The Cloud Pavilion Read online

  Joju favored Sano with a smile that bespoke regret as well as offense. “I’m surprised to say that I believe you would actually uphold your end of the bargain. But I can’t give you the shogun’s wife because I don’t have her. That is the truth, I swear by all the spirits in the cosmos.”

  “I hate to say this, but I think Joju is telling the truth about the shogun’s wife,” Fukida said.

  “So do I,” Marume said.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Sano said.

  He and the detectives stood in the temple grounds with his other troops, who’d just finished their search without finding Lady Nobuko. By now Sano was so exhausted that he felt his instincts shutting down; he hardly knew what to think anymore.

  “Maybe Joju isn’t responsible for Lady Nobuko’s disappearance or for the other kidnappings.” Sano looked around the grounds. He didn’t see the men he’d just assigned to keep surveillance on Joju; they’d mixed with the crowds of worshippers. With luck, Joju wouldn’t spot them, either. “But I hope he’ll lead us to her, if Ogita doesn’t.”

  “If neither one has her, there’s still Nanbu,” Fukida said.

  “He’s next,” Sano said.

  He and his men left the temple. Outside, there was now only one beggar, a woman with raddled skin, lank hair, and feet so calloused and caked with dirt that they looked like hooves. She said something to Sano that he didn’t catch. He was so surprised that he paused before mounting his horse. Beggars usually didn’t dare talk to samurai.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  A closer look at her showed him that her features were delicate; she must have once been pretty. Her voice marked her as younger than Sano had at first thought, in her thirties. Maybe she was bold because she had nothing to lose except her life, which was a burden to her anyway.

  “Is he in trouble?” she said.

  “Who?” Sano said.

  The woman gestured toward the temple. “Him. Joju.”

  “Yes, in fact he is,” Sano said.

  She smiled, showing decayed teeth. “Good.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m glad. I hate him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a bad man.”

  Here was someone willing to speak ill of the priest that had the shogun’s protection, that so many people revered. Now she had Sano’s full attention. “Why do you think he’s bad?”

  The woman’s mouth twisted; a tear traced a glistening rivulet down her dirty cheek. Sano spoke to his men: “Give us some privacy.” As they rode off and stopped a short distance away, Sano removed a cloth from under his sash and handed it to the woman. She took it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose.

  “What’s your name?” Sano asked.

  “Okitsu.” She offered the cloth to Sano.

  He saw grime on it and smelled her rank odor of sweat, fish, dirty hair, and urine. “You can keep it.”

  With a lopsided smile, she carefully tucked the cloth inside her ragged blue kimono.

  “Tell me what Joju did to make you hate him,” Sano said.

  Her expression suddenly altered into a scowl so fierce that Sano took an involuntary step backward. “He ruined my life.”

  “How?”

  “When I was a girl, I was possessed by evil spirits,” Okitsu said. Her scowl faded, but a shadow of it remained, like a warning. “I heard their voices.” She raised her head, as if listening for them now. “They told me things.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “They said people were out to get me. They told me to curse at them and hit them. I did it, because if I didn’t, the voices would get louder and louder. They wouldn’t stop.” She clapped her hands over her ears. “My parents took me to see Joju. They begged him to drive out the spirits.”

  Dropping her hands, Okitsu said, “They didn’t have enough money to pay him. He said that when I was cured, I could be his servant. My parents agreed. He did the exorcism. The spirits went away. I went to live at the temple. During the day I washed laundry and floors and cleaned the privies. At night—”

  A sob broke her voice. “At night Joju did things to me. Things that should only happen between husbands and wives. Things that priests aren’t supposed to do. But I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t say no. I owed it to him.” She buried her face in her hands. “I was so ashamed.”

  Realizing he wasn’t the most objective judge of Joju’s character, Sano cautioned himself against rushing to believe her story, but it resonated with truth.

  “After a while he said my debt was paid, and he sent me back to my parents,” she said. “But it was too late. I was already with child.”

  Sano felt pity toward her, and anger at Joju for exploiting a helpless girl.

