Akitada stepped into their path. For a moment the torch swung violently, then a sword pointed at his throat. Akitada blinked against the brightness but stood firm.
“Who are you and what is your business here?” barked the man in red.
“I’m the official Sugawara Akitada. My retainer and I have just been attacked and robbed.”
The torch came a little closer until Akitada could feel its heat on his face, but the sword was withdrawn.
“Sorry, sir. It’s not safe in this area after dark. How many of them were there?”
“Four, I think. They beat us and took our money and my sword. When they heard a whistle-yours?-they ran. Please take the torch out of my face.”
The policeman obeyed, and after a moment Akitada could see that he had been speaking to a middle-aged sergeant who looked tired and unenthusiastic. The dark figures behind him were some of the sweepers he had seen earlier at police headquarters. And that gave Akitada an idea.
“How many sweepers did you bring with you?”
“Fifteen. Why?”
Akitada scanned the dark figures behind him. “I make it eleven now. What happened to the other four?”
The sergeant turned and counted. He cursed. “The lazy bastards have run off again.”
“You’re missing four men, and we were attacked by four,” Akitada pointed out.
The sergeant looked blank, then cursed again, more violently this time. He marched down the line of his followers. “All right. I want answers. Who saw the bastards leave and when?”
Nobody spoke.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have every last one of you curs whipped and see to it that you get no pay.”
A ragged individual stepped forward. “They were some of those from the jail. They took off just a few streets back. I think this is their neighborhood.”
“Show me!”
They all trooped behind the sweeper, who eventually stopped and pointed down an alley. “They ran down there.”
Akitada murmured to the sergeant, “Tell your patrol that there will be a reward for the man who finds the four who robbed us. Promise him two pieces of silver.”
The policeman drew himself up. “There’s no need for that. They will obey my orders.”
“Good, but it may make them more eager.”
The man passed along the offer and divided his sweepers into groups of three or four. They would spread out over a four-block area and call out if they found anything suspicious.
Akitada and Genba waited impatiently with the sergeant and one constable. Shortly there was a shout, and they ran to a house where two sweepers stood watch. One of them pointed to a neighboring house. “The old woman over there says four men went in a little while ago.”
“Secure the back,” commanded the sergeant, then blew his whistle. The other sweepers assembled. “All right. We’re raiding the place. Be ready to defend yourselves. They’re armed.”
They kicked in the front door and poured into the house. Shouts, thumps, and the sounds of breaking furniture came from inside. Akitada waited a moment, then borrowed the sergeant’s sword and followed with Genba. They walked into chaos. Sweepers were fighting sweepers swinging cudgels and metal prongs, the two policemen were shouting orders nobody paid attention to, and several characters were slipping away toward the rear of the house. Akitada and Genba skirted the combatants and went after them. Whoever was supposed to secure the back had ignored the order.
Three men were walking rapidly down a dark alley away from the house. Akitada and Genba caught up with them. Two of the men were unarmed, but the third had a sword.
“Halt!” shouted Akitada. “You’re under arrest.”
Lights came on in a house nearby. The two unarmed men immediately bolted, but the tall one with the sword turned to face them.
To Akitada’s surprise, he was Haseo’s double. In the dim light and with the sword in his hand, the resemblance was eerie. Akitada gasped, “Who are you?”
“None of your business, dog official.” The other man bared his teeth and raised his sword threateningly. A window opened in the house, and a man stuck out his head. When he saw armed men, he withdrew it quickly and slammed the window shut.
Akitada had got a good look at his opponent. Something about his stance and his sword hand was not right. Then he saw that, unlike Haseo, this man was left-handed. Or rather, he was using his left hand because his right was wounded. A thick bloodstained bandage covered most of his forearm.
“That is my sword,” Akitada snapped. “You attacked me and stole it.”
“You’re a liar. I’ve no need to steal swords,” said the other.
On second thought, the man who had taken the sword had certainly had the use of both hands. It was an impasse. Akitada wanted his sword but he also wanted to know if this man was related to Haseo. “You look like a man I once knew,” he said. “His name was Haseo.”
The other man’s face froze. His sword arm dropped to his side and the sword slid from his hand. He took a couple of steps backwards, then turned and ran.
Genba went to pick up the sword. “It’s not yours, sir. Funny. For a moment I thought he’d attack. I guess he just didn’t trust himself with his left hand,” he said.
Akitada went to inspect it. It was an ordinary weapon, the kind a military officer might be issued. Feeling both foolish and disappointed, he pushed it in his belt and said, “Somehow I don’t think that was the reason, but his reaction was certainly strange.”
They returned to the raided house, where the sergeant had given up the uneven battle and was gathering his few remaining sweepers. “No sign of your sword, sir,” he said in a disgusted voice, when Akitada returned his weapon. “We’ll let you know if it turns up.”
Akitada doubted it and told Genba, “Come, we’d better go home before something else happens.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It was nearly dawn when they reached home, but lights were blazing in the Sugawara residence. The gate was opened by the cook, a woman who liked her sleep and certainly never bothered with gates.
She was in a temper. After a perfunctory bow to her master, she told Genba, “I don’t know what Tora can be thinking of, arriving in the middle of the night with two sick strangers, and demanding that I cook for them. And you look terrible, too.”
Akitada, who was already crossing the courtyard to the house, swung around. “Tora’s back?”
When she nodded, they ran into the house, too relieved to consider the rest of the cook’s speech.
Tamako met her husband in the corridor. The meeting reminded Akitada unpleasantly of an earlier one when she had thought that Seimei might have smallpox. She held a lamp, and in the flickering light her eyes glittered.
“How could you permit this?” she cried, her voice shrill with panic. “Cook says Seimei admitted sick strangers to this house.”
Akitada was also uneasy about these unexpected guests, but he tried to calm her. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “I doubt there’s any need for concern. Tora wouldn’t bring anyone who has smallpox. Where are they?”
She stepped back, letting his hand drop away. “In Seimei’s room. He’s treating them. You must make them go away. There are charity hospitals.”
All was quiet in Seimei’s room, but a thin line of light showed around the door. Akitada cleared his throat.
The door opened immediately and Seimei peered out.
“Oh, it’s you, sir,” he whispered. “Returned safely, may the gods be thanked.”
Akitada stepped in and saw three sleeping figures under quilted covers. He found Tora and gently shook his shoulder.
Seimei had followed him. “He was wounded in a sword fight,” he said anxiously.
Tora stirred, blinked against the light and slowly sat up, rubbing his face. “Ah, you’re back, sir,” he said with a yawn. “I meant to go looking for you, but Seimei wouldn’t let me.” He yawned again. “And the truth is, it’s been a long day and night.”