Once alone with the prisoner, he knelt by the man’s side and loosened the tight sacking. Tozō’s chest rose and fell in slow, barely perceptible breaths. His lips formed the names of his Christian deities.

“Tozō,” Sano said. “Can you hear me?”

The swollen eyes cracked open. Blood filmed the whites. “God have mercy,” Tozō whispered through the blood that burbled from his lips.

Sano grasped the man’s free hand. “Your ordeal is over,” he said. “You can die in peace now.”

“Die … yes.” Tozō smiled. “Enter … the holy Kingdom … of Heaven.” He stared beatifically at the sky. “For God is the glory …”

A deep, wracking cough convulsed his body. Blood gushed from his mouth. He began to tremble uncontrollably. The death throes seemed to rob him of courage and faith, and the painful reality of dying to banish dreams of divine paradise. His gaze cleared, sharpening with terror.

“No! I don’t want to die. I’m afraid!” His hand gripped Sano’s with desperate strength. “Please, save me!”

Sano tried to quiet him; Tozō was beyond help. But the Christian refused to accept the inevitable. “Please, Honorable Chief Persecutor,” he begged, mistaking Sano for Dannoshin. “I’ll do anything you ask.” Another cough produced a fresh outpouring of blood. “I renounce … the Christian religion. I spit on God … I swear eternal allegiance … to the shōgun.” He thrashed and shuddered.

“Quiet,” Sano urged, hating to see a fellow warrior—even a Christian criminal—admit defeat. “Rest.”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just don’t let me die!”

Sano was appalled. He badly needed information about Nagasaki’s Christian underground, but how could he take advantage of this cruel torture? Tasting shame and anticipation, he held the crucifix in front of Tozō’s eyes and said, “Where did this come from? Who owns it?”

“ … Barbarians … Deshima … secret network. Christian contraband … passed along a chain of couriers from the Dutch to my people …” Tozō coughed and gasped.

“Who leads the network?” Sano asked urgently.

“Uh … uh …” A massive convulsion spasmed Tozō’s body. Blood gurgled in his throat. Then he became still. Disappointed, Sano bowed his head and offered a silent prayer for the man’s spirit. Christian or Buddhist, everyone died eventually; everyone deserved a ritual to mark the end of life. Then Sano gently laid aside Tozō’s limp hand and walked back to Dannoshin’s office.

The chief Persecutor looked up from the dais. “Tozō is dead, then?” he asked, reading Sano’s expression.

Sano nodded.

“Did he renounce his faith, or tell you anything before he died?” Dannoshin asked hopefully.

Without hesitation, Sano said, “No. Nothing.”

However, Tozō’s statement had given Sano an idea of what activities on Deshima might have led to Spaen’s murder. And he could think of one way to prove it, tonight.