The Way Of The Traitor Part 25

Sano's samurai pride bristled at the insult. He stifled an angry retort, preserving his peasant disguise. oA thousand pardons, master, he said meekly.

Dispensing water to other troops, he moved down the promenade, but didn't see how he could sneak past the Des.h.i.+ma guards. His buckets were quickly emptying; soon he would have to go back to the well. Farther along the coast, past the buildings and docks, the sh.o.r.eline was rocky and wooded. From there, he might sneak into the water. But he could never swim all the way to Des.h.i.+ma with his wounded shoulder, burns, and c.u.mbersome gear. The watchboat sentries would spot him before he even got close. He had to find another way.

Then Sano saw a watchboat leave its post. The two-man crew rowed to the harbor patrol station and disembarked at the pier. A new crew took its place in the boat, rowed back to Des.h.i.+ma, and resumed the watch. Sano hurried onto the pier, as if to serve water to troops there. They were watching another boat approach and didn't notice him. The station s.h.i.+elded him from view of the soldiers on the promenade. Abandoning his buckets and pole, he s.h.i.+mmied down a piling and into the water. Its salty chill stung his burns. Quickly he removed his hat and cloak and stuffed them between the piling and a diagonal support beam. Then he gulped a deep breath, dived beneath the water under the pier, and swam toward another piling near where the boat would arrive.

The water was so murky he could barely see. Debris floated past him. His gear and clothing hampered his movements. Kicking and stroking strained his burned limbs and sore shoulder. His lungs demanded air. Just when he thought his chest would explode, his fingers touched slimy, algae-covered wood. He grabbed the piling and cautiously raised his head above water, trying to quiet his gasps.

The watchboat drew up parallel to the pier, almost within touching distance, the oarsman standing in the stern, his partner sitting behind the pointed prow that arched up from the water. Both wore arquebuses. s.h.i.+vering, Sano watched the crew secure the boat, heard them greet the sh.o.r.e troops who helped them onto the pier. The replacement crew stepped aboard. Quickly Sano plunged underwater and swam under the boat. The dipping oar nearly hit him. The bow turned toward Des.h.i.+ma, and the boat's curved bottom began moving away. Still underwater, Sano rolled onto his back; kicking hard, he caught up with the boat and aligned himself along its length. He desperately craved air; he was drowning. The boat was moving too fast. Determination spurred him on. He grasped the prow and pulled himself up until his face just cleared the surface. The sea sucked at him as the boat picked up speed. Spitting water, he hung on, his nails digging into the rough wood.

oSomething just hit the boat, Sano heard the man nearest him say.

The oar continued splas.h.i.+ng. oProbably just trash, the other man said. oHarbor's filthy. Yesterday I saw four broken barrels, a dead dog, an old fis.h.i.+ng net...

While the litany droned on, Sano gasped and spewed and fought to maintain his grip. Twisting his neck, he saw that they were nearing the outer sh.o.r.e of Des.h.i.+ma, where two other watchboats floated outside the signposts. The men in them sat facing the harbor. Before Sano came within their range of vision, he let go and ducked underwater. When the boat pa.s.sed over him, he grabbed the stern, letting it tow him.

The boat glided to a stop near the islands northwest corner. Cautiously Sano poked his head above the water and saw the crew sitting with their gazes turned seaward. Sano swam underwater toward Des.h.i.+ma, hoping the Dutch s.h.i.+p would hold their attention and the sound of waves and war drums mask any noises he made. Breathless and exhausted, he reached the islands rocky, vertical foundation. The fence rose high above him. Hurriedly he untied the rope around his waist, watching the sentries not twenty paces away. How much time before someone got bored and chanced to look behind him?

Half in, half out of the water, Sano leaned against the foundation and put his ear to the fence. He heard marching footsteps approach, pa.s.s, and recede: a guard, patrolling the perimeter. With no time to lose before the next inspection, Sano tossed the iron hook at the top of the fence. It struck with a loud thump, then clattered noisily onto the rocks, bringing the rope with it. Sano cursed under his breath; panic thrummed along his nerves as he glanced at the boat sentries...

