Ko shrugged. “Because they frightened someone in the government. They’re very quiet, very learned. The eldest was from old Tibet, they said, a learned lama named Tsomo. Some of the other prisoners, not just the ones from Larung Gar, were beaten for bowing to him when they saw him. I’ll never forget the day he passed.”

“The lama died?”

“It was a holiday, National Day. We were assembled that morning to hear a speech from the warden when suddenly the old man cried out as if in great agony. He staggered out of the ranks and raised his arms toward the north. He stumbled toward the northern fence, crying in alarm, seeming deaf to the warnings of the guards, even to the guns they shot in the air. The five others who had arrived with him cried out and ran to him until they were beaten back by the guards. They started a mantra that was quickly taken up by the other prisoners. The warden was furious. He seemed to take the old man’s actions like a personal affront. ‘Not again, you bastard!’ the warden shouted, though there had never been a prior incident with the old lama. The warden yelled for the guards to shoot him, for he had reached the kill zone line painted on the ground. But they just stared. The old man was shouting by then, what sounded like a furious mantra, a curse maybe, then a long terrible groan came from deep in his throat. It was like nothing I’ve ever heard. It was as if his life was being sucked out of him. Then he dropped dead.”

In the outer chamber Zhu’s voice was rising, as if warning them to hurry.

“Then the warden ordered the administration buildings evacuated, though no one knew why.”

“As if he expected an earthquake,” Shan said. Ko nodded. “But none came. Afterward none of the guards would touch the lama’s body. One of his friends was allowed to phone and the next day some people came down from the hills with a horse cart and took him away. Until then his friends kept a vigil over him. Right there by his body, not just prayers in the barracks.”

“Surely the warden didn’t allow prisoners to keep a vigil.”

“I wouldn’t have believed it if I had not been there. He was scared for some reason. One of them was allowed to stay beside him to recite the Bardo, the death rites. Two hours at a time, then a new man would come, always escorted by a guard.”

“The warden,” Shan said, trying to make sense of what had happened. “He’s new too.”

“Captain Wenlu? Been here a year or so. Arrived not long after those six prisoners came from Larung Gar. I had a sense that he had known at least some of those prisoners before.”

The latch on the inner door rattled. Zhu was telling them to finish.