The Assassin's Touch Read online

  OUTSTANDING PRAISE FOR

  LAURA JOH ROWLAND’S

  SANO ICHIR THRILLERS

  The Assassin’s Touch

  “Evocative detail and suspense . . . Rowland’s characters remain fresh.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “A welcome breath of fresh air.”

  —Booklist

  “Elegantly told and interspersed with delicious bits of history.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Rowland delivers an unforgettable portrayal of the Edo of four hundred years ago.... [T]he action is worthy of a beautiful Asian martial-arts movie ... graceful, angry, and unbound.”

  —The Times-Picayune

  “[A] tough-minded, edgy, intelligent, and literate thriller.”

  —Flint Journal

  The Perfumed Sleeve

  “Its constant action and exotic environment will appeal to readers and add to Rowland’s already large fan base.”

  —The Times-Picayune

  “Rowland has a painter’s eye for the minutiae of court life, as well as a politician’s ear for intrigue.”

  —The New York Times Book Review

  “Think James Clavell meets Raymond Chandler.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “Deftly combining a classic whodunit with vivid period detail, Rowland raises the stakes for her next book with an unexpected twist at the end that promises to present her dogged but fallible hero with even more difficulties in the future.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  The Dragon Kings Palace

  “A lively dissection of the samurai code of honor, sexual dishonor, palace infighting, and ancient Japanese mores.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Rowland’s masterful evocation of the period enables the reader to identify with the universal human emotions and drives that propel her characters while absorbing numerous telling details of a different culture and era.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

  “Delicate prose and a plot full of the overtones and undercurrents that shade real life push Rowland’s latest historical beyond the standard whodunit. All the animosity and fear in this seamless work is put forth in demure language that perfectly suits the culture Rowland portrays.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “This series just keeps getting better and better.”

  —Booklist

  Black Lotus

  “Well-developed characters, a complex, absorbing plot, and rich historical detail should help win the author many new readers as well as a place on mystery bestseller lists.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Like the big, sprawling novels of James Clavell, the Sano Ichiro mysteries are full of captivating detail, with lively characters and solid stories. Sano himself is a great character, a film-noir detective transported to feudal Japan, as real as any contemporary crime-solver. For Rowland’s fans, and for those who relish vivid historical settings, this is a must-read.”

  —Booklist

  “Laura Joh Rowland’s richly detailed books about a 17th-century Japanese samurai-warrior-turned-detective are . . . packed with plot narrative.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  The Samurai’s Wife

  “As a fan ofShogun, it’s easy to say thatThe Samurai’s Wife provided me with the same sense of place and culture that was so invigorating in James Clavell’s epic yarn. . . Rowland’s a pretty terrific storyteller.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Rowland delineates the class distinctions of her characters with subtlety and pulls together the strands of her multifaceted plot with enviable grace.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “An authentically detailed and wonderfully involving historical novel.”

  —Library Journal

  “It’s quite a trick to create women in this time, in this place who are the focus of interest and action... But Rowland does it with flair, just as she renders the swordplay and exotic, well-researched details of day-to-day life at every level that have helped make her other four books so popular.”

  —The Times-Picayune

  The Concubine’s Tattoo

  “Rowland’s understanding of the society she depicts shines through, and she succeeds in presenting Sano as an intriguing combination of wiliness and decency, making this a good bet for fans of historicals as well as of mysteries past.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Rowland is deepening and broadening her distinctive series in interesting ways. She expertly evokes an exotic world—in its difference and brooding darkness—that can be confused with no other... Both author and detective come through with colors flying.”

  —The Times-Picayune

  “A fascinating, well-researched, and action-filled costume adventure.”

  —Library Journal

  “Rowland offers fascinating glimpses into the culture of medieval Japan.”

  —Booklist

  St. Martin’s Papertacks Titles by

  LAURA JOH ROWLAND

  The Perfumed Sleeve

  The Dragon King’s Palace

  The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

  Black Lotus

  The Samurai’s Wife

  The Concubine’s Tattoo

  Assassin’s

  Touch

  LAURA JOH ROWLAND

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks

  NOTE: If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  THE ASSASSIN’S TOUCH

  Copyright © 2005 by Laura Joh Rowland.

  Excerpt from Red Chrysanthemum copyright © 2006 by Laura Joh Rowland.

