'How reply to Edo on peacock fans?' asks Iwase. ' "Yes" may help copper . . .'

'Why must my my petitions,' Vorstenbosch demands, 'wait until Kingdom Come, yet when the Court wants something we are supposed to act' - he clicks his fingers - 'thus? Does this minister suppose peacocks are pigeons? Might not a few windmills please His Elevated Eye?' petitions,' Vorstenbosch demands, 'wait until Kingdom Come, yet when the Court wants something we are supposed to act' - he clicks his fingers - 'thus? Does this minister suppose peacocks are pigeons? Might not a few windmills please His Elevated Eye?'

'Peacock fan,' says Kobayashi, 'enough token of esteem for First Minister.'

'I am sick,' Vorstenbosch complains to Heaven, 'sick of these damned -' he thumps the scroll on the table, causing the Japanese to gasp in horror at the disrespect '- "tokens of esteem"! On Mondays it is, "The Magistrate's Falconer's guano sweeper asks for a roll of Bangalore chintz"; on Wednesdays, "The City Elders' Monkey-Keeper requires a box of cloves"; on Fridays, it is "His Lord So-and-so of Such-and-such admires your whalebone cutlery: he is powerful friend of foreigners" so Hey Diddle Diddle, it is chipped pewter spoons for me. Yet when of these damned -' he thumps the scroll on the table, causing the Japanese to gasp in horror at the disrespect '- "tokens of esteem"! On Mondays it is, "The Magistrate's Falconer's guano sweeper asks for a roll of Bangalore chintz"; on Wednesdays, "The City Elders' Monkey-Keeper requires a box of cloves"; on Fridays, it is "His Lord So-and-so of Such-and-such admires your whalebone cutlery: he is powerful friend of foreigners" so Hey Diddle Diddle, it is chipped pewter spoons for me. Yet when we we need assistance, where are these "powerful friends of foreigners" to be found?' need assistance, where are these "powerful friends of foreigners" to be found?'

Kobayashi savours his victory under an ill-fitting mask of empathy.

Jacob is provoked into a rash gamble. 'Mr Kobayashi?'

The senior interpreter looks at the clerk of uncertain status.

'Mr Kobayashi, an incident occurred earlier during the sale of peppercorns.'

'What in Hell,' asks Vorstenbosch, 'have peppercorns to do with our copper?'

'Je vous prie de m'excuser, Monsieur,' Jacob seeks to assure his superior, 'mais je crois savoir ce que je fais.'

'Je prie Dieu que vous savez,' the Chief warns him. 'Le jour a deja bien mal commence sans pour cela y ajouter votre aide.'

'You see,' Jacob speaks to Kobayashi, 'Mr Ouwehand and I argued with a merchant, regarding the Chinese ideogram - the konji konji, I believe you call them?'

'Kanji,' says Kobayashi.

'Forgive me, the kanji kanji for the number ten. During my stay in Batavia, I learnt a small number from a Chinese merchant and, perhaps unwisely, used my limited knowledge instead of sending to the Guild for an Interpreter. Tempers grew heated, and now I fear a charge of dishonesty may have been made against your countryman.' for the number ten. During my stay in Batavia, I learnt a small number from a Chinese merchant and, perhaps unwisely, used my limited knowledge instead of sending to the Guild for an Interpreter. Tempers grew heated, and now I fear a charge of dishonesty may have been made against your countryman.'

'What,' Kobayashi sniffs fresh Dutch humiliation, 'kanji of argument?' of argument?'

'Well, sir, Mr Ouwehand said that the kanji kanji for "ten" is . . .' with a show of clumsy concentration, Jacob inscribes a character on his blotter '. . . drawn for "ten" is . . .' with a show of clumsy concentration, Jacob inscribes a character on his blotter '. . . drawn thus thus . . . . . .

'But I I told Ouwehand, no; the true character for "ten" is writ . . . told Ouwehand, no; the true character for "ten" is writ . . . thus thus . . .' . . .'

