Sano hesitated about twenty paces from the doorway. FRESH-CATCH SUSHI, the sign read. Teahouses filled with fishermen and laborers occupied the rooms on either side. When Cherry Eater didn’t reappear immediately, Sano wondered whether to look for him at the back door, or wait in one of the teahouses. Was Cherry Eater meeting Lord Niu now, or just trying to shake pursuers? Sano risked a walk past the sushi restaurant and glanced inside.
A chest-high counter ran along the right side of the long, narrow room, stopping just short of the back wall, where a curtained doorway led to the kitchen. Behind the counter the chef, wearing a blue headband over bushy eyebrows, sliced raw fish, encased it in rolls of vinegared rice and seaweed, and distributed it to his seven customers with remarkable speed and precision. Cherry Eater stood near the end of the counter, his back to the door. Oblivious to the full plate before him, he was speaking in urgent tones to the man beside him.
The room was dim, and hazy with smoke from the customers’ pipes. Sano took another chance. Entering the restaurant, he stood at the counter two places away from Cherry Eater. His neighbors, both ripe-smelling dockworkers, scowled their greetings and reluctantly moved aside to make room for him.
“What will you have, master?” the chef called to Sano, not looking up from his flashing knife.
“Anything that’s good,” Sano answered absentmindedly. Keeping his face averted, he listened to Cherry Eater’s conversation.
The shunga dealer had dropped his bundle. Wringing his insectile hands, he moaned, “Yes, I know it’s a lot of money, and more than we agreed on.” For once he did not offer a wisecrack or veiled insult; anxiety had stifled his wit. “But I need it, and I need it now.”
His companion was not Lord Niu, but a gray-haired, shabbily dressed fat man who answered in a gruff mumble that Sano strained to understand. Was he a moneylender? Or another of Cherry Eater’s blackmail victims? Unfortunately, the chef chose that moment to interrupt.
“Dancing sushi, best in town,” he barked, zinging a plate down the counter toward Sano. “Eat up now.”
“Thank you.” Sano picked up a still-wriggling prawn with his chopsticks and ate it, wishing the chef would keep quiet. He’d missed Fat Man’s entire reply.
“Easy for you to say do not worry,” Cherry Eater railed. “You are not running for your life!”
Sano ate the rest of his prawns without tasting them. Now he grasped the significance of Cherry Eater’s bulky bundle, his panicky flight, his need for money, and the boat. Something or someone had frightened him into an abrupt departure from Edo. Was it Lord Niu? Maybe Cherry Eater hadn’t gotten money from him, but a death threat.
Mumble mumble was all Sano heard from Fat Man.
“I must leave immediately,” Cherry Eater said. “Now where is the money you owe me?”
The chef slid Sano two more plates, announcing loudly, “Tuna and sea bream.”
Sano raised a hand to signal that he wanted nothing more. He saw Fat Man take a pouch from inside his baggy cloak and give it to Cherry Eater. Then he frowned as Fat Man’s hands caught his attention. Too white and slender and graceful to belong to such a gross person, they also looked familiar. Sano had a sudden image of them holding a fan instead of a pouch. He took a closer look at Fat Man-and froze with his chopsticks held halfway to his mouth.
The gray wig and padded clothing effectively changed the man’s age and shape. He’d plumped his face, probably by stuffing cloth in his cheeks and nostrils. But he couldn’t disguise the hands, which tipped Sano off to his real identity.
Fat Man was none other than Kikunojo, the great Kabuki actor-in male attire for another secret rendezvous.
Sano looked away before Kikunojo could recognize him. He’d more or less dismissed Kikunojo as a suspect, but the actor’s sudden reappearance raised strong questions in his mind. Kikunojo had evidently lied about refusing to pay blackmail, and perhaps about other things as well. Had his forbidden affair been with a married woman-or Yukiko? Could he have killed her and Noriyoshi because he feared that either might reveal the affair to the Nius, who would have destroyed him if they’d learned of it? Had he worn a disguise to follow Sano along the Tōkaido and kill Tsunehiko?
These questions went unanswered as Cherry Eater dominated the conversation, apparently out of a reckless desire to confide.
“… shouldn’t have asked him for more money… didn’t know how dangerous… he’ll have my head if I don’t get away fast… ”
Cherry Eater’s voice had dropped to a fretful mutter, but Sano understood his meaning. Lord Niu had refused to tolerate more extortion. Did Cherry Eater believe-as Sano still did, despite Kikunojo’s reemergence as a suspect-that Lord Niu had killed Noriyoshi, Yukiko, and the samurai child and would not hesitate to kill again to protect himself? The shunga dealer’s fear suggested that he did. But then why had he risked blackmail? Sano felt a certain admiration for Cherry Eater’s nerve and enterprising spirit. The ugly little man was quick to seize opportunities to make money wherever he found them.
Kikunojo mumbled something else.
“But it did not seem like a bad idea at first!” In his agitation, Cherry Eater forgot to keep his voice low. “Do you think I am so stupid as to follow in my miserable employee’s footsteps?” He gave a shrill, hysterical laugh. “No. I merely suggested that an increase in my commission was called for. Because of that boy who died. I had to pay his family a fortune not to tell the police. How was I supposed to know that Lord-” He caught himself. “That a certain person would misunderstand my intentions and assume that I, too, am a metsuke informer who wants money in exchange for not telling the authorities about his conspiracy?”
Sano nearly choked on a mouthful of sea bream. It didn’t surprise him that Noriyoshi had learned about the conspiracy, or that he’d attempted to use his knowledge for personal gain. But never had he guessed that Noriyoshi was an informer for the Tokugawa spies. This unexpected piece of information strengthened Lord Niu’s motive immeasurably. How much more dangerous was the knowledge in an informer’s hands than in those of a simple blackmailer! Sano conjectured that the self-serving Noriyoshi had first used the secrets he learned for his own benefit, reporting them to his employers only after he’d wrung enough money out of his victims. This time, however, it appeared that Lord Niu had made sure Noriyoshi didn’t live long enough to report the conspiracy.
“The Conspiracy of Twenty-One… all twenty-one years old.” Increasingly hysterical, Cherry Eater released a flood of babble. “All younger sons of daimyo. Noriyoshi said they want to restore their clans to the glory of the old days. Dangerous, yes, because Lord Niu is crazy and will stop at nothing to reach his goal.” Cherry Eater paused. “Do you mind?” he asked Kikunojo, pointing to a bottle of sake on the counter.
At Kikunojo’s nod, he picked it up, drained it, coughed, wiped his mouth. “Noriyoshi said that, impossible as it seems, they might even succeed! He said… ”
Come on, come on, Sano urged silently. You’ve told me who they are, and I might have guessed, anyway, because of the crests, I already know what they want. Now tell me what they’re going to do!
Cherry Eater said, “They truly intend to commit this murder- the ultimate treason!”
The impact of his words sent a spasm of horror through Sano’s body. His hand locked convulsively around his chopsticks. If he interpreted Cherry Eater’s meaning correctly, then the Conspiracy of Twenty-One planned to assassinate the shogun! And to what terrible end? At best, to bring down the wrath of the Tokugawas upon their clans. At worst, to usher in a new era of civil war, if the great daimyo each tried to claim the vacant post of supreme military dictator. Madness! Then, before Sano could think or hear anything else, a hand clapped his shoulder.