Текст книги "Island of Exiles "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

Some tunnels were too small to consider. With the rest they

checked the air flow, but could not always be certain, and in the

end, they chose to stay in the largest tunnel.

“How far have we come?” Haseo asked at one point.

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Akitada had attempted to count steps, short ones since their

chains still hobbled them. He told Haseo, who muttered, “Got

to move faster. Damn these chains,” and took such a large step

forward that he fell flat on his face. The oil lamp flew from his

hand and broke with a small clatter. Instant darkness enveloped

them. Haseo cursed. When Akitada had helped him up, he said,

“Well, we’ll have to feel our way like blind men. But let’s take off these chains.”

“We have no light. It will be time enough when we get out.”

Haseo protested, “But we need to get to the outside while it’s

still dark and then run like demons. I tell you, this place’ll

swarm with guards and soldiers as soon as it’s daylight.”

“What did you do to the guard?” Akitada asked again.

“Hit him with a piece of rock.”

“Did you kill him?”

“Maybe.”

They continued. The tunnel climbed upward, making sev-

eral turns but still promising escape. It was nerve-racking work

in the utter darkness. They groped their way, taking turns at

going first, feet testing the ground, and hands stretched out to

meet obstacles. Their inability to see seemed to magnify sounds,

and small rocks kicked by their feet made them stop to listen,

reminded of the constant danger of rock falls. The darkness

raised vivid images of being crushed or, worse, becoming

walled in alive. Each caught in his own nightmare, they stopped

talking.

And then the tunnel ended.

Akitada had been in front for a while, moving more quickly

in his impatience. He suddenly stubbed his toe, stumbled, and

fell forward onto a pile of rocks.

“What are you doing?” Haseo asked. He came up and felt for

Akitada.

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299

“It’s a rock pile,” muttered Akitada, scrambling up it with

some difficulty, because the rubble kept shifting under his feet

and he kept slipping back down, causing small rock slides.

“Move aside.” Haseo passed him, having better luck.

“How much is there, do you think?” Akitada asked from

below. He jumped aside when a low rumble announced another

rock slide. When it stopped, he said, “Be careful or you’ll bring

the whole mountain down on us.”

Haseo did not answer. Akitada could hear him sliding all the

way down. “It’s the end,” Haseo said tonelessly, stopping beside

him. “It goes all the way to the ceiling. If this tunnel ever led to the outside, the rock fall has filled it. Maybe that’s why they

stopped working it.”

Akitada sat down next to him. He was very tired. “We must

think,” he said.

Haseo gave a bark of bitter laughter. “You’re a fool. I told you

so last night. We’ll die here.”

“We won’t die here. And if you thought it was so foolish,

why did you come?”

Haseo did not answer that. Instead he said, “You’re right.

Let’s think.”

“We could go back and try the other tunnels. One or two

seemed promising.”

But they did not have the heart for it. They had been so

sure. Perhaps an hour passed while they rested, dozed, tried to

gather their strength for the next attempt. Akitada was the first

to stand up.

“Come on. There’s not much time. We must try another way.”

Haseo staggered to his feet. “All right.” He started back, but

Akitada caught his sleeve.

“Wait,” he said. “Do you hear something?”

Haseo listened. “No. Nothing. Just the air.”

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“Yes, the air. The current is still there. And it makes a

whistling sound we did not hear before. Like the sound a flute

makes when you blow it. Do you know what that means?”

“Forget it! You can’t go by air flow. See where it got us.”

“But the sound comes from the rock pile. Somewhere up

there is a narrow opening letting in the air and that is why it

whistles.”

Haseo pondered this. “Surely you don’t plan to move the

whole rock pile?” he finally said.

“We’ve carried rocks before. Why not now when it may

mean our freedom?”

“The whole thing may come loose and crush us.”

“Yes. But perhaps not.”

Haseo grunted and then climbed back up to the top, Akitada

at his heels. He could hear him scrabbling about, and then a

large piece of rock slid his way. He caught it barely before it

would have crushed his fingers, and slid back down with it.

