With a sudden chill Shan realized he had seen Jampa before, washing gobbets of Metok’s brain off the wall.

“He gave me a note two days before, when I was cleaning in front of his cell.” The old Tibetan wiped moisture from his eyes. “I’m sorry. Maybe I could have saved him. I was so scared. Last year they sent the prior janitor to the Shoe Factory just for talking with a prisoner. They said it showed reactionary sympathies.” A sob wracked the old man’s body and he burst into tears. Tan put a hand on Jampa’s shoulder. When he collected himself, he reached into his pocket and produced an envelope which was stained with what looked like blue-green soap. Inside was a ragged piece of toilet paper with a hastily scrawled note.

I am not here because of what they say, it said. I am here because the American woman and the archaeologist were killed in front of me and not where they said they died. Find someone who lives by the truth. Warn Sun Lunshi. Metok.

Shan’s spine turned to ice. He exchanged an anguished glance with Tan.

“They can’t know I came here,” Jampa said.

Tan stared at his bottle. He understood the bitter irony of making such a statement to the county governor and his chief inspector. Shan studied him, suddenly as interested in the colonel as Jampa. The old janitor had come to Tan when he wanted to find someone who lived by the truth. “No,” the colonel said. “They can’t know.” He looked at the tormented Tibetan. “You couldn’t have stopped his killing, Jampa,” the colonel offered in comfort.

“I pray for his forgiveness every night,” Jampa said.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Shan said.

Jampa said nothing but seemed to be weighing Shan’s words. He scrubbed at an eye again. “Then I will pray for his eternal soul, and of the other two who were murdered, the American and the archaeologist.”

“What American?” Shan asked. “What archaeologist?”

“I didn’t know. My nephew has a computer. He searched some newspaper reports,” Jampa explained. His voice was growing hoarse. “There was an American student and an archaeologist from Chengdu who died in an automobile accident an hour west of Lhasa. You know the kind of story. Sudden storm, a high cliff, and a sharp turn. Their names were Natalie Pike and Professor Gangfen.” He shrugged. “It’s all I know. Please, I have to get to work.”