  Cover photograph of:

  Woman’s back © Lisa Spindler / Images.com / IPN

  Woman’s face © Holly Harris / Getty Images

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2005042763

  ISBN: 0-312-99209-2

  EAN: 978-0312-99209-5

  Printed in the United States of America

  St. Martin’s Press hardcover edition / August 2005

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / November 2006

  St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2

  Assassin’s

  Touch

  Edo

  Genroku Period

  Year 8, Month 4

  (Tokyo, May 1695)

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24
<
br />   Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Red Chrysanthemum

  Prologue

  A gunshot boomed within Edo Castle and echoed across the city that spread below the hilltop.

  On the racetrack inside the castle, five horses bolted from the starting line. Samurai riders, clad in metal helmets and armor tunics, crouched low in the saddles. They flailed their galloping mounts with riding crops; their shouts demanded more speed. The horses’ hooves thundered up a storm of dust.

  Around the long oval track, in wooden stands built in tiers and shaded from the sun by striped canopies, officials urged on the riders. Soldiers patrolling atop the stone walls of the compound and stationed in watchtowers above it waved and cheered. The horses galloped neck and neck until they reached the first curve, then crowded together as the riders jockeyed for position along the track’s inside edge. The riders struck out at their opponents’ mounts and bodies; their crops smacked horseflesh and rang loud against armor. Fighting for the lead, they yelled threats and insults at one another. Horses whinnied, colliding. As they rounded the curve, a rider on a bay stallion edged ahead of the pack.

  The sensations of power and speed thrilled him. His heartbeat accelerated in rhythm with his horse’s pounding hooves. The din resounded in his helmet. Through its visor he saw the spectators flick by him, their waving hands, colorful robes, and avid faces a blur in the wind. He whooped as reckless daring exhilarated his spirits. This new horse was well worth the gold he’d paid for it. He would win back its price when he collected on his bets, and show everyone who the best rider in the capital was.

  Hurtling along the track, he drew a length in front of the rest. When he looked over his shoulder, two riders charged up to him, one on each side. They leaned forward and lashed their whips at him. The blows glanced off his armor. One rider grabbed his reins and the other seized his tunic in an attempt to slow him down. Ruthless in his need to win, he banged his crop against their helmets. They dropped behind. The audience roared. The leader howled with glee as he veered around the curve. The pack rampaged after him, but he coaxed his horse faster. He increased his lead while racing toward the finish.

  In his mind there suddenly arose an image of a horseman gaining on him, monstrous in size, black as night. Startled, he glanced backward, but saw only the familiar horses and riders laboring through the dust in his wake. He dug in his heels, flailed his whip. His horse put on a burst of speed that stretched the gap between him and the pack. Ahead, some hundred paces distant, loomed the finish line. Two samurai officials waited there, holding red flags, ready to signal the winner.

  But now the monstrous horseman grew larger in his perception, storming so close that he could feel its shadow lapping at him. He felt a sharp, fierce pain behind his right eye, as though a knife had stabbed into his skull. A cry burst from him. The pain began to pulse, driving the blade deeper and deeper, harder and faster. He moaned in agony and confusion.

  What was happening to him?

  The sunlight brightened to an intensity that seared his eyes. The track, the men at the finish line, and the spectators dissolved into a blinding shimmer, as if the world had caught fire. His heart beat a loud, frantic counterpoint to the pulses of pain. External sounds melted into dim drones. A tingling sensation spread through his arms and legs. He couldn’t feel the horse under him. His head seemed very far away from his body. Now he knew something was dreadfully wrong. He tried to call for help, but only incoherent croaks emerged from his mouth.

  Yet he felt no fear. Emotion and thought fled him like leaves scattering in the wind. His hands weakened; their grip on the reins loosened. His body was a numb, dead weight that sagged in the saddle. The brilliant, shimmering light contracted to a dot as the black horseman overtook him and darkness encroached on his vision.

  The dot of light winked out. The world disappeared into black silence. Consciousness died.

  As he crossed the finish line, he tumbled from his mount, into the path of the oncoming horses and riders.

  Chapter 1

  Above the racetrack, past forested slopes carved by stone-walled passages that encircled and ascended the hill, a compound stood isolated from the estates that housed the top officials of the Tokugawa regime. High walls topped with metal spikes protected the compound, whose tiled roofs rose amid pine trees. Samurai officials, wearing formal silk robes and the two swords, shaved crowns, and topknots of their class, queued up outside. Guards escorted them in the double gate, through the courtyard, into the mansion that rambled in a labyrinth of wings connected by covered corridors. They gathered in an anteroom, waiting to see Chamberlain Sano Ichiro, the shogun’s second-in-command and chief administrator of the bakufu, the military government that ruled Japan. They passed the time with political gossip, their voices a constant, rising buzz. In nearby rooms whirled a storm of activity: The chamberlain’s aides conferred; clerks recorded business transacted by the regime, collated and filed reports; messengers rushed about.

