Boris Akunin - Murder on the Leviathan

A scalpel, which might be the one that killed Professor Sweetchild, is missing from the defendant’s medical bag. That is four.

And finally, five: we have just witnessed an attempted escape by the accused, which sets his guilt beyond all reasonable doubt. I don’t think I have forgotten anything, have I?’

‘There is a number six,’ put in the commissioner. ‘He is unable to offer an explanation for any of these points.’

‘Very well, let us make it six,’ the Russian agreed readily.

Gauche chuckled.

‘I’d say that’s more than enough for any jury to send our little pigeon to the guillotine.’

Inspector Jackson jerked his head up and growled in English: ‘To the gallows.’

‘No, to the gallows,’ Renier translated.

Ah, the black-hearted English! He had warmed a viper in his bosom!

‘I beg your pardon,’ fumed Gauche. ‘The investigation has been conducted by the French side. So our villain will go to the guillotine!’

‘And the decisive piece of evidence, the missing scalpel, was discovered by the British side. He’ll be sent to the gallows,’ the lieutenant translated.

‘The main crime was committed in Paris. To the guillotine!’

‘But Lord Littleby was a British subject. And so was Professor Sweetchild. It’s the gallows for him.’

The Japanese appeared not to hear this discussion that threatened to escalate into an international conflict. His eyes were still closed and his face was completely devoid of all expression.

These yellow devils really are different from us, thought Gauche. And just think of all the trouble they would have to take with him: a prosecutor, a barrister, a jury, judges in robes.

Of course, that was the way it ought to be, democracy is democracy after all, but this had to be a case of casting pearls before swine.

When there was a pause Fandorin asked:

‘Have you concluded your debate? May I p-proceed?’

‘Carry on,’ Gauche said gloomily, thinking about the battles with the British that lay ahead.

‘And let us not d-discuss the shattered gourds either. They also prove nothing.’

This whole comedy was beginning to get on the commissioner’s nerves.

‘All right. We needn’t waste any time on trifles.’

‘Excellent. Then that leaves five points: he concealed the fact that he is a doctor; he has no emblem; the scalpel is missing; he tried to escape; he offers no explanations.’

‘And every point enough to have the villain sent … for execution.’

‘The problem is, Commissioner, that you think like a European, but M-Mr Aono has a different, Japanese, logic, which you have not made any effort to fathom. I, however, have had the honour of conversing with this gentleman, and I have a better idea of how his mind works than you do. Mr Aono is not simply Japanese, he is a samurai, and he comes from an old and influential family. This is an important point for this particular case. For five hundred years every man in the clan of Aono was a warrior. All other professions were regarded as unworthy of such a distinguished family. The accused is the third son in the family. When Japan decided to move a step closer to Europe, many noble families began sending their sons abroad to study, and Mr Aono’s father did the same. He sent his eldest son to England to study for a career as a naval officer, because the principality of Satsuma, where the Aono clan resides, provides officers for the Japanese navy. In Satsuma the navy is regarded as the senior service. Aono senior sent his second son to a military academy in Germany. Following the Franco-German War of 1870 the Japanese decided to restructure their army on the German model, and all of their military advisers are Germans. All this information about the clan of Aono was volunteered to me by the accused himself

‘And what the devil do we want with all these aristocratic details?’ Gauche asked irritably.

‘I observed that the accused spoke with pride about his older brothers but preferred not to talk about himself. I also noticed a long time ago that for an alumnus of St Cyr, Mr Aono is remarkably ignorant of military matters. And why would he have been sent to a French military academy when he himself had told me that the Japanese army was being organized along German lines? I have formed the following impression. In keeping with the spirit of the times, Aono senior decided to set his third son up in a peaceful, non-military profession and make him a doctor. From what I have read in books, in Japan the decision of the head of the family is not subject to discussion, and so the defendant travelled to France to take up his studies in the faculty of medicine, even though he felt unhappy about it. In fact, as a scion of the martial clan of Aono, he felt disgraced by having to fiddle with bandages and tinker with clysters! That is why he said he was a soldier. He was simply ashamed to admit his true profession, which he regards as shameful. From a European point of view this might seem absurd, but try to see things through his eyes, How would your countryman D’Artagnan have felt if he had ended up as a physician after dreaming for so long of winning a musketeer’s cloak?’

Gauche noticed a sudden change in the Japanese. He had opened his eyes and was staring at Fandorin in a state of obvious agitation, and crimson spots had appeared on his cheeks. Could he possibly be blushing? No, that was preposterous.

‘Ah, how very touching,’ Gauche snorted. ‘But I’ll let it go. Tell me instead, monsieur counsel for the defence, about the emblem. What did your bashful client do with it? Was he ashamed to wear it?’

‘That is absolutely right,’ the self-appointed barrister said with a nod. ‘That is the reason. He was ashamed. Look at what it says on the badge.’

Gauche glanced down at his lapel.

‘It doesn’t say anything. There are just the initials of the Jasper-Artaud Partnership.’

‘Precisely.’ Fandorin traced out the three letters in the air with his finger. ‘J - A - P. The letters spell “jap”, the term of abuse that foreigners use for the Japanese. Tell me, Commissioner, how would you like to wear a badge that said “frog”?’

Captain Cliff threw his head back and burst into loud laughter.

Even the sour-faced Jackson and stand-offish Miss Stamp smiled. The crimson spots spread even further across the face of the Japanese.

A terrible premonition gnawed at Gauche’s heart. His voice was suddenly hoarse.

‘And why can he not explain all this for himself?’

‘That is quite impossible. You see - again as far as I can understand from the books that I have read - the main difference between the Europeans and the Japanese lies in the moral basis of their social behaviour.’

‘That’s a bit high-flown,’ said the captain.

The diplomat turned to face him.

‘Not at all. Christian culture is based on a sense of guilt. It is bad to sin, because afterwards you will be tormented by remorse. The normal European tries to behave morally in order to avoid a sense of guilt. The Japanese also strive to observe certain moral norms, but their motivation is different.

In their society the moral restraints derive from a sense of shame. The worst thing that can happen to a Japanese is to find himself in a situation where he feels ashamed and is condemned or, even worse, ridiculed by society. That is why the Japanese are so afraid of committing any faux pas that offends the sense of decency. I can assure you that shame is a far more effective civilizing influence than guilt. From Mr Aono’s point of view it would be quite unthinkable to speak openly of “shameful” matters, especially with foreigners. To be a doctor and not a soldier is shameful. To confess that he has lied is even more shameful. And to admit that he, a samurai, could attach any importance to offensive nicknames - why, that is entirely out of the question.’