  “My parents threw me out,” Okitsu said. “I had the baby in an alley. It died. I almost did, too. That was when the evil spirits came back.” She smiled, and her eyes shone with a feral gleam. “They said I must live and be strong. So I did. For a while I sold myself to men. When I lost my looks, I became a beggar. The spirits said that one day I would have a chance to pay Joju back for what he did to me.” She grinned at Sano. “They say that day is coming soon.”

  An eerie shiver rippled through Sano. He could see the evil spirits looking out of her eyes. Then Okitsu turned and shuffled down the street, muttering under her breath. Sano mounted his horse and joined his men. As they rode, he told the detectives what she’d said.

  “Well, well,” Marume said. “Our friend Joju is guilty of the same sin as the people he exorcises.”

  “He doesn’t seem to be haunted by the dead baby,” Fukida said.

  “But I’d believe a mad beggar woman over that fake exorcist any day,” Marume said.

  “So would I.” Sano made an effort to hold on to his objectivity. “But even if Joju raped Okitsu, that doesn’t mean he raped the other victims. That’s not strong enough evidence.”

  He saw a theme developing. Ogita liked violent erotic art, but so did other men. Joju had exploited a helpless girl, but untold numbers of other men forced themselves on women and society looked the other way.

  “It makes him look bad, though, doesn’t it?” Fukida said.

  “Maybe Nanbu will look worse,” Sano said.

  “How are we going to get to him while he’s protected by his dogs?” Fukida said.

  “Thank you for reminding me about the dogs,” Sano said. “Before we pay a call on him, we’d better take precautions.”

  Accompanied by his two chief detectives, Hirata rode along a street that led him past the canals, quays, and ware houses of the Hatchobori district.

  “Do you feel anything yet?” Detective Arai asked.

  “Not yet,” Hirata said.

  The enemy must be biding his time, letting Hirata’s anxiety grow before he made his next appearance.

  Since Hirata had discovered that his enemy could reach him anywhere, he’d decided to stay away from home as much as possible. He didn’t want Midori or the children to get hurt, and he didn’t want a confrontation with his enemy to happen inside the castle, because if he drew his sword there, even to defend himself, the penalty was death. Instead, he must lure the enemy to a place he liked better.

  “When he comes, we’ll help you take him,” Detective Inoue said.

  “When he comes, you’ll stay out of it,” Hirata said. His men were good fighters, but no match for the enemy. Only Hirata stood a chance of winning. At least Hirata hoped he did. “Remember, you’re not here to fight.”

  He’d brought his men to protect innocent people from him in the event that he lost control again. Maybe they couldn’t, but it was the best precaution he could devise.

  At the ferry dock on the Sumida River, he and his men left their horses at a public stable, then commandeered a ferryboat. They sat under the canopy while the ferryman rowed. The river was as flat and gray as a sheet of lead. It smelled of the brackish water downstream where it met the sea at Edo Bay. Fragments of bamboo, wood, paper, vegetables, and other trash
mingled with a frayed sandal, a child’s broken doll, and spent rockets from the fireworks display that celebrated the beginning of summer. As the boat glided into the deeper, cleaner water in the middle of the river, the ferryman steered around barges. A light rain began, marrying river and sky. Drops stippled the water, transforming it into liquid gooseflesh. Ahead, at the mouth of the river, loomed two islands.

  The southern island was Tsukudajima, a fishing village whose residents doubled as spies for the shogun. Hirata knew that the people in the small boats off shore watched for any suspicious movement of watercraft in the bay and reported it to the metsuke.

  The ferry stopped at the northern island, Ishikawajima, which was allotted to the controller of the Tokugawa navy. Along the docks, war junks waited for an invasion that might come someday. A shipyard contained vessels undergoing repairs. On a wooded rise in the middle of the island stood the controller’s estate. As Hirata and his men stepped out of the ferry, Arai said, “Here, you’ll be able to see him coming.”

  Hirata wondered if the enemy could read his mind and was already here, lying in wait.

