“My niece called for a planning meeting on a ledge above the wreckage of a building. Jiao and Xun had an informer inside her group. I was suspicious of one of the nuns who befriended Tara, because she did not seem to know many of the prayers. It was that young nun who told Tara about the ledge that she said was a good meeting place. She led Tara there as we watched from above. We were praying at an old pilgrim shrine with Metok and a friend before going down to join them. Jiao, Xun, Huan, and an army officer came out of hiding when Tara arrived early, alone. It happened so fast. They suddenly started pushing her toward the edge of the cliff, shouting at her. Then there were little flashes and Tara clutched her belly and collapsed. Xun and Huan both had pistols out. They had shot her. Then Jiao kicked her over the edge into the debris of concrete slabs. Bulldozers and trucks began clearing it out minutes later. It took us nearly a day to locate her body at the dump where they took the rubble.”

Lhakpa turned at the sound of footsteps. Jaya joined them, sitting beside the snow monk. As she sat the little goat appeared and lay beside the woman, snugging against her leg.

It’s all about the goat. The words that had nagged Shan suddenly had meaning. They had misunderstood the death chart. It had not invoked the Mother Protectress, had not set forth the name of a goddess and the hail chaser. The Tibetan names had not been two but one, that of a young vibrant woman who had been named for the Mother Protectress, the niece of Lhakpa and the hail chaser. The inquisitive goat who stayed at Lhakpa’s side was Tara. In human form, the one who had been murdered, she had been Tara Namdol, the name written on the haunting death chart given to the fourth man, the army officer who was now the warden of the 404th.

Shan found himself clutching at the gau under his shirt. “So it was the word of a few Tibetans against two senior officials,” he whispered.

“Metok and his friend wanted to confront them right away. But the rest of us said no, that we had to wait for the right time, for the right official, for the right leverage.”

“But it would always be Tibetan undesirables speaking against two of Beijing’s favorite sons.”

“Not exactly. We had a video.”

Surely Shan had not heard correctly. He turned toward Lhakpa. “You’re not suggesting there was a recording of the murder?”