After noticing errors in the original Anatomische Tabellen, Genpaku Sugita based his New Text on Anatomy on his own corrections, proving that as far back as the Edo Period it was common knowledge that Western science could not be trusted out of hand. Regardless, Western technology had seemed like a miracle in Japan, from firearms to shipbuilding to railways. And like any miracle, it had inspired faith. Having modernized so quickly—with only 24 years since the Meiji Restoration—Japan had lost the habit of distrust of Western technology. The country was impatient. If they were to catch up with the West, they needed to be open to accepting what it had to offer; the “how” and the “why” could come later. Especially when dealing with information that had been formally presented to them by a foreign dignitary.
Ito stared at Sherlock’s original copy of The Complete Work on Russian Natural Sciences. “The phenomena are similar, but the details have been almost entirely changed…”
“And this ensures that it will be nearly impossible for anyone who is not intimately familiar with both languages to notice a difference at just a glance. That is the ingenuity of the thing. When you only skim, the original and the Japanese translation share many words in common. There appears to be no issue. The first thing people would see is that the topic, dead fish, is the same, before they got around to noticing, for instance, that the ‘oceans’ had become rivers. And why check any further?”
Naturally, the contents of the original Complete Work at the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce would match the Japanese translation, ensuring a thorough comparison would not reveal the truth. Sherlock had only stumbled upon the changes because of his unaltered copy. Still, were it not for his exemplary powers of observation, the switch would have gone undetected. It was just as Sherlock said—one might attempt to check the entries slowly, using a dictionary, and never notice anything was wrong. The alterations had been inserted into the text too skillfully for the common eye.
But why go to such elaborate ends? Ito did not understand what it all meant. Something dire was unfolding; he could feel it in his bones. He stared. “Ambassador Shevich, perhaps…”
“No,” Sherlock said, rising to his feet. “It was Shevich who gave me the unaltered copy. He arranged for a book to be sent from Russia. He must have been unaware that the copy given to the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce had been altered.”
Ito gasped. “Then that leaves only one possibility.”
Sherlock gave an enigmatic nod. “The truth was hiding where least expected. Chairman, I believe you have been right after all. Whatever it is that Sanzo Tsuda started, the trouble has yet to end.”
33
A twilit sky was visible through the window of the carriage, across which a domed copper-plated roof floated into view. This was the Nikolai Cathedral, just completed in March. The cathedral had no connection to Tsarevich Nicholas, but was rather named after the Orthodox hieromonk of the same name. The brick-and-stone structure had been built on a Greek Cross plan, but its construction had caused no inconsiderable amount of trouble for the area. Agitators had protested the Nikolai Cathedral on grounds that its steeple overlooked the Imperial Palace, and was disrespectful.
Though it pained Ito to admit it, in many ways Japan was still an immature country. He himself was no exception. What difference was there between the protestors who had attempted to block the cathedral’s construction, and the passionate youth who had so strongly believed in joui? Or even between himself and Sanzo Tsuda, for that matter?
One needed to first know the world to serve their country. Ignorance and idealism were poor weapons to be armed with; knowledge was true power. A nation could only free itself from subservience to the Great Powers through erudition. But in Japan, that work was far from complete. Even now, one of their own government bodies dangled at the mercy of a mere book from Russia.
Yet Ito had not fully grasped the situation. Sherlock still refused to explain the key points. Perhaps he wished to build anticipation, so that when he solved the mystery it would prove all the more dramatic. The detective could be childish in that way. Mostly, however, Sherlock simply demanded complete confidence. Ito had no choice but to respect that wish.
Sherlock required absolute trust from others. He didn’t feel he should have to report on his progress; that inviolable trust was the sole and most important trait he wanted in his relationships. Perhaps the need for such unconditional trust came from support his parents or brother had failed to give him in his formative years. Ito didn’t know how Sherlock’s family had treated him, but it was undoubtedly true that he seemed to feel it had been lacking. Sherlock now lived the only way he knew how. He was one of the most competent and yet most awkward men Ito had ever known.
The carriage jostled them quietly to and fro, and they arrived at the grounds of the Russian legation. The vehicle followed a private cobbled road to the front entrance before slowing gently. Before it slowed to a full stop, Sherlock jumped out. Impetuous as always! Ito quickly roused himself and followed after.
Sherlock shot up the stairs, waving to the guards with one hand as he passed them. They shouted in Russian and ran inside after him. As reckless as ever, thought Ito.
Inside the foyer, employees came running from the back, likely drawn by the guards’ shouts. The beautifully adorned hall, with its Byzantine domed roof, was in an uproar. Ambassador Shevich and Lt. Colonel Kanevsky came racing down the spiral staircase.
In a rage, Shevich made a beeline to Sherlock. “Who do you think you are! The records of Sherlock Holmes’ death are not confined to the newspapers alone. Scotland Yard believes you dead as well! I spoke with Ambassador Fraser. He knows nothing of your presence here!”
Sherlock froze, genuinely shocked. “You have received an answer already? In less than a month? That is astounding!”
“But Ambassador Shevich,” Ito said quickly and slyly, “if Mr. Holmes were a spy surely it is only natural that Scotland Yard and Ambassador Fraser would deny any knowledge of his presence.”
“No.” Shevich breathed heavily through his nose. “If he were a spy, there would be some evidence of subterfuge. But by all their accounts you truly fell to your death at the Reichenbach Falls. Yet when I made inquiries and examined the photographs that have been taken in secret, it became quite clear to me that you are, in fact, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”
Sherlock snorted. “You have been exceedingly thorough. As I made no attempt to conceal my identity when I first visited your legation, however, naturally I wished you to be aware that I am in fact who I say I am.”
“Then you deceived your own country, and came to Japan only pretending to be dead? Why would you do such a thing?”
“Would you believe me, Ambassador, if I told you it was to save your hide?”
“I most certainly would not!”
“No, I suppose not. Removing your neck from the chopping block is only a happy coincidence, and it’s true it was never my original objective. But as this is now the situation, I am afraid I must hurry. If you will excuse me.”
And Sherlock ran toward a nearby door. It led to the same office used by the Russian Ministry of State Property, as Ito was already aware. Earlier, they had visited the Ministry of Agriculture and Commerce and ascertained its location from Mutsu and Kubo.
Shevich chased him in a panic. Kanevsky, too, attempted to block his way, but Sherlock easily slipped past him and threw the door wide open.