Makino’s meaningful look at Sano clearly implied that when Fugatami went down, Sano would too.
“Now I believe that we’ve waited long enough for Minister Fugatami,” said Makino. “This session is adjourned. Sōsakan-sama, you are dismissed. “ As Sano bowed in farewell, Makino added, “We do not appreciate people who abuse their authority or waste our time.”
“Throw the ball to me, Masahiro-chan,” Reiko called.
The little boy toddled across the garden, holding the stuffed cloth ball over his head. Laughing, he flung it at Reiko. The ball rose in a brief arc, plopped onto the ground, and rolled a short distance.
“Very good!” Reiko picked up the ball. “Catch!”
She tossed gently. He snatched at and almost caught the ball, then scrambled after it. Reiko smiled. The sun warmed her face, brightened the grass and red maples and pond. She’d missed playing with Masahiro, and in the few days she’d spent away from him, his strength and coordination seemed to have improved. He was growing up so fast! Yet even while Reiko enjoyed being with her son, she worried about Haru in Edo Jail and waited alertly for Sano to return from his meeting with Minister Fugatami and the Council of Elders.
Masahiro ran to the house, calling, “Papa!”
Looking around, Reiko saw Sano standing on the veranda. Anticipation leapt in her. “Oh, good, you’re back.” She hurried to him, but his grim expression halted her at the foot of the steps. “What’s wrong?”
“The husband of the murdered woman attacked some Black Lotus priests and nuns and started a riot. And Minister Fugatami didn’t show up at the meeting.” Sano lifted Masahiro in his arms, but the smile he gave his son faded as he said to Reiko, “The elders are angry. Makino seized the chance to criticize my handling of the case. Minister Fugatami stands to lose his post, and if Makino exerts his considerable influence with the shogun, I may lose mine, too.”
“Oh, no,” Reiko said, appalled. “I’m very sorry I got you in trouble.” Sano nodded, acknowledging her fault but unappeased by the apology.
“Minister Fugatami has had his chance to talk to me, and demonstrated that he has nothing to say. This will be the last time you meddle in bakufu politics.”
Alarm constricted Reiko’s heart as she realized that Sano had good reason to disregard the minister’s information. “I don’t believe Minister Fugatami would deliberately miss the meeting,” she said. “It was so important to him to report his findings about the Black Lotus to you and the Council of Elders. Something must have prevented him from attending.”
“Almost nothing short of death would excuse him,” Sano said.
His words filled Reiko with sudden, overwhelming fear. She ran into the house, calling for the maids to summon her palanquin. Sano followed, carrying Masahiro.
“Where are you going?” Sano asked.
“To Minister Fugatami’s house. “ In her chamber, Reiko threw on a cloak. “I have to know what went wrong.”
Sano set down Masahiro, who ran off down the corridor. “Whatever did, I’ve already made it clear that I want nothing to do with the man, and your visiting him again will only further the connection.”
“I won’t see him. I’ll ask his wife what happened.”
“Just leave the matter alone. “ Sano blocked the door.
In desperation, Reiko said, “The Black Lotus retaliates against people who make trouble for them. Do you remember how the nurse Chie’s husband was attacked after he tried to get her back from the temple? I’m afraid it’s Minister Fugatami’s turn now.”
Sano’s expression sharpened. “I’ll go with you.”
Whether her conviction had struck a chord of response in him, or he merely realized he couldn’t stop her and wanted to control her behavior at the Fugatami house, all that mattered to Reiko was getting there.
“The Honorable Minister isn’t receiving guests today,” said the sentry stationed in the guardhouse at the Fugatami estate.
“Is he home?” Sano stood with Hirata and two detectives at the guardhouse window, while Reiko waited in her palanquin nearby. Now that he’d had time to think, Sano was sorry he’d let Reiko’s panic influence him. Probably nothing had happened to Minister Fugatami, except that he’d reconsidered his crusade against the Black Lotus. Still angry at Fugatami, Sano hoped to ascertain his condition without personal contact.
“Yes, but he gave strict orders that he’s not to be disturbed,” said the sentry.
“Is all well with the Honorable Minister?” Hirata asked.
“He was fine yesterday evening, when I last saw him.”
Reiko whispered to Sano, “We have to see for ourselves!”
Her insistence annoyed Sano; reluctantly, he addressed the sentry: “I’m here on official business for the shogun, and I order you to let us see Minister Fugatami.”
“Very well.”
The sentry summoned a guard who ushered Sano’s party into the courtyard, where Reiko climbed out of the palanquin. Samurai retainers loitered outside the barracks, but when the party entered the mansion, it seemed strangely quiet.
“Where is everyone?” Sano asked the guard as they all walked down the dim corridor.
“The Honorable Minister’s top retainers went off somewhere.” The guard peered uneasily into vacant offices and reception rooms. “His servants should be here. I don’t know why they’re not.”
Sano heard a murmur of distress from Reiko, walking behind him with the detectives. Beside him, Hirata frowned. A bad feeling tingled Sano’s nerves. “You’ve seen your master today?”
“No,” said the guard.
“Are you sure the family is here?”
“No one has seen them leave.”
They turned a corner into the private quarters of the mansion. On a sliding paper wall ahead to the left, maroon streaks like spattered paint appeared. Sano looked down and saw dark footprints in the hall. Alarm seized him. He hurried to the open door. The fetid, metallic odor of blood assailed him. He saw a man lying on the futon, and a woman sprawled on the floor, limbs askew. Their throats had been cut, and blood had drenched their faces, hair, robes, the bedclothes, tatami, and walls. Horrified, Sano turned abruptly.
“Reiko-san! Don’t look!” he ordered.
Too late. She was right behind Sano; she’d already seen the room. Her open mouth drew a deep, wheezing gasp, and she swayed. Sano dragged her away from the door. He held her, pressing her face against his chest. Hirata, the detectives, and the Fugatami guard looked inside the chamber; exclamations rose from them.
“Master!” the guard cried.
Sano experienced nausea and revulsion at the spectacle of violent death, but his detective instincts focused his mind on the work he must do. Still holding Reiko, he turned for a more thorough look into the chamber. Now he noticed that a quilt covered Minister Fugatami up to his shoulders. The woman had cuts on her arms and hands, as if from defending herself against a blade.
Reiko struggled in Sano’s arms, crying, “Hiroko-san! Hiroko-san!”
“She’s dead.” Sano held Reiko tighter. “There’s nothing you can do for her.” He said to his men, “Secure the estate. Nobody leaves.” He must find out who had done this terrible thing, and why.
“The Black Lotus killed them!” Pulling out of Sano’s grasp, Reiko pointed into the room. “Look!”
On the wall above the futon, drawn in the spattered blood, was a crude representation of the Black Lotus symbol. Reiko stumbled down the corridor.
“The children,” she moaned. “Merciful gods, where are the children?”
24
There will be many people who will speak ill of us,
They will address the rulers and high ministers,
Seeking to defile and banish us, But we shall endure.