The maps were beautifully rendered in colored inks, with foreign script designating nations and cities. Sano, never having seen a map of the entire world before, felt a stab of surprise at how tiny Japan looked. How insignificant the Tokugawa empire must seem to the barbarians!

“This is Piet Hein,” Iishino said, tapping a black-and-white drawing of a mustached barbarian. “He captured the Spanish silver fleet. Director Spaen admired him very much, very much. He said Hein inspired him to join the East India Company and fight his own battles for wealth. And this is a painting of a teahouse in Leyden, Director Spaen’s home city.”

Surrounded by a gilt frame, the miniature painting depicted a group of laughing male barbarians who toasted one another, played cards and musical instruments, or fondled huge-bosomed female barbarians, while dogs and fowl scampered underfoot. The work seemed vulgar and overcolored compared to Japanese prints, but the realism was stunning. One could almost step into the scene.

“Is anything missing from this room?” Sano asked.

“Not that I can tell.”

“What do these papers say?” Preferring to interpret evidence himself, Sano hated the ignorance that left him dependent on another man’s knowledge.

Iishino riffled the papers on the desk. “These are Director Spaen’s calculations of profits on the sale of Dutch goods. He had to bring the accounts up to date before leaving Japan on the ship that just arrived. Another trader will take his place on Deshima, along with a new staff. None of the Dutch are allowed to stay more than two years, two years. Otherwise, they might get too friendly with Japanese citizens.”

“The most recent sale of goods was a year ago, when the last ship came, wasn’t it?” At Iishino’s nod, Sano asked, “Then why did Director Spaen wait so long to prepare the accounts?”

For some reason, this seemed to bother Iishino, who dropped his gaze and sidled away from Sano. Chief Ohira spoke from the window. “The barbarians are not as diligent as the Japanese, sōsakan-sama. I can assure you that Spaen’s procrastination was not unusual behavior for a lazy Dutchman, and can hardly have any bearing on his death.” Sarcasm edged Ohira’s voice. “Have you seen enough yet?”

Sano could have pointed out that traveling around the world and making a fortune in international trade belied Dutch laziness. Iishino’s and Ohira’s responses to an innocuous question intrigued him. But he had yet to discover how this trader, musician, gambler, warrior, and hunter had escaped, where he’d gone, or who had killed him. There were no weapons, blood, signs of a struggle, or any other evidence of murder in these rooms or any other place he’d so far inspected on Deshima.

“I’ll see the barbarians now,” Sano told Ohira, unable to put it off any longer.

7

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