Shan searched his memory, recalling now that he had seen mention of corruption at the Five Claws Dam, the huge project in the far north of the county, thirty miles from his station at Yangkar. “I remember reports at the time of his arrest. Nothing since then.”

“Corruption at such a high level is an embarrassment to Beijing. Public Security is told to handle such things quietly.”

“You mean a hidden trial,” Shan suggested. “Then a hidden execution.”

“What I mean,” Tan shot back, “is proceedings that appropriately protected the interests of the motherland. The Party took jurisdiction and the investigation was conducted out of Lhasa. We weren’t involved.”

Shan spoke toward the window. “Corruption isn’t a solitary crime. Yet only one man is charged and executed. A Tibetan.”

A rumbling sound of irritation came from Tan, but he vented his anger by tearing open a pack of cigarettes and lighting one. After having a lung removed he had been under strict orders to stop smoking. A few months earlier he had broken the nose of a nurse who had tried to wrestle a cigarette from his hand.

They drove in uneasy silence for several minutes, then Shan saw the towers of the compound they were approaching and stiffened. “I have seen enough of the ‘People’s Justice’ today,” he said in a tight voice.

“Not like this,” Tan muttered, then flicked the stub of his cigarette out the window as they slowed at the security gate. The guards offered nervous salutes to the military governor then darted to open the gate of heavy timber and barbed wire.

A freshly painted sign by the entrance declared they were entering Camp New Awakening. Shan had always known the facility as the 105th Reeducation Brigade, although most inmates called it the Shoe Factory. Its residents were all prisoners, but they were considered salvageable and split their days between memorizing Party dogma in classrooms and manufacturing footwear for the People’s Liberation Army.