第78节
hands. Toshiro was tied into an efficient
network of informers but he did not, as he had boasted to Steve, have
eyes and ears everywhere, and he was not able to move people around
like pawns on a chessboard. He had been able to get Steve re, gistered
as a roadrunner because he appeared to all and sundry to be a Mute, and
because the registration had taken place in the domain of the
Mitsu-Bishi, firm allies of the Shogun.
Things were different here. Masa-chusa and Rodiren were, in a sense,
hostile territory, where the Herald was publicly received with the
appropriate pomp and ceremony and privately viewed as a spy-master and
agent provocateur. This was why he had to exercise extreme caution to
avoid compromising himself and, by extension, the Shogun. Switching
identities from grass-monkey to long-dog was not quite as simple as
Brickman seemed to think. Only one person could have provided forged
papers - Ieyasu, the Court Chamberlain: the one person Toshiro dared
not turn to. Life was already difficult enough without becoming
enmeshed in that spider's web.
Without realising it, Nakane Toh-Shiba had saved him a great deal of
time and trouble and, unwittingly, had signed and sealed his own death
warrant. If rocket power proved to be the answer, then the
Consul-General would be among the first Iron Masters to take to the
air. The letter ordering him to do so had already been written and was
in Toshiro's possession - and he was burning with impatience to hand it
over.
Two days later, Samurai-Major Ryoshi - one of the top military men in
Min-Orota's household - called at the residence to escort Toshiro to
the Heron Pool. The Herald had no qualms about visiting the site in
his official capacity. Unless he chose to make contact, there was no
way Brickman could recognise him. Even if their paths crossed they
were unlikely to come face to face; the raexican would have his nose in
the dirt like all the other Mute slaves who worked there. And since
Brickman did not speak a word of Japanese, he could not learn of his
identity through any conversation he might happen to overhear.
Shigamitsu, the samurai-captain in charge of the Heron Pool, greeted
the two men deferentially and, after a brief ceremony of welcome, led
them past the workshops to where the first of three weighted launching
trolleys stood at the edge of the flying-field.
A fifteen-foot section of wing and a beam carrying a crude tail
assembly had been mounted on timber struts to simulate the aircraft the
trolley would later hold. The front axle had been widened to give
greater stability.
The vehicle was driven by four rockets encased in reusable tubes made
of rolled brass with soldered and riveted joints. The tubes - about
two feet long and three inches in diameter - were arranged in pairs,
one above the other, and linked together by a short length of
safety-fuse.
Toshiro, Ryoshi and the other Japs from Ba-satana inspected the vehicle
closely. Its creator, a dark-haired long-dog who knelt submissively
near by, did not rate a second glance. When Shigamitsu had dealt with
their questions, the long-dog sought his permission to proceed with the
tests. Shigamitsu referred the question to the Herald and Ryoshi with
the usual elaborate courtesy, then, upon receiving their assent,
invited them to watch the proceedings from a safe distance.
The dark-haired long-dog applied a burning taper to the fuse. Two more
slaves seized the sides of the trolley and ran it forward. The first
pair of rockets flared into life. Shwaahh.pa-POWW.t Long searing
tongues of flame erupted from the necked ends of the tubes. The
stub-winged trolley went racing across the field, leaving two thin
plumes of smoke in its wake.
Ppa-ppPOWW! The second pair of rockets ignited.
The speed of the trolley increased. A cry went up from the long-dogs
gathered at the doors of the workshops as it hit a bump and became
momentarily airborne, quickly followed by a groan as it dropped at an
awkward angle, tore off the left front wheel, then cartwheeled several