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.
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.”
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 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 cottage 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 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 harbor, 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. Bloodstains? 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.
“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 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 country. The road split, one arm leading north toward the mountains, and the other east. A dilapidated set of stables marked the crossroads. 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 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 carefully 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.
“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 helmet, 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 appearance 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?”
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.”
“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 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 attention and tried to salute.
Tora snatched his arm down. “Don’t be a fool. I’m incognito, 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 number two man,” he whispered. “Most likely you’d be the one.”
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 approved, 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 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 agitated 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.” Tora gritted his teeth, but gave in. He hoped Ikugoro would not find Wada right away.
They found Oyoshi pacing up and down by a cold hearth to keep herself warm in the frigid drafts that whistled through the cracks. “There you are,” she cried when she saw Tora. “Where have you been? I’ve been going out of my mind with worry. It’s been hours. He’s probably killed her by now.”
“What did she do?” asked Tora, glowering.
Oyoshi wrung her hands. “Oh, the stupid girl. But it’s all your fault. Men!”
Tora clenched his fists to keep from strangling her. Turtle gave him a worried glance and told his sister, “The officer is an honored guest in your house, sister. You should not speak to him this way.”
Oyoshi flushed and bowed. “Oh, sorry. It’s the worry. Please forgive what I said, sir. It was very improper. Especially when you have been so generous.”
“Forget it and get on with the story,” Tora ground out.
“After you and my brother left, Little Flower came to me, all dressed up for work. She said she was going to the Golden Phoenix to meet that bastard Wada and to tell you so you could catch him. Oh, dear. It was such a long time ago. You must go immediately. The fool! She wanted to help you.” Tora turned on his heel and headed out the door, his face grim and his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Come on,” he flung over his shoulder to Turtle. But on the street, he came to a halt.
“No. Go back in and get my things,” he said. Digging in his sash, he passed a handful of money to Turtle. “Then run to the post station outside town and hire three horses. Bring the horses to the shrine behind the Golden Phoenix and wait for me.” A party was in full swing at the Golden Phoenix. Lights blazed in the main house, ribald songs and shrill laughter of women came from inside, and a drunk vomited into the gutter near the entrance. Tora, grateful that his clothes were dark, slipped past him into the garden. Someone had thoughtfully lit an oil lamp in a stone lantern marking the path to the cottage.
It was occupied. Dim lights glimmered behind the closed shutters.
Taking off his boots, Tora climbed the steps in his bare feet, testing each before he put his weight on it. Outside the door he paused and listened. At first he thought nothing had happened yet, but then he heard a soft moan, followed by a male murmur and a rich chuckle that sent chills down his spine.
He stretched out his hand to fling open the door, when common sense reminded him that a woman’s moan might denote pleasure as well as pain, and that someone else might have rented the cottage after all. He could hardly burst in on a pair of strangers without causing trouble.
He crept toward the nearest shuttered window, crouched down, and peered through a chink. A narrow field of vision showed only the naked leg and bare buttock of a man standing upright. Just beyond the muscular leg was another, paler, and more slender leg of a woman. But the legs might belong to anyone.
There was another moan. What were they doing? Making love standing up? Why not? He had done it himself.
Tora was about to rise a little to look for another chink when he saw a thin red line creeping down the woman’s leg. A second joined it before he realized that what he saw was blood.
He freed his sword and was at the door in an instant. It was locked. With a roar of rage and frustration, he stepped back and threw himself at it. The wood splintered and gave with a crash, and Tora burst into the room.
He took in the scene at a glance. Wada, also with a short sword in his hand, pulled away from Little Flower, who was leaning against one of the pillars. Both were naked and their bodies were crimson with blood.
A second glance showed why. Wada had been cutting Little Flower’s breasts and belly with the sharp blade of his sword. She was covered with crisscrossing cuts, not deep enough to kill but enough to cover her and Wada with blood. When she saw Tora, she gave a little sob and sagged against the ropes that tied her wrists behind the pillar.
Wada cursed viciously, his face distorted with fury, and came for Tora with his bloody sword.
Tora, tall and athletic, had been rigorously active all of his life. Wada was shorter, older, and had gone soft about the middle from too much good living and debauchery. It should have been easy. Tora stepped aside, thinking to disarm the man in one swift, smooth movement. But Wada, for all his years of bad living, had one advantage. Unlike Tora, he had been trained by a master in the military arts, and his use of the sword had become instinctive.
Thus Wada corrected instantly and slashed at Tora’s belly so quickly that only Tora’s alertness and youth allowed him to twist aside in time. He bit his lip and concentrated on blocking Wada’s blade, which seemed to come at him from all directions.
The man’s technique was far superior to his own, and he could only count on the fact that Wada’s fury would cause him to make a mistake sooner or later. And even then, he could not kill the man. Everything depended on his taking Wada alive.
In the end, it was neither Wada’s superior swordsmanship nor Tora’s cool deliberation that ended the fight. Part of the broken door separated from its frame and fell; Wada dodged, stepped into some of Little Flower’s blood, and slipped, sinking momentarily to one knee. Tora moved forward instantly, hitting Wada’s sword arm hard with the flat side of his blade and disarming him.
Wada’s sword skittered into a corner, and Wada clutched his arm, doubling up in pain. Tora dropped his sword, then bent and raised Wada’s head by its topknot. “You’re finished, bastard,” he hissed, and struck him full in the face with his fist.