... who remained immobile, facing out to sea. Praying for luck, Sano threw the hook again. This time it caught the fence and held securely. Bracing his feet against the island's foundation, he pulled his dripping self clear of the water, looking over his shoulder at the watch-boats. Hand over hand he climbed up the fence. His feet sc.r.a.ped against the planks; he expected to hear an alarm rise from within the compound. When his head cleared the fence, he looked down into the narrow pa.s.sage between the outer and inner fences.

It was empty, but Sano heard nearby voices. Briefly he contemplated the dire consequences of being caught trespa.s.sing on Des.h.i.+ma: instant death. But he'd already breached island security, and the boat sentries would shoot if they saw him. He scrambled onto the top of the fence, wincing as the spikes jabbed him. Pulling the hook free, he dropped into the pa.s.sage.

His feet hit the gravel with a loud crunch. Hastily he crammed the rope and hook inside his drenched kimono, then sped to the gate he remembered from his first visit. He cautiously opened it and looked inside.

In the barbarians' garden, three sentries sat playing cards, their backs to him. Smoke rose from their pipes. Tethered goats grazed; chickens scratched in the pen by the vegetable patch. Beyond stood the barbarians' houses. Sano slipped through the gate, closed it quietly, and sprinted across the garden. Ducking behind the goat shed, he studied the guards, who seemed unaware of anything amiss. The stairs to the balcony lay perhaps ten paces away. Then a clear remark emerged from the mutter of the guards' conversation: oWith all the extra troops on Des.h.i.+ma and all the barbarians locked up in the common room together, it's like a holiday for us regulars. We should have war more often.

Laughter followed; Sano's heart sank. How would he speak to Dr. Huygens in private, especially if the barbarians were under even heavier surveillance than usual? The task he must accomplish afterward also seemed impossible.

And how would he get off Des.h.i.+ma alive?

Sano thought of Hirata and Peony; of Old Carp and the other servants killed in the fire; of Kiyos.h.i.+, perhaps wrongfully condemned. He pictured Governor Nagai, Chief Ohira, Interpreter Iis.h.i.+no, Urabe, Abbot Liu Yun, and the barbarians, free to murder and smuggle again unless he stopped them. His particular anger at Dr. Huygens flared; his resolve hardened. Watching the sentries and keeping alert for others, Sano left his shelter and angled toward the gap between the houses. Through it he could see the street, the warehouse opposite, and the patrolling guards. Danger p.r.i.c.kled his skin like the energy current before a lightning strike. Halfway there. Just ten paces to go...

Sano darted into the gap. He pressed himself against the wall and expelled the breath he'd been holding. Then he crept toward the street and cautiously peered up and down it.

Except for a sentry at each guardhouse, Des.h.i.+ma's security force was concentrated on the building that contained the common room, across the street and some fifty paces to Sano's right. There were ten men outside the door, three on the balcony, probably others at the rear. Could he create a diversion and draw the guards away so he could get inside to Dr. Huygens?

Then, looking down the street, Sano saw Nirin walk out of the doctor's surgery. Sano ducked back into the yard and hurried toward the surgery. A guard emerged from a building, and Sano darted behind a tree. At last he reached his destination. He peered through the window.

Inside, Dr. Huygens stood by the table where they'd examined Jan Spaen's corpse. Upon it slept a young man, covered with a quilt. A lone guard leaned against the wall, his back to the door. In an instant, Sano was in the surgery, his arm locked in a choke hold around the guard. The patient didn't awaken, but Dr. Huygens exclaimed in surprise.

oQuiet! Sano rasped, straining to subdue his flailing, coughing captive. He applied more pressure to the guard's neck. The coughs turned to gasps; then the guard went limp and unconscious. Sano eased him to the floor, shut the door, then faced Huygens. oWhy did you lie to me?

Dr. Huygens didn't pretend t6 misunderstand. Behind his gla.s.ses, his eyes closed briefly as his shoulders heaved in a sigh of mingled sadness and relief. oI no want you think I kill Spaen, he said, adjusting the bandage on his patient's leg. oI afraid.

