least I’ll be active instead of waiting for her to be found. And people who’ve seen her may be more willing to talk to me than to the police.”

“If you insist on searching, then I wish you luck,” Magistrate Ueda said. “I must admit that if you should find Yugao, you’ll be doing me a valuable service. That a murderess is on the loose because I delayed her execution is a black mark on my record. If she’s not captured, I could lose my post.”

Reiko didn’t want to hurt Sano-especially now, when his very life was threatened; nor did she want to hurt their marriage. Yet she couldn’t let her father suffer, any more than she could let a murderess go free. Her intuition told her that learning the motive behind Yugao’s crime was more important than ever. And looking for Yugao would distract her from her fear that Sano was going to die.

“I’ll find her, Father,” said Reiko. “I promise.”

Sano’s first stop was the administrative quarter of Edo Castle. He and Detectives Marume and Fukida dismounted outside Hirata’s gate, where the sentries greeted them. The mist was oppressive, the streets oddly deserted except for a few servants and patrol soldiers. As they walked through the courtyard to the mansion where he’d once lived, Sano felt a pang of nostalgia so intense that it hurt.

He remembered times when he’d come home to this place exhausted, discouraged, and in fear for his life and honor. Through them all he’d been sustained by the physical strength of his body. Even when it had been injured, he’d known he would recover. He’d taken his good health for granted and never really believed he could die, even though he’d often looked death in the face. Those times seemed idyllic in retrospect. Now mortality haunted Sano. He imagined an explosion in his head as a blood vessel ruptured, and his life extinguished like a snuffed candle flame. If indeed the assassin had touched him, all his wisdom, political power, and wealth couldn’t save him. Sano fought the urge to run as fast as he could in a vain attempt to escape the deadly force planted inside his own body. He must concentrate on catching the assassin. He must save other lives even if he was marked for death.

Hirata met him outside the mansion. Last night Sano had sent a message telling Hirata about the assassin’s attack, and Hirata looked devastated by the news. “Sano-san. I-” Emotion choked off whatever he’d meant to say. He dropped to his knees before Sano and bowed his head.

Sano was moved that Hirata could grieve for him even though he’d been the cause of Hirata’s terrible injury. He said in a falsely cheerful voice, “Get up, Hirata-san. I’m not dead yet. Save your mourning for my funeral. We have work to do.”

Hirata rose, visibly braced by Sano’s attitude. “Do you still want me to track down the priest and the water-seller and whoever might have been stalking Colonel Ibe?”

“Yes,” Sano said. “And we’ll proceed with the other plans we made yesterday.”

“Marume and I have already organized the hunt for the priest Ozuno,” said Fukida.

“I’ll do everything in my power to catch the assassin,” Hirata declared. “This is personal now.”

“If you avenge your master’s murder before he’s dead, you’ll win yourself a place in history,” Sano said.

Hirata and the detectives laughed dutifully at the joke. Sano felt the strain of keeping up their spirits as well as his own. “Let’s look on the bright side. Every misfortune brings unexpected benefits. What happened last night has provided new clues that I’m about to follow up on.”

The Tokugawa Army’s central headquarters was located within Edo Castle, in a turret that rose up from a wall high on the hill. The turret was a tall, square structure faced with white plaster. Tiled roofs protruded above each of its three stories. General Isogai, supreme commander of the military forces, had an office at the top. Sano and Detectives Marume and Fukida reached the turret via a covered corridor that ran along the wall. As they walked, they glanced through the barred windows, into the passages under them. Sano was surprised to see only the patrol guards and checkpoint sentries. The officials who usually thronged the passages were absent.

“This place is as deserted as your compound,” Marume said.

“Somehow I can’t believe Police Commissioner Hoshina is responsible for this, too,” said Fukida.

Nor could Sano, who had an uneasy feeling about it. They entered the turret and climbed the stairs, passing soldiers who bowed to them. Sano stood at the threshold of General Isogai’s office, where the general presided over a conference of army officers. Smoke from their pipes clouded the air and drifted out windows into the mist. General Isogai spied Sano, nodded in acknowledgment, and dismissed his men.

“Greetings, Honorable Chamberlain. Please come in.”

Sano told Marume and Fukida to wait outside, then joined General Isogai. Swords, spears, and guns hung mounted in racks on the walls, alongside maps of Japan that showed army garrisons.

“May I be of service to you?” General Isogai said.

“You may,” said Sano, “but first, please accept my condolences on the death of Colonel Ibe.”

The general’s jovial expression turned bleak. “Ibe was a good soldier. A good friend, too. Came up through the ranks with me. I’ll miss him.” General Isogai uttered a humorless laugh. “Remember our last meeting? We were pretty smug because we had things under control. Now one of my top men has been assassinated, and you’re on Lord Matsudaira’s bad side because you haven’t managed to catch whoever did it.”

He walked to the window. “Notice how empty the castle is?” When Sano nodded, he said, “Everyone’s heard that the assassin got to you last night. Here, in the one place we all thought was safe. People are afraid to go out. They don’t want to be next to die. They’re hiding at home, surrounded by bodyguards. Whole bakufu’s ground to a halt.”