Jacob fouls the stroke order to exaggerate his ineptitude. 'The merchant swore we were both both wrong: wrong: he he drew -' Jacob sighs and frowns '- a cross, I believe, thus . . . drew -' Jacob sighs and frowns '- a cross, I believe, thus . . .

'I became convinced the merchant was a swindler, and may have said as much: could Interpreter Kobayashi kindly tell me the truth of the matter?'

'Mr Ouwehand's number,' Kobayashi points to the topmost character, 'is "thousand", not "ten". Mr de Zoet's number, too, is wrong: it mean "hundred". This This,' he indicates the X, 'is wrong memory. Merchant wrote this this . . .' Kobayashi turns to his scribe for a brush. 'Here is "ten". Two strokes, yes, but one up, one across . . .' . . .' Kobayashi turns to his scribe for a brush. 'Here is "ten". Two strokes, yes, but one up, one across . . .'

Jacob groans with contrition, and inserts the numbers 10, 100 and 1000 beside the corresponding characters. 'These, then, are the true symbols for the numbers in question?'

Cautious Kobayashi examines the numbers a final time, and nods.

'I am sincerely grateful,' Jacob bows, 'for the senior interpreter's guidance.'

'There are,' the interpreter fans himself, 'no more questions?'

'Just one more, sir,' says Jacob. 'Why did you claim that the Shogun's First Minister requests one thousand thousand peacock-feather fans when, according to the numerals you were just kind enough to teach me, the number in question is a much more modest one peacock-feather fans when, according to the numerals you were just kind enough to teach me, the number in question is a much more modest one hundred hundred' - every eye in the room follows Jacob's finger on the scroll, resting on the corresponding kanji kanji 'hundred' - 'as written here?' 'hundred' - 'as written here?'

Ramifications hatch from the appalling hush. Jacob thanks his God.

'Well, ding dong bell,' says Captain Lacy. 'Pussy is is in the well.' in the well.'

Kobayashi reaches for the scroll. 'Shogun's request not for eyes of clerk clerk.'

'Indeed not!' Vorstenbosch pounces. 'It is for not!' Vorstenbosch pounces. 'It is for my my eyes, sir; eyes, sir; mine mine! Mr Iwase: you you translate this letter so we may verify translate this letter so we may verify how how many fans we are dealing with - one thousand, or one many fans we are dealing with - one thousand, or one hundred hundred for the Council of Elders and for the Council of Elders and nine nine hundred for Mr Kobayashi and his cronies? But before we begin, Mr Iwase, refresh my memory: what hundred for Mr Kobayashi and his cronies? But before we begin, Mr Iwase, refresh my memory: what are are the penalties for wilfully mistranslating a Shogunal order?' the penalties for wilfully mistranslating a Shogunal order?'

At four minutes to four o'clock, Jacob presses blotting paper over the page on his desk in Warehouse Eik. He drinks another cup of water of which he shall sweat every last drop. The clerk then lifts the blotter and reads the title: Sixteenth Addendum: True Quantities of Japanned Lacquer-ware exported from Dejima to Batavia Not Declared on the Bills of Lading submitted between the Years 1793 and 1799 Sixteenth Addendum: True Quantities of Japanned Lacquer-ware exported from Dejima to Batavia Not Declared on the Bills of Lading submitted between the Years 1793 and 1799. He closes the black book, fastens its ties, and puts it into his portfolio. 'We stop now, Hanzaburo. Chief Vorstenbosch summoned me to the State Room for a meeting at four o'clock. Please take these papers to Mr Ouwehand in the Clerks' Office.' Hanzaburo sighs, takes the files, and drifts disconsolately away.

Jacob follows, locking the warehouse. Floating seeds fill the sticky air.

The sunburnt Dutchman thinks of a Zeeland winter's first snowflakes.