Sano remembered the calm detachment with which Huygens had examined Jan Spaen's corpse. At the funeral, when Huygens had said, oMay all our sins be forgiven, he could have been praying for Spaen's soul "or asking absolution for his own sin of murdering Spaen. Had he helped Sano because he was a believer in justice, or to protect himself?

oYou fought with Spaen before he died, Sano said. oAbout what?

Huygens hesitated, but only long enough to draw Sano into the corner so their conversation wouldn't disturb the patient. Either he was unaware that Sano had lost authority on Des.h.i.+ma, or didn't care because he needed to confess. oI want leave East India Company; go home. Spaen no let me.

Then followed a tale of misspent youth and subsequent reform; of how Jan Spaen had gained power over and exploited Huygens. oI no mean kill Franz Tulp. Dr. Huygens's anguished eyes pleaded for Sano's belief. oI drunk; I mad. We fight. I hit too hard. He fall.

The doctor drew a long, shaky breath, as if experiencing anew the horror of that long-ago day. His red face was sweating profusely, his body odor pungent. Sano eyed the doors, waiting with controlled impatience for him to continue. oThen Jan Spaen come. He see Tulp's body, me with b.l.o.o.d.y pipe. I scared he call the, the "

oThe police, Sano said.

Huygens rushed on: oBut Spaen say he help. We pick up body, carry away. I say, what if someone see us? Spaen say wait. Then horse cart come, fast. We throw body in front. Horses, cart, go over body. We run away. Hear cart stop, people shout: They think they kill Tulp.

And so, it seemed, did everyone else. Later Huygens had heard that the authorities had ruled Tulp's death an accident of the sort not uncommon to Dutch festivals: a drunken youth, crushed when he fell under a cart driven by more drunken youths. Huygens's fellow brawlers had kept silent for fear of punishment. He might have gotten away with murder, if not for Jan Spaen. Sano pitied Huygens, admiring his efforts to atone for the crime. His distaste for Spaen deepened. To solve the mystery of that cruel man's death, Sano had risked everything. But he couldn't let antipathy toward the murder victim affect his judgment. Nor could he excuse a suspect he liked.

oI'll ask you again, Sano said. oWhere were you the night Spaen disappeared?

Dr. Huygens took a step backward, but his eyes met Sano's bravely. oIn my room; sleep. I no kill Spaen.

oDid you smuggle goods from the Des.h.i.+ma warehouse to a cove in the harbor?

oI no smuggle. I no kill!

oDid you plant the bullet in Spaen's body?

oNo! No! Clumsily Huygens dropped to his knees before Sano, hands clasped in entreaty. oFriend, he said, weeping. oI sorry I no tell you Spaen hurt me. But I no kill. I know nothing of smuggling. Please, trust. Forgive.

Sano puffed out his breath in angry frustration. There was no physical evidence tying Huygens to Spaen's murder or the smuggling, yet Sano was now convinced of the doctor's guilt. Huygens had once killed a fellow student in a fit of drunken temper. If he hadn't really reformed, he could have done the same to Jan Spaen. His betrayal of Sano's trust finalized the case against him. Sano should never have trusted a barbarian; their worlds were too far apart, their values too different. The whole investigation was compromised, the evidence tainted. And unless Sano's next actions yielded good results, he would lose his life and honor.

oI have to go, he said.

He stripped off the unconscious guard's helmet, long sword, armor tunic, robe, and leg guards. He removed his own outer clothes and donned the stolen uniform, keeping his short sword. The guard was bigger than he, and the armor fit too loosely, but he needed the disguise. He crammed the inert body into an empty cupboard, threw his rope and hook in, and shut the door.

oIf anyone comes, tell them the guard went outside, Sano told Dr. Huygens, who nodded as if eager to please. Then he slipped out the back door.

Chapter 30.

HIS FACE partially hidden by the visor and side flaps of his stolen helmet, Sano crossed the yard. His heart tripped when the three guards outside the barbarians' house looked up at him. He nodded as he pa.s.sed. They nodded in reply, then returned to their card game. Sano released his breath: the first obstacle cleared. Reaching the fence, he opened the gate and stepped into the perimeter pa.s.sage, nerves taut.