Sano imagined communication cut off between Edo and the rest of Japan, and the Tokugawa regime losing its grip on the provinces. Anarchy would spawn rebellion. Not only would the remnants of Yanagisawa’s faction seize the chance to regain power, but the daimyo might rise up against Tokugawa rule. “This could be disastrous. Assign soldiers to escort officials on their business and protect them,” Sano said.

The general frowned, dubious. “The army’s stretched too thin already.”

“Then borrow some troops from the daimyo. Bring in more from the provinces.”

“As you wish,” General Isogai said, although still reluctant. “By the way, have you heard that the assassin has a nickname? People are calling him ‘the Ghost,’ because he stalks his victims and kills them without being seen.”

He gestured out the window. “Give me an enemy I can see, and I’ll send all my gunners, archers, and swordsmen after him. But my army can’t fight a ghost.” His cunning eyes glittered with desperation as he faced Sano. “You’re the detective. How do we find him and put him out of action?”

“By the same strategy that you would use to defeat any other enemy,” Sano said. “We analyze the information we have on him. Then we run him to ground.”

General Isogai looked skeptical. “What do we know about him except that he must be a madman?”

“His attack on me has taught me two things,” Sano said. “First, his motive is to destroy Lord Matsudaira’s regime by killing its key officials.”

“Haven’t you suspected as much since the metsuke chief died at the horse races?”

“Yes, but now it’s a certainty. I didn’t know any of the victims well; we didn’t have the same friends, associates, family ties, or personal enemies. We had nothing in common except that we were all appointed to Lord Matsudaira’s new regime.”

General Isogai nodded. “Then the assassin must be a holdout from the opposition. But you don’t think he’s in league with Senior Elders Kato and Ihara and their gang, do you?” Incredulity came over his face. “They’re big on playing politics, but I can’t believe they have the stomach for something as risky as multiple assassination.”

“Kato and Ihara aren’t in the clear yet,” Sano said, “but I have another theory, which I’ll get to in a moment. The second thing I’ve learned about the assassin is that he’s an expert not only at the mystic martial arts, but also at stealth.”

“He had to be, to sneak inside your compound and get right next to you,” General Isogai agreed.

“If he could manage that, he could get into the castle from the outside,” Sano said. “He wouldn’t need to be someone on the inside.”

General Isogai scowled, resisting the notion that the castle’s mighty defenses could be breached, but he said, “I suppose it’s possible.”

“So who is an expert at stealth and belongs to the opposition? I’m thinking in particular of Yanagisawa’s elite squadron of troops.”

Those troops had been masters of stealth and highly trained martial artists, whom Yanagisawa had employed to keep himself in power. They’d been suspected of past political assassinations of Yanagisawa’s enemies, but never caught: They covered their tracks too well.

Surprise raised General Isogai’s eyebrows. “I knew they were a dangerous breed, but I never heard that they could kill with a touch.”

“If they could, they’d have kept it secret.” A disturbing thought struck Sano. “I wonder how many deaths there have been over the years that appeared natural but were actually assassinations ordered by Yanagisawa.” But Sano couldn’t do much about that now. “The reason I came here is to ask you what happened to Yanagisawa’s elite squadron after he was deposed.”

“You’ve come to the right place.”

General Isogai walked to a chart, mounted on the wall, that displayed a list of thirty names. Eighteen had red lines drawn through them; notations were scribbled in the margins. Sano did not recognize any of the names.

“They kept a low profile,” General Isogai said. “They used aliases when they traveled around. It made their movements hard to track.” He pointed at the names crossed out in red. “These men died in the battle when we raided Yanagisawa’s house. My men killed half of them. The rest committed suicide rather than be taken prisoner. But the other twelve weren’t on the premises at the time, and they escaped. Capturing them has been a high priority because we think they’re leaders in the underground movement and responsible for attacks on the army.”

Sano was glad to have new suspects, but daunted by the thought of hunting down twelve. “Have you caught any yet?”

“These five.” General Isogai tapped the names. “We got a lucky break last winter. Nabbed one of their underlings. Tortured him until he told us where to find them. Staked out their hideaway, took them, and executed them.”

“That narrows the field,” Sano said, relieved. If he had only two days to catch the assassin before he died, he would have to work fast. “Have you had any leads on the others?”

“These last seven are the craftiest of the bunch. It’s as if they really are ghosts. We move in on them, and-” General Isogai snatched at the air, then opened his empty hands. “All we’ve had lately are a few possible sightings, by informants who aren’t too reliable.”

He opened a ledger on his desk and ran his finger down a column of characters. “They were all at teahouses around town. Some were places where Yanagisawa’s men used to drink before the war. I’ll copy out the names and locations for you, along with the names of the seven elite troops who are still fugitives.” General Isogai dipped a brush in ink and wrote on a paper, which he blotted then handed to Sano.

“Many thanks,” Sano said, hoping that he now had the assassin’s name and the key to his whereabouts.

“If the Ghost is one of Yanagisawa’s squadron, I wish you better luck catching him than we’ve had,” said the general.

They bowed, and as Sano turned to leave, General Isogai said, “By the way, should you and your men go up against those devils, be careful. During the raid on Yanagisawa’s house, the eighteen of them killed thirty-six of my soldiers before they were defeated. They’re dangerous.”

Sardonic amusement glittered in General Isogai’s eyes. “But maybe you already know that from personal experience.”