Blood spurted from Wada’s nose and mouth and he passed out.
Taking up his sword again, Tora went to Little Flower and cut her loose. She collapsed into his arms, whimpering softly.
“That was a stupid thing to do,” he scolded. “He might’ve killed you.”
She gulped and mumbled, “I thought you’d never come. He started cutting deep when I told him about you.” She was clinging to him, and he thought he felt blood seeping through his robe. “Why did you tell him?” he asked.
“I was afraid. When he used his sword on me, I thought he’d kill me, so I told him I left a message for someone. He wanted to know who and kept cutting me until I told him. Then he got really angry. He called me a cheating whore and said he’d watch me bleed to death and . . . and . . .” She sagged abruptly and Tora laid her down on the mat, so recently cleaned by the old woman and now covered with gore beyond repair. Little Flower had many cuts, all of them bleeding, but two or three looked ugly. He snatched her thin undergown from the pile of clothing and, tearing it, pressed the fabric to the worst wounds, wondering what to do next. He could hardly call for help with Wada lying there unconscious.
He was still crouching over the unconscious Little Flower, both hands pressing fabric to her wounds, when he heard steps outside. Heavy male boots, and at least three pairs.
He twisted around just in time to see Wada on all fours crawling toward his sword. Then the broken door flew back and the brawny figures of Wada’s constables appeared on the threshold, Sergeant Ikugoro in the lead and evidently bent on delivering Tora’s message.
It was an awkward moment, and Tora had no time to consider his strategy.
He abandoned Little Flower and plunged for Wada, putting his foot so hard on Wada’s outstretched hand that he could hear a bone snap. Wada screamed. Tora turned his head toward Ikugoro and said, “Good work, Sergeant. Just in time to help me tie up the prisoner.”
Ikugoro’s eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. “Wha . . . what’s going on here?” he managed. Wada moaned and twisted on the floor, his hand still under Tora’s foot. For a moment, the outcome hung in a delicate balance.
“Well?” growled Tora. “What are you waiting for? I thought you were a man of decision.”
“Kill him, you fools,” screamed Wada. “Kill him now!” Ikugoro stepped forward. “Er, yes, sir,” he mumbled, looking uneasily from Wada to Tora, “but what happened? Why are you arresting Lieutenant Wada, Inspector?”
“Look around you. Attempted murder-mine and hers-
for a start. Now let me see if you have the qualities to uphold the law in Sadoshima.”
Wada shouted, “You idiot. Don’t listen to him.”
Ikugoro glanced at Little Flower, sprawled naked and bleeding on the floor, and made up his mind. “Yes, sir. All right, men.
Tie him up!”
The constables stepped forward, unwound the thin chains they carried around their waists to secure prisoners, and glanced doubtfully from Tora to Wada. “Which one, Sergeant?” asked the bravest one finally.
“The lieutenant, you fool. You heard the inspector. The lieutenant’s been at it again, and this time he’s killed the whore.
Better put some clothes on him first, though. Knock him out, if you have to.”
Tora took his foot off Wada’s hand and left him to the constables. They actually grinned as they pulled up their cursing, screaming, and kicking commander, put his clothes back on him, and tied his wrists and ankles. Wada’s hand was turning dark and swelling to twice its size. He squealed like a wounded animal at their rough handling. Ikugoro watched the struggle impatiently, then snapped, “I told you to knock him out.”
“Sorry, Sergeant,” grunted the big constable, and slapped Wada so hard that his head bounced off the wall and he crum-pled to the floor.
Ikugoro shook his head. “They never liked the lieutenant much,” he informed Tora.
“I see. Thank you, Sergeant. Well done. I’ll see this gets mentioned in my report. Now we’d better get a doctor to see to the girl.”
Ikugoro walked over to Little Flower and bent down.
Straightening up, he said, “Not required, sir. She’s dead.” It was true. Little Flower had lost too much blood, and the already weakened body had been unable to deal with the deep wounds Wada had inflicted. Rage filled Tora, rage against the man who had tormented her and finally killed her as he had promised to do, rage against himself for having come too late.
He snatched up his sword and swung around. Ikugoro and his constables watched him uneasily.
Tora took a shuddering breath. “Yes,” he said, and slowly tucked his sword back into his sash. “Well. We have a crime scene here, Sergeant. Send one of your men ahead to the coroner. The other two can get a ladder or plank to put the body on and take it to the tribunal. You, Sergeant, will help me here and then transport the prisoner to jail.” Ikugoro did not question the voice of authority, even if the orders were questionable in the present circumstances. He sent the constables about their duties and then helped Tora go through the motions of observing the evidence of what had happened here. Wada looked much the worse for wear when they turned their attention to him. His lip was split, his nose was purple and bloody, and both eyes were nearly swollen shut.
When they asked him questions, he mumbled unintelligibly.
Together they dragged him out into the garden. Tora cast a glance toward the back fence. Beyond lay the densely wooded shrine precinct. He hoped Turtle was waiting with the horses.
“Tell you what, Sergeant,” he said. “We don’t want to attract too much attention. You’ve got to make sure the coast is clear.
Go out front to wait for your men and post one of them at the gate. Then come back.”
As soon as Ikugoro had trotted off, Tora slung Wada over his shoulder and headed for the back fence. Dropping Wada over like a big bag of rice, he vaulted after, and dragged him off into the shrubbery.