Go via Short Street, he tells himself. You may catch sight of her You may catch sight of her.

The Dutch flag on Flag Square twitches, very nearly lifeless.

If you mean to betray Anna, Jacob thinks, why chase the unobtainable? why chase the unobtainable?

At the Land-Gate, a frisker sifts a handcart of fodder for contraband.

Marinus is right. Hire a courtesan. You have the money, now . . .

Jacob walks up Short Street to the Crossroads, where Ignatius is sweeping.

The slave tells the clerk that the doctor's students left some time ago.

One glance, Jacob knows, would tell me if the fan charmed or offended her would tell me if the fan charmed or offended her.

He stands where she passed, maybe. A couple of spies are watching him.

When he reaches the Chief's Residence he is accosted by Peter Fischer who appears from the under way. 'Well, well, aren't you you just the dog who mounted the bitch today?' The Prussian's breath smells of rum. just the dog who mounted the bitch today?' The Prussian's breath smells of rum.

Jacob can only suppose Fischer is referring to this morning's fans.

'Three years in this God-forlorn gaol . . . Snitker swore I would be van Cleef's deputy when he left. He swore it! Then you, in this God-forlorn gaol . . . Snitker swore I would be van Cleef's deputy when he left. He swore it! Then you, you you and your damn mercury, you come ashore, in and your damn mercury, you come ashore, in his his silk-lined pocket . . .' Fischer looks up the stairs to the Chief's Residence, swaying uncertainly. 'You forget, de Zoet, silk-lined pocket . . .' Fischer looks up the stairs to the Chief's Residence, swaying uncertainly. 'You forget, de Zoet, I I am not a weak and common clerk. You forget--' am not a weak and common clerk. You forget--'

'That you were a rifleman in Surinam? You remind us all daily.'

'Rob me of my rightful promotion and I shall break all your bones.'

'I bid you a soberer evening than your afternoon, Mr Fischer.'

'Jacob de Zoet! I break my enemy's bones, one by one . . .'

Vorstenbosch ushers Jacob into his bureau with a conviviality not shown for days. 'Mr van Cleef reports you ran the gauntlet of Mr Fischer's displeasure.'

'Unfortunately, Mr Fischer is convinced that I devote my every waking minute to the frustration of his interests.'

Van Cleef pours a rich and ruby port into three fluted glasses.

'. . . but it might have been Mr Grote's rum making the accusation.'

'There's no denying,' says Vorstenbosch, 'that Kobayashi's interests were frustrated today.'

'I never saw his tail,' agrees van Cleef, 'so far back between his stumpy legs.'

Birds scrat, thud and issue dire warnings on the roof above.

'His own greed trapped him, sir,' says Jacob. 'I just . . . nudged him.'

'He'll not,' van Cleef laughs into his beard, 'see it that way!'

'When I met you, de Zoet,' begins Vorstenbosch, 'I knew knew. Here is an honest soul in a human swamp of back-stabbers, a sharp quill amongst blunt nibs, and a man who, with a little guidance, shall be a chief resident by his thirtieth year! Your resourcefulness this morning saved the Company's money and honour. Governor-General van Overstraten shall hear about it, I give my word.'

Jacob bows. Am I summoned here Am I summoned here, he wonders, to be made head clerk? to be made head clerk?

'To your future,' says the Chief. He, his deputy and the clerk touch glasses.

Perhaps his recent coolness, Jacob thinks, was to avert charges of favouritism was to avert charges of favouritism.

'Kobayashi's punishment was to be made to tell Edo,' gloats van Cleef, 'that ordering goods from a trading factory that may expire in fifty days for want of copper is premature and injudicious. We'll scare more concessions out of him, besides.'

Light skitters off the Almelo Clock's bearings like splinters of stars.

'We have,' Vorstenbosch's voice shifts, 'a further assignment for you, de Zoet. Mr van Cleef shall explain.'

