Gai-Jin (139 page)

When food was finished, the maids dismissed, Raiko poured two cups of her best brandy. “Health and money!”

“Money and health!” The quality of the liquor was better than any Meikin possessed. “Gai-jin have their good points.”

“In the world of wines and fortified spirits, yes, not in their appendages,” Raiko said sagely. “Please allow me to give you a bottle. One of my clients is Furansu.”

“Thank you. I am glad business is so good, Raiko-chan.”

“It could be better, always.”

“And Hinodeh?” Meikin asked—she owned half her contract-price. When Hinodeh first came to see her, she had placed the girl with a cousin, the mama-san of another House she owned. Later, by chance, she had heard of Raiko’s curious and highly unorthodox request for a special kind of girl. It was easy to make the arrangements—Raiko was an old friend, known over the years and trusted over the years from the times they were
maiko
, then courtesans together. “The arrangement continues to be satisfactory?”

“I have another payment for you though the man is slow.”

Meikin laughed. “I am not surprised. You are a marvelous negotiator.” She bowed her thanks.

“He promises a larger amount in a few days. Possibly more earrings.”

“Ah!” Meikin had disposed of the other set profitably. “This had been a most satisfactory business.” The client’s down payment on Hinodeh’s contract had been more than enough to carry all costs for at least a year. “How is she?”

Raiko related the first and subsequent meetings to the other woman’s breathless interest.

“She’s correct to call him the Beast,” Meikin said.

“He is not a bad man. I think this disease must send him mad from time to time. At least she knows the worst, and accepts that he is her karma.”

“May I ask, there are no—no signs yet?”

“No, nothing. But every day she makes me examine the parts she cannot see herself or with a mirror.”

“Strange, Raiko-chan.” Meikin settled a hair comb more comfortably. “When, and if, anything appears that cannot be hidden—will she seek the knife?”

Raiko shrugged. “One never knows for certain.”

“Has she told you why she accepted this karma?”

“No. Nothing. I like her and can help only a little. Yes, strange she will not tell us,
neh?”
Raiko sipped her brandy, captivated by the heat that slid inside, and the rare pleasure of entertaining her oldest and most trusted friend. They had been inseparable while
maiko
, lovers in their youth, and exchanged confidences always—safe confidences. “Tonight he visits her. If you wish you can watch them for a while.”

Meikin chuckled. “I am long past being interested or excited by the
thrashings of others, violent or passionate—even by well-endowed gai-jin.” She was too happy to be with her old friend to tell the sadness of Gekko and Shin Komoda that she had insisted on knowing before sending her here.

When Hinodeh is dead, Raiko-chan, I will tell you and we can share a tear for the sorrows we women must endure. Until then Hinodeh’s secret is safe as we agreed, the name of her son safe, and where he was sent.

A glow went through her, loving secrets and the game of life. “So Hinodeh is settled. Good. And now?”

“Now.” Raiko dropped her voice. “I might have important information about gai-jin battle plans.”

Color rushed into Meikin’s cheeks and she became as tense as the other woman had become. “Against Yedo?”

“Yes.”

“That might be valuable information but, so sorry, it would be dangerous knowledge—perilous.”

“Yes, and even more dangerous to dispose of, though highly valuable to the correct person.”

Meikin touched away a droplet of brandy that could have been perspiration. “And once such knowledge is bought, proved correct, or incorrect, heads have a habit of falling.”

“True.” Raiko understood the danger but she was more excited than she had been in years. She had never been in the mainstream of Yedo politics, but the proximity of Hiraga and learning about the shishi from him—and secrets about him and Ori from the shoya—had given her an appetite. That and her relationship with Furansu-san, through him learning about gai-jin, paradoxically the source of all her wealth at the same time the enemy of their sacred Land of the Gods. That and because of her disgust with the Bakufu and Anjo, who had murdered another old friend, Yuriko, mama-san of the Forty-seven Ronin, for harboring shishi.

She trembled at the thought of her own head adorning a spike, trembled in fear but in ecstasy. Yuriko was already immortalized in the
ukiyo-e
prints of the Floating World, her name the new favorite of geishas, and soon there would even be a Noh play with her as heroine.

