Tan could not contain his amusement when Shan explained the attack on Ren. In the kitchenette of their quarters, Shan laid the blue ice balls on a cutting board and sliced through one. Tan watched him with curiosity as he studied the cross section of ice. “Hail has rings, like a tree,” Shan explained. “No rings here. This was made in a freezer.”

The colonel laughed out loud. “I like this god!” he exclaimed and tossed one of the ice balls into his mouth.

At breakfast Shan resisted the temptation to go into the kitchen to search the freezer for an ice ball mold. It was probably gone by now, he told himself, then studied the Tibetan workers seated about him with new worry. Dangerous games were being played in the valley of the Five Claws, hopeless, impossible games that could never succeed but could easily result in the deaths or imprisonment of the Tibetans who played them. On the bulletin board by the food line, someone had pinned a new drawing, another caricature. This one was of the Chairman depicted as a five-clawed dragon whose neck had been seized in the talons of a huge garuda.

Tan was engaged in a lively conversation with some of the drivers about the similarities between tanks and bulldozers when the workers looked up then quickly lifted their trays and fled the table. The director and his deputy were approaching, with a Public Security soldier walking behind them. The armed knob took a position behind Ren as they sat across from the colonel and Shan.

“Worried about an attack from another Tibetan demon, Director?” Tan chided Ren, who flushed and kept eating.

The deputy director shot Ren a scathing glance before turning to Tan. “What do you think of our glorious project, Colonel?” Jiao asked. “We are changing the face of your county.”

“I admire your willingness to take on such challenges, Comrade Jiao,” Tan said.

“Challenges?”

“So remote. So old.”

Jiao hesitated. The confusion on his face changed to amusement, and he shrugged. “Moving a pile of rocks is much the same work no matter where you are.”

Tan sipped at his tea. “How long have you been in Tibet, Deputy Director?”

Jiao did a poor job of hiding his contempt for the colonel. “Long enough.”

Tan returned his gaze with a frigid expression. “Not more than a few months, I suspect,” Tan observed. “Took me years to understand how deeply we had underestimated the Tibetans.”

“Underestimated pathetic ditch diggers and unwashed sheep herders?”

“Something like that,” Tan said. “Nobody asked them about this valley.”

Jiao gave an indignant snort as he lifted his mug of tea. “Surely you are joking!”

“Nobody asked me.”