Sherlock Holmes by Keisuke Matsuoka

Author:Keisuke Matsuoka
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kodansha USA
Published: 2019-04-29T16:00:00+00:00

19

The octagonal, red-brick tower of Ryounkaku floated above the landscape in the distance, indistinct against the clouded sky. Sprawling along the Sumida River, Asakusa, the entertainment district, already hummed with early afternoon activity, too impatient for sunset. The sukiyaki restaurants, even the public houses, overflowed with patrons. The scene here had changed little since the fall of the Bakufu, thought Ito. Groups of rough-looking men drank in front of open-faced storefronts with boiled octopus and wild poultry hanging from the eaves.

Unfortunately, Ito was currently in no position to look down his nose at the drunkards already boozed into stupor at this early hour. At the moment he would easily have passed for one of these men, himself.

He glanced at Inoue, who was walking next to him. Inoue wore a happi—a livery coat—as well as a workman’s apron, trousers and tabi. He looked the very image of a rickshaw driver, though one well past his physical prime. He also carried a cane. The overall effect was convincing: an old rickshaw man gone drinking for the day, in disgust, after his strength had given out.

Ito was less confident about his own appearance. “Is this really going to work?” he couldn’t stop himself from whispering.

Inoue glanced his way. “Relax, relax. This rickshaw disguise is perfect for you. A pathetic old man with no other profession to fall back on—you’ve got it down to a tee.”

“I doubt you’d find the leaders of any of the Great Powers pulling hijinks of this sort. If His Grace saw me now, I’d be lucky to escape with just a dressing down.”

“Japan is a peculiar case. Our statesmen are from the Satsuma and Choshu domains. We are men of battle, our spirits forged in blood. Adventure is not so strange for the likes of us.”

“Mr. Holmes likely realized as much when he asked us to carry out this mission.”

“Possibly. He did meet us first while we were young men, after all.”

Their destination was a public house. They passed through the straw curtain hung across the entrance. “Irasshai!” the proprietor shouted in welcome. The establishment was cramped, loud, and raucous, every table full. The air reeked of tobacco. The customers shouted rather than spoke.

Their information had been correct. Jizaburo Mukohata and Ichitaro Kitagaichi sat inside at a table in the corner. Rather than rickshaw uniforms, they were dressed in expensive-looking blazers. Mukohata was 37, of medium stature and build. Kitagaichi was 31, and larger in frame. With their professional clothing and ages, they might have passed off as respectably employed, but in all other aspects it was only too clear that they were a pair of slovenly drunks.

Their table was blanketed by a stunning number of saké and beer bottles. The faces of both rickshaw drivers were beet-red. Mukohata leaned forward and muttered something incoherent. Kitagaichi frowned, dropping his chin into his hands.

“Come on,” Mukohata said to Kitagaichi. “It’s me you’re talking to. Just 30 yen. I’ll pay you back in a month.”

“Leave off,” said Kitagaichi, not even bothering to make eye contact.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.