Zhu did not reply, gesturing to his ears as the engine began to whine and the long rotor turned. Even when Shan repeated the question after they had buckled in and donned their headphones, Zhu only motioned toward the southwest. Ten minutes later they began to follow the Lhasa highway.

Shan found himself watching for the Potala Palace, and as it came into view, a dark ruby against the distant snows, he found himself grinning. Despite Beijing’s relentless efforts to turn Lhasa into a Chinese city, the old Tibetan fortress still dominated the landscape, the rest of the city just a gray smudge below it. He turned away as the expanse of Western-style buildings grew more distinct and watched the outline of the Himalayas on the horizon until the helicopter banked, crossing over the Lhasa River before it began its descent.

The Lhasa Railway Station was only a few years old, built as a temple to Beijing’s ambitions. The huge stone and concrete structure was the terminus of the railway from Qinghai Province in the north, where it connected with trains to the eastern cities. As he studied the squat, heavy building, it looked not so much like a proud public work as another fortress. Construction of the railway, highest on the planet, had been one of the most controversial projects ever undertaken by Beijing. It had sliced into pristine wilderness, cut off ancient migration routes for the wildlife of the high plateau, and most importantly for its Beijing planners, provided fast, easy access into central Tibet for both Chinese immigrants and soldiers.

The parking lot outside the station looked as if it had been built as a vast staging area. Another helicopter already sat in a corner of the massive paved lot. Half a dozen police cars, some with lights flashing, were lined up by the station entrance, the kind of reception usually reserved for visiting dignitaries. At the end of the station half a dozen army trucks waited.

Zhu hurried Shan into the cavernous hall and toward a train which had been isolated at the rearmost platform by an outer cordon of police and an inner cordon of armed soldiers. Colonel Tan was standing by the sleek, green American-made locomotive, an impatient frown on his face, as a man in a business suit harangued him. A second man in an unfamiliar uniform, probably the engineer, listened nervously a step behind the stranger.