“The new director dealt with them. It was a lieutenant. I remember afterward one of the younger students said it would be fun to check his DNA, and the director snapped at him to stop suggesting such things.”

“His DNA?”

“When the sun hit his hair at a certain angle, you could see red in it, or at least a deep auburn hue. That’s from the Turkic population. His people must be from Xinjiang, probably Kashgar or Khotan. I’m surprised he hasn’t dyed his hair to remove the reminder that not all China is Chinese.” Cao looked up with an awkward glance at his companions, seeming to catch himself. “But good archaeology students can’t be heard saying such things, or we can find ourselves shifted to some school for computer technicians or accountants.” Cao grew very sober. “I would never say such things,” he assured them.

Shan studied the student. Cao may be a scholar, but he was something more. Had Gangfen nurtured a dissident? “The professor was a good man,” Shan said, as if to comfort him. “An honest man. He deserves a memorial.” They were approaching the Jokhang Temple complex, where Cao had said he wanted to be dropped.

“Yes, yes,” Cao agreed. “I would gladly help with one.”

“Good,” Shan said. “The memorial I am thinking of is the truth. Not the new director’s version of the story, not the report of Public Security. I think Gangfen was trying to make a difference in the world. That effort shouldn’t die with him.”

The words sent the student into a brooding silence. He did not speak until Shan stopped the car. He climbed out and paused as he closed the door. “They died for the truth,” he blurted, then darted into the crowd.

Pike climbed out of Shan’s car as Cao disappeared into the crowd. He turned to Shan, his hand still on the door. “I suppose this city has more than one crematorium. Which do you suppose the police would use?” Shan considered a moment and told him, and the American pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and set off in the direction Cao had taken.

Zhu was waiting once more at the tea shop with the red door and seemed excited to see Shan. He handed three photocopies to Shan with a victorious gleam. “Took some digging to get what you wanted but the colonel’s office helped.”

The first page was the list of official attendees at Metok’s execution. There had been two Public Security officers in the gallery, the captain who had read the statement and the young lieutenant with reddish hints in his hair who had pulled the trigger. The young lieutenant had been Huan Yi.