He felt panic erode his own self-control, but his words calmed Hirata, who nodded and assumed a stony composure. They and the detectives hurried deeper into the tunnels. Entering a three-way junction, Sano heard fierce yells. He and his party froze, trapped, as priests waving swords charged toward them from all directions.
“Haru-san,” Reiko compelled herself to say through her terror, “look at me.”
Emitting a frightened mewl, Haru stared at the sword in her hands. Then her gaze slowly rose, drawn by Reiko’s desire to reestablish a connection between them.
“You don’t really want to kill me, do you?” Reiko said, feigning calmness while Kumashiro held her tight and the sword’s sharp touch contracted her throat muscles.
Haru said with defiant bravado, “I have no choice.”
Reiko’s heart sank. Haru’s choice was between their friendship and Anraku, and Reiko knew how the odds lay. “We all have choices,” Reiko said, improvising fast. “I chose to take your side when no one else did. I chose to help you against my husband’s wishes. Don’t you owe me a favor?”
Haru’s mouth worked; uncertainty clouded her eyes. But as Reiko dared to hope, Kumashiro said to Anraku, “Time is short. If Haru won’t kill Lady Reiko, I can.”
Reiko sensed his blood lust in the hot pressure of his flesh against hers. Suddenly the clattering noise stopped. Quiet settled upon the underground; everyone looked around in surprise.
“The slaves have deserted the air bellows,” Kumashiro said. “Soon we won’t be able to breathe down here. Let me dispose of the prisoners so we can go.”
“No. It is Haru’s duty,” Anraku said firmly.
A new resolve set Haru’s jaw. Anraku fixed a tantalizing stare on Reiko. She saw that this had become a contest between them. He cared less about making a timely escape than about controlling his followers, because his desire for power over them outweighed all other concerns. But Reiko was competing for her life.
“Haru-san, he doesn’t deserve your loyalty,” she said. “After the fire, did he try to protect you? No-he let you shift for yourself. When you were in jail, did he comfort you?” Reiko shook her head regretfully. “He never came near you. Did he try to clear your name and save you from execution? On the contrary: He left you to the law.”
“I don’t care about the past,” Haru said belligerently. “All that matters is that Anraku-san and I are together again.”
But Reiko could tell that Haru did mind his desertion. “He and his followers did everything possible to incriminate you,” Reiko said. “Dr. Miwa and Abbess Junketsu-in revealed your bad reputation. Kumashiro tried to force you to confess. The orphans placed you at the scene of the crime. Black Lotus priests attacked you in jail.”
“That was their own doing,” Haru faltered.
Anraku radiated a confidence that scorned Reiko’s plan to break his hold on Haru.
“But Anraku knows everything, doesn’t he?” Reiko said.
Haru hesitated, then nodded.
“And everyone in the Black Lotus serves and obeys him?”
“… Yes.” Haru’s expression turned wary.
“Then he not only knew how your enemies tried to destroy you,” Reiko said, “he must have ordered them to do it.”
“No!” Glaring at Reiko, Haru said, “He wouldn’t.”
Yet she withdrew the sword and stole an uneasy glance at Anraku. Displeasure darkened his aspect.
“Oh, yes, he would.” Reiko listened for sounds indicating that Sano’s troops had invaded the tunnels, but heard none. Since the bellows had stopped, the atmosphere had become stale; the suffocating smoke from the lamps increased her sense of urgency. Midori stirred, yawning: she would soon awake. Reiko tried to believe that rescue was near. “I’ll tell you why.”
“You’re just trying to mix me up.” Haru took an aggressive step toward Reiko. Fresh terror pumped through Reiko’s blood as she strained away from the blade and Kumashiro immobilized her. Haru appealed to Anraku: “I don’t have to listen to her, do I?”
“No, indeed,” Anraku said. “Just kill her, and she’ll speak no more.”
“He wanted to make sure you were blamed for Commander Oyama’s death.” Reiko swallowed desperation. “But he also wanted you blamed for the crimes you didn’t commit.” She saw Haru’s forehead contract in bewilderment, and hurried on, “Remember Nurse Chie and the little boy. You really didn’t kill them, did you?”
The trial hadn’t filled in the major gap in Sano’s case against Haru- her lack of motive for the other two murders. Reiko had never believed that Haru had killed the woman and child, and in spite of her disillusionment with Haru, she still didn’t believe it.
Haru was nodding, though wariness lurked in her eyes. Reiko said, “If you didn’t kill Chie and the boy, then someone else in the Black Lotus did.”
As Haru looked around at the other people in the room, her features sharpened with suspicion.
“Someone set you up to be punished for his crimes,” Reiko said, feeling sudden tension in Kumashiro’s body. “Someone wanted you executed so he-or she-could go free.”
The eight priests seemed indifferent to Haru’s scrutiny, but Abbess Junketsu-in and Dr. Miwa averted their eyes from her, their expressions suddenly guarded. Haru’s gaze came to rest on Anraku, whose face took on an ominous intensity.
“Yes,” Reiko said. “Even if he didn’t kill Chie and the boy with his own hands, he ordered their deaths. He meant for you to die, too.” Haru shook her head vigorously, but her stricken countenance belied the denial. Reiko challenged the high priest: “Didn’t you?”
Anraku’s tongue rolled inside his cheek, and Reiko saw from his discomfiture that she’d placed him in an intolerable position, as she’d meant to do. Either he must acknowledge his guilt and weaken his influence over Haru, or admit that he didn’t control everything that happened. He didn’t want to lose this contest with Reiko, but neither could he afford to have his omnipotence exposed as a fraud.
Wicked inspiration glinted in the high priest’s eye. He spoke to Abbess Junketsu-in: “You shall tell us about the events leading up to the fire in the cottage.”
“Me?” Junketsu-in blanched as everyone looked at her. “But-I don’t know anything. I-”
Anraku’s gaze captured hers, and she halted. Her resistance dissolved as his will subdued her. She said meekly, “That night I was walking alone in the precinct, when I saw two girls sneak out of the orphanage.”
So she hadn’t been in her quarters with her attendants as she’d claimed, Reiko observed. She realized that Anraku had cleverly diverted Haru’s suspicion from himself to the abbess, and she’d lost a round in her fight for her life. But here was her chance to learn the truth about the murders and fire, and the telling of the story bought her more time.
“I meant to send the girls back to bed,” Junketsu-in went on, “but then I spotted Haru walking ahead of them. They were following her. I wanted to know what she was doing, so I followed, too. When we got near the cottage, the other two girls turned and headed back toward the orphanage. I hid behind a tree so they wouldn’t see me. Then I continued after Haru.
“There was a light in the cottage. She slipped through the door. I stood outside and watched through the window. I saw Haru with Commander Oyama. His legs were around her neck, and she was screaming. He shouted at her. Then they were fighting, and she hit him on the head with a statue and killed him.”
While Junketsu-in described watching Haru come out of the cottage, hide the statue, and return to the scene of Oyama’s death, Reiko listened in utter amazement. Here was Haru’s exact story, confirmed by a witness who had no reason to lie for the girl’s benefit. Haru had told the truth about how Oyama died!