He could not remember when he had felt so powerless. The valley, which for so long had been a stronghold of Tibetan tradition, was falling, soon to become another landscape of internment camps and immigrant settlements. Jamyang and the abbess, Lung Ma and the German, had died for nothing. No, a despairing voice said, they had died because of Beijing, had died to fuel the machine that was grinding up Tibet.
It was no longer the truth that was eluding him, it was what to do with the truth. Extracting the truth usually felt like pulling some shiny bauble out of a quagmire. But this time the truth had claimed him, pulling him down into the murk. He was suffocating in it. There was no path open to him. No Tibetan would believe him now if he tried to confront the killer. Shan would just be another bitter bonecatcher, resentful of a Tibetan hero. He rose and walked the streets, walked around every block of the small town. Those he passed turned away from him.
Finally he found himself at the side door of the police post, and sat on the step. The world was closing in around him. Liang and those he served had won. Shan and Jamyang had lost. The only real mystery had been why he had ever thought he could change things. He stared at the night sky a long time, until suddenly he heard his son’s words again. Push down your fear. It is the greatest power a prisoner can have.
He stepped inside and found Meng staring at two papers on her desk. She raised one. “I am ordered to initiate a process against Professor Yuan and his daughter to revoke their Pioneer status.”
“Meaning what?”
“They will be given a chance to provide evidence of their loyalty. Meaning they will have ten days to inform on unpatriotic activity known to them. Or they will be revoked and sent back to face their original charges. Certain prison for the girl.”
She shook the paper and laid it on the desk. “That one came to me over the Public Security computer.” She raised the other paper. “This one I found on the old fax machine in the outer office they use for messages to the constables. An arrest order for Abbot Norbu. Not to me,” she said pointedly, “to the local Tibetan constables. They are supposed to join Armed Police at Chegar tomorrow night to make the arrest, at the monks’ evening assembly.”
“The charges?”
“Political activity by a registered monk. Organizing unauthorized public assemblies. Suspicion of conspiracy against the government.”
“The constables,” he observed. “Do you ever wonder why those who blow their horns are never caught?”
“Only why we would trouble over them.”
“Liang never intends to arrest Norbu. It’s why the order went only to the constables.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Liang is gone. Call headquarters and ask. He is done here. This order is his farewell gesture.” He saw Meng’s uncertain expression. “Call now,” Shan insisted. “Ask for him.”
The lieutenant frowned and picked up the phone. She spoke to one office at headquarters, then another, before hanging up. “He packed up the office they loaned him,” Meng reported. “Officially he is gone, on to his next posting. They say he may be at that guesthouse. It’s still the weekend. He probably won’t leave until tomorrow.” She looked back at the papers on her desk. “Why issue the order now?”
“He wants the word out to the Tibetans, and sending the order to the constables is how he achieves that. Did they see it?”
“One of them read it and left.”
Shan nodded, as if it proved his point. “He wants everyone to believe Norbu is in grave danger, so there is no hesitation in the plans for his flight from Tibet. It’s the endgame,” Shan said. “The final act of their drama, to ensure he doesn’t arrive in India as just another refugee, but as a hero. We’ve run out of time. The full moon is tomorrow night. By the time the police arrive for him he will have disappeared in the smuggler’s truck.”
“I don’t understand.”
He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
“What’s this?”
“Me and Ko. Our registration numbers.”
Her face tightened. “Why do I want this?”
“I have to get Liang back here. I can’t go to the monks and tell them their abbot is a spy and a murderer. They will never believe me now. It has to be a secret they steal from Major Liang.”
She raised the slip of paper again. “Why do I want this?” she asked once more.
“Liang only has authority to imprison me for a year. I can take a year. It will be like a meditation retreat enforced with chains. But there’s a chance he will make good on the threat he made the last time he arrested me. Keep me for years, keep me invisible by moving me around. If that happens, I ask a small favor. Every few months, maybe once a year, just check the central records. It’s important to me, Xiao Meng, a great favor to me. One I will never forget. Then get word to each of us where the other is. Public Security can get messages to prisoners. Otherwise…” he was having difficulty getting the words out. “Otherwise I will never find him. Otherwise today will have been the last day I ever see my son.”
Her face drained of color. “What are you going to do?”
“Lokesh once told me that words are just hollow things. Truth can only be found in the heart, and in actions.”
“Please, Shan. No more riddles.”
“The Tibetans will not accept the truth from my lips, or yours. It has to be shown to them. I will force Liang back here so Tibetan ears will hear what I have to say, so the constables will grasp the truth by Liang’s reaction and get the word to the monastery. It’s a great risk to his mission for him to appear again in the valley. He had to take things to a boiling point, then back away. Otherwise he risks everything. He could frighten away the purbas, the ones waiting to escort Norbu to India. There are only two things that would make him ignore the risk. A chance to complete his vengeance on me and a way to correct his failure to capture the American woman. I will give him both. Everyone already knows me as the bonecatcher who killed a lama. It will come as no surprise when I demand more bounties for killing those who were going to expose his agent and delivering Cora Michener.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tears welled in Meng’s eyes. “You fool,” she whispered. “You damned fool. You can’t beat Liang.”
“I am not going to beat him. I am going to use him. I will not let all of them die in vain. I will not let the poison spread across the border. There has to be an end to it.”
“He will kill you if he can.”
“Probably not. Too many people know about me. But he will have to put me away. He has a prison he uses in the desert.”
Meng was silent a long time. “Why does it have to be you?” she asked at last.
He ignored the question. “Will he bring other knobs when he comes?”
Meng looked down at her desk. “He no longer has an official role here. Those assigned to him will have been given new duties.”
“Bring the Tibetan constables. They’re the audience. We’ll do it at the marketplace, by the old stable.”
“Audience?”
“For my confession. Liang announced I killed Jamyang. Half the people here suspect I am some sort of secret operative. Liang himself demonstrated that I was one of those clandestine bonecatchers everyone hates. He showed me he has bounty money. Now I want payment in full. I killed a nun who conspired against the state and I want my reward. I will give them the gun I took from Jamyang as proof. I will say I killed them all for the Motherland. Liang knew Norbu had killed the Lung boy, because of the risk the boy represented to his secret mission, because the boy saw Norbu secretly conferring with Public Security. A bonecatcher relies on the government for his living, and therefore owes it a duty. He keeps watch, keeps alert for trouble. I had to kill the others because they were going to expose Norbu as an agent of Public Security, prevent him from his mission of infiltrating the government in exile. The major will cut me off for fear I give away too much. But they will hear enough. Don’t give the constables any assignments afterwards. Give them plenty of time to warn those in the monastery before the end of the day. In time to stop the purbas from putting Norbu on that truck to Nepal.”