It was a familiar phrase. One of the idioms of tamzing, the struggle sessions where individuals were confronted with their shortcomings as citizens and their remedies beaten into them, figuratively and otherwise.
Shan saw that his hands had done it again, unconsciously made a mudra, as if trying to tell him something. The fingers were clasped, the middle fingers raised upward. Diamond of the Mind. "Prioritization for the Party, prioritization for the state, prioritization for the workplace," he recited the equally familiar refrain that had been shouted at him more than once from political verse books. "I saw an advertisement for a book once in a Western magazine," he said. "Getting your office organized in ten easy lessons." He looked at her with a stony expression. "Kind of the same thing."
She offered an icy smile. "This Inspector Shan, he's said to have taken on Party bosses, maybe even investigated them. Said to have been made to disappear." She opened her mouth and let the smoke curl around her lips.
"The advantage of disappearing," Shan said, "is that afterward expectations are so much lower." He stared at his hands. "All the zheli boys are in jeopardy," he said. "More could be killed."
"This Shan. My friend called the Ministry of Economy. The main thing people say about this Shan is good riddance. He made everyone's life difficult. As hard as a senior Party member. But when he was offered Party membership he turned it down."
"The killer is after the boys. Only the boys." He looked back at the tea house, where Loshi sat watching through the window. Ko had given his expensive car to Major Bao. It made no sense.
"An investigator is supposed to find answers, supposed to make life easier for people," she continued, as if she had not heard any of his words.
Shan focused on the end of her cigarette. "Sometimes an investigator can do no more than remind people of their conscience."
Xu's lips curled, as if she found the comment amusing. "Your killer," she observed. "He may have been looking for that one particular boy. Kublai. Maybe it's over."
"Or maybe he wants them all dead," Shan said.
Xu winced. "Don't be ridiculous. No one could get away with eliminating entire…" Her words drifted off, as her eyes drifted toward the horizon. She shook her head.
"What are you saying, Comrade Prosecutor? One or two boys, and who cares? But ten or fifteen, that would be what? Unacceptable casualty levels? Politically embarrassing? How about five or six? Maybe up to ten, and no one would really notice?" He kept his eyes on her as he spoke. "Just orphans, after all, just Kazakhs and Uighurs at that."
"Some people see conspiracies everywhere."
"This is the People's Republic, Prosecutor. Its lifeblood is conspiracy."
Her eyes flared, and she looked about at the other tables. No one seemed to be listening. "Be careful, comrade. I know my responsibilities to the state."
"Wonderful news," Shan snapped.
Her brow wrinkled in question.
"That you take your job seriously. The prosecution of crime, isn't that what it is?"
She frowned again and pulled on her cigarette.
"Maybe this investigator from Beijing," Shan said, "maybe he discovered the most important thing of all. That working for the government is not always the same as working for the people."
She surveyed the compound. Shan followed her gaze and saw another familiar face among the men at the mahjong table, despite the oversized Chinese army hat pulled low over his head. Fat Mao.
The horse cart pulled slowly away from the garage bay.
"I checked with all the Ministry offices from here to Kashgar and a hundred miles east. There have been no other reports of children being killed."
He stared at her. She did not blink, she did not look away. "Another boy was killed since the one brought to Yoktian," Shan announced. "The fourth boy."
"No." Xu glared at him resentfully. "I don't believe it."
"You said no once before, Comrade Prosecutor, when I told you boys were dying."
Xu frowned and said nothing.
"A boy named Khitai was killed near the giant prayer flag in the mountains. You know that flag."
"I know it," she replied stiffly.
Shan nodded. "You were seen there." A thought occurred to Shan. Batu had believed Xu had gone to find boys and kill them. But maybe she was following someone. She had left the camera for surveillance. He had thought it was to watch for Buddhists and dissidents. But maybe it was to watch for the killer.
Her eyes smoldered.
"Perhaps it means you are close to an arrest," Shan suggested, returning her angry gaze.
"A small group of herders had been seen there three days ago. We went to investigate. They may have been with one of Lau's zheli. Or perhaps they needed to be registered for the Poverty Scheme."
"Two days," Shan said. "The herders were there two days ago. The day the boy died."
Xu shook her head. "Three."
If she was right, Shan thought, then Batu had also been right. More than one zheli boy had gone to the lama field to complete his project for the dead teacher.
"Show me the body," Xu said tersely.
He shook his head. "Khitai is buried. He has been violated enough."
"Then only one boy died," Xu said. "That's all we know. One boy killed, that could be anything. We have an official investigation. Forensic exams shows a small-caliber bullet. Could have been a hunting accident. The clans are allowed to have small-caliber firearms for hunting."
"A hunting accident?" Prosecutor Xu, Shan decided, was a very complicated woman. "I thought it was feudalism, you said."
"Fine. Without question it demonstrates the corrosive influence of the old clan structures. Irresponsibility. Lawlessness in the mountains. This is the twenty-first century, comrade. It has to stop. I am always willing to throw the full weight of my office to assist victims of crime. But first they have to ask. Let them file reports if others died. I will not accept rumors. Not about Lau. Not about other boys. The resources of a great nation are theirs if they ask."
