Death of a Doll Maker (23 page)

This time he knew the voice: Hiroshi!

A hand seized Tora’s topknot and jerked his head up. He moaned and opened his eyes. He saw a fuzzy scene of a lit lantern and two shadowy figures.

“You’ll be sorry for this, Hiroshi,” he gasped.

A moment’s silence, and then a vicious slap that rattled Tora’s teeth and made his mouth bleed.

Hiroshi’s face sneered down at him. “It’s you is going to be sorry, dog official. You thought you were so smart. Had it all figured out. Coming to my house and telling the wife I’d killed Yoko.”

“You didn’t?” It hurt to speak.

Hiroshi laughs. “Of course I killed her. That bitch asked for it.”

“How?” mumbled Tora.

“She was coming back from the market and saw me outside the house. She wanted to know what I’d been doing there the night my father’s whore died. I went after her, pretending I was after sex.”

“You also killed your mother?”

Hiroshi spat. “That Chinese bitch wasn’t my mother. She deserved to die. She’d stolen my father’s gold. I’d have overlooked it, but the greedy cunt wouldn’t share.”

“You’re a killer, Hiroshi. You’re going away for a long time.”

Hiroshi burst out laughing. “
You’re
going away forever, bastard.” He made a fist and struck Tora’s temple, and all went dark again.

*

When he woke next, he was alone and all was silent. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the pain was still with him, sharp and fresh. He lay very still and breathed slowly. He found he could open his eyes, but they saw only darkness, so he closed them again. Under his cheek was mud. The mud smelled of blood. His blood. It was so still he could hear his own breathing. Was he still bleeding? What had Hiroshi and the other one done to him? Had they left him to die?

If he did not move, the pain was bearable. He drifted off to sleep.

When he jerked awake again, the broken rib reminded him this was no dream. They had attacked him from behind, knocked him out, probably beaten him bloody, and tied him up. Later one of them had kicked him and broken a rib, and later again, Hiroshi had knocked him out with a fist to the temple.

He wanted him unconscious.

Correction: he wanted him dead, but first he wanted him unconscious.

But why?

And who was the other man?

Since he could do nothing else, he thought back. The watcher in the harbor office. He had followed the man, and then he had been ambushed.

The watcher was a stranger. Had he followed them a long time? Their visit to Fragrant Orchid’s house had attracted a lot of attention.

Tora tried to remember the crowd, but he could not come up with an answer. His mind had been on the courtesan’s death and later on the disappearance of the governor. It was not until the harbor office, that his master had noticed the watcher. And there, he had been pretty obvious, leaning beside the door and staring at them.

He had wanted to be seen.

It was a trick worth remembering. The colorful cloth tied around his head had been part of it, and so had his slow lumbering walk. Of course he had been easy to follow. He had made sure he was.

And like a fool Tora had fallen in the trap.

Self-reproach did not help.

He thought of the other voice again. Yes, it had sounded familiar. In an unpleasant way.

Tora concentrated, trying to play back the words in his mind.

He’ll never interfere with me again!

He had it! It had been that bastard Okata. He had taken this revenge because Tora’s reports had cost him his position. And Hiroshi had been eager to help. A pretty stupid thing to do. It would just make things worse for Okata. He had attacked an officer of the tribunal. It would not help Hiroshi either.

But dimly other words came back to Tora.

What’s next?
That had been Hiroshi.

And Okata’s answer.

The convict ship.

Either way he’s a dead man.

It was not good, but Tora did not immediately understand.

Either way he’s a dead man.

Then the memory of Sado Island surfaced. His master had pretended to be a convict there and had almost died in the gold mine on that island.

But here?

And then it came to him: Tsushima. Another island with a mine. A silver mine. And yes, they their sent convicts there. Old Mitsui had hanged himself in his jail cell rather than face such a sentence.

Tora shuddered and bit his lip when pain stabbed at him again.

It had been easy for Okata. He had known all about convict ships, had connections who owed him favors, had made sure Tora would disappear without a trace.

He had no idea what time it was, but that did not matter. They would not miss him. Not today, if it was still that, or tonight, or the next day. He was on his own.