Van Cleef drains his glass of port. 'Before breakfast, come rain or shine, Mr Grote receives a visitor: a provedore, who enters with a full bag, in plain view.'

'Bigger than a pouch,' says Vorstenbosch, 'smaller than a pillowcase.'

'One minute later he leaves with the same bag, still full, in plain view.'

'What,' Jacob banishes his disappointment that he is not to be promoted on the spot, 'is Mr Grote's story?'

'A "story",' says Vorstenbosch, 'is precisely what he would would regale van Cleef or me with. High office, as you shall one day discover, distances one from one's men. But this morning proves beyond doubt that regale van Cleef or me with. High office, as you shall one day discover, distances one from one's men. But this morning proves beyond doubt that yours yours is the nose to smoke out a rascal. You hesitate. You think, is the nose to smoke out a rascal. You hesitate. You think, Nobody loves an informer Nobody loves an informer, and, alas, you are right. But he who is destined for high office, de Zoet, as van Cleef and I divine you are, must not fear a little clambering and elbowing. Pay Mr Grote a call tonight . . .'

This is a test, Jacob divines, of my willingness to get dirty hands of my willingness to get dirty hands.

'I shall redeem a long-standing invitation to the cook's card table.'

'You see, van Cleef? De Zoet never says, "Must I?", only "How may I?"

Jacob indulges in thoughts of Anna reading news of his promotion.

In the after-dinner half-dark, swifts stream along Sea Wall Lane and Jacob finds Ogawa Uzaemon at his side. The interpreter says something to Hanzaburo to make him disappear and accompanies Jacob to the pines in the far corner. Under the humid trees Ogawa stops, neuters the inevitable spy in the shadows by means of an amiable greeting, and says, in a low voice, 'All Nagasaki talks about this morning. About Interpreter Kobayashi and fans.'

'Perhaps he won't try to scull us again so shamelessly.'

'Recently,' says Ogawa, 'I warn you not to make Enomoto enemy.'

'I take your advice very seriously.'

'Here is more advice. Kobayashi is a little Shogun. Dejima is his empire.'

'Then I am fortunate not to rely on his good offices.'

Ogawa doesn't understand 'good offices'. 'He harms you, de Zoet-san.'

'Thank you for your concern, Mr Ogawa, but I'm not afraid of him.'

'He may search apartment,' Ogawa looks around, 'for stolen items . . .'

Seagulls riot in the dusk above a boat hidden by the Sea Wall.

'. . . or forbidden items. So if such item in your room, please to hide.'

'But I own nothing,' Jacob protests, 'that might incriminate me.'

A tiny muscle ripples under Ogawa's cheek. 'If there is forbidden book book . . . hide. Hide under floor. Hide very well. Kobayashi wants revenge. For you, penalty is exile. Interpreter who searched your library when you arrive not so lucky . . .' . . . hide. Hide under floor. Hide very well. Kobayashi wants revenge. For you, penalty is exile. Interpreter who searched your library when you arrive not so lucky . . .'

I am failing to understand something, Jacob knows, but what? but what?

The clerk opens his mouth to ask a question, but the question expires.

Ogawa knew about my Psalter, Jacob realises, all along all along.

'I shall do as you say, Mr Ogawa, before I do anything else . . .'

A pair of inspectors appear from Bony Alley and walk up Sea Wall Lane.

Without another word, Ogawa walks towards them. Jacob leaves via Garden House.

Con Twomey and Piet Baert rise and their candlelit shadows slide. The impromptu card table is made of one door and four legs. Ivo Oost stays seated, chewing tobacco, Wybo Gerritszoon spits at, rather than into, the spittoon, and Arie Grote is as charming as a ferret welcoming a rabbit. 'We was beginnin' to despair you'd ever ever accept my hospitality, eh?' He uncorks the first of twelve jars of rum lined up on a plank shelf. accept my hospitality, eh?' He uncorks the first of twelve jars of rum lined up on a plank shelf.