Assassin's Touch (9 page)

“You would do well to remember how you got where you are,” Kato said. Sano had been appointed chamberlain because his independent spirit had made him the one man that Lord Matsudaira and the remnants of Yanagisawa’s faction could agree upon. Kato was telling Sano that they’d helped put him in power and they could cut him down if he caused trouble for them.

Yoritomo emerged from the doorway. Ihara said to him, “Are you coming with us?”

“No. I’ll see you later.” Yoritomo halted beside Sano.

Disapproval colored the elders’ faces. “Don’t forget who your real friends are,” Ihara said.

The elders departed in a huff. Sano and Yoritomo walked down the corridor together. Hirata and the detectives trailed them. Sano said, “I must thank you for putting in a word for me with the shogun.”

Yoritomo blushed with pleasure at Sano’s gratitude. “After all you’ve done for me, it was the least I could do,” he said.

He looked so happy, so eager for approval, that Sano hated to say what he must. “But you shouldn’t have interfered. You can’t afford to upset Kato or Ihara for my sake. That was foolish. Never do it again.”

“Please forgive me. I guess I wasn’t thinking.” Yoritomo hung his head, mortified by Sano’s criticism. “I only wanted to help you.”

“Helping me is not your duty,” Sano said gently but firmly. That the father had once done everything possible to ruin him, and the son risked his own safety to protect him! “And you should stay out of politics. They can be deadly.”

“Yes ... I understand what you mean.”

Yoritomo’s chastened tone said he’d caught Sano’s allusion to his banished father. Sano knew that although Yoritomo adored and missed his father, he hadn’t been blind to Yanagisawa’s faults. As they stopped at the door that led out of the palace, Yoritomo gazed earnestly at Sano.

“But if you ever need me to do anything for you ...” Yoritomo’s eyes shone with the love and hero-worship that he’d transferred from his absent father to Sano. “Just ask me.”

His devotion made Sano uncomfortable even as it moved him. All he’d done to win it was spend a little time chatting with the boy over a drink or on a walk through the castle now and then. But this was more kindness than anyone else had paid him without expecting anything in return. “Well, let’s hope that won’t be necessary.”

Yoritomo went back to the shogun’s party. Sano and his retinue headed through the dark, winding passages of Edo Castle toward his compound. He looked forward to telling Reiko about his new case, and he felt a sharp nostalgia for the days when they’d investigated crimes together. This wouldn’t be just like old times. Everything had changed.

8

Watch, Mama, watch!”

Masahiro pranced along the corridor in the private quarters of the chamberlain’s compound. The floor emitted loud squeaks where his little feet trod. Reiko strolled after him, wincing at the noise. One of her son’s favorite pastimes was playing with the nightingale floor, designed to give warning that an intruder was in the house. When Sano and Reiko had moved into Yanagisawa’s former residence, they’d discovered that it was riddled with nightingale floors. And soon Masahiro had memorized all the places they squeaked.

“Look, Mama!” he cried. As he backtracked down the passage, the floor made not a sound.

“Very good.” Reiko smiled, proud that he’d also memorized the places where one could tread silently. She thought him very clever for a boy not quite three years old. “Now it’s time to get ready for bed.”

After they’d bathed together, while she was tucking him in bed, Sano came and joined them. “You’re home early,” she said. “I’m glad to see you.”

Sano looked tired yet alert. “I’m glad to see you, too.”

Masahiro jumped into Sano’s arms. Sano tossed him into the air. They laughed and played tag around the room.

“Please don’t excite him,” Reiko said. “He’ll never go to sleep.”

“But I hardly ever see him,” Sano said regretfully, as he held their son on his lap and Masahiro chattered happily. “I want to be a good father, but every day just slips by without a chance. I want to teach Masahiro about life, martial arts, and the Way of the Warrior, like my father did me.” Sano’s father had operated a martial arts school in which Sano had spent most of his childhood. “But time is going to be even tighter than usual.”

After much fuss, Reiko and Sano finally settled Masahiro in his bed. They went to their chamber, where Reiko poured sake for them.