  A beach separated the shipyard from the village, a cluster of shacks. A crowd of men were gathered at the teahouse and food-stall. Ishikawajima had a reputation as a den of troublesome rnin and vagrants. They came to the island for temporary work and shelter as well as a place to hide from the law. During his police career Hirata had come here once or twice in search of criminals.

  Ishikawajima’s reputation was one reason Hirata had chosen to come here today. He hoped to accomplish more than a confrontation with the enemy. The other reason was that Ishikawajima had fewer bystanders than anywhere else in Edo, and even fewer who were truly innocent.

  Hirata stood on the beach, apart from his men. Gulls picked at dead fish that had washed up at the river’s edge. Brackish water lapped at dirty sand. Hirata gazed across the water at the city, which shimmered behind the veil of rain. The ferryboat that had brought him receded toward the opposite shore; no other craft approached Ishikawajima. The sound of hammers pounding and saws rasping came from the shipyard. Hirata breathed deeply, let his thoughts float away, and calmed his mind. He aligned the forces within his body along a spiritual path toward a meditative trance.

  His vision expanded until he could see in all directions, the island behind him as well as the river in front of him, red crayfish swimming at the bottom of the river, the sun through the clouds. The gray landscape took on brilliant hues, as if drenched in a rainbow. His nostrils magnified odors; he smelled horse dung, sewage, and garbage in the city, incense burning in the temples, and enough food cooking to make a banquet for the gods. He heard a million hearts beating, and when he reached out his hands, he felt their rhythm through the skin on his fingertips. Closing his eyes, he projected his inner voice across the world.

  I’m here, he called silently. Come and get me.

  He heard no answer from the enemy even though he waited and listened for what seemed like an eternity.

  Instead he felt two different yet also familiar energy auras. They pulsed very near him. He opened his eyes, broke his trance. Looking toward the shipyard, he realized that even though one search had failed, the other had borne fruit. There, among the men working on the hull of a boat, were Jinshichi and Gombei, the two oxcart drivers.

  Sano, his detectives, and the troops walked up to the kennels behind a pack of huge guard dogs that Sano had borrowed from a friend. Three of the friend’s dog trainers led the beasts on iron chains attached to leather harnesses. By the gate stood the troops Sano had posted there. The dogs barked and lunged at them while the trainers hauled on the dogs’ chains and yelled, “Down!”

  “Is Nanbu still inside?” Sano asked.

  “Yes,” said the troops’ leader. “He never left.”

  “That gives him an alibi for Lady Nobuko’s kidnapping,” Fukida said.

  “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t know anything about it,” Sano said.

  Marume pounded on the gate. “Open up!”

  First came the sound of dogs barking inside; then a man’s voice shouted, “Go away!”

  Sano’s soldiers jumped off their horses, unloaded a battering ram, and charged. They rammed the gate until it sagged open. Inside it crouched Nanbu’s dogs, restrained on their leashes by two of Nanbu’s men. Sano’s borrowed dogs leaped forward. A frenzy of barks, howls, and shouts ensued as the trainers urged their dogs through the gate and forced Nanbu’s men to retreat with theirs. Sano, the detectives, and his troops walked inside.

  “Talk about fighting fire with fire,” Marume said.

  “If dogs are killed by dogs, that’s not against the law,” Fukida said.

  As the two dog packs faced off, Sano raised his voice over their barks and growls. “Where’s Nanbu?”

  Nanbu’s men didn’t answer, but one glanced at a building set apart from the kennels. Sano, his men, and his canine army stampeded toward the building. Nanbu’s men and their dogs followed. The building was a wooden shack, raised above the muddy ground on low pilings, with lattice enclosing its base; it resembled an oversized privy. The trainers and their dogs held off the other pack as Marume opened the door. Sano and the detectives drew their swords. They looked inside.

  A hulking shape moved on the floor. Rhythmic thumps punctuated whimpers and cries. Sano recognized the shape as Nanbu, hunched on his knees and elbows on a mattress. Under him thrashed a girl. She shrieked and beat her fists at him while his body thrust at her and he uttered growls as fierce and bestial as his dogs’.

