Meng leaned her head on his shoulder as they walked back to the car, and he prolonged the sense of leaving the world behind by slowing to point out Tibetan constellations to her. “Lak Sur,” he said, indicating Scorpio, then “Mindruk,” which was the Pleiades. “And there, a most important one,” he said, pointing to the Little Dipper. “Karma Pur Dhun, or the Seven Siblings. The seven stars are children racing but the little boy fell down.” He indicated the star at the end of the handle. “And fortunately, he could not get up, so he is stuck in the same place for all of time.”

Meng gave a girlish laugh and held onto his arm. “Polaris. I never thought it was just a clumsy Tibetan boy.” She abruptly clutched him tighter, then doubled over, clutching her belly.

“Meng?” Shan asked, helping her to a flat boulder.

“It’s nothing,” she said in a strained voice. “I just ate those dumplings too fast,” she explained, then reached into a pocket and produced a small jar of pills. Shan recalled that she had barely touched her dumplings. “I’ll be fine,” she said as she swallowed a pill. “Tell me more about Tibetan stars.”

When he finally parked behind the station and began walking her to her quarters, they could hear Kami singing loudly on the other side of the door.

Meng pulled him away, her grip suddenly tight on his hand. “Isn’t there somewhere we can go?”

“Not really,” Shan said.

“Yes, there is,” Meng replied and led him into the jail.

It was nearly dawn when the satellite phone on his desk rang. Shan slipped out of Meng’s arms and rose from the jail cot, wrapping a blanket around his body before going into his office.

Pike did not wait for greetings. “Our man is one of those Amah Jiejie mentioned. Huan got word from Lhadrung and arrived at the Religious Affairs building on Kunming Road just after midnight. The whole beautiful scene is on video,” the American reported. “Huan’s got balls, I’ll say that for him. He didn’t bother to search the building. He just burned it down.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Marpa broke into a wide smile when Shan and Meng arrived at his back door for breakfast. The owner of the noodle shop protested when Shan took a step toward the little table at the back of the kitchen, insisting that they return to their table in the now dim dining room, where he quickly brought them tea. Meng asked him not to switch on the lights, so they could better watch the dawn light up the mountains. In the dark, with the town beginning to blush with tones of pink and gold, they whispered. Shan spoke of the joy of being up among the wildflower meadows in such a dawn, Meng of the stark beauty of sunrises she had seen in the Gobi.