Natalie’s words were slurred, and her single eye seemed to have difficulty focusing. “Until you’re here,” she said, “there’s no way to get here.”

Pike sank to his knees and wept.

When they returned to the camp, Ko was lying in the shadows, still studying the perplexing horoscope chart Shiva had given him. Lhakpa was sitting beside him, helping to decipher it.

“There’s auspicious events ahead,” Lhakpa observed. “And joy and death, but that’s only the first part. Shiva likes to tantalize with the old signs. There’s a barrel, and a blue wavy line like a stream, and two birds. I’ve never seen the like.” He did not mention one of the most obvious of the images, a set of manacles. The snow monk professor pointed to another image. “And a bowl of something white. Milk. Why milk? I can’t see—” He was interrupted by a sharp whistle from above. A young Tibetan sentinel, whom none of them had seen, waved his hands from a perch in the rocks above. Jaya and Ko stepped deeper into the shadows of the trees.

Shan stood with Tan and Lhakpa between the high spines of stone as Jiao, Xun, and Huan finally entered the camp. Huan, his pistol in his hand, kicked at the blankets by the firepit, then raised his gun as Xun peered into the shadows between the rock claws.

The surprise on their faces quickly changed to smug satisfaction as Shan and his companions stepped into the open. “Three old dinosaurs all in one place,” cackled Huan. “We should call a museum.”

Jiao, clearly in charge, shot Huan a peeved glance and ordered him to holster his gun. The deputy director studied Shan and each of his friends then decided to speak with Shan. “You know why we are here, Constable.”

“To conclude all this business,” Shan replied as he returned Jiao’s cool gaze.

“Exactly. You’ve made it all so convenient. Give us the phone with the video. If we later discover you have duplicated it, then all those Tibetans we sent for reeducation will find themselves transferred to the 404th hard labor prison with ten-year sentences.”

“You have no authority over my prisons,” Tan hissed.

“Fifteen years then. And they won’t be your prisons for long, old man.” Jiao looked at his watch, then extended his hand for the phone.