“The chief of the
metsuke
has been murdered,” Sano said. “Lord Matsudaira has ordered me to investigate.”

As he explained the particulars of the crime, and the dangers involved, and the consequences of not solving it, Reiko felt as much excitement as alarm. Sano said, “This murder case has the potential to fan the flames of political conflict into another war. Lord Matsudaira is vulnerable because his officials are under attack. I’m once again caught between the two factions.”

He had farther to fall nowadays, but Reiko knew he’d never failed to solve a case in the past, and a murder investigation was something they could share, unlike the administrative work that usually occupied him. “It sounds like a most fascinating case,” she said. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Working on his case as well as her own would keep her very busy, but having too much to do was far better than not enough.

“Maybe later.” Sano drank his sake, then said, “What did you do today?”

Reiko noted how quickly he’d changed the subject; she felt the distance that had grown between them. Why didn’t he want to discuss the case any further? He sounded almost as if he didn’t want her involved. But they’d been partners in detection during nearly four years of marriage. Reiko decided to take Sano’s words at face value and assume that he would let her help if she could.

“I have a new case of my own,” she said.

As she told him about Yugao, the trial, and her father’s request, Sano looked as much troubled as interested. “This woman Yugao is a
hinin
?”

“Yes. That’s why the police didn’t really investigate the murder of her family and she didn’t get a fair trial.”

“And you’re going to look for evidence that may prove she’s innocent despite the fact that she confessed?”

Reiko was puzzled by the note of disapproval she heard in Sano’s voice. “Yes.”

Chin in hand, Sano said, “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Reiko asked in surprise. She’d thought Sano would be glad she had something as worthwhile to do as defending a downtrodden member of society.

He spoke with reluctance. “Our situation has changed since I was
sōsakan-sama.
I’m much more closely watched than I was then. So is my family. We’re all held to a higher standard of behavior nowadays. Things we used to do won’t go unnoticed anymore. The consequences of associating with the wrong people are the same, but the risk is far greater.”

“Are you saying that I shouldn’t associate with Yugao because she’s an outcast and it will reflect badly on you?” Reiko could hardly believe what she was hearing.

“For you to befriend and assist her goes against the taboo that bans contact between
hinin
and ordinary citizens,” Sano said. “And for my wife to defy the ban will give the impression that I don’t respect the customs that govern society. But that’s only part of the problem.”

Reiko stared at him in open-mouthed amazement. Was this her husband talking? Sano had never used to care so much about public opinion. He certainly wouldn’t have put it ahead of justice. She began to understand why he didn’t want her involved in his investigation.

“The main problem is that your father has asked you to interfere with the justice system,” Sano went on. “I have much respect for him, but he’s pushing the limits of his authority by ignoring the evidence against Yugao—as well as her confession—and asking his daughter to investigate the murders.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it in that light.” Reiko had been focused on helping her father, preventing a possible miscarriage of justice, and her own desire for detective work. Although Sano had a good point, she protested: “But the murders should be investigated. There’s no one else to do it, and I have experience with matters of this sort.”

“I know you do.” Sano’s tone was placating, reasonable. “But you have no official standing. And in spite of that fact, the magistrate clearly intends for the results of your investigation to override those of the police.” He shook his head. “This is bending the law. I can’t condone it. I can’t afford to look as if I favor outcasts and let off self-admitted criminals.”

“Are you telling me I should drop my investigation?” Reiko was aghast, but not just because she realized that his position was insecure enough that his wife’s behavior could be used against him.

“I’m hoping you’ll understand why you should drop it voluntarily,” Sano said.

Reiko sat silent until she marshaled her thoughts. “I understand that your enemies are looking for any weapon to destroy you. I understand that it could be me.”

In the combat zone of politics, even such a minor fault as a wife who flouted tradition was a serious liability for an official. She didn’t want to jeopardize Sano’s position and risk bringing disgrace on him and their family, but neither did she want to give up her investigation. Moreover, she was disturbed by the change in Sano, who once might have eagerly taken up Yugao’s cause himself.