Here lay the peril of a face-to-face confrontation with someone who could identify him as an imposter, while he was trapped between the fences. Would that he could subdue any pa.s.sing patrol guards he met without adding murder to his list of crimes!

Sano hurried along the fan curve of the island. Now he heard brisk footsteps coming from behind. A blare of panic echoed in his head, and he quickened his steps. On his left appeared the gate he sought. Sano slipped through it and into the garden of the office compound. This was deserted; with the barbarians imprisoned indoors and all approaches to Des.h.i.+ma covered, the staff had relaxed security here. Beyond an ornamental pond and more trees, the chief's long, two-story house, with the thatched roof, large entry porch, and latticed balcony Sano remembered from his first visit, stood against the south wall. Along the west wall were the deputies' and interpreters' office cottages, the building where the Dutch sold their goods, the fireproof storehouses, and the stables. Sano detected no activity. When he noticed the barred windows of Ohira's house, his hopes dwindled, yet he saw an advantage to the situation. He might have trouble getting inside the house without being seen, but the presence of Ohira's staff might prove a boon rather than an obstacle.

Sano walked boldly up to the door, as would a guard on official business. He pa.s.sed through the entry porch and into a dim, empty corridor with low ceiling, bare plank floor, and mullioned paper walls. From the first room to his right came the rustle of paper. Sano froze outside the door and listened.

The ceiling creaked above him: someone upstairs. But the first floor seemed vacant, except for this room. A furtive glance inside revealed a s.p.a.cious office with a study niche on a raised platform at one end, furnished with a large desk and built-in shelves, iron chests, wooden cabinets and screens, and a row of smaller desks beside the windows. At one of these knelt a young samurai. His profile to Sano, he wrote on a scroll, frowning in concentration.

Remembering his past career as a clerk and scholar, Sano experienced a sharp pang of nostalgia. He steeled his heart against the youth who evoked those peaceful, bygone days. Drawing his short sword, he stepped through the door and closed it behind him. The clerk looked up. A cry of surprise died on his lips as Sano grabbed his collar and put the sword to his throat.

oDon't scream, or I'll kill you, Sano said in the clerks ear.

Held immobile against Sano, the youth whimpered, oYes, master. His upturned face was white; his eyes rolled. Sano could feel the thin body trembling. His own heart was racing. Please let me not kill this innocent man!

oThe records of the goods brought to j.a.pan by Director Spaen, Sano said, keeping his voice low, calm, and authoritative. As commanding officer of Des.h.i.+ma, Chief Ohira had the responsibility for keeping an inventory of Dutch imports. oWhere are they?

The clerk gulped. His rapid, panicky breaths sounded as loud as screams. Sano glanced toward the door, afraid the other staff members might hear. oBe quiet, and I won't hurt you. He pulled the blade back so it no longer touched the man's throat. oShow me the records, and I'll let you go.

oThere. Over there... The clerk's shaking hand pointed to the study niche, where a long scroll, covered with inked characters, lay open on Chief Ohira's desk.

oIs that all of them?

oYes. Yes!

Still gripping the clerk tight, Sano sheathed his sword. Then he untied the clerk's sash, bound his ankles with one end, wrists with the other.

oNo, moaned the clerk. oPlease...

Sano wadded a sheet of paper and stuffed it into the clerks mouth, m.u.f.fling his voice. He hurried over to Chief Ohira's desk and examined the scroll, which was dated two years ago. Chinese silk, British wool, and Indian cotton, he read; Cambodian deer hides; nutmeg from the Spice Islands; Dutch spygla.s.ses... Each item was described in detail. But Sano was more interested in what was missing from the list. As he'd hoped, he found no mention of the firearms or clocks found in the smugglers' cave. And the scroll bore Chief Ohira's round, red personal seal "proof that he'd falsified the warehouse inventory, leaving out goods he knew would be sold illegally and thus never reported to Edo.

