More staff silently brought platters of spicy noodles, eggplant fried in pimentos, and chicken in peanut sauce, all dishes of the Commissar’s Hunan birthplace. Tan and their host chatted about old times as Shan watched the women who served the food. They were all Tibetan, all very young, very attractive, and very nervous. There was no evidence that the Commissar had a family. The aged tyrant lived alone with at least a dozen Tibetan servants, who seemed to be supervised by the older woman who had met them at the door. Tan had leaned into Shan’s ear while they had followed the old man back into the house. “Most of his staff are from transition families,” he stated in a low voice. It meant the women had members of their families in a prison and would be well aware of the old man’s power to send them to hard labor as well.

Tan had explained that the Commissar was particularly fond of public works projects and was still personally involved in the oversight of half a dozen bridge and highway projects, which the colonel now spoke of as they finished eating.

“Prodigious expenditures,” the colonel said. “No doubt a challenge to keep track of those millions.”

The Commissar’s instincts were still intact. He lowered his glass. “I have a small army of clerks,” he said with a question in his tone.

Tan slid an envelope across the table.

“Looking for a piece, Colonel?” the godfather asked. “Not like you.”

“Looking for a missing piece. This account,” he explained as the Commissar opened the envelope, “had over twenty million transferred to another project over the past ten months.”

“The infrastructure budget covers all my projects,” the old man said as he scanned the page Pike had printed out. They had been looking for corruption and found no unexpected accounts. Then Amah Jiejie had examined the messages with the eye of a seasoned bureaucrat and declared that a grave sin had been committed. “Sometimes adjustments are made between projects,” the Commissar suggested.

“Of course. But this was transferred outside. To the Five Claws project. Or more specifically, to certain contractors of the Five Claws.”

“The hydro project? Can’t be. That’s a Beijing project. Different pocket altogether. No one would shift funds from my projects to pay for that one. It would be stealing.”

Tan produced another piece of paper and set it beside the Commissar’s plate. “Comrade Ren, the director at the Five Claws, is a figurehead. His deputy does all the work. His project was in a budget squeeze, threatening the schedule for the Chairman’s visit in two years.”

The Commissar went very still. “What visit?” he asked in a simmering voice.

Tan offered a sympathetic shrug. “They didn’t consult me either. My own county.” Tan pointed out another page. “Here’s an earlier message. He says twenty million is enough out of the bridges, time to tap the highways.”