“You are right,” she whispered, “but certain information might be worth the risk. And if … if I had important secret knowledge of what … of what high officials were secretly planning against the gai-jin, I might be able to place it also to our mutual advantage.” Sweat had gathered at the edge of her elaborate wig. She brushed it away with a tiny pink paper tissue. “It is hot,
neh?”

“Not so hot as the fire we might put ourselves into.”

“What would the beginning day of the attack be worth—and the gai-jin battle plan?” This morning Furansu-san had given her more than enough details to tempt even the most skeptical buyer to be lavish.

Meikin felt her heart thumping. She had hoped that Raiko’s invitation would be for something like this. Over the last two years she had nurtured and obliquely hinted at the potential, prompted by Sensei Katsumata for whom any gai-jin intelligence was of value. And also because, recently, there had been covert instructions to all Bakufu spies with promises of rich rewards to focus on Yokohama, to discover gai-jin secrets, and who was feeding the enemy forbidden information about things Japanese. That Raiko had made the first open move was crucial—in truth the only person she herself would trust in such a gangrenous game. “How soon is the attack to be?”

“Would it be possible to have some important secret for the gai-jin as part of the trade?”

Meikin sat back and thought long and hard.

Yes, Raiko was to be trusted, completely—until her life was threatened. Yes, a channel for intelligence on a continuing basis would be valuable not only in money but also to the cause—
sonno-joi—
that she supported with all her being. And yes, because it could be used to supply gai-jin with carefully conceived false information as well.

She said softly, “Raiko, old friend, I have no doubt
Tairō
Anjo, or Yoshi, would pay dearly to know those dates, amongst other details, but, ah, so sorry, how to place it in either of their hands and the money in ours without compromising either of us, that is the difficulty.”

“Brandy, Meikin-chan?” Raiko poured, weak with excitement. “If anyone could solve such a riddle it is you.”

The two women measured each other and smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Yes. And now perhaps that is enough for the moment. We can continue later, or tomorrow if it pleases you. May I plan your evening’s entertainment, unless you are tired?”

“Thank you. No, I am not tired. The ferry from Yedo was comfortable and not at all full, the sea fair and my servants made sure the captain granted my slightest wish.” Meikin had arrived at the village jetty just before nightfall. “May I ask what you suggest?”

“We have geisha, but not up to your standards. There are some youths who might prove adequate.” Raiko’s eyes crinkled with her smile, remembering the good times they had when they were young. “Or perhaps a
maiko
?”

Meikin chuckled and sipped her brandy. “That would be a pleasant diversion and would remind me of old times, Raiko-chan. She will help me think, help me see if I can provide you with what we need. Good. I agree we have had enough seriousness for now. Let us talk of olden days and how business is, and how is your son?”

“He is well, still climbing the Gyokoyama ladder.”

“May I put in a good word with them—though surely unnecessary. An
excellent bank, the best, I get the highest interest and my deposits are spread for safety—famine is coming so I have bought future rice heavily. Your son, he would be twenty-four now,
neh?”

“Twenty-six. And your daughter?”

“Thank all gods rich and poor, I successfully married her to a goshi so her children are samurai, she already has one son, but eeee, her husband is expensive!” Meikin shook her head from side to side, then laughed. “But I should not complain, I only convert the worthless dribbles of a few rich old men into a heritage we never dreamed possible.
Neh?”

The sound of footsteps mingled with their laughter. A tap on the shoji. “Mistress?”

“Yes, Tsuki-chan?”

The
maiko
slid the door aside a crack and, on her knees, peered up at them with an innocent smile. “So sorry, but Shoya Ryoshi, the village Elder, begs to see you and your guest.”

Raiko’s eyebrows arced. “My guest?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Meikin frowned. “Does he usually greet visitors?”

“Only the most important and no doubt you are most important, your presence honors us all. Certainly he would have been told of your arrival. His web of informants is far-reaching, Meikin-chan, he is absolutely to be trusted—and also head of the Gyokoyama in Yokohama. Shall we see him?”

“Yes, but only for a moment. I will pretend a headache then we can continue our chat until the evening meal.”

“Little one,” Raiko ordered, “bring the shoya here, but first tell maids to bring fresh tea and hot saké—and to take these glasses away and hide my brandy. Meikin-chan, if he knew I had such a source he would be a daily pest!”

