Tora had developed a soft spot for the boy. Kinjiro had fallen into a life of crime because he had been abandoned and nothing else had offered. He was trying to make the best of it, but apparently he was not such an enthusiastic gang member after all. Maybe his upbringing in a decent home by a respectable father had something to do with that. Or maybe he lacked the selfish cruelty and bovine stupidity which made for contentment in a life of crime.
“If you could be anything in the world, what would you be?” Tora asked.
Wielding his broom viciously, Kinjiro swept some debris out into the street. “His Excellency, the chancellor, of course,” he sneered. “He’s got more wealth than anybody and tells the emperor what to do.”
“No, seriously.”
The boy leaned on his broom. “I’d want to be what my father was.” He immediately began his sweeping again. “And you?” he asked. “You think you’ll have it easy here? Just drill the students for a few hours every day? Maybe walk to the market with Kata Sensei, watching out for his enemies? You’re a bigger fool than me. If you had any sense, you’d leave now and never come back.”
The last was said so fiercely that Tora’s uneasiness returned. He got up and grasped Kinjiro’s arm. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What’s happened?”
Kinjiro shook loose. “Nothing. I’m just talking,” he muttered and went for an old rag, which he put under his broom to dust and polish the floorboards to pristine cleanliness before the afternoon’s lessons.
“Kinjiro, you heard something. They talked about me, didn’t they? I know Matsue’s trying to get me. He almost did. And now the Scarecrow thinks I’m spying on him. I can’t seem to do anything right.”
Kinjiro glared at him. “Maybe they’ve got reason. You’ve been snooping.”
Tora’s heart plummeted. He looked around nervously. If they suspected him, surely they wouldn’t leave him here with just the boy. He locked eyes with Kinjiro. There was not much point in protesting his innocence. “What are they going to do?”
“How should I know? But I wouldn’t hang around to find out if I were you.”
It was good advice. Unless they were lying in wait outside. “Are you supposed to keep an eye on me?” Tora asked suspiciously.
“What if?”
“You’d be in trouble if I ran.”
Kinjiro stared at him. Then he said, “You’re a fool, Tora. Go! What do you care what happens to me?”
“I care. I don’t treat my friends that way.”
Kinjiro said fiercely, “Then go ahead and get killed. Because that’s what they’ll do as soon as they figure out what you’re up to.” When Tora made no move to leave, he cried, “They’ll probably do it slowly. An ear first, then another. Then your nose and your tongue. After that, a hand, a foot, your privates. You aren’t going to know about the rest.” He was practically in tears.
Tora took the boy by his bony shoulders and shook him. “If you know all this about them, what are you doing here? What would your father say?”
Kinjiro tried to free himself. When Tora held on, he cursed and kicked and punched him. Tora ended up wrapping both arms around the thin, gasping figure and holding him until he calmed down. Kinjiro shook with sobs.
He released the boy then but left his hands on his shoulders. “I think we’d both better get out of here,” he said.
Kinjiro sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I could go back to the post stable,” he said miserably. He put away the broom and rag and brushed off his clothes. “All right. I’m ready. Let’s go before they get back.”
But they were too late. The peace of the midday hour was broken by the sound of a large number of people approaching outside. They looked out and saw the gang. Led by the Scarecrow, they walked close together with an air of grim anticipation. It took Tora only a moment to realize the magnitude of the trouble he was in; the group parted and revealed in its midst a lopsided creature who was grinning malevolently at him. The beggar from the market.
Tora thought of making a dash for it. In fact, he had taken a few steps toward the back door, when it opened and Matsue and Kata walked in.
After that, things moved quickly. The gang entered from the street and slid the doors shut. They formed a circle around Tora. Cut off from the outside world, the hall had become dim and secretive. Nobody talked.
The Scarecrow took the beggar by the arm and led him to Kata. “He’s got quite a story to tell,” he announced grimly.
Kata let his eyes slide to Tora, then told the beggar, “Talk.”
The beggar bowed deeply and whined, “Important information, Master. Worth at least a gold coin.”
Kata raised a fist. “I pay you, scum. You work for me.”
Tora felt sick. He had been a fool to trust the beggar. Who better to keep an eye on the market and Kata’s clients than he? And the bastard was even missing a finger, often a sign of gang membership.
The beggar knelt, crying, “Yes, yes. Of course, Master. Right away. Only you’ll see, it’s of the greatest importance to you. All I ask is that you remember the service this insignificant person is doing you. I’m a poor man… Aiihh!” He squealed as the Scarecrow’s booted foot connected with his ribs.
Kata pointed to Tora. “You know him?”
The beggar nodded eagerly. “Yes. Yes. He abused me not two days ago. When I cried for help, he tried to bribe me to tell him about you. I didn’t tell him, but he already knew something. He works for the police. When the others told me he was passing himself off as one of us, I knew right away you were in danger and came to warn you.”
Kata looked at Tora. “You disappoint me,” he said sadly. “I liked you. But I don’t like being made a fool of. I don’t like liars. And I especially don’t like police informers.”
Tora’s mind raced. “The scum is lying. I would never work for the police. That’s a serious insult to a man’s character. The crooked little bastard tried to extort money from me, claiming I kicked him. I took the slug aside and gave him a drubbing, and now he’s getting his revenge by telling lies about me.”
Kata’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe you?”
“Look at him! He’d kill his grandfather for a few coppers. And if the bastard lies about me, he’ll lie about you. Today he’s selling me; tomorrow it’ll be you. Remember, he’s the one that told me about you in the first place.”
Kata looked confused by this logic, but he turned on the beggar, “What did you tell him about me?” he growled.
The beggar shrunk away. “Nothing. I swear. He was asking about the blind singer. He thought you’d killed her.”
Kata’s jaw sagged. “Tomoe? He thought I’d killed Tomoe?”
“Yeah. Just like a stupid policeman.” The beggar tried a conciliatory grin.
Kata turned to Tora. “What do you know about Tomoe’s murder?”
Tora decided his safest bet was to claim ignorance. “Nothing. He’s making it all up.”
This brazen denial outraged the beggar, who began to jump up and down. “You threatened me. You said you were police. You said you were investigating her murder. You wanted to know who the gang boss was that had been talking to her. You choked me and made me tell you-”
Kata’s face turned an angry red. “So you did talk.” He back-handed the beggar so viciously that he went flying into two of the gang members. Then he turned back to Tora. “You told the truth about that, but everything else was a lie, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not with the police,” said Tora, trying to bluster. “And I’ll not be insulted and called a liar. I have my pride. You can have your job.” He turned to walk off, but the circle of men closed against him. Tora clenched his fists. “Tell your goons to let me pass. You can’t keep me here against my will.”
Matsue spoke for the first time. He drawled, “Search him!”
Tora tried to make a break for it, but instantly five knives were inches from his throat and he could smell the bad breath of the thugs who crowded around him.
Matsue laughed. “What can you do now, mouse catcher? If you are who you say you are, nobody’ll miss you. And if you’re working for the police, you’re guilty. Either way, you’re a dead man.”