Tara the goat appeared beside Pike. She cocked her head at Xun, then gave a bleat as if in recognition. She lowered her head and charged the man who had killed the human Tara. Xun, clearly frightened of the small animal, shot twice at her as he retreated, missing both times. She gained speed to ram him but then suddenly skidded to a stop. Xun was gone.

“Pull me up!” the major shouted in a voice that held more anger than fear. He had fallen over the edge but had grabbed the thin ledge of rock that extended outward from the cliff. “Damn you, pull me up!” Xun dangled over the void, cursing and calling Jiao’s name. Jiao took a hesitant step toward him then halted as he saw Pike striding forward with a treacherous grin. Pike’s gaze lingered for a moment on Xun’s pistol, lying on the ledge a few feet away, then the American turned to Shan. “What did you say this was called, Professor?”

“The Earth-Shattering Maul,” Shan replied.

“Right.” Pike looked at his daughter, then at Shan, before he swung the maul high over his head and slammed it onto the ledge rock. The thin lip of the ledge made a cracking noise but remained intact.

“Pull me up, you fools!” Xun shouted. “I will sign a confession!”

The words stopped Jiao, who had been slowly moving toward the major.

The cracking sound continued. “Wolchen Gekho, Sangwa Dragchen!” Pike shouted, invoking the old names for the fierce mountain deity, and slammed the god’s maul onto the rock again. One of Xun’s hands reached up over the edge, clawing for purchase, then the outer two feet of the ledge cap broke away and he was gone.

Pike looked back at his companions with a solemn expression. “Earth-shattering,” he declared, then shouldered the maul and faced Jiao.

The pistol was in the deputy director’s hand, but he slowly lowered it as he stared at the empty space where Xun had been.

“You should go, Jiao,” Shan said again. “Catch that plane. Get out of China. Lose yourself somewhere. India might be easiest, or Vietnam. We will give you a twenty-four-hour head start. If you are lucky, you might even evade the men that the Commissar will send.” He looked at Tan, who still sat beside Ko, and then Lhakpa. Both just returned his gaze with grim expressions. Neither objected. Huan and Xun had been the killers. Jiao had been the mastermind, the dreamer, like so many in China’s recent history, who inspired the killers. Shan gestured to Lieutenant Zhu, who had appeared by the Talons.

“The cleanup crew is being recalled,” Shan said to Zhu, “back to their army duties. Have one of your men escort Deputy Director Jiao back to his quarters to pack his bags, then to the airport. He has urgent business elsewhere.” Zhu whistled and one of his commandos stepped out of the shadows behind him.