And there was nothing he could do. But he tried anyway. He twisted his wrists, gasping with the pain in his side. The effort did nothing but confirm that his ankles were also tied and somehow attached to the bonds around his wrists. Once, a long time ago, when he was younger and tougher and in better shape, he had been bound like this. He had managed to get to his knees and shuffle forward until he could break a jar and saw the rope apart against its sharp edge.

But such things do not repeat themselves. Besides, there was his broken rib. He could not move.

In the end, he rested from his efforts to loosen the rope and dozed off.

*

He came awake next when he heard the door slam.

It was still dark, but perhaps the darkness was not quite so dense as before, because he could see a darker shape bending over him.

“Help,” he croaked and heard someone cursing.

A whispered exchange followed, then a pause.

He hoped against hope.

Next he was turned over roughly and shouted with pain. The light of a lantern blinded him, but he opened his mouth to plead again when a hand shoved some rough fibers into it and then tightened a stinking cloth over his nose and mouth. He could not breathe, jerked violently, and then passed out again.

*

Night and nightmares. Monsters and ghosts and devils with knives, slashing his body. Hell. He had died and gone to hell.

The constant darkness suggested being underground. Buried. Buried alive? Yes, he felt pain, so he must be alive.

So, not hell. If not, then where?

The floor beneath him smelled of tar and wood and the stench of human bodies and excrement. And it moved, sideways and up and down.

He was lying down, his cheek against wooden boards. His arms and legs were still tied, but more loosely. He could move them a little.

But he also heard something, the sound of water sloshing against the wood underneath him and all around.

And he knew.

He was on a boat, or more likely, a ship. And, as he knew well enough from his last involuntary sea voyage, there was no getting away now, even if he had not been in agonizing pain.

He was on his way to the silver mines of Tsushima.

22

THE HIDDEN BUNDLE

A
fter returning well past the middle of the night, Saburo slept late. The sun was high already and slanted into their room in the garrison of the tribunal. Saburo stretched and blinked at the lines of sun and shadow which revealed his surroundings.

He shared this large room with Tora, and while it lacked the comforts of home, it was more spacious than Saburo’s corner of the Sugawara stables. All this place contained was their bedding, rolled up during the day and placed in a corner, where he saw Tora’s now. Not surprisingly, his roommate was already up, though he did not hear the familiar sounds of his men being exercised outside.

He frowned and sat up. Their clothes hung from various hooks, as did two sets of armor. Saburo detested his and wore it only on parade occasions, but Tora was very fond of martial attire and had had his own armor adjusted by an armorer in Hakata. He frequently polished it after polishing his sword.

Saburo was no soldier, nor ever would be. He got up, yawned, and rolled up his bedding, placing it beside Tora’s. Then he dressed in his ordinary blue robe and pants, tying the black sash around his waist, and turning his attention to his topknot. The beard he had removed the night before. It itched too much to let him sleep comfortably.

One of the servants had left a bucket of water outside the door. Saburo brought it in. Dipping a cup into it, he rinsed out his mouth, than spat the water out into the yard. Closing the door again, he washed and, peering in a small mirror, he reapplied Lady Sugawara’s makeup to his scars. He hoped he could soon grow a beard and mustache. But not yet. Not while they were in the midst of an investigation into the disappearance of the last governor and none too certain that danger did not lie in wait for the present administration of the province.

Satisfied with his appearance, he tossed the dirty water outside and left the empty bucket for the servant. Then he made his way to his master’s office to report on his night’s adventures.

Lord Sugawara was already at work in the tribunal office, but when he saw Saburo, he said, “Come, I have some work for you in my study,” and got up.

On the way there, he asked, “Have you seen Tora?”

This surprised Saburo. “No, sir. He was already up when I woke.” He paused. “Though I didn’t hear him exercising the troops. Is it possible he spent the night elsewhere?”

His lordship sighed. “It’s possible, though I’d hoped …” He broke off. In his study, he gestured to a cushion. “Some tea?”

