The food was simple but the wines and liquor expensive, and Tan, who could hold his alcohol better than any man Shan had ever met, made sure the director matched his own consumption of vodka. Tan had insisted that the Public Security officers join them, ostensibly to show his appreciation for their service in such a hardship post, but in fact to allow his four commandos more freedom in following Shan’s instructions for reconnaissance. A sullen Lieutenant Huan sat beside Jiao at the other end of the table. Twice Shan caught Huan staring balefully at the colonel and each time Jiao nudged him then refilled his glass and offered a toast.

Shan tried not to show his impatience as he sat through the meal, declining all liquor, and listened to a short, slurred speech by Director Ren that ended with the announcement that in the morning the colonel would be given the honor of pressing the detonator to collapsee the steep slope above the imploded cavern. The cave mouth, Ren explained, was still visible and presenting a great distraction to the Tibetan workers, who still went there to pray and leave offerings. With his usual efficiency, Ren stated, the deputy director had devised a plan to eliminate the distraction.

Shan nodded to Tan as the dinner guests finally rose, and the colonel made a show of good-naturedly helping the tipsy director out of the building, surrendering him to one of his junior managers.

Tan’s commandos, all from Lieutenant Zhu’s team, met Shan behind the mess hall and were about to report what they had found when a shadowy figure appeared around the corner. The soldiers crouched into the darker shadows, pulling Shan with them as the man stopped and pulled out a cigarette. As his match flared they made out Colonel Tan, in battle fatigues now. “Did you really think I would miss the fun?” Tan asked, then motioned for them to carry on.

The soldiers reported that the cleanup crew, all looking like military men, were closely guarding the equipment yards, and that several of the Tibetan workers had voluntarily gone back into the wire-enclosed compound for the night. Only one man, a young Tibetan, was in the infirmary, where the nurse was drowsily watching another movie on her computer. The cement factory was working through the night, and a reduced crew at the southern end of the valley was continuing work on the huge forms that would eventually be filled with thousands of tons of concrete. A small toolshed behind the equipment yard had armed guards outside it.

“I need a truck, and not the one assigned to us,” Shan said.

The sergeant in charge gestured to the row of pickups parked behind the mess hall. “Take your pick,” he replied. “We just returned from urban warfare training. Very first thing they teach is how to hotwire any vehicle.”