They worked on like this for what seemed like hours,

sweat and stone dust crusting on their skin. Haseo grunted,

cursed, and muttered, “Waste of time,” and “Stupid” under his

breath, but he continued loosening rocks and passing them

down by feel alone. Akitada was tiring. His excitement had

carried him this far, but now his weakened body rebelled. After

each stone he deposited below, it was a little harder to climb

back up the few steps to where Haseo had made a foothold

for himself. He was working much faster than Akitada could

carry the rocks down.

Eventually Haseo was surrounded by a wall of rocks and

stopped. “It’s no good,” he said. “There are too many for us to

move. Let’s go back before we wall ourselves in.”

Akitada listened. “The whistling has stopped,” he said.

Haseo listened also and started groping around again.

“Wish we had a light. I can feel the air in my hair. Wait a

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301

minute.” There was clatter, then the rocks beneath them seemed

to come alive and shift.

“Watch out,” cried Akitada as he fell on his back and was

carried downward. Haseo began to curse amid the rumble of

falling rocks. When the noise stopped, Akitada cried, “Haseo?

Are you all right?”

“Yes. I think so.” Haseo’s voice came from somewhere

beyond the rock pile.

“Where are you?”

“You were right. We’re through. The tunnel goes on from here.

Come on, but watch your feet. I got a nasty cut on my ankle.”

“Stand back in case it shifts again.” Akitada groped his way

to the top of the pile carefully, found that he could wiggle

through beneath the roof of the tunnel, then sat and slowly slid

down on the other side.

Their success gave them new hope and they moved forward

again. But soon the tunnel narrowed sharply and the ceiling

dipped until they had to crawl again. It looked as though they

were coming to the end of the lode. Haseo was in front, and

when Akitada got down on his hands and knees, he felt some-

thing wet on the ground. He raised his hand to his nose and

sniffed. Blood.

“Wait, you’re bleeding,” he cried.

Haseo gave a snort—“I know”—and kept crawling.

“It must be bad. We should stop and tie up the wound,” said

Akitada.

“There’s not enough room,” grunted Haseo. Then he

stopped and said, “Amida. I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“I can see the stars. Either that or I’m dying.”

Since Haseo’s body blocked the crawl space almost com-

pletely, Akitada could not see, but his heart started hammering.

“Can you get out?”

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A muffled “Yes, oh, yes” came back on what sounded like a

sob. Then Haseo slid away from him and there, barely lighter

than the tunnel, was a patch of night sky.

Akitada crawled forward like a man in a dream. His hands

touched the moist coolness of grass and he felt his shoulders

brush past the mouth of the tunnel as he slipped through, then

rolled down a steep slope and came to rest in a batch of bracken,

breathing the scent of pine and clover and looking up at a

starry sky.

C H A P T E R E I G H T E E N

T H E G O L D E N P H O E N I X

Little Flower asked to see Tora the next morning. He had just

finished his bowl of watery rice gruel without complaint—he

did not mind sharing with Oyoshi’s large brood—when the

request came. His hopes that Little Flower might have some

new information about Wada to impart were quickly crushed

by the landlady’s knowing wink.

“I’m pretty busy this morning,” he hedged, scratching one of

the flea bites he had picked up overnight.

She grinned her gap-toothed smile and slapped his back

with a cheerful, “Go on, handsome!” Tora, conscious of his new

rank, thought her manner overly familiar, especially when she

added, “You’re the first man Little Flower has lost her heart to.

She deserves something nice for a change.”

He reached for his helmet and edged toward the door. “I’ll

look in later,” he lied.

“It’ll just take a moment.” Oyoshi firmly took his arm and

led him to the back of the hostel.

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She flung back Little Flower’s door and pushed him in,

slamming it behind him with a giggle.