"Speaking statistically, Comrade Prosecutor, how many reports of serious crime do you receive from the nomads?"
"A few every year."
"How many from Han living in the district?"
"More than ninety percent of my reports are from Han."
"And the Han represent how much of the population?"
"Resettlement has been slow this far away." She shrugged. "Thirty-two percent is the official number."
"And you resent the Tibetans and Kazkahs and Uighurs for not reporting crimes."
"It's difficult enough, keeping such a vast country together. We all have to cooperate. A citizen who does not participate is not a complete citizen. People must be taught to come to us."
"Perhaps a giant tamzing. Bring all the herders in. And their sheep. Can't forget their sheep. The herds are so disorganized. Prioritization for the Party."
As Xu looked at the ember of her cigarette an expression of bitterness seemed to pass over her face. Could it indeed be true that she took her job seriously?
"There are some investigations," he ventured, "where you reach the end and wish no complaint had ever been filed. Because of what you have to report."
"Don't tell me my job. I've been prosecutor a long time, Comrade Shan."
"I know," Shan shot back. "Twelve years in Yoktian."
She fixed him with a frigid stare. "I meant, I know how to write reports."
He stared at her and saw the admission in her eyes. They both knew that in the People's Republic writing reports on criminal investigations was one of the highest forms of art. "Most times," he said very slowly, "you just have to write about who the criminals are. But sometimes there are cases where you have to write about who you are."
Xu didn't reply. She lit another cigarette from the first and stared at the makeshift tabletop, a piece of rough plywood, as though suddenly interested in its patterns of wood grain. "We have a file on the dead boy. Director Ko has suggested several suspects. I have been
trying to find others who may have information. Apparently the children, the zheli, were very secretive. Lau didn't record their whereabouts. No one seems to know much."
"Director Ko?"
"The Brigade knows the clans better than any organization. They are at the forefront in implementing many social policies." She worked her tongue against her cheek, as if chewing on something. "It makes them a target sometimes. For resisters."
"Resisters?"
"Clan members who oppose the Poverty Scheme, for example. Someone sabotaged a Brigade truck yesterday."
"A truck?"
"A transport for livestock was stolen. A Brigade driver in a car gave chase into the mountains. On a curve, the truck rolled over and burned. Kazahks or Uighurs did it. We're investigating."
Shan stared around the compound again. Had the Maos stolen the truck, hoping to set up some kind of ambush?
"The Brigade is our engine of social change in Xinjiang. We all have to keep that engine running," Xu stated. It had the tone of a political mantra, preapproved by Party headquarters.
Shan recalled his last conversation with Kaju. "What," he asked, "is the Brigade doing with infants at the local clinic?"
Xu frowned again. "Now you're suspicious when someone helps babies? You're paranoid. Delusional. Maybe you feel so guilty about being a Han that you hate all Han. I can find-" She searched for a word, "therapists who could help with that. Everyone knows the newborn survival rate among the minorities is low. Ko wants to help."
Shan watched as the horse wagon stopped in front of the prosecutor's car. The driver unhitched the horse and led it away. He looked closer. There was no room at the front. The wagon blocked the car. He surveyed the compound. Jakli had said Xu might bring others, disguised as truck drivers.
"That's a Buddhist thing," she said suddenly, taking notice of his mudra.
Shan collapsed his fingers self-consciously, without answering. "Lieutenant Sui," he said. "Are they investigating his murder?"
"Bao's office said he is transferred out, a new assignment in Manchuria."
"But you didn't believe it."
She drew deeply on her cigarette. "It's not that simple."
"Of course it is. Sui is dead, or Sui is transferred. Did you try to verify his transfer?"
She frowned, as if she found the subject distasteful.
"There are two possibilities," Shan suggested. "Public Security is covering up, not telling the Ministry of Justice. Or Bao is covering up, not telling even Public Security." There was another possibility, which he would not give voice to. The killing was known to all, to Bao, to Xu, to Beijing, but not yet politically resolved.
"That day at the motor pool," he added. "Sui was with you, Kaju was with Ko. Kaju said he was looking for the boys, Lau's boys. Maybe Sui was too."
This time when she exhaled she blew the smoke directly into his face. "We were using the roadblocks for the missing person investigation. Public Security was cooperating. The Ministry and Public Security work hand in hand."
"Last time I was with you," Shan returned matter-of-factly, "Public Security was throwing a mug at you." For a second, and only a second, Shan thought he saw something that might have been amusement in the prosecutor's eyes.
"I have another idea about Sui," Xu said. "If he is dead, maybe Tibetans killed him."
Shan felt his throat go dry. He returned her stare and shrugged. "This is Xinjiang."
"This is borderland. This is everywhere and nowhere. When you drove away that day at the motor pool, Sui got on the radio with the roadblocks. He said to detain you. Not you, actually. He gave orders to stop the truck and arrest the old Tibetan with you."
Shan stared into his hands. Sui was looking for Tibetans. Was he the one who had found Lau? Out of the corner of his eye he saw a grey figure rise and slowly walk around the back corner of the garage. Jakli, going to where Lokesh slept.
