The Skull Mantra by Eliot Pattison

Lhasa over the last three weeks. The report from China Travel Service is attached. If you wait three days to check, the groups will all be home. Officially, nothing can be done to verify anything in Taiwan. It is well known by Public Security that such groups are often used for illegal purposes.”
    Tan offered one of his knife-edge smiles. “Perhaps I judged you too hastily.”
    â€œIt will be sufficient to complete a file,” Shan explained. “After the inspection team leaves, your prosecutor will know what to do.” As he spoke, he recalled Tan had another reason to close the matter soon. Before referring to the inspection team, he had mentioned Americans, on their way for a visit.
    â€œWhat will the prosecutor know to do?”
    â€œConvert it to a murder investigation.”
    Tan pursed his lips together as if he had bitten something bitter. “Only a Taiwanese tourist, after all. We must guard against overreaction.”
    Shan looked up and spoke to the photograph of Mao. “I said it was the perfect scenario. Do not confuse it with the truth.”
    â€œTruth, Comrade?” Tan asked with an air of disbelief.
    â€œIn the end, you will still have a killer to find.”
    â€œThat will be a matter for the prosecutor and myself to decide.”
    â€œNot necessarily.”
    Tan raised an eyebrow in question.
    â€œYou can complete a file sufficient to divert the matter for a few weeks. Maybe even send the file without all the signatures. It might sit on a desk for months before someone notices.”
    â€œAnd why would I be so negligent as to send the file without signatures?”
    â€œBecause eventually the accident report will have to be signed by the doctor who performed the autopsy.”
    â€œDr. Sung,” Tan said in a low, sour voice, as though to himself.
    â€œThe medical report was rather thorough. The doctor noticed the head was missing.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?”
    â€œThe doctor has other authorities to whom she reports. They do their own audits. Without the head, I doubt your accident report will be signed by the medical officer. Without the report, the Ministry will eventually examine the case and classify it as a murder.”
    Tan shrugged. “Eventually Prosecutor Jao will return.”
    â€œBut meanwhile a killer is out there. Your prosecutor should be considering the implications.”
    â€œImplications?”
    â€œLike how this man was killed by someone he knew.”
    Tan lit one of his American cigarettes. “You don’t know that.”
    â€œThe body was unmarked. No evidence of a struggle. He smoked a cigarette with someone. He walked up the mountain voluntarily. His shoes were clean.”
    â€œHis shoes?
    â€œIf he was dragged, they would have been scuffed. If he had been carried, he would not have picked up the fragments of rock that were found on his soles. It’s in the autopsy report.”
    â€œSo a thief found a rich tourist. Forced him to walk up at gunpoint.”
    â€œNo. He wasn’t robbed—a thief would not have overlooked two hundred American dollars. And he didn’t drive to the South Claw on a whim, or at the request of someone he did not know.”
    â€œSomeone he knew,” Tan considered. “But that would make it local. No one is missing.”
    â€œOr someone who knew someone here. An old feud rekindled by a sudden visitor. A conspiracy unraveled. An opportunity for settling a score presented itself. Have you tried to contact him?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe prosecutor. One of the troubling questions I didn’t write down is why the murderer waited until the prosecutor left town. Why now?”
    â€œI told you. I don’t want to speak about this on the phone.”
    â€œWhat if something else is planned for his absence? Before the inspection team arrives.”
    He had Tan’s attention now. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if