Little Flower had taken pains with her toilet. She wore a

garishly printed robe, covered mostly with red and pink peonies

and brilliantly green leaves, and had tied a yellow sash about her

tiny waist. Her face was powdered, the eyebrows black smudges

painted on her forehead, the eyes ringed with charcoal, and her

lips rouged into a tiny rosebud. Someone, perhaps Oyoshi, had

brushed her hair and draped it artfully over her thin shoulders.

On either side of her painted face, a portion of hair had been

whacked off in the style that little girls wore. These small black

wings framed her face, making it appear incongruously young.

Tora, still scratching, simply stared at her.

She smiled—carefully, so as not to disturb the thick layer of

powder—and revealed black teeth. “Do you like it, Master

Tora?” she asked. “I wanted to show you that I can be quite

pretty when I’m not sick. I’m much better today.”

Tora swallowed. “I’m glad.”

She sat down and patted a cushion beside her invitingly.

“Why don’t you keep me company for a little while?”

“I . . . I have things to do.”

Her eyes grew large with hurt. “You don’t like me like this?

The hair? I should have pinned it up. Or perhaps you prefer less

paint? Master Wada doesn’t like me to paint. He wants me to

look like a child, but I thought you . . . you would be used to the women in the cities . . . very elegant and beautiful . . . oh, I

shouldn’t have bothered.” Forgetting the thick white paint, she

hid her face in the peony sleeves and wept.

Tora muttered a curse and knelt beside her. “Don’t do that,

Little Flower,” he said gruffly. “You are really very pretty just as you are. You shouldn’t try to please that animal Wada or me.

You should go home to your family and find some other kind of

work where you don’t get hurt by men.”

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305

But it did no good. She sat there, weeping sadly into her

finery, and after a while, he got up and left.

For once Turtle was nowhere to be found, and Tora

walked to the harbor alone. The day was overcast and a chill

wind whipped up the incoming tide so that the fishing boats

bobbed like chaff among the whitecaps and dirty yellow foam

covered the shore. Gulls swooped with raucous cries, diving for

the small creatures the sea had thrown up on land and which

scrambled madly to return to the safety of the ocean. This land

was inhospitable to man and beast. The scene filled Tora with

more gloom and a sense of urgency.

A few bearers were moving remnants of the previous day’s

cargo, but no new ships from the mainland had arrived, and

the harbor was without its usual staff of constables. Tora

strolled along the street of ramshackle wine shops, warehouses,

and port offices toward the end where some trees and more

substantial roofs signaled better accommodations. He passed

the wine shop where he had first stopped after disembarking. It

was empty, but then it was still early in the day.

The grove of trees was behind a building that bore the sign

“The Golden Phoenix.” Tora stopped and looked the place over.

So this was where Wada had met Little Flower. Somewhere in

back must be the place where he had almost beaten her to

death. He wondered how often a man like that needed to repeat

this sort of experience. There seemed no shortage of poor

women willing to take their chances with such men, but how

sharp were Wada’s appetites? Did he indulge them once a

month, every week, or more often? He wished he could send

Turtle to ask some questions for him. Where was the rascal

when he was needed?

It was much too early for business, and no one seemed

about. Tora decided to play the curious visitor and take a stroll

about the premises. He put his head in the main house first. It

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was filled with the smells of such establishments: stale wine,

food, perfume, sweat, and, faintly, sex. Apparently none of the

employees had returned yet to clean up and ready the place

for another night of debauch. But Tora did not think that even

in lax Sadoshima a house would be left wide open to casual

thieves, and he continued his reconnaissance with a stroll

around the main building and into its back gardens. These were

surprisingly well kept. When he turned to look back at the

house, he saw why. Most of the rooms of the Golden Phoenix

overlooked the gardens. Very nice.

But the gardens were only trimmed neatly near the main

house. Farther off, dense shrubs and trees had been allowed to

close off the view to the small building whose roof just showed

above them.

