She led them down the dike to where it intersected the gully of the Dragon's Throat.

"But you said it was a landslide that blocked the valley," Shan said.

"We moved it. Too unstable. The dam needs to be packed clay. Just finished this one, our last dike." Shan saw that the pond beside them, noticeably lower than the others, was still being filled by the wells. The American pointed toward the far end of the plateau and handed Shan the binoculars. "The farthest pond is being harvested."

There was a mound of brilliant white material near the pond.

"We have a crude processing unit, to slightly refine the product. Once we start production, we will seal it into one-ton bags and ship it to the world." He realized she was looking elsewhere as she spoke, toward a cluster of workers in the middle of the pond complex. He turned the binoculars to the workers and saw that it was two separate groups. Neither seemed to be working.

"The world?" he asked.

"Some to factories in China," she said distractedly. "Much of it to Hong Kong for shipping to Europe and America."

Shan studied the dull gray equipment beside the second group. "Why would Tan send them when your permit is suspended?"

"The Ministry of Geology suspended the permit."

"Who signed the order?"

Rebecca Fowler paused, as though considering whether to respond. "Director Hu."

"Of the local Ministry of Geology office?"

"Right. But I explained to Tan that if we shut down now, we lose all the material in the ponds. We design the process so our commercial products precipitate first. If we wait, they get contaminated. Could lose six months' work. He agreed we should continue to process our sample batches on the grounds that the permit only applies to commercial scale production."

"But then everything stops?"

"Unless we can figure out what's going on."

"You're saying Hu gave no reason for the suspension?"

It was as far as Fowler would go. She took two steps away and looked up at a rock face at the end of the pond. Shan studied her for a moment, trying to understand if she was upset because of Prosecutor Jao, Director of Mines Hu, or himself, then followed her gaze to the rock. The cliff rose at least three hundred feet, nearly perpendicular. Suddenly he saw movement on the rocks, two white ropes dangling down the face from the top.

Fowler turned to look at the gully. "You can see all the way to the valley," she observed.

But Shan did not turn. The ropes were moving. There were two figures at the top, in brilliant red vests and white helmets.

Suddenly Yeshe called out with surprise. He was looking down the Dragon's Throat. "The 404th! You can see-" He caught himself and cast an embarrassed glance toward Shan, who swung the binoculars around. It took only a moment to follow the Dragon's Throat to the base of the range. They were twenty miles away by tortuous mountain road, but there in plain view was the 404th's worksite, no more than three miles distance as a raven would fly. Adjusting the focus, he picked out Tan's bridge, the tanks of the knobs, and the long rank of prison trucks.

He felt the glare of the American and lowered the glasses.

"My chief engineer showed it to me," she said with an accusing tone. "It's one of your prison projects. Slave labor."

"The government often assigns compulsory work crews to road construction," Yeshe said, suddenly self-righteous. "Beijing says it builds socialist awareness."

"I've been talking to the UN about it."

"Personally," Shan said, "I am in favor of international dialogue." He felt a sharp gun-barrel jab in his back. Sergeant Feng had arrived behind him. Shan turned. Feng's thumb was extended toward Shan and his eyes were smoldering.

The action was not missed by Fowler. She seemed about to say something when suddenly a loud whoop echoed across the rock face. They turned to see the two figures dropping down the cliff on the ropes, kicking off the rock as they fell.

"Crazy fool," Fowler muttered. "It's Kincaid. He's teaching the young engineers. He's going to do Everest before his tour is finished. Wants to go up with a team of Tibetans."

"Everest?" Yeshe asked.

"Sorry," Fowler said. "Chomolungma is what you call it. Mother mountain."

"It means 'goddess mother of the world,' " Yeshe corrected.

As the figures landed at the base of the cliff, they made exhilarated leaps into the air and embraced. Moments later they began moving onto the long dike, the lean man with brilliant eyes and ponytail Shan had seen at the cave and the young Tibetan Shan had seen driving the truck and later at Tan's office.

"I'm Tyler," the American introduced himself. "Tyler Kincaid. Just Kincaid will do." His smile faded as he saw Sergeant Feng. His eyes settled on the sergeant's pistol. "This," he said with a distracted jerk of his thumb, "is Luntok, one of our engineers."

"Kincaid works the magic in the ponds," Fowler explained.

"Nature does the magic," Kincaid said impassively. He spoke with a slight drawl, the way Shan had heard characters speak in American westerns. "I just give her the opportunity."

He studied Shan, then lowered his voice. "You were at the cave. With Tan," he said with a tone of accusation. "We want to know about that cave."

"So do I. I need to know why you were there."

"Because something is wrong there. Because it's a holy place," he said.

"Why would you say that?" Shan asked.

"It is one of those places the Buddhists call a place of power. At the end of a valley. Facing south. A spring nearby. A large tree."

"So you've been there before?"

Kincaid make a sweeping gesture toward the mountains. "We climb a lot of ridges. Luntok saw the trucks. But we didn't need to see them to know it might be important. The topography shows it all."

Suddenly an airhorn blew, a long unceasing howl that hurt the ears. A worker appeared beside Fowler, panting from a run across the dike. "They're going to fight!" he shouted. "They're going to destroy the equipment!"

"Goddamned MFCs!" Tyler snapped at Fowler. "I told you!" He darted toward the trouble, Luntok close behind.

The Tibetan workers had formed a line in the middle of the valley. A huge gray bulldozer on which half a dozen of Tan's engineers perched had been stopped by a makeshift barricade of smaller trucks and earthmovers. The soldiers were firing the bulldozer's airhorn in staccato blasts, like a machine gun. The Tibetans sat cross-legged on the ground in front of the vehicles.

Kincaid appeared between the lines, standing with the Tibetans, haranguing the soldiers.

Shan offered Rebecca Fowler the binoculars. She seemed reluctant to take them. "I never meant for this-" she began. "If anyone got hurt I couldn't live with myself." She turned to him, as if surprised to have said the words to Shan. Anguish filled her eyes. "Make them leave."

"Who?"

"The soldiers. Tell Tan we'll find some other way to meet the schedule."

"I am sorry. I have no authority."

"Of course you do," Yeshe suggested. "You are a direct representative of Colonel Tan. You will report any impropriety to him." Yeshe seemed torn by indecision, then bolted toward the soldiers. He was not about to have an incident at the mine delay completion of his assignment. He was, Shan reminded himself, a man with a destination.