Professor Gangfen reminded Shan so much of his own father that he felt a pang as he studied the archaeologist’s image. Even without his wire-rimmed spectacles he would have looked the scholar. Shan imagined that the many pockets of the photographer’s vest he wore were filled with little brushes, dental picks, glassine envelopes, and other tools of his beloved trade. A pencil was lodged behind an ear, sticking out of shaggy salt-and-pepper hair. Like Natalie Pike, he had died an unsung hero, perhaps even more so than the American woman, for he had known that his government would severely punish him if they had discovered what he was doing. He had not only defied his government, he had given his life to save a vital history, to preserve the truth.

“Shan,” Lhakpa urged, standing at the flap in the felt wall. Shan realized the Tibetan had been calling his name. Shan bowed his head respectfully to the images of the two dead archaeologists and rejoined the snow monk.

“They must have gotten most of the artifacts out,” Shan observed as Lhakpa led him back to the campsite.

“Three yak trains have already left. But even so, and including those still here, it is only part of the total. It wasn’t just one cavern shrine, there were tunnels and chambers deep in the mountain, an unexplored labyrinth of shrines. Just imagine all those people for all those centuries, carrying dim butter lamps for half a mile or more into the darkened corridors to reach the gods.”

Lhakpa stepped across the camp into the shadows of the field of outcroppings with a summoning gesture to Shan, who retrieved his pack and followed. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Jaya behind him.

“I don’t understand how they could have taken so much out of the cavern without being spotted,” he said to the Tibetan woman as they caught up with Lhakpa.

“There are friends below. There’s a Tibetan named Metok, a senior engineer, who helps sometimes. He had trucks and other equipment parked across the mouth of the cave at the end of the workdays before…” her voice trailed off.

“Before the explosion,” Lhakpa finished. “He gave us cover that way, so we could move in and out of the cave at night without being seen. Metok took a great risk. He’s a good friend.”