Elation surged in Sano as he rolled the scroll and tucked it under his loose-fitting armor tunic. This was the evidence he needed to convince the tribunal of his innocence; evidence that proved the smuggling had preceded his arrival in Nagasaki, and incriminated one of the chief witnesses against him.

Then, before he turned to leave, he saw on the desk a sheet of paper partially filled with characters: an unfinished copy of the inventory. From between entries Sano had already read, descriptions of the smugglers' loot leapt out at him. The paper was clean, white, and crisp; the calligraphy Ohira's. The chief, antic.i.p.ating an audit of his records, had been preparing a new inventory that accounted for items missing from the original.

The placement of both lists, side by side and out in the open, intrigued Sano. Of course, with the whole Des.h.i.+ma staff in on the conspiracy, Ohira had no reason to hide compromising doc.u.ments. But Sano glimpsed a deeper motive for Ohira's action "one he could exploit. He folded the page, tucked it inside his armor, and started to leave the room. The sound of the front door opening stopped him. Hurrying footsteps pounded the corridor. Sano whirled and ran for the window.

oThere's a trespa.s.ser on the island! shouted a familiar voice. oEverybody get out and search for him. Now!

More footsteps; excited voices. oHe knocked out the man who was guarding the barbarian doctor, Sano heard Nirin explain to someone. Desperately he rattled the window bars, which held firm. The office door flew open. Sano turned as Nirin burst into the room.

oKenji, go to the mainland and fetch Chief Ohira immediately, the commander ordered. oTell him " His startled gaze took in the clerk, bound and gagged, and Sano at the window. Fury suffused his face. oYou. He spoke on a disgusted laugh. oI might have known.

In a motion so fast that his image blurred, Nirin whipped his sword from its scabbard and lunged. The blade whistled through the air, straight toward Sano's neck. Sano had his stolen long sword ready, but its unfamiliar weight and grip disconcerted him. He almost failed to parry Nirin's stroke. Their blades met in a jarring clash of steel. Swinging his sword free, Sano tried a cross-body cut.

His blade glanced harmlessly off the commander's armor tunic. Nirin laughed and launched another a.s.sault. Sano, unaccustomed to fighting in armor, found himself at a serious disadvantage. He saw that Nirin was no better a swordsman than himself; his own helmet, tunic, and leg and arm guards s.h.i.+elded him. But this style of combat demanded a different strategy. All strikes must target an unprotected area of his opponent's body: face, neck, thighs, or upper arms. As Sano thrust and parried and circled, his wounded shoulder grew sore. The tunic chafed against the bandage. And he could tell that Nirin knew about his handicap.

The commander centered his attack on Sano's upper body, forcing him to fight with his sword raised, which strained the injury even more. Sano managed few counterstrokes while Nirin chased him around the room. He leapt backward over desks, b.u.mped cabinets and screens. He heard shouts from the doorway. Clerks and guards burst into the room.

oStand back, Nirin told them, slas.h.i.+ng at Sano. oHe's all mine.

Sano was gasping in pain, sweaty and panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled down his chest. Nirin, not even winded, closed in on him. Completely on the defensive now, Sano dodged and parried. His shoulder weakened. Nirin aimed a cut at Sano's neck. Their blades crossed, locking Sano's arm in a high, awkward twist. Pain shot from his shoulder to his hand. He let go the sword, and the spectators cheered. Nirin raised his weapon in both hands. Sano leapt backward just in time to avoid the slice. He drew his short sword, but with his reach reduced, he couldn't get close enough to Nirin to score a cut. The commanders longer, heavier sword battered his. If this continued, the fight was lost.

Ducking a swipe aimed to sever his head, Sano kicked a screen into Nirin's path. The commander stumbled, throwing out his arms to regain his balance. Sano didn't use the chance to slay his opponent: He needed Nirin alive. Darting behind the commander, Sano grabbed the back collar of Nirin's armor tunic and jerked him upright. He jammed his sword under the commander's right arm, with the tip of the blade touching the unprotected armpit.

oDrop your weapon! he ordered.

