No, it wasn’t Semushi! His hair was cut in a short, stiff brush.
Fandorin moved the binoculars on. Suddenly something glinted in the undergrowth. Then again, and again.
Just adjust the focus slightly.
Oho!
A man wearing a kimono with its hem turned up was standing on an open patch of ground. He was absolutely motionless. Beside him was bamboo pole stuck into the earth.
Suddenly the man moved. His legs and trunk didn’t stir, but his sword scattered sparks of sunlight and severed bamboo rings flew off the pole: one, two, three, four. What incredible skill!
Then the miraculous swordsman swung round to face the opposite direction – apparently there was another pole there. But Erast Petrovich was not watching the sword blade any longer, he was looking at the left sleeve of the kimono. It was either twisted or tucked up.
‘Why did you strike the ground with your fist? What did you see?’ Shirota whispered eagerly in his ear.
Fandorin handed him the binoculars and pointed him in the right direction.
‘Kataudeh!’ the secretary exclaimed. ‘The man with the withered arm!’ So the others must be there!’
The vice-consul wasn’t listening, he was scribbling something rapidly in his notebook. He tore the page out and started writing on another one.
‘Right now, Shirota. Go to the Settlement as fast you can. Give this to Sergeant Lockston. Tell him the d-details yourself. The second note is for Inspector Asagawa.’
‘Also as fast as I can, right?’
‘No, on the contrary. You must walk slowly from Lockston to the Japanese police station. You can even drink tea along the way.’
Shirota gaped at the titular counsellor in amazement. Then he seemed to get the idea and he nodded.
The sergeant arrived with his entire army of six constables armed with carbines.
Erast Petrovich was waiting for the reinforcements on the approach to the village. He praised them for getting there so quickly and briefly explained the disposition of forces.
‘What, aren’t we going to rush them?’ Lockston asked, disappointed. ‘My guys are just spoiling for a scrap.’
‘N-no scrap. We’re two miles from the Settlement, beyond the consular jurisdiction.’
‘Damn the jurisdiction, Rusty! Don’t forget: these three degenerates killed a white man! Maybe not in person, but they’re all in the same gang.’
‘Walter, we have to respect the laws of the country in which we find ourselves.’
The sergeant turned sulky.
‘Then why the hell did you write: “as quickly as possible and bring long-range weapons”?’
‘Your men are needed to put a cordon round the area. Set them out round the edge of the fields, in secret. Get your constables to lie on the ground and cover themselves with straw, with a distance of two to three hundred paces between them. If the criminals try to leave through the water, fire warning shots, drive them back on to the hill.’
‘And who’s going to nab the bandits?’
‘The Japanese police.’
Lockston narrowed his eyes.
‘Why didn’t you just call the Japs? What do you need the municipals for?’
The titular counsellor didn’t answer and the sergeant nodded knowingly.
‘To make sure, right? You don’t trust the yellow-bellies. You’re afraid they’ll let them get away. Maybe even deliberately, right?’
This question went unanswered too.
‘I’m going to wait for Asagawa in the village. You’re responsible for the other three sides of the square,’ said Fandorin.
He had to wait for a long time – obviously, before Shirota visited the Japanese police station, he had not only drunk tea, but dined as well.
When the sun reached its zenith, the workers started moving back to their houses to rest before their afternoon labours. Masa came back with them.
He explained with gestures that all three samurai were there, and the hunchback was with them. They were keeping a sharp lookout in all directions. They couldn’t be taken by surprise.
Erast Petrovich left his valet to keep an eye on the only path that led to the shrine, while he set out to the other side of the village, to meet the Japanese police.
Three hours later a dark spot appeared on the road. Fandorin raised the binoculars to his eyes and gasped. An entire military column was approaching in marching formation from the direction of Yokohama. Bayonets glittered and officers swayed in their saddles in the cloud of dust.
The titular counsellor dashed forward to meet the troops, waving his arms at them from a distance to get them to stop. God forbid that the men on the hill should notice this bristling centipede!
Riding at the front was the vice-intendant of police himself, Kinsuke Suga. Catching sight of Fandorin’s gesticulations, he raised his hand and the column halted.
Erast Petrovich did not like the look of the Japanese soldiers: short and skinny, with no moustaches, uniforms that hung on them like sacks, and they had no bearing at all. He remembered Vsevolod Vitalievich telling him that military conscription had been introduced here only very recently and peasants didn’t want to serve in the army. Of course not! For three hundred years commoners had been forbidden to carry arms, the samurai chopped their heads off for that. And the result was a nation that consisted of an immense herd of peasant sheep and packs of samurai sheepdogs.
‘Your Excellency, why didn’t you bring the artillery too?’ Fandorin exclaimed angrily as he raced up to the top man.
Suga chuckled contentedly and twirled his moustache.
‘If it’s needed, we will. Bravo, Mr Fandorin! How on earth did you manage to track down these wolves? You’re a genuine hero!’
‘I asked the inspector for ten capable agents. Why have you brought an entire regiment of soldiers?’
‘It’s a battalion,’ said Suga, flinging one leg across the saddle and jumping down. His orderly took the reins immediately. ‘As soon as I got Asagawa’s telegram, I telegraphed the barracks of the Twelfth Infantry Battalion, it’s stationed only a mile from here. And I dashed here by train. The railway is a fine invention too!’
The vice-intendant positively radiated energy and enthusiasm. He gave a command in Japanese and the word passed along the line ‘Chutaicyo, Chutaicyo, Chutaicyo!’ [vii]
Three officers came running towards the head of the column, holding their swords down at their sides.
‘We shall need the army for setting an external cordon,’ Suga explained. ‘Not one of the villains must slip away. You needn’t have been so worried, Fandorin, I wasn’t going to bring the soldiers any closer. The company commanders will now form the men up into a chain and locate them round the large square. They won’t see that from the hill.’
The shoddy-looking soldiers moved with remarkable nimbleness and coordination. Not soaring eagles, of course, but they are rather well drilled, thought Fandorin, correcting his first impression.
In about a minute the battalion had reformed into three very long ranks. One of them stayed where it was, the other two performed a half-about-face and marched off to the left and the right.
Only now could Fandorin see that there was a group of police standing at the end of the column – about fifteen of them, including Asagawa, but the Yokohama inspector was behaving modestly, not like a commander at all. Most of the policemen were middle-aged, severe-looking individuals, the kind that we in Russia call old campaigners. Shirota was there with them – judging from the green colour of his face, he could barely stay on his feet. That was only naturaclass="underline" a sleepless night, nervous stress and the long dash all the way to Yokohama and back again.
‘The finest fighters in our police,’ Suga said proudly, indicating the men. ‘Soon you’ll see them in action.’
He turned to one of his deputies and started speaking Japanese.
The embassy secretary started, recalling his official duties, and walked up to the titular counsellor.