  “Stop!” Sano shouted.

  Marume and Fukida burst into the shack, grabbed Nanbu, and dragged him off the woman.

  “Hey, what is this?” Nanbu protested. His face was dripping sweat, engorged with lust. His erection showed under his clothes. “Let me go!” As he struggled to break free of the detectives, he saw Sano and exclaimed, “How did you get in here?”

  Sano ignored Nanbu and stepped over to the girl. She wept as she tried to cover herself with her torn kimono. He said, “Are you all right?”

  Gazing up at him in speechless fear, she pushed long, tangled black hair away from her face. Bruises surrounded both her eyes. Her nose was bleeding.

  “Where is the shogun’s wife?” Sano asked Nanbu.

  “How should I know? Why don’t you let me finish?” Nanbu cursed as the detectives hauled him outside and threw him on the mud. The trainers and their dogs surrounded him. “She’s just a girl who cleans the dog cages.”

  “You can go,” Sano told the girl. “For your own good, don’t come back. Find another job.”

  She scrambled out the door and ran. Sano left the shack and stood over Nanbu, who said, “I didn’t do anything wrong. We were just having a little fun.”

  “You hit her,” Sano said.

  “So what?” Nanbu said. The dogs barked and snapped. He cringed. “She got wild. I had to show her who was boss.”

  His attitude disgusted Sano. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

  Nanbu looked honestly surprised. “Why? The girl works for me. Besides, she asked for it. She led me on, and then she changed her mind and started fighting.”

  Sano spotted new variations on the theme. Servants were at their masters’ disposal, and Nanbu had only done what countless other men did every day. And many men justified forcing women into sex by saying the women wanted it. However, those excuses didn’t make Sano any more favorably disposed toward Nanbu.

  “Is that what you told yourself when you violated my cousin?” Sano said.

  “I didn’t,” Nanbu protested. “I told you already.” The dogs strained their chains, slavering at him. “Now please, call off your dogs!”

  “What’s the matter, don’t you like a taste of your own medicine?” Marume laughed.

  “What about Fumiko and the nun?” Sano said.

  “Not them, either!” Nanbu was livid with anger, his hands and knees soiled by the dog feces that littered the ground. “And not the shogun
’s wife! I’ve never even laid eyes on her. Why are you looking for her, anyway? Doesn’t she always stay inside the palace?”

  “She’s missing,” Fukida said. “We think she’s been kidnapped.”

  “Well, not by me,” Nanbu declared. “Search this whole place, search my house, too, if you want—I haven’t got her.”

  Just because he, like Joju and Ogita, indulged in dubious behavior, that didn’t mean Nanbu had committed the crimes under investigation. Sano couldn’t ignore the possibility that none of the three was behind the disappearance of the shogun’s wife.

  Then a thought occurred to Sano. What if the oxcart drivers had kidnapped her for another client and hidden her in a secret place? The suspects would know where it was. Sano thought up a deal that might induce Nanbu to cooperate.

  “You’re in trouble even if you don’t have the shogun’s wife,” Sano told Nanbu. “If she’s not found, or if she’s hurt, the shogun will blame me. I’ll be looking to pass the blame to someone else. You’ll make a good scapegoat.”

  “That’s not fair.” The horror on Nanbu’s face weakened his pose of defiance.

  “You want me to be fair? All right, here’s a chance to save your life.” Sano said, “You tell me where Jinshichi and Gombei take the women they kidnap. I’ll let you off the hook.”

  “I told you I don’t know those people,” Nanbu whined, but Sano heard the lie in his voice. “You’re trying to trick me into confessing.”

  “Let the dogs have at him,” Marume suggested.

  “Not yet,” Sano said, then addressed Nanbu. “Let’s just suppose there have been rumors about two oxcart drivers: They kidnap women and take them to a certain place. Let’s suppose you’ve heard the rumors, even though you’ve never met Jinshichi or Gombei. Just tell me where the place is. That’s not a confession. Nothing will happen to you.” Sano hated to play games with a man who might have committed four serious crimes, but he continued: “What do you say?”