A narrow path, lined with stones, led to the far corner of

the property. Here a small cottage or summerhouse stood close to

the woven bamboo fencing separating the grounds of the Golden

Phoenix from a wooded shrine area beyond. The door to the cot-

tage was open, and he saw that it contained only a single room,

occupied at the moment by a small elderly woman on her hands

and knees, scrubbing the grass mats and muttering to herself.

Tora had approached silently on the smooth stones of the

path. She jumped a little when he cleared his throat.

“Good morning, auntie,” he greeted her. “Up so early after a

late night?”

She took in his uniform, then stood painfully and bowed.

“Good morning, sir. We’re not open yet, but please to return

later this evening. The Golden Phoenix offers the most elegant

entertainments, the finest wine, and the most delicious foods.

Can I be of some service to the officer?”

Apparently the polite phrases had been drummed into her

head. As a potential customer of the Golden Phoenix, Tora must

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307

be encouraged to spend his money. He sat down on the veranda

steps and smiled at her. “I was taking a stroll out near the har-

bor, but it’s a bit windy, so I came inside. Nice garden, this. Do

you mind if I rest here for a while?”

She bowed again. “Please make yourself at home, sir. Can I

fetch you some wine?”

“No, don’t trouble. Go on with your work. I’ll just sit here.”

The infernal bites started to itch again, and Tora scratched as he

watched her.

She got back on her knees and started scrubbing again. Blood-

stains? Yes, Tora thought the water had a pinkish tinge. “Some of

your guests spilled their wine?” he called out to her.

“Not wine.” She made a face.

Pretending idle curiosity, Tora got up to take a closer look.

“Oh,” he said in a startled tone, “it’s blood. Somebody got hurt.

A drunken brawl?”

She sat back on her heels and looked around at the many

small dark red splatters which dotted the mats in all directions.

Tora pictured the nude childlike body of Little Flower flung face

down on the floor while that bastard Wada stood over her with

a leather whip. The picture sickened him. Would she have been

tied down? He glanced around the small room. Two smooth

wooden pillars supported the wooden ceiling. The floor was

also wood under the grass mats. Against the back wall stood a

screen with badly painted willow trees and two lacquered

trunks for bedding. There was no sign of any whips. Wada

probably carried his own.

The elderly woman followed his eyes and shook her head.

“Just a customer and his companion.”

“What did they do?”

“Some men enjoy hurting the girls,” she said, her face stiff

with disapproval.

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“That sounds nasty.” Tora pretended shocked interest.

“Does it happen a lot?”

“No, thank heaven. The Willow Cottage costs extra.” She

bent to her scrubbing again.

“It should. These men, what do they do to the women?”

She paused in her scrubbing, but did not turn around. For a

moment, Tora thought she would tell him, but she just shook

her head and continued with her work.

“If the owner knows,” said Tora, “why does he allow such

customers here?”

“Money.”

“Oh.” Tora sat back down. “You’d think the police would

take an interest in such things.”

“Hah,” she snorted.

“What do you mean?”

She turned around and gave him a pitying look. “You being

a stranger here, Officer, all I can say is, stay away from the

police.”

Tora tried to get more from her, but she clamped her mouth

shut and shook her head stubbornly.

“You must expect the customer back tonight,” he said.

“I hope not.” She got up and gathered her rags and bucket of

water, muttering, “I doubt the poor thing’s in any shape for it.”

And that was that. Tora thanked her for the rest and took his

leave. He walked away glumly. Turtle’s suggestion had been to

catch Wada here during one of his private nights of pleasure

with Little Flower. It would have been perfect. The cottage was

secluded, and even if they made any noise grabbing him, nobody

would pay attention. Now, with Little Flower too injured to

service the depraved lust of the police lieutenant, there was no

chance to catch him alone, and Wada knew what had happened.

Tora turned at the next corner and passed the shrine.

Beyond its gateway the trees clustered thickly, hiding both the

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309

shrine building and the adjoining Golden Phoenix. He walked

into the grounds, looked around, and then resumed his stroll

about Mano. The main street took him all the way to the end of

town without revealing much of interest. People were going

about their daily business, glancing his way, but averting their

faces as soon as he looked at them. No doubt recent events in

Sadoshima had made them suspicious of soldiers.

