Mutsu held up a hand to calm him. “Slowly, Mr. Kubo. I understand that all this new scientific knowledge is very exciting, but we must prioritize items that most affect the national interest. Do you believe the Complete Work will be of use?”
“Without a doubt,” Kubo affirmed, smiling broadly. “In Russia they have demonstrated that when the feeding hierarchy in a river or other body of water is disturbed and a single species increases inordinately, that same species will also suddenly die off in great numbers. This explains the recent mass deaths of ayu fish.”
Ito smiled. “I see. Has there been anything else?”
“Near certain volcanic chains, trees have been withering in huge patches. The Ministry of Home Affair’s Hygienic Bureau has been at a loss to explain it. According to this book, however, the cause appears to be the influence of underground lava activity. The lava robs the soil of the nutrient- and water-retention abilities that such plants require to grow. Seeds can fail to germinate, or, even if they do germinate, they will wither soon after. In Russia, this phenomenon is known as… vastock… er… vin…”
Mutsu frowned. “Never mind what it is called. At any rate, it sounds as if we can expect significant progress to be made in the natural sciences?”
“By leaps and bounds! We also have an indication as to why rice in the paddies near hot spring regions can wither. Spring water with high levels of hydrochloric acid has likely surfaced nearby and contaminated the rice paddies. If we redirect the waterways we can avoid this crop failure. In short, we expect we will now be able to solve many issues we have been struggling with!”
Ito was somewhat overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. “Indeed. Well, thank you for your report.”
Kubo bowed deeply, his excitement clearly unabated, and quickly returned to the great hall.
“That is a relief,” Mutsu said, a smile teasing at his lips. “After all the money we spent hiring translators, it would have been my head on the chopping block if the book had proven useless.”
“Come now,” Ito laughed. “Surely the expense was less than we bargained for. After all, we acquired The Complete Work on Russian Natural Sciences free of charge.”
“That was indeed a surprise. As far as I was aware, our relationship with Russia has grown cold. I wonder what explains this windfall.”
Ito didn’t say anything. Only a limited number of people knew the truth of the attack against Tsarevich Nicholas. In the cabinet, that included only Prime Minister Matsukata. Mutsu was almost certainly unaware of the truth.
Police Chief Sonoda approached from the opposite end of the corridor and greeted them. “Chairman Ito. Regarding the list of foreign commercial traders…”
Ito had already received word that Sherlock was on his way back to Tokyo. Police headquarters had received the detective’s telegraph and were already working to identify anyone in the prefecture who might match his description. Ito glanced at Sonoda. “Do you have a list of names?”
“We do. In fact…” Sonoda’s voice brimmed with pride. “We have already narrowed it down to one suspect.”
“Come again?!”
Ito was confident that Japan was the equal of other nations when it stubbornly hunted down perpetrators. Of this he had no doubt—and yet, he had feared that they were not as sophisticated with modern investigative techniques as they might be. But the fact that the police had found this suspect without any assistance from Sherlock was very reassuring. Assuming, of course, that they were correct.
Ito sat in one of the meeting rooms at Police Services Kajibashi Secondary Facilities, listening to Sonoda’s briefing. A map had been spread out on the table, and the police chief was explaining, with great relish—and considerable showmanship—precisely how they had managed to narrow down their suspects for the Russian thefts.
The room was crammed with top police officials and investigators. Ito, however, was most interested in the reaction of one man. Sherlock Holmes had only just returned from his trip to Hokkaido. He leaned back in his chair in the corner of the room, puffing away at his pipe. His long legs were crossed, one foot suspended languidly in space.
“I will now ask Captain Minezaki to explain the details,” Sonoda said. “Captain, if you please.”
Minezaki, standing next to Sonoda, looked to be in his thirties, with a sturdy, florid face. Minezaki pointed to a small scrap of paper that had been folded into four. “This is a ticket for Kirin beer. They are distributed by a drinking house in Kyobashi to customers who want to pay in advance. The ticket has the name and address of the person to whom it was delivered. This particular ticket’s owner had hidden it inside a doll’s clothing, as he did not wish his family to scold him for his drinking. The doll was stolen mid-month. We determined that this ticket was recently turned in to a police box in Chofu Village. It had been found on the ground in a nearby field. The ink has been smeared—likely from sweat, from being in a man’s pocket as he ran away.”
Ito walked over to Sherlock. “You must find this boring, unable to understand what they are saying. Shall I translate?”
“Not at all,” Sherlock said, remaining seated as he let out a puff of smoke from his pipe. “I can surmise his meaning well enough from his gestures. That ticket was secreted in one of the items that was stolen, and was then later found at some other location.”
“You have it precisely.” Ito redirected his attention back toward Minezaki.
Minezaki was tracing the tip of a pencil along the map. “The ticket was found in this area. A foreign trader lives not a hundred yards from the spot. Furthermore, the foreigner in question is a young male of Russian origin. Based on other information we have received, it is possible that this is the revolutionary known as Olgert Bercerosky, who may have been involved in the attack perpetrated by Sanzo Tsuda. As this man is suspected of serious crimes, I urge you all to exercise caution…”
“What is he saying?” Sherlock asked.
“A Russian trader lives near where the ticket was found.”
Sherlock suddenly stood up, exasperated. He approached the table. Minezaki was in the middle of an animated explanation. He broke off mid-sentence, disconcerted.
“Mr. Holmes,” said Sonoda in English. “Is there something you wish to add?”
Ito joined Sherlock, who was staring down at the map. Chofu Village was a mixture of housing and farmland. A mark, which indicated the field where the ticket had been found, was placed on a location a little over a hundred yards from Tama River. The home where the Russian trader lived was not far.
Sherlock picked up one of the pencils and drew a small circle around a point on the opposite shore of the river. “Here. I think you shall find much local gossip about this vicinity, due to the inhabitant’s frequent and unusual chemical experiments.”
A gasp spread through the room. Sonoda looked puzzled. “Nakabaru Village? There is nothing there but pear orchards and a few farmhouses.”
Sherlock was undeterred. “Then if a foreigner is living in the area, he shall certainly stand out all the more.”
“Impossible,” Minezaki said in Japanese. He frowned sharply. One of his men had been interpreting into his ear while Sherlock spoke. “The Tama River is far too wide, and that location is nowhere near the Maruko Ferry Crossing. After carrying out robberies in Kyobashi, why would he go to the trouble of making a detour through Chofu? Nothing was even stolen from Chofu.”
“None of the foreign traders on our list live in Nakabaru,” an assistant inspector said, staring down at a bundle of papers.