"We can't have you killing and maiming Edo's best young men, especially those from the Tokugawa army," Kurita said.

"If Edo's best young men would leave me alone, there'd be no problem," Hirata said.

He rode to police headquarters, a walled compound in the southern corner of the Hibiya district. Guards let him through the ironclad gate, into a courtyard surrounded by barracks and stables. A few criminals, recently arrested, their hands bound with rope, huddled miserably under the dripping eaves, awaiting an escort to jail.

Hirata strode into the main building. The reception room was a cavernous space divided by square pillars that supported a low ceiling. Messengers crouched on the floor and smoked pipes that fouled the air. Closed skylights leaked water into buckets set on the platform where three clerks knelt at desks. The chief clerk greeted Hirata and said, "It's been a long time."

"Greetings, Uchida-san," Hirata said.

Uchida was a middle-aged samurai with flexible, comic features. He'd held his job since Hirata had been a child, and was a trove of information about crime, criminals, and all police business in Edo.

"What can I do for you today?" Uchida asked.

"I need your help with a case I'm investigating." Hirata explained, "Chamberlain Sano's cousin Chiyo was kidnapped."

"So I've heard." Uchida's mobile features drooped with concern. He lowered his voice. "Raped, wasn't she? Poor girl. Well, I'm glad she's home safe. I hope you catch the bastard. How can I help?"

"Her father told Chamberlain Sano that when she went missing, he reported it to the police," Hirata began. "Have you heard about that, too?"

Uchida pulled a grimace. "Major Kumazawa stalked in here like a conquering general. He demanded that we drop everything and look for his daughter. But we couldn't, could we? Put every man on the search and let the criminals run wild in the meantime?"

"Of course not," Hirata agreed. "But I hope someone made an effort to find Chiyo."

"Sure we did," Uchida said. "A missing person is a missing person. We were duty-bound to investigate even if Major Kumazawa didn't exactly make us eager to do it."

If Major Kumazawa hadn't been so high-handed, the police might have worked harder and rescued Chiyo sooner, Hirata thought. "What did the investigation turn up?"

"Nothing," Uchida said. "Our officers in Asakusa had a look around the shrine where she disappeared, but nobody there saw anything. But I've got a bit of news that might be related to the crime."

"What?" Hirata said, surprised. "Did you tell Major Kumazawa?" The man hadn't given Sano any information from the police, as far as Hirata knew.

"I didn't get a chance," Uchida defended himself. "He threw a fit because we didn't all jump at once, then he stormed out of here before I could speak."

"Well, cough it up," Hirata said.

Uchida paused, letting the suspense build, until prodded by a frown from Hirata. "Chamberlain Sano's cousin isn't the only woman to be kidnapped lately. There have been two others."

11

"Is anyone following us?" Yanagisawa said.

"No, master," said one of his two bodyguards.

They were riding along a rain-swept quay in the Hatchobori district. Their wicker hats concealed their faces; their straw capes covered the identifying crests on their garments. Yanagisawa glanced furtively over his shoulder at the watercraft moored at the quay. He didn't see anyone except laborers hurrying goods from barges to ware houses. But this was a time for extra caution.

The other guard said, "Your precautions seem to have worked."

After leaving Edo Castle, Yanagisawa and his guards had traveled by palanquin to the estate of a daimyo who was an ally. They'd borrowed horses, donned rain gear, and ridden out the back gate. They'd surely lost anyone who'd followed them from the castle. Now they turned down a street where shops, restaurants, and teahouses occupied narrow storefronts. The street was deserted except for a samurai-one of Yanagisawa's own troops-who stood outside a teahouse distinguished by a giant conch shell hung above its entrance.

Yanagisawa's party dismounted. The samurai opened the door. Yanagisawa and his bodyguards stepped inside, where two more of his soldiers waited in a room with a tatami floor and a low table for drinks, otherwise empty. They'd cleared out the proprietor and customers in advance of Yanagisawa's arrival.

"Are they here yet?" Yanagisawa asked, shedding his wet hat and cape.

The soldiers pointed to a doorway covered with a blue curtain. As he moved toward it, Yanagisawa felt excitement speed his pulse. He was embarking upon the plan he'd outlined to his son last night. His success depended upon the people he was about to meet.

Pushing aside the curtain, he stepped into another room. On the tatami floor knelt two old women. Both in their sixties, they wore rich silk robes patterned in muted colors that gleamed in the gray light from the barred window. Their faces were made up with white rice powder and red rouge, their hair upswept and anchored with lacquer combs. They both looked out of place in these humble surroundings. Otherwise, they could not have been more different.

The younger woman boldly spoke first. "You have kept us waiting for more than an hour." Her speech was crisp, precise, high-class. She had an emaciated figure on which her rich garments hung like cloth on sticks. Her face was narrow, with elegant bone structure, but the right side was distorted, its muscles bunched together, the eye half closed, as if in pain.

"It was best that we not arrive at the same time and be seen together," Yanagisawa explained.

"Still, you took far too long getting here, Honorable-"

Yanagisawa raised his hand. "We'll not use our real titles or names," he said, kneeling opposite the women. "You can call me 'Ogata.' I'll call you 'Lady Setsu.' "

"Surely such theatrics are not necessary here." She swept a disdainful gaze around the shabby room, the window that gave a view of an empty alley in a neighborhood where no one they knew ever came.

"There are spies everywhere," Yanagisawa said, "as you well know."

"Lady Setsu" nodded, conceding his point. Her right eye leaked involuntary tears.

"Me, what about me?" the elder woman piped up. She had a babyish voice and a doughy face that reminded Yanagisawa of a rice cake dusted with powdered sugar. "What shall I be called?" She giggled. "I've always liked the name 'Chocho.' "

Butterfly, Yanagisawa thought. How inappropriate for such an old, fat woman. " 'Lady Chocho' you shall be," he said, putting on his most gallant, charming manner. "It's most suitable. You are as pretty and graceful as your namesake."

Lady Chocho preened, delighted by his flattery. Yanagisawa smiled. He'd already won an ally. But her companion frowned.

"It was quite inconvenient and uncomfortable to travel so far in such bad weather," Lady Setsu said, "particularly since my health is poor, as you well know."

Yanagisawa knew she suffered from terrible headaches that caused spasms in her face. "Yes, I do know, and I apologize for bringing you all the way out here," he said contritely.

Lady Chocho had borne the fruit that was key to his plan, whose acquisition was the object of this meeting. But Lady Setsu had a say in the matter, too.

"I didn't mind coming," Lady Chocho said, beholding Yanagisawa with the admiration that he often excited in both women and men.

Lady Setsu shot her a glance. Lady Chocho quailed and bowed her head. Lady Setsu had much influence over her friend, Yanagisawa knew from his informants.

"Why did you choose such a squalid dump?" Lady Setsu brushed at her sleeves as if afraid of fleas.

"Because it has no connection to us, and we'll never use it again," Yanagisawa said. "Those are my favorite criteria for places to hold secret meetings."