It was quickly done and the table made clean and perfect, their breath cleansed with herbs, before he was bowed in. “Please excuse me, Ladies,” he said with untoward anxiety, kneeling and bowing and being bowed to. “Please excuse my bad manners arriving without an appointment but I wanted to bow to such an august person and welcome her to my village.”

Both were surprised that he appeared so forbidding, for this was not a serious occasion. Meikin had never met him before but her own Gyokoyama official had mentioned him and that he was a man of integrity, so her reply was as polite and enthusiastic as befitted an eminent person from the biggest city in the world, complimenting him on the state of the Yoshiwara, and the little she had seen of the village. “You are a man of great reputation, shoya.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

“Tea, or saké?” Raiko asked.

He hesitated, began to talk, stopped. The mood in the room changed.
Raiko spoke into the silence. “Please excuse me, shoya, but what is the matter?”

“So sorry …” He turned to Meikin. “So sorry, Lady, you are a most cherished client for our company. I—I …” Shakily he reached into his sleeve and handed her the little piece of paper. She squinted at it. “What is it? What does it say? I cannot read writing so small.”

“It’s a carr … carrier pigeon message.” The shoya tried to speak again, could not, numbly pointing at the paper.

Jolted, Raiko took it and moved to the light. Her eyes scanned the tiny writing. She blanched, wavered, almost fainting, and sank to her knees. “It says.
An assassination attempt on Lord Yoshi at dawn at Hamamatsu village failed. Lone shishi assassin slain by him. Lady Koiko also dead in skirmish. Inform House of Wisteria our great sadness. More information soon as possible
. Namu Amida Butsu …”

Meikin had gone sallow. She mouthed, Koiko dead?

“It must be a mistake,” Raiko cried out in anguish. “Must be! Koiko dead? When did it happen? There’s no date! Shoya, how did you … It must be lies, must be lies …”

“So sorry, the date is in code at the top,” he mumbled. “This happened yesterday, near dawn. The Tokaidō way station, Hamamatsu. No mistake, Lady, oh no, so sorry.”

“Namu Amida Butsu!
Koiko? Koiko’s dead?”

Meikin looked at her blankly, tears pouring down her cheeks, and fainted.

“Maids!”

They came running and brought smelling salts and cold towels and ministered to her and to Raiko as she tried to collect herself, groping to discover how this would affect her. For the first time she was uncertain if Meikin was now to be trusted or had become a hazard to be avoided.

The shoya knelt motionlessly. It had been necessary, and was still necessary for him to pretend to be frightened and aghast to be the bringer of bad tidings, but he was glad to be alive to witness these amazing happenings.

He had not given them the second slip of paper. It was private to him and in code and read:
Assassin was Sumomo. Koiko believed to be implicated in plot, wounded with shuriken, then beheaded by Yoshi. Prepare to close Meikin accounts. Avoid mentioning Sumomo. Guard Hiraga as a national treasure, his information is invaluable. Press him for more, his family is being refinanced as agreed. We urgently require gai-jin war plans at whatever cost
.

The moment he had received the message he had checked his books for Meikin’s accounts that his branch owed her, even though he knew the amount to the hundredth part of a bronze coin. No need to worry. When she was moved onwards by Lord Yoshi, or if she wriggled out of the trap, either
way the bank would profit. If she failed, another mama-san would take her place—they would use her residual wealth to sponsor the replacement. The Gyokoyama monopolized all Yoshiwara banking—an immense and permanent source of revenue.

How ironic life is, he thought, wondering what these two would think if they knew the reason for Gyokoyama’s unbreakable hold. One of the most inner secrets of their
zaibatsu
was that their founder was not only a mama-san, but a woman of genius.

In the early 1600s, with the enthusiastic approval of Shōgun Toranaga, she designed a walled district where, in future, all of Yedo’s Pleasure Houses, high and low, had to conduct their business exclusively—at that time brothels were spread all over the city—calling it the Yoshiwara, the Place of Reeds, after the area Toranaga had allocated to her. Next she created a new class of courtesan, geisha, those trained and qualified in the arts, who were not, routinely, available for pillowing.