Eventually, the houses thinned and straggled into open coun-

try. The road split, one arm leading north toward the mountains,

and the other east. A dilapidated set of stables marked the cross-

roads. Tora put his head in the open door. A one-eyed groom

who had several fingers missing—there seemed to be a lot of

cripples in Mano—was tossing a small amount of stinking hay

into a trough where three thin horses gobbled it eagerly.

“How much to rent a horse?” Tora shouted.

The man spat and mentioned an exorbitant amount.

“What? And where do you keep the magnificent beasts

worth that much silver?”

He got an ugly squint from the remaining eye and a thumb

pointing at the three nags.

“Them? You’re joking. I guess you don’t do much business

at those rates.”

“Take it or leave it. Most people walk. Horse fodder costs as

much as food.”

Tora told the fellow he would think about it and walked

back to the hostel. Oyoshi greeted him so eagerly that he was

afraid she would try to lock him into Little Flower’s room, but

she only wanted to know if he wished to buy another dinner for

that evening. Half her brood were gathered about her to hear

his answer, their eyes glued on him with such fixed intensity

that they might have been praying to the Buddha.

“Why not?” he said, smiling at the children and pulling

out the money. Back in his room, he kicked the vermin-ridden

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bedding out the door and checked his money. Feeding a family

the size of Oyoshi’s and taking care of the injuries of local

whores was rapidly depleting the funds his mistress had care-

fully counted out. He decided against a visit to the bathhouse to

get some relief for his itching body. If he did not catch Wada

tonight, his chances would rapidly disappear.

Turtle made his appearance late in the day, about the

time when appetizing smells wafted from Oyoshi’s cooking

pots. Since Tora planned to visit every low dive in town and

thought his fine new uniform too good for what might happen,

he was changing into a plain dark robe when Turtle appeared

in his door.

“Where have you been?” Tora demanded. “I thought you

were going to be my servant.”

“Sorry, master. I was working for you all morning. Had to

advance my own money to get some information.”

Tora looked at him suspiciously. “What information?”

“Nobody has seen Master Wada anywhere.”

Tora grabbed Turtle by the neck and shook him. “You

crook,” he cried. “You think I’ll pay for that kind of news? You’re fired.” He pushed the small man away in disgust.

“No, no. Wait. There’s more. Today he sent a message to old

Motoko.”

“Who’s old Motoko?”

“She keeps whores and makes assignations.”

“Ah.” Tora felt a thrill of satisfaction. “So the bastard is at it

again. Do you know what he plans to do?”

Turtle shook his head regretfully. “Motoko won’t talk to me.

We’re competition.”

“Well, I was going to look for him tonight anyway. I’ll stop

by the Golden Phoenix again. Maybe this new girl is as big a fool

as Little Flower.”

“I can find out for you,” wheedled Turtle.

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311

“Can you? Good. Do it.”

Turtle’s face fell. “You mean now? Before I eat? And aren’t

you going to pay me what you owe?”

“If you’re quick about it, there’ll be some food left. What do

I owe you?”

Turtle mentioned a reasonable amount, and Tora paid.

Turtle looked at the coppers in his hand thoughtfully and said,

“You know, sometimes it costs more. For example, the Golden

Phoenix is very expensive.”

Tora snapped, “I don’t expect you to go there as a paying

customer. If you have any brains, you should be able to

ask one of the waiters or servants if the Willow Cottage is still

available.”

Before leaving his room, Tora gave his half armor, the hel-

met, and the long sword a longing glance, but he settled for his

short sword, tucked out of sight under the loose jacket.

As before, he sat down to dinner with Oyoshi’s family. Turtle

was not back, but his sister had laid a cushion for him. There

was, however, another guest tonight. Little Flower, dressed more

modestly and without paint on her face, knelt next to Oyoshi,

ostensibly to help with the children.