Nirin went rigid. Slowly he turned to Sano, eyes sharp with terror and hatred. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound emerged. Cries of dismay issued from the men at the door. When Sano repeated the order, Nirin dropped his blade.

oNow unsheathe the other one, and throw it over there, Sano said. oGood. Now fold your arms.

Nirin did, and his wide sleeve fell, hiding Sano's sword.

oLet him go, blurted a guard.

Ragged breaths tore Sano's chest as his body fought to restore its depleted energy. oWe're going to walk off the island together, he said to Nirin. Holding the commander by the armor, Sano marched him toward the door. oOut of the way, Sano told the guards and clerks, oor he dies.

Mouths agape in shock, the men didn't budge. Sano thrust the blade upward, felt it bite flesh. Nirin flinched, croaking, oDo as he says.

The men sprang away from the door. Sano propelled Nirin down the corridor and out of the house. oDon't follow, or I'll kill him, Sano called over his shoulder, halting the guards' rush across the garden after them.

oIf you think you can get away with this, you're crazy. Outrage and fear mingled in Nirin's voice. oThere are troops all over the island. You'll never get past them.

Sano fought his own doubt. oYes, I will, because you're going to help me. He kicked open the gate and shoved Nirin through. oNot one word, unless I tell you to speak. His heart seized when he saw guards swarming the street, hunting the trespa.s.ser.

oOver here! Nirin called. oHe's got me.

All heads turned toward them; all sound and motion stopped. Then came the outcry. Guards surrounded Sano and Nirin, swords drawn. Sano remembered a hostage incident he'd once resolved. Now he was the villain. A nightmarish sense of unreality fell over him.

oLet us through, or I'll kill him, he shouted.

He jerked his sword forward, exposing the hilt. The crowd quieted, looking to their leader for orders. Nirin sucked in his breath as the blade poked his armpit, then forced a laugh. oYou can't kill me. You need me to escape. Don't listen to him. He's bluffing.

The crowd stirred, but Sano felt Nirin's uncertainty, and saw it on the other men's faces. He knew what they were thinking: Anyone mad enough to break into Des.h.i.+ma was mad enough to murder his hostage. Finally the crowd parted. Sano and Nirin proceeded, step by step, down the endless street.

oWhere is Chief Ohira? Sano asked Nirin.

The commander shot a venomous glance at Sano. oMy superior's whereabouts are none of your business, he said as they neared the main gate. oI will tell you nothing. And you have to keep me alive to get past the bridge guards.

oWhere is Ohira? Sano jabbed Nirin again, provoking a stifled groan. After the bridge, he must pa.s.s the main guardhouse, the heavily occupied promenade, and the troops in town, but he would handle one thing at a time. oI'll hurt you if I must.

They reached the gate. oOpen it! Sano ordered the sentry. oAnd make sure no one follows us.

Nirin stiffened; sweat ran down his face. It was clear that he feared maiming more than death. He spoke through clenched teeth. oDo as he says.

The sentry opened the gate. Sano marched his prisoner onto the bridge. oWhere is Ohira?

oAll right. All right! Nirin was trembling now. oHe said he was going to the Daikoku Shrine. At Sano's prompting, he gave the location. oWhat do you want with him?

The truth about Spaen's murder and the smuggling operation, Sano thought. Chief Ohira's cooperation was the key to freedom for himself and Hirata.

As Sano and Nirin crossed the bridge, the sentries bowed to their commander, frowning at Sano. oTell them I came to Des.h.i.+ma with your permission, Sano whispered, keeping the sword hidden beneath the commanders sleeve. oThey're to make sure no one else leaves the island.

The commander repeated the lie in a thin voice so unlike his normal one that Sano feared his ploy would fail. He sensed Nirin's mind racing through possible strategies for escape, all of which led to his own death. When the sentries let him and Nirin pa.s.s, relief flooded him. They got through the guardhouse without the customary exit formalities. On the promenade, they blended with troops dressed in similar uniform.

oYou won't get away with this, because I'm going to kill you, Nirin said, dragging his feet.

oWas it you who shot me? Sano asked. oDid you burn my house?