“But a woman’s life is at stake, and there are enough unanswered questions to raise doubts about her guilt. Don’t you think it’s important to find out what really happened the night her family was murdered?” Reiko hated to think Sano had altered so much that he didn’t. “Do you not care anymore about making sure that the real culprit is punished?”

“Of course I do,” Sano said, annoyed and impatient. Pursuing the truth and serving justice were cornerstones of his honor, as critical in his mind to Bushido as courage, duty to his master, and skill in the martial arts. Certainly he was observing his principles in his current case. But Reiko’s words gave him pause. Had six months as chamberlain made him care more for politics and position than for honor? Did he follow his path through the Way of the Warrior only when orders from above gave him permission? The idea dismayed Sano.

“Then do you think that Yugao should die for a crime that she might not have committed because she’s a
hinin
and therefore doesn’t deserve fair treatment?” Reiko said.

“Her social status has nothing to do with my doubts about the wisdom of your investigation. As far as I’m concerned, she’s as entitled to justice as any other citizen.” Yet Sano heard his tone grow defensive; he wondered if this personal belief he claimed still held true. Had his higher rank made the people far below him seem not worth any inconvenience to himself? “But I don’t have as much room to operate outside the law as I used to.”

“You have much more power than you did before,” Reiko reminded him. “Shouldn’t you use it to do good?”

“Of course.” Sano hadn’t forgotten that was his goal as chamberlain. “But it’s debatable whether giving Yugao a second chance qualifies as doing good. She sounds guilty to me, and if she is, an investigation would only delay justice. And the trouble with power is that it can corrupt those who believe they’re doing what’s right as well as those who try to do evil.”

The specter of Yanagisawa haunted the mansion in which he’d once lived and Sano and Reiko now sat. Now Sano had Yanagisawa’s same position of influence and faced the same temptations.

“Power makes men think they’re above the law, free to act as they please,” Sano said. “Things I do might seem good at the time—but they may have bad consequences I never expected. In the end, I may have done more harm than good. I’ll have abused my power and disgraced my honor.”

And I’ll become Yanagisawa, who schemed, embezzled, slandered, and killed to advance his own interests. Then one day I’ll be shipped off to the same island of exile.

Appalled enlightenment dawned on Reiko’s face as she read his thoughts. “But you would never be as bad as that. And the case of Yugao is just one small though important matter. It could hardly ruin your political career—or your honor. I think you’re blowing it out of proportion.”

She might be right, but Sano didn’t like to be wrong; nor did he want to back down. He felt vexed at Reiko for challenging him and raising issues about himself that were uncomfortable to face. He followed the impulse to take the offensive.

“Now that we’ve discussed my reasons for not wanting you involved with Yugao, I’d like to know why you’re so eager to take on this investigation,” he said. “Has your sympathy for her prejudiced you in her favor? If so, this won’t be the first time that’s happened.”

Reiko’s eyes widened. He was alluding to the Black Lotus Temple case, when she’d tried to help another young woman accused of murder. They seldom discussed it because it had almost ruined their marriage, and was still a sensitive issue. “I have no particular sympathy for Yugao. If you had seen how hostile she was to me, you would know that I have every reason to want to prove she’s guilty.”

Sano nodded, although unconvinced. “But I must ask you to reconsider taking on this new case.”

Reiko was silent, her expression conflicted. Sano sensed how much she wanted to conduct this investigation; he saw her trying not to be angry at him. At last she said, “If you forbid me, I will honor your wishes.”

Now Sano had a dilemma. If he gave in because he loved Reiko, wanted her to be happy, and stood by his principles, he would jeopardize his position, and woe betide them should something go wrong. The threat of death had constantly haunted Sano since he’d joined the
bakufu
, but now he had even worse to fear. He looked toward the room where Masahiro lay asleep. As his son grew, Sano became more aware of his role as a father and how much his son’s fate depended on him. The son of a disgraced official would face a bleak future.

Yet if he forbade Reiko, he would be turning his back on honor and proving himself a coward. Caught between fire and plague, he erred on the side of honor, as he always had.