Tora saw her with a slight panic, but approved of her ap-

pearance and told her so. She blushed and smiled shyly. He was

struck by how much she resembled the young women with

whom he usually flirted and he smiled at her.

“You look very handsome also,” she murmured, encouraged

by his compliment. “Why are you not wearing your uniform

tonight?”

Her question reminded Tora of his failed efforts with Wada

and he became glum again. “I don’t know what I’ll get into

tonight,” he said grimly. “Better not ruin the uniform. Some

people have no respect for an honest military man.”

Instantly she looked alarmed. “What are you going to do?”

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Tora was touched by her concern, but thought it best to

sound manly and determined. “I’m going to get that bastard

Wada tonight. If I have to, I’ll fight him, his constables, and the local guard to find my master.”

“Oh, no! You’ll get yourself killed,” she moaned, turning

quite pale.

“Well,” he snapped, hurt by her lack of confidence, “since

you’re in no shape to set the bastard up for me, I’ll have to get

him any way I can.”

Little Flower gave a small sob and ran from the room.

Oyoshi said reprovingly, “You shouldn’t tease her so. She’s

fallen in love with you.”

Tora stared at her. “She hardly knows me. Why would she do

a stupid thing like that?”

“Oh, you men!” Oyoshi refilled his bowl with large chunks

of some excellent grilled fish and topped this off with stewed

eggplant and mushrooms. “Little Flower has never met a man

like you before.” She gave him an appraising look as she passed

the food across. “She says you’re as handsome as Genji, as strong

and brave as Fudo, and as loving and kind as the goddess

Kannon herself.”

“Nonsense.” Tora blushed and turned his attention to his

food and to joking with Oyoshi’s children.

Turtle returned, out of breath and with an anxious eye to

the leftovers. He announced, “Nobody’s reserved the Golden

Phoenix’s cottage tonight or tomorrow night.” He snatched the

bowl his sister had filled from her hand and fell to.

“I hope you had the brains to ask if Wada ever comes as a

regular customer,” Tora growled.

“Never,” mumbled Turtle through a mouthful of food. “The

food’s no good and the charge too high. He eats and drinks in

the Crane Grove or at Tomoe’s restaurant.”

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313

“Hmm. We’ll start with them first. You can come along as

soon as you’ve stuffed your belly.” He stretched and readjusted

the sword under his sash.

Turtle’s eyes widened. He lowered his bowl, his face

shocked. “You’re going to make trouble. Somebody’s going to

get hurt. I think I’ll stay home.”

Tora gave him a look of disgust. “Nonsense. I may need you.

But you can wait outside for me. Just be there when I come out.”

They left soon after. It was almost dark and the wind still

blew sharp from the sea, signaling the end of summer. The

streets were nearly empty. People had gone home to eat their

rice, or to one of the wine shops whose lights winked invitingly

up and down the main street of Mano.

When they did not find Wada at either of the establishments

Turtle had mentioned, Tora began a systematic search of all the

restaurants and low dives, looking grimmer by the minute.

He did not see Wada but had another kind of success. In

one crowded wine shop, a burly guest rose when he heard

Tora’s question and walked over. “Who wants to know where

the lieutenant is?” he demanded in a belligerent tone.

Tora’s hopes lifted marginally. “The name’s Akaishi. Who

are you?”

“Ikugoro. Sergeant of constables. So what’s your business

with the lieutenant?”

“I have a few questions. Maybe you’ll do.” Tora gestured

with his thumb toward a quiet corner.

The other man’s small eyes narrowed even further. “What

makes you think I’ll talk to you?”

