I Parker - The Convict's sword

“I’m betting on the gangsters.” Tora clenched his fists in helpless anger. “The silly fool! I asked her to tell me. I told her they were dangerous and wouldn’t think twice about slitting her throat to make sure she didn’t talk.”

Akitada pondered this. With Soga breathing down his back, he was in no position to investigate gang activities. “What about the person who followed her? You said she could smell him.”

“They say blind people have a sharper sense of smell and hearing.”

“Did she say what sort of smell?”

“Bad. She called it-what was that word-yes, pungent. Whatever that means. She used strange words sometimes.”

“It means ‘strong’ or ‘sharp.’ Not very helpful. Sometimes people may carry the smell of a particular job. Like a rice wine brewer, for example. Or a dumpling baker.”

“Nothing like that, I think. She would have said so.”

Silence fell again. Akitada sighed. “Well, that’s all I can think of. I must hurry back to work. Soga is expected. If I can’t get you transferred today, I shall be back after work.”

Tora looked contrite. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said with unaccustomed humility, “if I have caused trouble for you at your work.”

Akitada smiled and touched his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. And you’re more important to me.”

Tora’s eyes moistened. Keeping his head down, he nodded and rose to let the guard take him back to his cell.

“Oh,” said Akitada, “I almost forgot. Do you recall if she was wearing shoes when you found her?”

Tora thought. “Not sure, sir. I think so, but I wasn’t really looking at her feet.”

“No, I suppose not. Never mind. Don’t worry.”

Akitada watched him walk away. He knew about being in chains and about the willpower it took to walk upright and square-shouldered when you had recently received a flogging. He felt helpless and frustrated. Because of a superior he heartily dis respected, he had to postpone the more urgent need of Tora. He seemed forever caught in conflicts of duty, private and public.

Outside, a wind had sprung up. In the palace grounds it stirred dust clouds from the dry streets and whipped up the gowns of officials hurrying between buildings. Clutching his hat, Akitada bent his head into it and tried to subdue his flapping skirts and full trousers. Dust particles stung his face and got into his eyes. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

Of course Soga had already arrived. Impossible to slip quietly into his office, pretending that he had been there all along. Soga was still in the main hall, glowering at the clerks, who were blank-faced. He must have delivered himself of some tirade, because the heads of scribes could be seen, peering curiously around corners and over transoms.

Soga turned on Akitada with an avidity that meant he had been the cause of his anger. “In my office,” he snapped without a greeting.

Akitada bowed and said pointedly, “Good morning, sir. I trust you return safe and well from your trip?”

Soga did not respond. He marched into his private office and took his seat behind the desk. Akitada followed and turned to close the door.

“I want the two clerks in here,” snapped Soga.

Tasting the familiar sour bile of helpless anger rising in his throat, Akitada opened the door again for Nakatoshi and Sakae. The three of them gathered around Soga’s desk.

Soga did not invite them to sit. His round face was still suffused with color and his pudgy hands clutched the edge of the desk. He seemed to be trying to control his wrath. Akitada swallowed nervously, wondering what Soga had shouted in the hearing of the ministry’s staff. That it concerned him he did not doubt. Well, he had tried to return to his duty, but fate had once again interceded. Perhaps this was the end of his career. The thought that he would no longer have to bow his neck under the yoke imposed upon it by his bitter enemy should have cheered him, but the faces of his wife and his son, of old Seimei and the others rose before his eyes. What was to become of them all? Tora in jail on a murder charge, his house filled with dependents, a son to raise and see secure in some official position, perhaps other children in the future, and he had no funds to fall back on, no outside income except for a rather poor farm in the country.

Soga finally raised his head and looked slowly at each of them. When his round black eyes reached Akitada, he compressed his lips and a prominent vein in his temple began to throb. But his voice was calm.

“I have returned today to give you instructions about running the ministry in my absence. I must say what I found on my arrival has not encouraged me to think this possible. Nevertheless, it cannot be helped. You, Sugawara, are in charge. Sakae, who seems to have shown some initiative in your absence, can handle the routine business of your department. Nakatoshi will assist you. I expect daily reports. Sakae will draw these up and all three of you will sign them. They are to be sent every night to my house in the country. You will not make any decisions other than routine ones without my express permission in writing. That is all.”

Akitada was completely taken aback. What was taking Soga away so suddenly? And how could he, Akitada, run the ministry with any efficiency while his hands were tied by this ridiculous reporting system which would cause delays and expenditures? How was he to deal with the patent insult that Soga did not trust him to carry out the duty without constant oversight-and that by the clerks, Sakae in particular? And how would this affect Tora’s desperate situation?

“Sir,” he began.

But Soga cut him off instantly. “The clerks may leave and tend to their duties,” he snapped.

When Sakae and Nakatoshi were gone, Soga wasted no more time. “You were late and your appearance suggests that you have spent the night in some house of assignation. Furthermore, you were absent again yesterday,” he said. “I am sure you were aware of my opinion of your work, of your suitability for your position, and of your character before this latest dereliction. If you had not somehow impressed certain people with your exploits in places too distant from the capital to verify your outrageous claims, you would not be where you are now. As it is, I must tolerate you and, in the present emergency, leave you in charge. Let me assure you that the slightest infraction during my absence will result in my demanding not only your removal from your rank and position but also severe punishment for malfeasance in office.”

For a moment, the room lost its stability. The floor under Akitada’s feet behaved as in an earthquake, and the walls faded in and out before his eyes. There was a ringing in his ears, and when he tried to speak, he had lost his voice. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and tried to fix his eyes on Soga. “Under the circumstance,” he said in a shaking voice, “I shall, of course, resign.”

Soga rose. Something like triumph flashed in his eyes. “You may prepare a letter of resignation and leave it on my desk. I shall sign it upon my return. For the time being you will remain in your position and carry out your duties as ordered. If all goes well I shall not count the latest demerits against you. As you know, the annual fitness reports are due in another month, and yours is already sadly deficient. A charge of flagrant dereliction of duty would cost you the chance at another position.”

“When will you return?”

“You will be kept informed.” Soga glanced at his desk. “Take care of the correspondence, but pass on all private letters. And remember what I said.” With that final threat, he walked past Akitada and out the door.

Akitada stood lost in a tumult of emotions until Nakatoshi’s touch on his arm brought him back to reality.