“Hirata!” Sano’s raised voice silenced the young man. Then he said, “I don’t dispute your ability. But this case is dangerous. If I go down, I won’t take you with me.”

“But it’s my duty to go wherever you go,” Hirata argued. “I—” He paused, then took a deep breath. “Just now, when I was in town, I found out that there’s something strange going on around Deshima. The townspeople have seen mysterious lights nearby, in the harbor. And there’s a Chinese priest who hates the Dutch. He practices magic, and may be involved in Director Spaen’s disappearance, or death.”

This was interesting, possibly relevant information. But the news of Hirata’s inquiries hit Sano like a fist to the stomach. “You had your orders,” he said with an anger born of concern for his retainer. “You were supposed to amuse yourself, not conduct interviews, as if on my authority.”

Humiliation suffused Hirata’s face, but he spoke up bravely: “I just walked around and talked to people. I didn’t disobey.”

“You defied the spirit of my order, and you know it.” The irony of the situation almost made Sano laugh. That he, who’d often disregarded orders for the sake of his own convictions, should now reprimand another man for the same offense! In many ways, they were two of a kind: honor-bound, enamored of the danger and challenge of detective work—and stubborn to the core. “Now, either you obey or I send you back to Edo.”

Hirata’s eyes widened in alarm. “You wouldn’t.”

They reached the Deshima guardhouse, a long building with plank walls, tile roof, and barred windows, situated in a gravel-strewn yard at the mainland foot of the bridge to the island. Interpreter Iishino waited outside; Chief Ohira must have already entered. “I will, if that’s what it takes.” Sano hardened his voice and heart. He couldn’t let selfish desire for Hirata’s companionship weaken his resolve. “Now go home and stay there.”

“Please give me your pouch, sōsakan-sama. Then stand with your legs and arms spread.”

In the Deshima guardhouse, Sano untied the drawstring pouch from his sash, handed it over, and stood as requested. The guard placed the pouch in a cabinet for safekeeping. On a spiked board he hung Sano’s wooden nameplate—the pass, issued earlier by Governor Nagai, that allowed him entry to Deshima. Another guard searched Sano’s body for items that a traitor might pass to the Dutch: money, weapons, secret messages. More guards subjected Interpreter Iishino to the same procedure, because no one, not even a high-ranking Nagasaki official, was above suspicion.