The woman’s fingers curled, and she tensed for a moment as if about to leap at Pike, then she calmed and decided to speak to Shan. “My father was from North Korea. He provided many services to Beijing and was allowed to emigrate.”

“Intriguing,” Pike said. “A spy for the Chinese in North Korea. Following in daddy’s footsteps?”

Kim slid along the sofa as if to distance herself from the American as he approached. She twisted as she reached the end, pushing her hand into the cushions.

“Looking for this?” Pike asked, suddenly aiming a pistol at her. “First place I looked, since I realized you must do a lot of your work on your back.” He hefted the weapon in his hand. “Wonderful gun. A German Walther. So cosmopolitan of you.”

Kim seemed genuinely frightened of Pike. She rose to stand behind Shan.

“It isn’t the bullet you need to worry about, sister,” Pike said, heat rising in his voice. “It’s who we’re going to tell about your misadventures.”

“Your Colonel Tan is a worthless relic!” she spat. “He is powerless in Beijing. His hour is over!”

Pike ignored her. “Tan is just one possibility. There’s the Hong Kong authorities for the bank fraud you committed. The Ministry of Justice in Beijing for arranging a murder by execution—something like that undermines the people’s faith in government. How about the Ministry of Tourism for committing a murder on their precious train? Or perhaps one of the American newspapers with the tale of how you helped to kill my daughter?”

Kim’s sneer slowly faded.

“I was thinking more of the Party disciplinarians,” Shan said, “about the conspiracy of the Amban Council to take over Lhadrung County. But, of course, my first choice is the Commissar. Or do you just consider him another old relic too?”

The words caused her to sag, and she lowered herself onto the sofa. “I am just a soldier. I obey orders.”

Pike began opening the drawers and doors of cabinets, pocketing two extra magazines for the pistol, then smiling as he extracted several pieces of paper from a desk drawer and scanned them. “Boarding passes to and from Hong Kong,” he declared. “A taxi receipt from Golmud on the day you boarded that train. Cab fares to and from Metok’s apartment. Behind on your expense reporting, Miss Kim? What’s next, a receipt for the sleeping pills that killed Sun Lunshi? Using soda as a murder weapon, how original.”

“We are taught to improvise,” she snapped back. Her gaze hardened. “And a foreigner acting against the People’s government will not simply be deported. There’s evidence that could indicate that you killed that man on the train. I would be happy to supplement it. That would mean hard labor for the rest of your life. Perhaps in one of the prisons that we will soon be overseeing?”