Maybe Takeda was merely curious to hear what he would say. But Sano glimpsed in the supreme judge the type of official who wished to believe that everything the government did was right, so he could claim by virtue of association to a share of the honor. Thus he turned a blind eye to malfeasance in his colleagues. When enforcing laws, he erred on the side of harshness because he perceived any offense as a personal insult and preferred that the innocent occasionally be punished rather than the guilty ever go free. Hence, Supreme Judge Takeda had accepted the witnesses’ testimony and assumed Sano’s guilt. However, if Sano read Takeda right, the judge wouldn’t be satisfied with punishing one man if there was a chance that other criminals might be caught. And by agreeing to listen, Takeda had demonstrated more independent spirit than his fellow judges.

Now Sano launched into the most eloquent, desperate speech of his life. He justified his misinterpreted actions. He mentioned his service record as proof of his loyalty and good character. He related Assistant Director deGraeff’s, Dr. Huygens’s, Abbot Liu Yun’s, and Urabe’s motives for killing Jan Spaen. He explained how he’d discovered the smuggling, and his case against the Deshima staff, and that Peony had surely died because of what she knew. Sano cited the burning of his house as evidence of a conspiracy against him—one that certainly included Nagasaki’s all-knowing, all-powerful governor. Last, Sano told of the falsified records, Chief Ohira’s confession, and his plan for capturing the real smugglers and exposing whoever had murdered Jan Spaen and Peony.

“Honorable Judges, I swear upon my honor that I have spoken the truth,” Sano finished, hoarse and shaky from intense physical and mental exertion. “I beg you to believe me, and to dispense justice to the actual perpetrators of these heinous crimes!”

Officials and secretaries laid down their brushes; the guards stood like motionless shadows. Sano could tell by the judges’ reflective expressions that they saw the logic in his statement and knew they couldn’t shirk their professional responsibility by dismissing it outright. He felt a surge of premature elation.

Then Supreme Judge Takeda said, “Do you have the documents you mentioned?”

“No, Honorable Judge,” Sano was forced to admit. “They were confiscated after my arrest.”

Judge Segawa laughed, a shrill, nasty cackle. “More likely they never existed.” He and Judge Dazai exchanged nods, their complacency restored, their goal of pleasing Chamberlain Yanagisawa within easy reach.

“But Ohira’s confession will hold,” Sano added hastily. “He wants to enforce the law. The disappearance of the records won’t matter to him.” Sano decided to worry about whether this was true if and when Supreme Judge Takeda agreed to cooperate. “Bring Ohira in. He should know by now when and where the smugglers plan to meet. Give me a chance, and I’ll deliver them all to you.”