After ordering an assistant to give the captain quarters in the barracks, he ushered Sano and Hirata upstairs to a bright, spacious room. Sliding doors opened onto a balcony, below which the city’s rooftops spilled down the hill in a picturesque clutter. In the distance, sky and sea were azure; the harbor looked deceptively peaceful. Faint street noises drifted in on the warm breeze. Governor Nagai knelt behind the desk, his back to shelves filled with ledgers. Sano and Hirata knelt opposite on silk cushions. The room held the usual cabinets and chests found in any official’s chambers, but one curious feature caught Sano’s attention.

In the alcove stood a table with long, spindly legs. On this sat a peculiar wooden box the size of a man’s head, with a white enamel circle on its upright face. Twelve strange symbols, inlaid in gold, rimmed the circle, from whose center extended slender gold pointers. The box emitted loud, rhythmic clicks.

“I see you’ve noticed my European clock.” Governor Nagai regarded the object fondly. He offered refreshments, ordering them from a servant who appeared at the door. “It and the table were gifts from the Dutch barbarian who has disappeared: East India Company Trade Director Jan Spaen.”

“Remarkable,” Sano said. He recalled Chamberlain Yanagisawa mentioning the wealth that a Nagasaki official could reap from the overseas commerce. Apparently it came from both Japanese merchants as taxes, and from foreign merchants as presents intended to facilitate trade relations. But more intriguing than the possibility of riches was the thought of meeting the men whose culture produced such wonders as a mechanical timekeeping device.

“Your reputation precedes you, sōsakan-sama,” Governor Nagai said. “The last time I was in Edo, I heard about your capture of the Bundori Killer.”

To ensure that no individual commanded too much power over the international port, Nagasaki actually had three governors, who took turns ruling the city. While one was in Edo, reporting to the shōgun—and visiting his family held hostage to his good behavior—the others served alternate shifts. Fate had saddled Governor Nagai with the Dutchman’s unfortunate disappearance. But he’d surely benefited from his trips to the capital, testing the political climate there. Sano guessed that the courteous treatment he was receiving meant Governor Nagai knew he enjoyed the shōgun’s albeit unreliable favor. Yet the governor, though subject to Tokugawa Tsunayoshi, also had Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s orders, and would know of his animosity toward Sano. However, perhaps Sano could use Nagai’s conflicting loyalties to his advantage.

“His Excellency took a special interest in the Bundori Murder investigation,” Sano said, mentioning the shōgun to make Governor Nagai think he was secure in Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s protection, which he’d earned by solving the case. He must survive his stay in Nagasaki and return to his proper post.