Ten minutes later his car skidded to a halt at the rutted track to the farmhouse. He ran, too hard, and he was gasping for air when he reached the gate. Yara was just leaving for her school. “You have to get him out!” he cried. “Hide him! Your grandparents can take him up to one of the caves!” Shan turned toward the smaller of the two houses. “Lokesh!” he shouted.

Lhamo appeared in the doorway, rubbing her eyes.

Shan shouted the old man’s name again and ran to the doorway. Lhamo did not move when he reached her, and Yara caught up with him, pulling on his shoulder. “He’s not here, Shan. I told you. He had to go see Shiva about a death chart for Jampa.”

As she spoke, old Trinle came stumbling through the gate, a panicked expression on his face. He was frantically reciting the mantra of the Mother Protectress. Shan ran to the gate and followed the Tibetan’s frightened gaze. The road into Yangkar from the highway was nearly a mile away but the black vehicles were plainly visible. Four Public Security cars were speeding toward Yangkar, lights flashing. He was seeing proof that Major Xun was both betraying Tan and using Huan to further his conspiracy.

Shan parked on the edge of town and ran to the square. Lieutenant Huan had taken charge, directing several knob soldiers, who were forcing people out of their houses and lining up all the men with white or gray hair in the square. Huan was searching through the older men in Shan’s town, pushing and shoving them to assemble in the square. One old man fell and received the slap of a baton for his clumsiness. Huan did not know exactly what Lokesh looked like but Xun had given him a description.

Shan prayed the knobs would miss Shiva’s alleyway. He might be able to reach the other side of her house and extract Lokesh through the window. But then another of the knobs appeared, leading Lokesh out onto the street, roughly pushing him toward the line of suspects.

“Constable Shan!” Huan had spotted him and was marching to his side. “How helpful to have you here!” the knob lieutenant said with an icy grin. “We wish to speak with the old man who was with you in the Lhadrung hospital.”

“Not here,” Shan lied, struggling to keep his voice level.

“A friend of yours apparently. You called him Lokesh. The report on the death of a man named Jampa is incomplete. This man Lokesh apparently has some information.” Shan fixed Huan with an expressionless stare. They both knew Huan had no authority over the death of Jampa.

“Just a sad, old former convict. You know the type. He was at the prison where I served,” Shan said, making it sound like he had been on the prison staff.