“Yes, thank you. Allow me, sir.” Saburo stirred the coals in the brazier and placed the small water pot over them. Then he filled two cups with some ground tea leaves. “I had an exciting night, sir. Wait till you hear.”

His lordship took his seat behind his desk. “I’m anxious to hear about it. Useful information has been singularly lacking in this case. Do your activities throw some light on Governor Tachibana’s whereabouts?”

“Sorry, no.” Saburo poured boiling water on the tea leaves and stirred each cup carefully, then joined his master at the desk. “But it suggests that the merchant Feng has his fingers in some unsavory business.” He presented the tea to his master and sat down with his own.

They both sipped. His master said, “Please proceed. I’m all ears.”

Saburo began with his visit to the Dragon’s Lair. “Aptly named, I think,” he observed. “It’s where I saw Fingers, the Feng servant with the missing fingers, last time. This time, the sales clerk was there. He met with a young thug, gave him what looked like money, and left. I followed the young thug.”

“Excellent,” said his master with a smile. “I hope he didn’t recognize you?”

“No. Last time I was wearing these clothes. On this occasion, I dressed like the local crowd. Anyway, it turned out the man was a carter, because he took up his cart outside and headed off toward an area of derelict houses and wilderness. There, he took a bundle from his cart and entered an abandoned courtyard. I couldn’t follow him in, but when he came back, he was without the bundle. He next went home, and as it turns out, he lives next door to Mrs. Kimura, who took in the children.”

His lordship frowned. “Then I think he must be the son of that doll maker who was just found guilty of killing his wife. Very odd. What about the bundle?”

“I went back to the courtyard. It was too dark to see much, but it looks as though he dropped it into an abandoned well there.

Lord Sugawara sat up and stared at him. “Where is Tora? He must hear this. Why is he absent today of all days?”

“No idea, sir. I haven’t seen him. He was with you yesterday.”

“Yes, and I sent him off to follow a suspicious character. I got the feeling we were being watched. Something must have happened to him.”

Seeing his master’s worried face, Saburo offered, “Tora knows how to handle himself, sir. He probably discovered a clue he wanted to investigate further.”

“Maybe, but I have a bad feeling about this. Nothing has been as it should be here. And now the disappearance of a ranking official! But go on with your report.”

Saburo preened a little. “This is the best part, sir. I decided to have a look at Feng’s store. As it turned out he was there, meeting with his clerk and Fingers. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they must have reported their activities to him. The clerk wanted money for what he’d done, and Feng slapped him before leaving.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting. I think Feng is playing some sort of illegal game and using those two in it. We need to find Tora right away. Go back into Hakata in your ordinary clothes. You’re acting for me. Contact Lieutenant Maeda and tell him about Tora. And you might as well get his assistance checking out that well. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that Maeda knows about it.”

Saburo thought this last somewhat farfetched, but his lordship’s concern for Tora was infectious. He said no more and left.

*

Lieutenant Maeda was astonished to see Saburo.

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a smile, “but I expected that rascal Tora. What is he up to? Chasing more women?”

Saburo winced. “Umm. Has he been chasing anyone?”

“Not really. He did have an eye for one of our victims, though. What brings you?”

“Tora seems to have disappeared. His Excellency is concerned and asks that you and your men have a look around for him. He hasn’t been seen since he followed a suspicious character from the harbor office late yesterday.”

“What?” Maeda shook his head. “Surely the governor’s concern is premature. It’s not even been a whole day. Maybe he got lost and decided to spend the night. It’s a long way back to the tribunal. He’ll probably turn up shortly.”

“Perhaps, but I think it wouldn’t hurt if some of your constables asked some questions in the harbor area. I’ll start tracing him myself later, but there’s another matter I want to check out. The governor suggests you might give me a hand.”

Maeda hesitated. Then he said, “Of course. His Excellency has only to ask.”

Saburo thought privately that Maeda sounded reluctant. Perhaps acting independently from the tribunal was ingrained in the Hakata police. But he put a good face on it and said, “Last night I followed a carter who hid a bundle on a deserted property. It turns out that this man is the son of the murderer who hanged himself. He lives next door to Mrs. Kimura.”