The ship neared Nagasaki, which formed an irregular crescent around the harbor. A jumble of tiled and thatched rooftops climbed the hills; crooked streets ran between them. Three rivers flowed through the city to the sea. The red pagodas of temples studded higher slopes, with the towers of watch stations above. On the water-front, more patrol barges circled anchored ships and herded fishing boats toward shore. Sano could see no reason for the commotion. Was this some peculiar military exercise, or preparation for an unknown natural disaster? Another barge rowed straight for Sano’s ship and drew up alongside.

“It’s about time,” the captain huffed.

The barge’s chief officer called, “Our apologies for the tardy welcome, but we’ve got big trouble. The Dutch East India Company’s director of trade has disappeared.”

Sano, joining the captain and crew on deck, heard their mutters of consternation. Beside him, Hirata whispered, “Why is one man’s disappearance such a problem?”

“Because any security breach in Nagasaki means death for everyone responsible,” Sano whispered back, understanding the reason for the mysterious panic he’d witnessed. “The missing barbarian might foment dissension and war, or spread Christianity throughout Japan.”

The second threat went hand in hand with the first. Christianity had come to Kyūshū about a hundred and fifty years earlier, with Jesuit missionaries who traveled on Portuguese merchant ships. For a time, it had spread unchecked across Japan, welcomed by poor peasants who embraced this doctrine that promised salvation, and by daimyō—samurai warlords—who converted in hopes of luring the lucrative Portuguese trade to their domains. Fifty years after its arrival, Christianity had boasted some three hundred thousand followers.

But the foreign religion had later posed serious problems. Peasant converts destroyed Shinto and Buddhist temples, creating civil unrest. Missionaries supplied arms to Christian daimyō and conspired with them to overthrow the government. From overseas came news of Christian crusades against the Muslims; of Portuguese and Spanish conquests in the East Indies and the New World; of the pope’s plans to seize the lands of non-Christian rulers. Finally Ieyasu, the first Tokugawa shōgun, issued an edict banning Christianity and deporting the missionaries. During the seventy-five years since, the bakufu had rigorously suppressed the dangerous foreign creed. Now the escape of a single Dutchman had revived the threat to national peace and independence.

“Follow us, and we’ll see you safely ashore,” the harbor patrol officer told the captain.

The ship sailed after the barge, into increasing chaos. From patrol barges, soldiers boarded Chinese junks with many-battened sails like insect wings and smaller ships manned by dark-skinned sailors, searching for the lost Dutchman amid loud protests in foreign languages. More troops swarmed the white stretch of beach and the docks and piers outside warehouses. From the starboard deck, Sano watched the activity with a mixture of excitement and fear, for a sudden thought had taken hold in his mind.