“My detectives will question the servants,” Sano said to the courtier. “Is there a place where I can interview the family one at a time, in private?”
Evening immersed Miyako in tropical darkness. In the Market of the Dead, brightly lit stalls turned the streets into lines of multicolored fire where shoppers browsed among Obon supplies. Gongs rang, calling dead souls back to earth. On hillsides and along the Kamo River, bonfires burned, lighting the way for the spirits’ journey. Pine torches blazed at the thresholds of houses; incense smoked on windowsills. Citizens bearing lanterns converged on the cemeteries to visit ancestors’ graves. The air resounded with the clatter of wooden soles. On the boulevards fluttered the curtains of shops closed for the night, stirred by the wind… or passing ghosts.
In the city center stood the great bulk of Nijō Castle, built by Tokugawa Ieyasu eighty-nine years ago with funds levied from vanquished warlords. Its stone walls and five-storied keep loomed high above the surrounding houses. Gold Tokugawa crests crowned the curved roofs. No shogun had visited Miyako in more than five decades; since then, Nijō Castle had been occupied by a minimal staff of caretakers. A few sentries manned the gates and guard turrets above the wide moat. From the outside, the castle seemed an inert historical relic.
But deep inside its dark complex of barracks, gardens, and palace buildings, lights burned in the White Parlor, residence of visiting shoguns. There, in an austere room decorated with murals depicting winter landscapes, sat Chamberlain Yanagisawa and his chief retainer, Aisu.
Yanagisawa inhaled on his tobacco pipe, then expelled smoke in an impatient gust. Although circumstances required his present state of waiting, he hungered for action. Worry and anticipation consumed him.
“Are you sure Sano doesn’t know I’m here?” he said.
“Oh, yes, master,” said Aisu, who’d just returned from making covert inquiries on Yanagisawa’s behalf. “No one in Miyako knows, except your local agents. They received your message from Edo in plenty of time to carry out your orders. They told Shoshidai Matsudaira that the shogun had issued orders to renovate Nijō Castle, then brought in laborers and supplies as if it were true, not just a ploy to keep Sano away. No one else suspects anything. My spies have been watching Sano since he left Edo, and he’s completely oblivious. Oh, yes, the plan is working fine so far.”
Aisu’s nervous grin begged Yanagisawa to appreciate his efficiency, to see how much he deserved to keep his job despite the failed bombing. Yanagisawa had given him one more chance to prove his worth before dismissing him. Thus, Aisu’s fate, as well as Yanagisawa’s hopes, depended on the success of the plan.
“See that the operation proceeds along its present satisfactory course,” Yanagisawa said, then murmured to himself: “The results had better justify the trouble this venture may cause me.”
When the shogun had ordered Sano to investigate Left Minister Konoe’s death, Yanagisawa had recognized a perfect opportunity to rid himself of his enemy and permanently secure his position in Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s graces. He’d decided that he, too, must go to Miyako. Hence, he’d waited until the meeting with Sano ended and he was alone with the shogun, then proposed that he should go to Omi Province-where Miyako happened to be located-on a top-secret mission to investigate corruption among local officials. The shogun had vacillated, demurred, and finally been persuaded.
Yanagisawa spent the rest of that night conferring with Aisu and his other top retainers, issuing orders, collating secret records, and drafting communications to be sent by express messenger to Miyako, while servants packed his baggage. Before dawn the next day, Yanagisawa rode out of the castle, accompanied only by Aisu and a few attendants and bodyguards instead of his usual huge entourage. They’d worn plain clothing without Tokugawa crests, and gained passage through highway check-points with documents that identified them by false names. Riding fast, stopping rarely, and sleeping a mere few hours each night, they’d reached Miyako two days ahead of Sano. Yanagisawa’s agents had sneaked them into Nijō Castle disguised as carpenters. Yanagisawa and Aisu had made the necessary preliminary arrangements before Sano’s arrival, yet the fact that everything had worked out so far didn’t negate the inherent dangers of the plan.
Leaving the seat of power, even for a short time, was a perilous move for Yanagisawa. He’d impressed upon the shogun the confidential nature of his mission in Omi Province and the need for only the two of them to know about his absence from Edo, yet he didn’t trust the dull-witted Tsunayoshi to keep a secret. He’d sworn his staff to secrecy, threatening them with death should they fail to cover his absence, but what if people discovered he was gone? Yanagisawa pictured subordinates robbing his treasury, his spies taking a holiday from gathering the information he needed, rivals usurping his authority and turning Tsunayoshi against him. And what if the shogun learned that Yanagisawa had lied to him about the reason for this trip? The shogun cherished a deluded belief in his officials’ honesty; he wouldn’t forgive being tricked. When Yanagisawa got back, he might find himself in utter disgrace, stripped of his rank and wealth, and sentenced to death.
Still, the potential advantages of the move justified the risks. In Miyako, Sano was in a vulnerable position, without his political allies or detective corps to assist and protect him. He wouldn’t know to beware of sabotage by Yanagisawa. And operating in secret, away from the shogun and all the spies who scrutinized his every move in Edo, gave Yanagisawa the freedom he needed. Now he brooded, wishing he felt more comfortable with his choice. The smoke from his pipe hung in the stagnant air; ghostly moths flitted around the lanterns. Gongs rang in the distance; the incessant whine of insects came through the open doors. Yanagisawa shifted uncomfortably inside his sweat-drenched clothes. He hated Miyako and its awful heat. He longed to be back in Edo, secure in victory.
“Solving the mystery of Left Minister Konoe’s death from behind the scenes won’t be easy,” he said. “The need to stay hidden until the critical moment presents complications.”
However, secrecy wasn’t the only problem. Reports from Yanagisawa’s Miyako agents indicated that Konoe had been the victim of a bizarre murder. Yanagisawa had never investigated a crime, and he felt handicapped by his inexperience. But he’d set his scheme in motion, and he must follow it through to the end. He must apprehend the killer before Sano did, in a manner that created the impression that he’d happened along during the course of his inquiries in Omi Province, observed that Sano was making poor progress, and stepped in to solve the case. No one must guess that Yanagisawa had come here specifically to beat Sano at his own game, or think he’d won by underhanded means, because he didn’t want it publicly known that he’d resorted to such desperate tactics. By the time he was finished, Sano’s reputation as a great detective would be his.
“Let’s drink a toast for good luck,” Aisu said.
He clapped his hands. Female bodyguards-the only attendants allowed in this most private chamber-silently entered the room. On Aisu’s orders, they served wine, then silently departed.
Aisu raised his cup and said, “Here’s to your victory and the sōsakan-sama’s downfall.”