Suddenly the earlier events of the morning came back to Shan. He had watched the execution of a man who worked at the hydroelectric project. “A few miles farther west and it would be in my township,” Shan whispered, relieved that the strange Tibetan was not riding into his little piece of the county. But why had Tan even invited him that morning? Why had he been made to get up in the middle of the night and drive the long hours to Lhadrung town?

He inwardly shuddered at the thin smile that appeared on Tan’s face. “Right,” Tan said. “As the constable of Yangkar you need not worry. But—” he reached into his tunic and extracted an envelope, extending it to Shan.

The letter was simply addressed to Shan Tao Yun, Yangkar Township. Shan accepted it with a knot in his stomach. As he read Tan produced a small black leather folder and set it on the rock beside him. Shan stared intensely at the letter, as if he could will the words to disappear.

“You’ll still be constable, still have your station, but I’m bumping your pay by fifty percent.”

Shan read the title Tan was bestowing on him. “Special Inspector for the County Governor’s Office. There’s no such thing.”

“There is if I say so.”

“I would have no authority.”

“Amah Jiejie composed a decree for the file. The governor has the same police powers as Public Security within the scope of his jurisdiction. And my own jurisdiction has been expanded to matters related to supply of army materiel, consistent with Lhadrung becoming the regional depot for the military.” He pushed the wallet toward Shan. “Open it. It was her idea. She said it would help you.”

The leather folder contained a brass badge mounted on one side and a laminated card on the other. The card, signed by Tan, said Shan Tao Yun, Special Inspector then, underneath, By Appointment of the Governor, Lhadrung County.

“I don’t accept,” Shan said.

“You have no choice.”