The massive four-hundred-foot-high ridge of jutting rock that was the final impediment to shaping the dam seemed to shudder as the buried charges detonated. It began to slide down the face of the mountain. Then suddenly there were more detonations, much larger, spewing rock fragments high over the valley, and a line of smoke and dust appeared along the upper slope opposite them. The entire face of the mountain bulged, groaned, and began to slide into the valley. The Commissar cackled with glee and clapped his hands. Director Ren stared stricken, clutching the podium as if he were in danger of falling.

Lhakpa and his friends had already known about the hidden fissures that had been part of the ancient shrine complex, but the seismic maps Sun Lunshi had died for had allowed Yeshe the demolition expert to lay more charges much deeper and higher than he could otherwise have done.

The ground under their platform began to shake. Two of the honored guests fell as they tried to step off the foundation. The slope along the foot of the valley began to collapse, then the destruction was lost in a massive cloud of dust. Tan turned and nodded to Zhu, who raised a hand to his chin and spoke into a small transmitter.

Less than a minute later Tan’s helicopter landed on the road above them and a soldier ran to the colonel with an envelope. The colonel solemnly read the contents then handed the yellowed paper to the Commissar, who read it, nodding. Propped up by his nurses, he stood and stepped to Director Ren, who still stood as if paralyzed, staring at the vast cloud of dust.

“A damned shame, Ren,” the Commissar declared in a dry, amused voice, then handed the paper to the director. “Beijing should have known better than to ignore us. We could have told them. Damned shame,” he repeated and looked back at Tan with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.