Tora looked around. He did not want to pay for wine for one

of Wada’s thugs, but a brawl would get him nowhere and cause

people to get hurt. The three men Ikugoro had been sitting

with were watching. Inspiration came to his assistance. He dug

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his faked dispatch with its official seals from his sash and held

it before Ikugoro’s face. The light was bad and he didn’t think

the sergeant could read in any case. “I shouldn’t be showing

you this,” he said in a low voice, “but since you’re his second

in command, I’ll let you in on a little secret. As you see”—he

pointed to the first line of writing—“I’m an inspector for the

imperial police in the capital. It’s my duty to visit different

provinces to check up on our appointees.” Looking around

in case someone was listening, he quickly put his document

away again.

Ikugoro’s face had fallen almost comically. “B-but what do

you want with our lieutenant? Is anything wrong?”

“No, no.” Tora chuckled. “On the contrary. He’s applied for

promotion and transfer to the capital and it looks like it’ll be

approved. I’m to clear up a few details before they act on it. To

tell you the truth, I’m a bit behind schedule already and need to

grab the next boat back to the mainland.”

Ikugoro’s eyes had grown round. Belatedly he came to at-

tention and tried to salute.

Tora snatched his arm down. “Don’t be a fool. I’m incog-

nito, of course.”

“Oh, sorry, sir. It’s just . . . the surprise. Lieutenant Wada never mentioned to me that he wanted to leave.”

“No. He wouldn’t. It’s one of the rules. He’d be disqualified

if he let it get out that he planned to leave. You can see why.”

Ikugoro nodded slowly. “Right. All hell would break loose.

But . . .” He frowned. “You say his promotion is pretty certain?

And then he’ll leave here? And someone else will come to take

his place?”

Tora could see that such a change and its impact on him

troubled the sergeant deeply. He leaned closer. “You’re his num-

ber two man,” he whispered. “Most likely you’d be the one.”

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315

Ikugoro’s small eyes widened again. Casting a nervous

glance toward his companions, he said, “We’ll talk over there in

the corner, sir. I’ll just tell my men it’s private business.”

When he returned, Ikugoro ordered the best wine in the

house and paid for it. “The lieutenant was supposed to stop by

tonight,” he said, “but something must’ve come up.” He winked

and touched his crotch.

Tora emptied his cup, smacking his lips. “A ladies’ man, eh?

He’ll be glad to get back to the big city, then. I bet he’s running out of fresh fare by now.”

Ikugoro laughed. “The lieutenant’s got plenty of money. He

buys what he wants.” He leaned across to refill Tora’s cup. “So

tell me, sir, how likely is it that I’ll get his job?”

“Provided I get my information and his application is ap-

proved, it depends on him.”

“It does?”

“Will he speak up for you? You know, praise your brains,

hard work, organizational skills, devotion to law enforcement,

and honesty?” Ikugoro’s face lengthened. “If he puts in a really

good word, it’ll save the government sending a new man all the

way from the capital.”

Ikugoro pondered this; then his face lit up. “Hah,” he

laughed. “It’s done, then. He’d better write all that if he knows

what’s good for him.”

“How do you mean?”

But Ikugoro apparently decided it was wiser not to mention

certain details of their relationship that made him sure Wada

would oblige. Instead he said, “Suppose my men and I start

looking for him and send him to you? Where are you staying?”

Thinking quickly, Tora gave the name of an inn they had

passed earlier. It was in a quiet part of town. He thought he could lie in wait for Wada and jump him when he came hotfoot to

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I . J . P a r k e r

check out the news. He added, “Don’t mention that I told

you about his application. Just say an inspector from the capital

wants to discuss his reassignment.” They parted on friendly

terms, and Tora rejoined Turtle outside. He found him in agi-

tated conversation with his eldest nephew.

“What are you doing out on the streets this time of night?”

Tora asked the boy.

“Mom sent me. I’ve been looking for you for hours. She says

to come home right away. Little Flower’s in some sort of trouble.”

Tora cursed roundly. “Go tell your mother I haven’t got time

to go chasing all over town because of some stupid woman.”

Turtle looked shocked. He said, “Oyoshi won’t like it. She’s

taken to that girl. We’d better go see what happened. It’s not far.”