He worked slowly, ritualistically, and created a tetragram of a solid line on top, then a second solid line, a line of two segments and a line of three segments. In the chart his uncle had made him memorize as a boy it signified Chapter Six of the Tao te Ching, called Perceiving the Subtle. He smiled as he silently mouthed the long-remembered words. The mystery of the valley is immortal, they said. Its gateway is the source of heaven and earth. To the old master of the Tao the valley meant human perception but sometimes, his uncle had taught him, you just had to take the words for what they were. He knew of a valley that brimmed with mystery, and he knew he had been avoiding the peril of its gateway for too long.

He had one more stop to make before leaving Lhasa. He bought a sweatshirt with a cartoon of a smiling yak over the words Gem of China, and a visored cap that he pulled low over his face as he crossed the bridge to Jamalinka. He was beginning to understand Professor Gangfen’s appreciation of the island community. It was a world of many layers. If you could ignore the obvious shell of hedonism—probably difficult for many visitors—there were many other rich and varied realities. In the eyes of the dancers, the prostitutes, the pimps, the hawkers of cheap goods, and the barkeepers he often saw shades of shame and desperation but also flickers of defiant, independent spirits who had found an unexpected oasis shielded from the world outside. He had read that many cities of China and Europe had once had enclaves of sanctuary where warrants and legal process could not be served, and the hand of the law was suspended. Had places like Jamalinka become the modern equivalent of such sanctuaries?

Once again he watched the apartment on the darkened side street for several minutes before climbing the stairs. Tink answered on his first knock, as if expecting him, then quickly closed and locked the door behind him.

Cato Pike sat at the table, staring at a glass of amber liquor in his hand.

“I think we might track the car that was in the reported accident,” Shan said. “I wondered if perhaps your daughter sent you a photo that would have had the car in it. There would be records from the office that administers the university projects and I could—” He stopped mid-sentence as Cao Li stepped out of the shadows of the hallway. The Chinese student froze then took a stumbling step toward the door.