James Clavell - Gai-Jin

His cache was under a bush. Five bombs that he and Hiraga had made, with fuses of various lengths.

The bombs were constructed from two sections of giant bamboo tied together, a third of a yard long, half that wide, the hollows of one packed tightly with Katsumata's extra gunpowder, the other with oil, and plugged. Quickly he fused three bombs using the longest fuses he had, about a candle of time each--nearly two hours. The fuses were made of cotton rope, impregnated with a gunpowder solution and allowed to dry. He armed the remaining two with fuses for half that time.

A last look at the sky. Clouds raced with the wind. Good. He picked up two long-fused bombs and was gone, melding nicely with the night, through the secret fence door into the garden of the Three Carp that was south of the Cherries and headed for the southernmost garden house, like all of them, raised half a yard on low pilings. It was occupied and illuminated. Warily he crawled under it. He lit the fuse with a flint, the noise deadened by the wind. The fuse caught. A woman's footstep sounded above and he froze. Sound of the shoji being opened. After a moment it closed again.

Errant leaves heaped over the spluttering fuse concealed it almost completely and once more he was away, a shadow amongst shadows--to duck into the shrubbery seeing a gai-jin coming down the path. The man passed without noticing him, then again he was in motion, running for the main Teahouse building.

Another fire bomb was settled there neatly.

Now back through the fence, avoiding a servant, waiting for a portly old maid to trundle by, reaching the cache, there to collect the last of the long-fuse bombs and hastening away again. This he lit and placed under his own house, Akimoto's snores rumbling above. Takeda's lips drew back with his smile. A last time he darted back to the cache, sweating and euphoric. So far, all according to Ori's plan. Hiraga was gai-jin infected. So was Akimoto. He was not. He would do it alone.

With the remaining bombs he went across the garden and over the fence to the next and to the next and there was the secret well head. Quickly he went down into it, replacing the cover, no need to fear that Hiraga was below.

In the tunnel and safe he began to breathe again and lit the oil lamp. Scattered around were Hiraga's bed and few possessions.

Katsumata's knapsack with the metal-cased bombs was under a blanket. He added his own two, shouldered the bag and hurried down the tunnel. Soon the water barrier was ahead.

Quickly he was out of his clothes, tying them into a bundle.

The freezing water made him struggle for breath. When he reached the narrowest part where the roof sank toward the water, his head was just below it and the water not quite to his chin. With difficulty he managed to hold the lamp and knapsack above the surface. On the other side he dressed hurriedly, shivering and cursing, still so much to do.

Never mind, he had begun. Soon he would be finished and then would live forever. His fervor warmed him and drove the cold away.

At the far end where iron bars led upwards and the well vanished below, he stopped to collect his breath. Now upwards. Once he slipped, almost fell but regained his hold and held on until his heart stopped racing. Up again. With great care he moved the broken cover aside and peered out. No Man's Land was empty. Drunk Town was busy with slavering and shouts and drunken singing, a few men reeling along alleys not far away, dogs barking at them.

Drunk Town was south of the village and the Settlement that hugged the coast on a south-north line, as the Yoshiwara was generally southwards of Drunk Town. Ori first, then Katsumata and Hiraga had planned where to plant the fire initiators so that a wind from the south would drive the flames before it to consume all in its path.

He left the knapsack in the weeds, and secreted one short-fused bomb against a rickety godown, the other behind a hovel.

Rubbish covered the smoking fuses.

Hurrying back for the remaining bombs he had to slump into hiding near a pile of rubbish.

Approaching from the village a patrol of soldiers was making their nightly rounds. Their route went from the British Legation, along High Street, through the village, across No Man's Land, down through Drunk Town and back along the promenade again. Twice nightly. When they reached the alley, thirty yards from him, they stopped in the lee of the godown for a smoke and to relieve themselves.

Takeda cursed, pinned down.

More than three quarters of a candle had passed since lighting the first fuse.

"Good evening, Hinodeh," Andr`e said earlier when he had arrived at their garden sanctuary.

"Sorry I late."

"Good evening, Furansu-san. You are never late. Whatever you do is correct." Smiling at him. "Will you take sak`e?"

"Please." He sat opposite and watched her pour, his legs in the space under the table where a small brazier warmed the air, the heat kept in by the eiderdown that was spread over the table and wrapped around them. Her grace was ever more pleasing, hair like glistening jet held with decorative pins, a touch of rouge to her lips, her long sleeves held delicately away from the flask.

Tonight she wore a kimono he had never seen before, a glorious shade of green, his favorite color, with cranes, the symbol of long life, embroidered in silver thread all over, the edge of a sheer under-kimono peeping out enticingly. With a bow she handed him the cup and then, to his surprise, poured for herself from another flask that contained warm sak`e--his was cold as he preferred. It was rare for her to drink.

With a special smile, she lifted her cup.

"A ta sant`e, cheri, je t'aime."

She copied his accent as he had taught her.

"A ta sant`e, cherie, je t'aime," he said, an ache in his heart, not believing that she did, how could she?

They clinked cups and she drained hers, choked a little, at once poured for him again and for herself. The same smile and she offered her cup to touch his.

They drained them and again she poured.

"Mon Dieu, Hinodeh, you careful, yes?" he said with a laugh. "Not used to sak`e.

Careful, no become drunk!"

She laughed, sparkling white teeth, voluptuous lips. "Please, Furansu-san, tonight is special. Drink and be merry.

Please." She sipped this time, looking at him over the lip, her eyes alight and flashing in the dance of candle flames, eyes he always found fathomless, always keeping him off balance--part of her fascination.

"Why special, Hinodeh?"

"Today is Sei-ji-no-Hi, Coming of Age Day--for all persons who have reached twenty years --you have reached twenty, neh?" she said happily, then pointed to the big candle on the table. "This candle I dedicated to my village god Ujigami for you." Then she motioned to the door shoji. Just above it was a bouquet of pine and bamboo. "That is a Kadamatsu, symbolizing stability." A shy smile and she poured and drank again. "I hope you approve."

"Oh yes, thank you, Hinodeh," he said warmed.

A few weeks ago he had discovered it was her birthday and brought iced champagne with a golden bracelet. She wrinkled her nose against the bubbles and said it was wonderful, but drank it only when he insisted. He had finished most of the bottle and that night his lovemaking had been frenzied.

Over their time together he had noticed that the violence of his thrusts did not disturb her, she responded equally whatever he did and, at length, lay back with him as drained. But how much she really enjoyed their joining he could never fathom, nor could he savor her and leave it at that, leave her to her pretense if that's what it really was--and forget the enigma she had become.

One day he would penetrate that enigma. He was convinced. It only required patience, that was all. He would wear away the shell of the enigma and then their loving and his frantic, insatiable passion would be calmed and he could live in peace.