Shan moved to the window at the other end of the room and rubbed his fingers through its grime. Outside he could see their vehicles. Someone was smoking a cigarette with Sergeant Feng. He rubbed the glass clean. It was Lieutenant Chang. Reflexively, Shan stepped backward. Something brushed against his foot as he did so. It was one of the shoes. He picked it up and ran his finger around its edge. It was of cheap vinyl and covered with dust. It was new, probably never worn, but still covered with dust. He picked up the second shoe. It was not a match. Like the first it seemed unworn, and like the first it was for the left foot. Shan returned to the ruins of the bed and searched. There were no other shoes.

"And this was a man who had been cleared by Public Security." Li was holding up the little Buddha.

"A little man with a fat belly is not illegal," Tan observed icily.

Li gave Tan a condescending look. "Comrade Colonel. You have little experience with the criminal mind." He punctuated his comment with a satisfied smile, then extended his arm and dropped the Buddha into another bag held out by one of his assistants.

A small crowd had gathered outside the garage. They scurried like frightened animals when Tan appeared, vanishing down an alley. Only a child remained, a tiny figure of three or four wrapped in a black yak hair robe tied with twine. The child, whose sex was not obvious, stood looking at Tan with intense curiosity.

"I have to find Balti," Shan said to Tan. "If he has disappeared it is because of that night."

"You heard Li. He is probably in Sichuan by now."

"You saw his clothes upstairs. His entire wardrobe, in that box. He didn't pack it. He wasn't planning to leave. Besides, how far do you think the man who lived in that loft would get, without travel papers, in illegal possession of a government car?"

"So he sold the car." Tan took a step toward the child.

"That is only one of the possibilities. He could have been part of the crime. Or he could have been killed. Or he could have fled in terror and is in hiding."

The child looked at Tan and laughed.

"From fear of your demon," Tan said.

"Or fear of reprisal. From someone he recognized that night," Shan said.

Tan paused, considering Shan's suggestion. "Either way, he's gone. Nothing you can do."

"I can talk to the neighbors. My guess is he lived here a long time. He was part of the neighborhood."

"Neighborhood?" Tan looked around at the piles of empty oil barrels, heaps of scrap metal, and dilapidated sheds that surrounded the garage.

"People live here," Shan said.

"Fine. Let's interrogate them. I want to see my investigator at work."

Someone called from the alleyway. The child did not respond.

Tan extended his hand toward the child. Suddenly three men appeared, square-built herdsmen holding poles in front of them as if to do battle. Instantly Sergeant Feng and Tan's driver were at the colonel's side, their hands on their weapons.

A short, stout woman ran between the men, crying out in alarm. She grabbed the child and shouted at the men, who slowly retreated.

A hardness settled over Tan's countenance. He lit a cigarette in silence, studying the alleyway. "All right. You do it. I'll send patrols back to the foot of the South Claw. Let's eliminate the most likely explanation first. We'll search for his body. They already looked below the cliff face when they searched for the head. But the driver's body could be anywhere. In the Dragon Throat gorge, maybe."

As Tan sped off, Shan directed Sergeant Feng to move the truck into the shadow of the garage, then sat with Yeshe on rusty barrels in the repair yard.

"Did you tell Li I was coming here?" Shan asked Yeshe as the neighborhood slowly returned to life. "Someone did. Just like with Jao's house."

"I told you before, if they asked, how could I refuse the Ministry of Justice?"

"Did they ask?"

Yeshe did not reply.

"A marker was on the rock in Sungpo's cave where Jao's wallet was found. Someone planted it there so the arresting team would find it."

Yeshe's face clouded. "Why do you tell me this?"

"Because you have to decide what it is you want to be. Priests react to prison in many ways. Some will always be priests. Others will always be prisoners."

Yeshe turned with a bitter glare. "So you say I'm a nonbeliever if I answer questions from the Ministry of Justice."

"Not at all. I am saying that for those with doubts, their actions begin to define their beliefs. I'm saying accept that you will always be a prisoner of men like Warden Zhong or decide not to accept it."

Yeshe stood and threw a pebble against the wall, then took a step away from Shan.

An old woman appeared, cast them a spiteful glance, then opened a blanket at the edge of the street and began arranging the pile of matchboxes, chopsticks, and rolled candy which were her only wares. She pulled a worn photograph from inside her dress and held it to her forehead, then set it in front of her on the blanket. It was a photo of the Dalai Lama. Three boys began a game of tossing pebbles into a discarded tire. A window in the tenement across from the garage opened and a bamboo pole bearing laundry appeared, hanging like a stick of prayer flags over the street.

Shan watched for five minutes, then selected a roll of candy from the woman, asking Yeshe to pay for it. "I am sorry for the disturbance," he said to her. "The man who lived here is missing."

"Damned fool of a boy," she cackled.

"You know Balti?"

"Go for prayer, I told him. Remember who you are, I told him."

"Was he in need of prayer?" Shan asked.

"Tell him," she said, turning to Yeshe. "Tell him only the dead don't need prayer. Except my dead husband," she sighed. "He was an informer, my husband. Pray for him. He became a rodent. He comes at night and I feed him bits of grain. The old fool."

One of the herdsmen, still holding his staff, approached her and muttered under his breath.

"Be quiet, you!" the widow spat. "When you're so rich none of us need work, you can tell me who to speak to."

She produced five cigarettes wrapped in tissue paper and arranged them on her blanket, then studied Yeshe. "Are you the one?"

"The one?" Yeshe asked awkwardly.

"I left a prayer in the temple. For the devils to be driven off. Someone will come. It can be done. There were priests in the old days who could do it. With one sound they could do it. If you make a groan that vibrates into the next world, you can fix everything."

Yeshe looked in confusion at the woman. "Why would you think it could be me?"

"Because you came. The only believer who came."

Yeshe glanced uneasily at Shan. "Do you know where the khampa is?" he asked the woman.

"He always said they would take him. He paid us to watch out. The nights when he brought it home, we would watch the stairs, my husband and me. Sleep all day so we could watch at night."

"Brought what with him?" asked Yeshe.

"The case. The little suitcase. For papers. He would keep it some nights for his boss. Big secrets. First he's proud to have it. Later he's scared. Even with the place he made, he would be scared."

"What kind of papers? Did you see them?" Yeshe asked.

"Of course not. I don't work for the government, do I? Dangerous secrets. Words of power. Government secrets."