"I don't know. Perhaps about eight days, Otami-sama." The shoya studied Hiraga's concern and thought that, yes, this youth should be concerned for obviously he is in great danger, but eeee, how valuable he is! I agree he is a National Treasure, or should be. Joint-u ven'shur!
--a godlike idea! My son will go to work with this Jami gai-jin starting tomorrow, to learn barbarian ways and then I will not need Hiraga who represents nothing but trouble to me directly, and so sorry, is doomed. Like we all are, if we are not very clever. "Otami-sama, there are many troop movements around us."
"Eh? What kind of movements?"
"The Bakufu have reinforced the three nearest Tokaido way stations to us. Also, also there are five hundred samurai straddling the road north and south of us." A bead of sweat slid down his cheek. "We are in a box of Tairo Anjo."
Hiraga cursed and, too, felt the pressure increase. "What do you hear, shoya?
Is he planning to attack us here?"
"I wish I knew, Otami-sama. Perhaps telling the Taira about the troops might help to find out what the gai-jin plan."
"They'll bombard Yedo, any fool knows that." Hiraga felt sickened at the thought of the inevitable gai-jin victory though it would serve sonno-joi like nothing else. "There's nothing the tairo can do to prevent..." His heart skipped a beat and he stopped.
"Except, Otami-sama?"
"Except history's answer, the usual answer: a sudden, brutal, surprise attack to destroy the fleet's base." Hiraga was astonished he had shared his thought, and been so open with such a lowly person, even though the shoya was intelligent, a valuable ally, and soon to be a business partner.
Eeee, he told himself through the throbbing of his headache, there's so much I do not understand, the world is turning upside down, everything different, I am different, no longer samurai yet totally samurai. It is these filthy gai-jin with their tempting, sickening, awesome, greed-making ideas.
They must be thrown out--sonno-joi sonno-joi sonno-joi--but not yet. First massu produk'shun, the first to make rifles.
"Shoya, send out all spies in case that is Anjo's plan."
"Spies, Otami-sama?"
Hiraga said, "The time is now to stop playing games. Shoya. You understand? No-more-games!"
"I obey in everything, Otami-sama. As usual, as I ha--"
"You did very well tonight, shoya. The moment you hear anything about Yoshi or shishi, send me word, please." Hiraga added the "please" as a major concession.
"As quick as a hunting sea bird, Sire."
"Good night then--ah, so sorry, I forgot, there is the gai-jin's fee. He asked me to remind you."
The shoya's stomach turned over. From his sleeve he extracted a small bag--it would have been very bad manners to give it to Jami-sama direct. "Here is the equal in gold oban for one and a half koku, Otami-sama, the rest in ten days."
Hiraga shrugged and casually put it in his own sleeve, but the weight of it and the joy of it astonished him. "I will tell him, and see he is here in three days."
"Thank you, Otami-sama. These troop movements, terribly worrisome. War is coming.
My Masters say if they could have advance warning of gai-jin plans... they would appreciate deeply any help. Perhaps your Taira-sama ..." Hopefully, he left the name hanging.
Another message from Head Office in Osaka had arrived today, more urgent than the last.
As if I cannot read? the shoya thought angrily, as if I'm uncaring and disloyal. I do everything I can. It is those two cursed mama-sans. Two days and still nothing from them!
Before he had left Raiko and Meikin he had impressed on them his urgent need to know everything they knew, or could find out, quickly. His anger began to increase, not only because the two women had pretended to know nothing however much he cajoled them, even though he was sure that they already had an inkling, but also because his precious gold oban were in this rapacious samurai's sleeve, fees, however well earned for an equally rapacious gai-jin.
And where will all my lovely oban end up? Of course in some whore's Golden Gully.
"Thank you so much, Otami-sama," the shoya said unctuously, as Hiraga left, keeping his head on his tatami to hide the gnashing of his few remaining broken teeth, wanting to humble Hiraga, make him sweat, telling him, not sorry at alclass="underline" oh so sorry, your late whore Koiko was implicated in the plot, so was your trained female assassin and wife-to-be Sumomo who had her head chopped off too, and your shishi supporter Meikin, mama-san to the most important men in Yedo--even Gyokoyama leaders--is not long for this earth because we surmise Yoshi knows all this too.
And though you're the cleverest samurai I've known, you're doomed doomed doomed, and yet my illustrious superiors expect me to treat you as a National Treasure and keep you alive as well. Oh ko!
Tonight I shall get drunk, but not before congratulating myself on the imminent formation of the Ryoshi Joint-u Ven'shur Stoku Kompeni! Eeee, an idea worthy of gods!
Walking home, Jamie McFay loosened his top coat though the evening air was cold. He was warm. The knowledge gained was substantial and his concentration had driven away his cares. All very interesting, he thought, but neither of those two have any idea of the initial costs of mass production.
And yet the way Nakama said Gyokoyama could buy and sell Yedo if they wanted, for the moment I really believed it. The shoya will go for a joint venture, I'm sure of it.
His step was brisk and he greeted others walking the High Street and went up the Struan steps, into his domain. It's mine again, he thought, with pride. Perhaps Tess will change her mind now--she's no fool and I've done a good job.
Vargas was waiting.
"Evening, Vargas, time to lock up?"
"Yes, but first, senhor, sorry, but these came in yesterday's mail but, somehow, were in my In tray."
Both letters were marked Personal and Confidential and addressed to him. The first was in Tess Struan's writing. His stomach heaved.
The other was from Maureen Ross, his er/while fiancee. His unease doubled. "Thanks," he said. In spite of his resolve to wait, he could not and tore Tess's letter open. This is to inform you formally that Mr. Albert MacStruan is transferred from Shanghai, arriving by steamer, Wayfong, on the 17th. Please acquaint him with all Japanese operations. Subject to your noncompliance with previous letters he assumes control at the end of December.
His dismissal from the Noble House, now that it was in effect, did not anger him as he expected.
In fact he was relieved. Weird, just a few moments ago I thought it was my...
He looked up at Vargas who was watching narrowly. "What else, Vargas?" He folded the letter and put it on his desk with the other one.
"Mrs. Angelique is in the tai-pan's office. She asked if you could you see her for a moment?"
"What's up now?"
"Nothing that I know of, senhor, the evening has been peaceful. A message arrived from your Nemi, asking if you would be visiting later. One small other matter, Captain Strongbow again asked for sailing orders. Again I told him to be patient. It will be on the evening tide?"
"Yes. I think so. Send word to Nemi: Perhaps."
"At once, senhor. Then it's decided? The tai-pan's remains will go with Cloud? And of course the Senhora?"
"Either by clipper, or the mail ship, one or the other," he said, walked along the corridor, knocked and went in.
She was curled in Malcolm's chair, which Jamie was coming to think of as her own, reading the Guardian by oil light. "Hello, Jamie."
"Evening. I've decided to go with you and the mail ship," he tried unsuccessfully not to sound blunt, "it's my job to explain to Tess Struan." Having said it, he felt better.