“Sit!” Sano ordered. Alarmed and frightened, he held his ground against the towering barbarian. “You admit you broke your country’s law for the sake of profit. Why would you stop short of murder?”

With a sigh of exasperation, deGraeff sat, crossed his legs, and folded his arms. He looked at the ceiling instead of at Sano or Iishino when he spoke. “Jan Spaen had only ten thousand koban to his name. He liked women and gambling. He speculated on ventures that didn’t always work out. He was better at spending than saving. I had more to gain by continuing our partnership than by killing Spaen for such a paltry sum. Now, may I please return to my work? The guards tell me the ship has arrived. There’s much to be done, and Spaen’s death has left it all to me.”

Sano didn’t consider ten thousand koban paltry; in Japan, it could keep a man in comfort for a lifetime. “How exactly would you benefit from continuing your partnership?” he asked, hiding his fear of another unnerving face-off with a barbarian. “Why couldn’t you use Spaen’s money to buy more goods, then carry on alone?”

“Neither of us could have accomplished alone what we did as a team. We worked well together.”

“But you recently quarreled about the private trade, didn’t you?” Sano said.

The barbarian picked up the picture that lay on his desk, turning it over to reveal an oil painting of a cobbled street lined with stone houses. DeGraeff contemplated the image while he listened to Iishino’s translation. Then he laid the painting aside—face up. “Spaen and I often argued. He had a quick temper, as do I. But we always settled our differences to our mutual benefit.”

So you claim, Sano thought. The barbarian’s odor had grown stronger from nervous perspiration. “Did Dr. Huygens also have disputes with Spaen?”

“My job is to ensure that trade proceeds smoothly. As long as it does, my colleagues’ personal relationships are none of my business.”

Was this evasive answer an expression of genuine ignorance, loyalty to comrades, or something else? Sano couldn’t believe that after two years’ virtual imprisonment together, quarrels hadn’t arisen between the men, or that deGraeff would not know of them. Once again, he felt handicapped by his lack of knowledge about Dutch culture.

“What were you doing the night Director Spaen disappeared?” Sano asked.

“I worked, here. Then went to bed. The guards can verify that. They were outside my room the whole time.”