Shan considered whether the words were part of an official script, and decided they were because it made the Buddhist leaders sound devious. “I always wondered about the reason for the lie,” he said. “A conspiracy by the Regent to maintain power? Perhaps by the builders’ union to maintain their contract? And where was his body all that time?”

The woman looked up and summoned the sad smile he had seen at Metok’s apartment. “Ever the curious investigator.”

“Tibet is built on layers of mysteries,” Shan replied. “More so today than ever before.” He turned to her. “Did they return your husband’s body?” he asked.

“Cremated him,” she said. “A box of ashes is all I have.”

Shan recalled the crematorium director who had cooperated with Huan. Had she actually been provided with a box of ashes to bolster her cover? He leaned against the half-wall of the terrace to watch as more tour groups arrived on the roof, one of them all Westerners. Cato Pike wore a long coat and had pulled a hat so low Shan barely recognized him among the tourists. Stay in the sun, the American had requested, for the camera’s sake.

“The Sixth Dalai Lama lived here as well,” Shan said. “The wastrel lama. They say there were brothels at the bottom of the ramp maintained solely for him. One night he disappeared, never to be seen again. Some say the gods took him away for punishment.”

Madame Jiang smiled. “My husband would have liked that tale. Except I would say the Sixth was taken to his just reward.” She looked out over the crowd, taking no notice of Pike, who now seemed to be very interested in the sculpture of a serpent. “Your message said you know where my husband’s things are.”

“With a friend he met at work.”

“You mean at the Five Claws.”

“At the mountain above Gekho’s Roost, yes.”

She weighed his words. “Are you saying his things are up on that mountain?”

“A backpack of his. With some papers, some engineer’s tools, a phone, and a compass. There’s a camp where he apparently met with his Tibetan friends, by a stone formation called the Talons.”

Shan saw a flicker of victory in the woman’s eyes, then she sobered. “I’ve been meaning to go see his place of work,” she said. “As a way of saying goodbye. Getting his things might give me some degree of comfort. It’s been so difficult.” Her voice cracked, and she put a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. “His phone would have his friends’ information. Maybe if I could speak with some of them it would ease the pain. I will go.”