She related Furansu-san's information that Raiko's envoy had whispered to her a few nights before, but had kept from him until now.
"Also the gai-jin Kanagawa doctor secretly examined the tairo here the same day, giving him gai-jin medicines--I hear he is improved."
"Baka," he said disgustedly.
"Yes. This doctor should be stopped.
Raiko's source says he returns tomorrow or the next day to see the tairo again."
"So ka?" His interest doubled. "Where? In the castle?"
She shook her head. "No. This is the best part, outside the walls, in the palace of Zukumura the Idiot, as last time."
His face twisted. "So many choices, Meikin, rare choices. Just like Utani, neh?
So much temptation. Utani's killing still resounds around all Nippon! Hiraga? Is he caught yet?"
"No, the chief gai-jin let Akimoto go and Takeda is still also safe." She watched him and wondered what he was thinking, then added softly, "Two last facts you should know. Lord Yoshi was at the meeting of doctor and tairo, also with only a few guards. I hear he will be there again." She saw his eyes glitter in the light that permeated the room and felt a sudden fear, sensing his restrained violence.
"Yoshi and Anjo together, those dogs outside the walls together? Eeee, Meikin, how rare!"
Katsumata trembled with excitement. "Can you find out exactly when the doctor arrives?"
She leaned forward, almost sick with hope, and whispered, "Another courier is due this evening.
I will know then, Raiko would understand what a vital chance it could be for us, for all of us, for all of us to settle many scores."
In truth it was a never-before opportunity, if it came to pass. He scowled. "I cannot wait here, or come back tonight. When was the other meeting, what part of the day?"
"Early."
The scowl deepened, then dissolved. "Meikin, all shishi will thank you. If the meeting's tomorrow, send me the time at once, the Inn of Blue Skies, near the bridge at Nihonbashi."
He bowed and she bowed, both satisfied, for now.
The bridge at Nihonbashi was considered the first stage of the Tokaido, on the fringe of Yedo, and the Inn of Blue Skies one of dozens, rich and poor, that were scattered in the district. Tonight was black and cold, the sky solid cloud, midnight still hours away. The Blue Skies lay in a dirty little alley, one of the poorer establishments, a nondescript, ramshackle, two-story building with outhouses, kitchens and a few separate one-room bungalows in the garden behind walls. On the veranda of one of these, Katsumata sat meditating, his robe padded against the chill, enjoying the garden that alone had had care lavished on it.
Colorful lanterns amidst choice plantings around a tiny stream, a bridge, the soothing, friendly sound of trickling water and cloppp cloppp of the pivoted, resonant bamboo cup falling against its stone, filling with water and emptying from the miniature waterfall as long as the water fell. His silent shishi bodyguard stopped momentarily, motioned that all was well, and continued on his roving patrol around the Inn.
Katsumata was content, his plans perfected: two shishi were to join him in the morning for Yokohama, this guard and one other. The sacrifice of these two with Hiraga, Takeda and Akimoto would ensure the burning of the Settlement and sinking the warship, and therefore the bombardment and obliteration of Yedo with all its consequent results. At the last minute he would take over the firing of the church as he had always anticipated, allowing Hiraga to lead the assault team against the warship, thus giving himself plenty of opportunity to escape whereas the others would have none.
His fingers fondled the hilt of a long sword in his lap, enjoying the touch of the fine leather, already imagining himself part of these acts of terrorism that would lift sonno-joi from the present apathy that surrounded it, making certain his leadership of the newly formed shishi cadres, from now on to be dominated by himself and Satsuma.
Next, Yoshi and Anjo, however tempting, were not as important as Yokohama, so he had left them to other shishi here. There were not enough men to mount a frontal attack, so he had devised an ambush. An ambush might succeed, probably would not, but its very audacity again would be uplifting. For this he needed to know the exact time of the doctor's return. If Meikin reported it was tomorrow, he would alert men already primed and waiting in a nearby Inn for this suicide mission, still leaving him his two for Yokohama.
It will be enough if the ambush is launched so close to the castle, he told himself, light-headed with anticipation. This, together with Yokohama, will assure sonno-joi and make my future sublime. If only there was more time to prepare!
Ah time! "Time is a thought," he had told his students in their Zen classes, opening and closing his fist for emphasis, "Time exists but does not exist, is permanent and impermanent, fixed and elastic, necessary and unnecessary, to be held in the hand and wondered at: why?"' Solemnly he opened his palm and stared at it.
Then chuckled. What nonsense! But oh how those youths used to rack their brains for meaning when there was none, Ori especially, and Hiraga, my best students, future leaders I had hoped. But Ori is dead and now Hiraga is tainted and treacherous.
The cloppp cloppp of the water mobile was comforting. And the trickling water. His being was filled with vitality and plans and ideas, the future once again balmy, no tiredness tonight, plenty of time for Meikin to send...
A shadow moved in the shrubs, another, slight sound at the back and he was on his feet, sword in hand, racing for the secret door that was hidden in the bushes but three ninja-clad men came out of the shadows and blocked him from it, swords raised.
At once he twisted and charged another way, but more ninja were there, the whole garden filling, some moving at him, others rock still, waiting for him to come to them. At once he launched a berserk attack against an easy target, the four men closing on him from the left, killing one, the others evaporating as quickly as they appeared. A sudden blinding pain in his eyes from acid powder they had flung in his face. In agony he howled with rage, lunging sightlessly at the enemy, his frenzy at being ambushed and tricked, lending him maniacal strength to his arms and wings to his feet.
His sword found flesh, the man cried out, armless, and Katsumata coiled and blindly lashed out again, darted left and right and right again, feinting, trying to wipe his eyes clean. Twisting, hacking, darting this way and that in panic, clawing at his eyes.
His sight cleared momentarily. An open path to safety and the fence lay in front of him.
Berserk, he leapt forward, then an enormous blow on the back of his head sent him reeling. In desperation he reversed his sword to fall on it but another blow smashed it away, breaking his arm.
He shrieked. His consciousness vanished.
The swirling black pit was an eternity of torment with red and green flashes behind his eyes, no sight there, no hearing but for a gigantic hammering, chest afire, heart pulsating, all openings out of control. Icy water drenched him and he gasped.
Another deluge in his face and another. Coughing and heaving he came out of the dark. Agony from his broken arm, the bone splinted and protruding, soared into his head and blew his sight back. He found himself spread-eagled on the ground, helpless, a ninja standing on each wrist and each ankle but they were not ninja. Now their masks were off. He recognized Abeh who stood over him. Then he saw Yoshi nearby, dark clad, but not as the fighters. Twenty or thirty others all around.