The Dragon King was a coward.
“And now that my scheme is under way,” he said, “all I need do is wait for my spies in Edo to bring me the news that Hoshina has been executed. When I see his corpse displayed by the Nihonbashi Bridge, I shall have my revenge.”
He was also a fool if he believed his scheme would work, Reiko thought. Didn’t he know Hoshina was the paramour of the shogun’s second-in-command? Chamberlain Yanagisawa would prevent Hoshina’s execution. But even if he didn’t, the crafty Hoshina was sure to avoid death somehow. The Dragon King’s scheme would fail. A premonitory chill crept through Reiko.
“What are you going to do if the shogun won’t do as you’ve demanded?” she said.
“He will.” Smug confidence infused the Dragon King’s voice. “Because I’ve warned him that unless he does, I’ll kill his mother and her friends.”
Reiko at last understood what he had meant when he’d previously told her that he hoped not to kill her. He would prefer that his plan achieve Hoshina’s death rather than carry out the threat of slaying his hostages. But she comprehended with a rush of sickening horror that she, Lady Keisho-in, Midori, and Lady Yanagisawa had been doomed from the start. There had never been any possibility that the Dragon King would free them. He would wait for news of Hoshina’s death, in vain. And when he realized that his revenge attempt had failed…
Panic filled Reiko as she wondered how much time was left before he gave up hope. Maybe those twelve years of waiting for revenge had exhausted his patience. She couldn’t afford to gamble that he would wait much longer. She must forge ahead with her scheme, even though she feared it was premature.
“Dearest,” she said, caressing the Dragon King’s hands, “I’m so afraid something will go wrong. And I don’t like this place. Why don’t we leave-just you and me?”
If she could get him to take her off the island, away from his men, she would have a chance at freedom. He couldn’t watch her all the time. She could sneak away, find a Tokugawa garrison, and send soldiers to rescue her friends. His men wouldn’t stay here once they discovered their master was gone; rather, they would realize that he’d left them holding the hostages, ready to take the blame for the kidnapping. They would flee, abandoning Midori, the baby, Keisho-in, and Lady Yanagisawa, who would be safe enough until help came.
“We can go somewhere pleasant together,” Reiko said eagerly. “We don’t even have to tell anyone.”
The Dragon King regarded her with consternation. “We can’t leave. Not until Hoshina is dead.”
“Why not just forget him? Why is revenge so important anymore?” Reiko wheedled. “That we’re together is all that matters.”
“Twelve years I’ve waited to bring Hoshina to justice.” The Dragon King’s hand was hard and unyielding in Reiko’s. “I won’t give up my victory over him, even for you. I’ll not have peace until he no longer fouls this world.”
“But I’m so afraid you’ll get in trouble,” Reiko said. “Punishing Hoshina isn’t worth your life. I can’t bear the thought of losing you.” With a sob of genuine desperation, she lifted her hand and stroked his cheek. The stubble on it abraded her fingers. “Please, take me away from here now!”
He frowned, leaning away from her touch. “My plan is foolproof. There won’t be any trouble.” His adamant tone bespoke his faith in his insane scheme. “We will stay here until I know Hoshina has been denounced and executed. My decision is final.”
Hirata, Marume, and Fukida carried their raft out from the woods. Staggering under its unwieldy mass, they laid it at the edge of the lake. The sky was a vast cobalt-blue dome spattered with brilliant stars; the full moon diffused radiance through clouds that drifted like smoke. Reflected lights glimmered on the black water. A cool wind evoked whispers from the forest, which vibrated with the nocturnal insect chorus. Hirata and the detectives eased the raft off the bank, into the water. They held their breath in wordless suspense.
The raft rocked on the undulating surface, but didn’t sink.
“Thank the gods,” Hirata said with fervent relief.
He and Fukida fetched the oars, then crawled gingerly onto the raft. Marume pushed it away from the shore, waded into the lake, and clambered aboard. The raft plunged under him. The men hurriedly shifted position until their weight balanced and the raft stabilized. Hirata and Fukida began paddling. Water sloshed over the raft and seeped through cracks between the logs, but it stayed afloat, inching toward the opposite shore. Hirata feared that each accidental splash of the paddles would alert the kidnappers that intruders were approaching. As he rowed, he watched the island.
Darkness blended the terrain and castle into a black, impenetrable mass. Although the island seemed devoid of life, Hirata dreaded that its occupants would spot him and his companions on the open water, vulnerable as a duck without wings. A pang of doubt chimed inside him. Despite his determination to save Midori, he wondered whether he’d made the right choice. Should he have obeyed Sano’s orders instead?
Jittery with fatigue and apprehension, Hirata plied his oar with hands that were still raw and tender from building the raft. He sniffed mucus up his nose and wished his cold would go away. He told himself it was too late to change his decision. Afraid for Midori’s safety, he wanted her back now, not after he returned to Edo.
The island loomed larger. Soon the raft bumped to a halt in the shallows near the end of the island opposite the dock. Hirata saw the sloping bank and dense trees articulated by the moonlight, and luminous reflections breaking at the shoreline. He and his companions climbed off the raft. Cold water immersed them up to their shins. Mud sucked at Hirata’s sandals as he waded ashore. He and Fukida and Marume hauled the dripping raft out of the lake, into the forest, and leaned it upright against a tree. They draped vines over the raft and buried the oars under fallen leaves. Then they crept through the woods, toward the castle.
The light from the stars and moon barely pierced the dense shadows in the forest. Hirata and the detectives groped their way around trees, over dead logs. His fear of getting caught magnified every crackle of twigs under his feet, and every rustle of leafy branches against him, into a thunderous noise. The atmosphere tingled with the presence of nearby humans. A sudden sense of danger and malevolence stirred Hirata’s nerves. At the same moment, he smelled burning oil and spied a light flickering in the near distance.
Hirata froze, his arm flung out to halt Marume and Fukida behind him. They all crouched in the underbrush as footsteps tramped toward them. The light was a flame that guttered in a metal lantern carried by a tough-looking samurai. His visage, eerily lit by the lantern, disappeared and reappeared between the trees. Hirata held his breath until the samurai passed. With his heart pounding from the close call, Hirata cautiously rose. He and his men continued their advance for some twenty more paces, until they spied more lights, traversing the island in multiple directions. Again and again they paused to hide as more samurai patrolled around them. Hirata was dismayed that so many of the kidnappers maintained a vigilant watch even at night, when he’d hoped they would be asleep.
Could he find Midori before they found him?
Ages seemed to pass while he and his comrades crept across the island. Finally, a lessening in the darkness ahead of them signaled an open space. Hirata, Fukida, and Marume stopped within the fringes of the forest and peered out at the castle. The glow of the moon limned buildings that squatted like a mausoleum in a graveyard. Their damaged roofs pointed jagged peaks toward the sky. At intervals along the dilapidated, vine-covered walls stood many sentries, guarding the place. The occasional low rumble of their voices underlay the distant splashing of the waves.