“There are many old statues of deities up in the hills above Yangkar,” Lhakpa continued, “toppled by the government. Marpa told me how on days off you go up by yourself with a shovel and bar to stand them tall again.”

“Sometimes herders come and help me.”

“And if Religious Affairs knew of this, or what you do below the streets of Yangkar, they would call Public Security on you. You talk of jurisdiction but you act based on higher duties.”

Shan looked up at the Tibetan. Talking with the snow hermit was like talking with Lokesh. Nothing could be hidden.

“So again, who was in the white truck?” Lhakpa pressed. “Jaya said it might be Public Security. I said no, because I trust you.” The two Tibetans stared at him with expectant, impatient expressions.

“It was a student from Professor Gangfen’s dig. He was driving Natalie Pike’s father.”

“Uncle!” Jaya cried out and threw a hand out to grasp Lhakpa’s shoulder. Shan’s announcement seemed to stun both Lhakpa and his niece.

“He came from America?” Lhakpa asked at last. “What does he hope to do?”

Shan thought about describing Pike but he was not sure how to do so. “He received notice that she died in a terrible accident. The government sent her ashes and they had a funeral for her. But he has been in law enforcement and possesses a great curiosity. And he lived in Beijing, knew the ways of Beijing and its police. He tested some of the ashes. They had sent him the remains of a sheep.”

Lhakpa stared into the fire with a solemn expression. “A cruel thing to do to a father.”

“He asked me where the crematorium was that had done it,” Shan continued. “Two nights ago he went there and locked the manager into one of the ovens for the night.”

Lhakpa gave a surprised laugh and patted Jaya on the back, as if she needed comforting. Shan realized she must have been a friend of Natalie Pike. “I like this man Pike,” the snow hermit said. “He does what an old teacher told me the best lamas always did. He puts teeth in his virtue.”