"A harmless old man," Shan said.
Xu looked toward the Kunlun with a pained expression. "The one word I would never use for Tibetans," she said with a strangely distant tone, "is harmless." She gazed around the compound. "Everyone else we can talk with, we can negotiate with, we can educate, we can teach the wisdom of becoming something else." Her mouth twisted, as if she had tasted something sour. "But the Tibetans," she said slowly, "they just stay Tibetans."
"Which is why you attack prayer flags?" Shan asked quietly.
She silently stared at him for a long time, then looked down at the table. "I know at least one boy died," she said, just as quietly. "Sui implied that Tibetans were involved in some new conspiracy. I asked my investigator to watch, and listen, to find where in the mountains the zheli children might meet Tibetans. We heard about a small family at that place. We went to look. Now you say a boy died at the place," she added, as if it proved her point.
You went to blind the deities, Shan almost said. "You went with Public Security?"
"No."
"Meaning what? That Public Security doesn't care about boys but you do?"
She stared at him coolly without answering.
He pulled the black compass from his pocket, opened it, and placed it on the table. "Do you recognize this? Was it your investigator's? Bao's?"
"Not mine," she shot back resentfully, as if he had accused her of something. Then she stared at the device. "You found it there? My investigator wasn't there, before he went with me. He had just been asking questions, talked to helicopter pilots. It's not his. As for Bao, you'd have to ask him. I can arrange a meeting," she offered with a cool, thin smile.
Shan folded the compass but left it on the table between them.
"What if you had found a boy out there, what would you have done?"
"Take him into protective custody for a few days. Then give him back to the school program."
Shan was silent for a moment, considering her words. "Tell me, Comrade Prosecutor," he said as he pocketed the compass, "do you think Tibetans are guilty, just because Sui was looking for them?"
"Sui. And now Bao. He's erecting random checkpoints throughout the county. Anyone with Tibetan papers is to be held for questioning, even anyone with a Tibetan birthplace. He's rounded up a few old men who couldn't explain their origin to his satisfaction."
The waterkeeper. She had not mentioned the waterkeeper. Because, he hoped, the lama had not been discovered. Maybe he was better off at Glory Camp, maybe he was invisible to Bao at Glory Camp. Though not if he continued to interfere with political officers.
"Because of a poem?" Shan asked. "Does poetry scare Bao so much?"
She frowned again. "Because he is a major in Public Security," she said, meaning Bao could do whatever he wanted. He owned an explanation to no one, including the prosecutor.
She stared at him and seemed to detect the pain in his eyes. "Your friend," she pressed, clearly enjoying his discomfort, "an old Tibetan traveling with a known fugitive. Think of the stories he will have when Bao picks him up."
Just an old man, Shan was about to repeat, but a question overtook his tongue. "Why did he radio the others? Why didn't Sui just take him there, at the motor pool?"
Xu opened her mouth as though to reply, but she had no words. She just looked back toward the Kunlun.
"Because," Shan ventured, "he didn't want Ko to know."
"Sui was angry when the patrols didn't find your friend. Issued a description to them, so he could be picked up later."
"There is another Tibetan," Shan said. "What do you know about Kaju Drogme?"
"I interviewed him before he started. He's different. A model for all the minorities. One of the few Tibetans who has recognized the challenges of balancing the needs of our society. There was a meeting about him, to decide on bringing him here. Ministry of Education. Bureau of Religious Affairs. Public Security. The Brigade."
"Why the Brigade?"
"Of course the Brigade. In this district, the government decides and the Brigade implements. They have a special office in Urumqi for this program, admi
nistering fifty or sixty teachers all over Xinjiang, all minorities trained in cultural assimilation. Got the attention of Beijing and of the top managers of the Brigade. The Brigade," she reminded Shan, "is one of the largest companies in China." She thought for a moment and shrugged. "Still, the program's only an experiment."
"You're not convinced."
"He goes too far sometimes. Lau, she was balanced. But this Kaju- I went to one of his classes. He was showing everyone how Buddhist prayer beads work, asking if anyone had beads when they were young. I called the Brigade office to complain. They said it was part of the program. Validate the ethnic roots. Make Tibetan children know it's all right to have beads, make the Muslims know it's all right to bow toward their Mecca sometimes. Then gradually make them see how old-fashioned it is, just a subtle form of mind control."
Shan looked at her without replying. Validating ethnic roots was also one way to identify hidden Tibetans. Mao tse-Tung had launched a campaign over thirty years earlier known as the One Hundred Flowers program. Let one hundred flowers bloom, the chairman had said, as a way of encouraging people to express diverse views, to criticize the government in public. It had been staged as a way of flushing out dissidents. After a few months the campaign was ended and those who had spoken out against the Chairman were arrested.
Shan saw that another vehicle, a heavy diesel truck, had arrived at the station. It was parking directly behind the Red Flag, so close the car was blocked between it and the horse cart. The engine did not stop as the air brakes hissed and the truck halted. The driver stayed at his wheel, watching someone, the mahjong player closest to the prosecutor. Fat Mao. What had Marco said of the Maos? He had called them predators, always waiting for an easy kill.
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