  Closeted in his private inner office, Chamberlain Sano sat with General Isogai, supreme commander of the army, who’d come to brief him on military affairs. Around them, colored maps of Japan hung on walls made of thick wooden panels that muted the noise outside. Shelves and fireproof iron chests held ledgers. The open window gave a view of the garden, where sand raked in parallel lines around mossy boulders shone brilliant white in the afternoon sun.

  “There’s good news and bad news,” General Isogai said. He was a bulbous man with a squat head that appeared to sprout directly from his shoulders. His eyes glinted with intelligence and joviality. He spoke in a loud voice accustomed to shouting orders. “The good news is that things have quieted down in the past six months.”

  Six months ago, the capital had been embroiled in political strife. “We can be thankful that order has been restored and civil war prevented,” Sano said, recalling how troops from two opposing factions had clashed in a bloody battle outside Edo and 346 soldiers had died.

  “We can thank the gods that Lord Matsudaira is in power, and Yanagisawa is out,” General Isogai added.

  Lord Matsudaira—a cousin of the shogun—and the former chamberlain Yanagisawa had vied fiercely for domination of the regime. Their power struggle had divided the bakufu, until Lord Matsudaira had managed to win more allies, defeat the opposition’s army, and oust Yanagisawa. Now Lord Matsudaira controlled the shogun, and thus the dictatorship.

  “The bad news is that the trouble’s not over,” General Isogai continued. “There have been more unfortunate incidents. Two of my soldiers were ambushed and murdered on the highway, and four others while patrolling in town. And yesterday, the army garrison at Hodogaya was bombed. Four soldiers were killed, eight wounded.”

  Sano frowned in consternation. “Have the persons responsible been caught?” “Not yet,” General Isogai said, his expression surly. “But of course we know who they are.”

  After Yanagisawa had been ousted, scores of soldiers from his army had managed to escape Lord Matsudaira’s strenuous efforts to capture them. Edo, home to a million people and countless houses, shops, temples, and shrines, afforded many secret hiding places for the fugitive outlaws. Determined to avenge their master’s defeat, they were waging war upon Lord Matsudaira in the form of covert acts of violence. Thus, Yanagisawa still cast a shadow even though he now lived in exile on Hachijo Island in the middle of the ocean.

  “I’ve heard reports of fighting between the army and the outlaws in the provinces,” Sano said. The outlaws were fomenting rebellion in areas where the Tokugawa had less military presence. “Have you figured out who’s leading the attacks?”

  “I’ve interrogated the fugitives we’ve captured and gotten a few names,” General Isogai said. “They’re all senior officers from
Yanagisawa’s army who’ve gone underground.”

  “Could they be taking orders from above ground?”

  “From inside the bakufu, you mean?” General Isogai shrugged. “Perhaps. Even though Lord Matsudaira has gotten rid of most of the opposition, he can’t eliminate it all.”

  Lord Matsudaira had purged many officials because they’d supported his rival. The banishments, demotions, and executions would probably continue for some time. But remnants of the Yanagisawa faction still populated the government. These were men too powerful and entrenched for Lord Matsudaira to dislodge. They comprised a small but growing challenge to him.

  “We’ll crush the rebels eventually,” General Isogai said. “Let’s just hope that a foreign army doesn’t invade Japan while we’re busy coping with them.”

  Their meeting finished, Sano and General Isogai rose and exchanged bows. “Keep me informed,” Sano said.

  The general contemplated Sano a moment. “These times have been disastrous for some people,” he remarked, “but beneficial for others.” His sly, knowing smile nudged Sano. “Had Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira never fought, a certain onetime detective would never have risen to heights far above expectation ... isn’t that right, Honorable Chamberlain?”

  He emphasized the syllables of Sano’s title, conferred six months ago as a result of a murder investigation that had contributed to Yanagisawa’s downfall. Once the shogun’s sosakan-sama—Most Honorable Investigator of Events, Situations, and People—Sano had been chosen to replace Yanagisawa.

  General Isogai chuckled. “I never thought I’d be reporting to a former rdnin.” Before Sano had joined the government, he’d been a masterless samurai, living on the fringes of society, eking out a living as a tutor and martial arts instructor. “I had a bet with some of my officers that you wouldn’t last a month.”

  “Many thanks for your vote of confidence,” Sano said with a wry smile, as he recalled how he’d struggled to learn how the government operated, to keep its huge, arcane bureaucracy running smoothly, and establish good relations with subordinates who resented his promotion over them.