“Chairman Ito is an exceptional case. His clout is evident in a multitude of areas, and across various branches of government. But he is no dictator. He respects our opinions and does not abuse his power. Chairman Ito and the head of the Supreme Court of Judicature, Judge Kojima, have each grown to appreciate the other’s importance.”
“Yes, he is a splendid man.” Sherlock gave Sonoda a sidelong glance. “Tell me, what cases have occupied the police as of late?”
“There is one very odd case. Lately there’s been a rash of burglaries over the country. But only worthless, common household items are stolen.”
“Indeed. I myself read an article detailing such thefts. Pottery, dolls, and woodblock prints, I believe.”
“Recently, the thefts have largely been of things like paper fans, kimonos, sandals. Looking at the range and frequency of the crimes, we believe they’re committed by a single man. The thief strikes a number of houses on a single day, all within walking distance, and then moves onto a different neighborhood the following day. But oddly, he only takes items of little worth.”
“Very strange, indeed. Incidentally,” Sherlock asked, glancing around carefully and then lowering his voice, “were you able to determine the cause of Sanzo Tsuda’s death?”
Sonoda was equally hushed. “The original assessment seems to hold. It was illness.”
“Has a funeral been held? I was hoping to view the body.”
“I don’t see how it could be transported to Tokyo…”
“You misunderstand. I hope to go in person.”
“To Kushiro Prison?” Sonoda was aghast. “Yourself ?”
“I should like to make a thorough inspection of the conditions under which Tsuda expired. Perhaps you might make the arrangements…”
Footsteps drew near and Sherlock broke off. Ito and Shevich approached.
Shevich’s expression was complicated and hard to decipher. “Mr. Holmes. Ambassador Fraser has certainly chosen his emissary well. No one from the British legation was invited, but as Chairman Ito’s foreign consultant you were of course free to attend this ceremony.”
“Indeed,” Sherlock bluffed boldly. “If you have any messages for Ambassador Fraser I should be pleased to convey them. And vice versa of course.”
“Vice versa?”
“I refer to Ambassador Fraser’s own wishes. Britain desires a copy of The Complete Work on Russian Natural Sciences as well.”
“Britain? Why would Britain wish for a copy?”
“Supplement B. What Russia receives from Japan, Britain shall receive as well.”
“That agreement is between Britain and Japan… If you have any claims to make, they should be made with Japan, not with us.”
“But your country has asked Japan to protect a secret. Unfortunately, the British royal family has suffered no similar scandal and thus had no need to ask Japan’s silence. Instead, Britain should like to request an asset of similar value.”
“That is utter sophistry!”
“Japan, of course, will keep its promise. They would never transfer or sell The Complete Work on Russian Natural Sciences to another country. Hence why we prefer to receive our copy from Russia, ensuring everything remain above board. Surely you could provide a second copy.”
“The presumption! Why should Russia give Britain a copy of the book?”
“Have you forgotten? Japan is not the only country that has been made aware of Tsarevich Nicholas’ curious behavior. Britain now knows, as well.”
Shevich’s face turned sour. “So you are saying if I deliver a copy, your country will also keep this information to themselves?”
“Naturally. I should prefer, however, if we avoid any official ceremonies like the one held just now. Ambassador Fraser does not wish to be publicly involved. I am afraid you must rely on my own good offices.”
“The Queen’s shrewd and slavish mongrel… You are treacherous indeed, Holmes,” Shevich spat, all attempts at politeness gone. He turned on his heel and left.
Ito leaned in close, his expression dubious. “The Complete Work? Considering the differences in your natural environments, what use would Britain have for such a book?”
“None. I wish to read it myself,” Sherlock muttered. “It includes analyses of soil and rainfall, descriptions of the variety of rocks. Until I learn to analyze natural phenomena here in an appropriately scientific manner, my powers of deduction shall all be for naught.”
27
Ito and Sonoda made arrangements for Sherlock to visit Kushiro Prison. He boarded the steam engine at Shinagawa alone, and travelled north via Nippon Railway.
He was riding first class. The carriage’s design mimicked that of a British rail car. The seats were wider than those on the train Holmes had taken from Yokohama to Shimbashi; perhaps the designers had anticipated foreigners taking this line. The carriage was brand new, and surprisingly, shook minimally during travel. The ride was much more pleasant than any currently offered by British rail.
The Japanese railway had been extended to Aomori just this month; Ito’s tenacious pursuit of modernizing the country, and in particular his fixation with rail transit, was producing results. In the only 24 years since the Meiji Restoration, a major artery already joined Tokyo to northern Japan. Such rapid development was unheard of in any other country. The speed with which the Japanese had adopted these technologies was impressive.
The journey to Aomori would be long—18 hours one way. But Sherlock did not find it at all tedious. He devoted 70 percent of his mental powers to the case before him; he used the remaining 30 percent to analyze and process the various points of visual information. The scenery from the train window was fascinating: Pine trees lined the tracks, and beyond them, sprawling farm lands. When thatched roofs gave way to tiled ones and Sherlock began to see the occasional wagon, the steam engine slowed.
They were approaching a station. The train was making a stop at Shinjuku.
A wide road stretched from the station. There were no Western buildings in sight, only rows of single-story Japanese structures. He saw signs for a blacksmith, a soba restaurant, and a goldfish vendor—with characters he had memorized when he’d been in Ginza. There were not so many people on the streets here as there were in Ginza, and the ones who were were dressed in Japanese clothing. They milled around at a relaxed pace.
Sherlock turned his eyes away from the window and observed his fellow passengers. Intriguingly, he could not form deductions about them as quickly as he might have in London. As first-class passengers, most of them were fastidious with their appearance. Sherlock in particular could not understand why one seated woman, wearing a dress, did not lean back against her chair. Instead she leaned forward, her back stiff.
When they reached Ikebukuro Station, a woman in Japanese garb boarded the train. The broad sash that this woman wore about her waist was tied at her back. At last Sherlock understood. In order to preserve the artful manner in which the sash had been arranged, she had to constantly lean forward as she sat. The women wearing the dress had developed that same habit, and Sherlock concluded that she must generally wear Japanese clothing.
A vendor on the station platform was selling boxed lunches. Sherlock opened his window and called out to the vendor, who quickly approached. “This-u, is-u, bento,” the vendor said, smiling and repeating himself several times.
He remained in the vicinity of the first-class carriages. As might have been expected, the lunch Sherlock purchased was very high quality. There was steak, as well as several items Sherlock was familiar with from Ito’s table: Kyoto-style grilled fish, eel and tofu, grilled and glazed cuttlefish, kamaboko fish cakes… The items varied in shape and amount, but all had been neatly packed into the box so there was no space left to spare. It was all very Japanese. The taste, too, was delicious, as though freshly prepared. When Sherlock had been crossing the Dover Strait to attend on the French government, he had met a Parisian industrialist, who claimed the English had no appreciation for fine cuisine. Sherlock now felt he understood what that man had meant. Though he by no means wished to disparage Mrs. Hudson, he often found himself without appetite in London, and now he wondered if it wasn’t the food that might be at fault.