In Eliot Pattison's Soul of the Fire, When Shan Tao Yun and his old friend Lokesh are abruptly dragged away by Public Security, he is convinced that their secret, often illegal, support of struggling Tibetans has brought their final ruin. But his fear turns to confusion as he discovers he has been chosen to fill a vacancy on a special international commission investigating Tibetan suicides. Soon he finds that his predecessor was murdered, and when a monk sets himself on fire in front of the commissioners he realizes that the Commission is being used as a tool to whitewash Tibet's self-immolation protests as acts of crime and terrorism. Shan faces an impossible dilemma when the Public Security officer who runs the Commission, Major Ren, orders the imprisoned Lokesh beaten to coerce Shan into following Beijing's script for the Commission. He has no choice but to become part of the hated machine that is devouring Tibet, but when he discovers that the most recent immolation was actually another murder, he realizes the Commission itself is riddled with crime and intrigue. Everywhere he turns, Shan finds new secrets that seem to lead to the last agonizing chapter of his life. Shan must make a final desperate effort to uncover the Commission's terrible secrets whose painful truth could change Shan's life - and possibly that of many Tibetans - forever. “Superlative...Pattison impressively combines a thrilling plot with a passionate denunciation of the Chinese oppression of the Tibetan people.” ― Publishers Weekly (starred review) Eliot Pattison is the author of The Skull Mantra , which won the Edgar Award and was a finalist for the Gold Dagger , as well Water Touching Stone and Bone Mountain . Pattison is a world traveler and frequent visitor to China, and his numerous books and articles on international policy issues have been published around the world. Soul of the Fire By Eliot Pattison Minotaur Books Copyright © 2014 Eliot Pattison All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-312-65603-4 CHAPTER 1 The tear on the young nun's cheek dripped onto the rosary in her hand. As she turned her brave, open face toward Shan Tao Yun, a shaft of sunlight burst through the port in the side of the prison wagon where they huddled, illuminating the tear like a diamond. Once, precious stones had been prized in their land for the adornment of altars and reliquaries. As Shan stared at the rosary, he realized that such tears were the new jewels of Tibet. "Drapchi, Longtou, Chushur, Gutsa," the old Tibetan at Shan's side recited in a matter-of-fact tone. Shan recognized the names of the prisons his friend Lokesh recited not because of his years as a government investigator in Beijing but due to his own years as a prisoner in Tibet. They were being transported from Lhadrung County, home of Tibet's most infamous labor camps, toward the ring of prisons around Lhasa that were akin to medieval dungeons. "We will have a hearing or trial or something, won't we?" Yosen, the young nun, asked, then began patting the back of the second, older woman beside her. Pema, the grey-haired woman in the tattered felt dress of a farmer, had sat with her eyes closed for the last two hours, frantically working her prayer beads. "There is supposed to be a chance to be heard," Shan agreed, putting more hope in his voice than he felt. Yosen was an innocent, unfamiliar with the ruthless ways of Beijing's Public Security Bureau. "There will be blue papers with charges listed if they are expecting several years' imprisonment," Lokesh explained in the tone of an expert. "Yellow papers if it's only an administrative detention. Yellow means no more than a year," he added more brightly, but then cast a worried glance at Shan. The two friends could list a dozen possible charges against themselves, from sheltering political dissidents to destroying public property and concealing the Buddhist artifacts that Beijing insisted belonged to the state. Any one of those charges would send them back into the gulag for years. "Yellow, then," Yosen bravely said, squeezing her companion's shoulder. "The gods will bring us yellow, Pema. We didn't do anything. Except speak of a dead friend." Shan leaned toward the young woman. Yosen had said the two women were not well acquainted, that she had been pulled out of a chapel at her convent after Pema was taken from a pilgrim's path nearby. The Public Security soldiers, the knobs, who arrested the women, had offered no explanation. "A dead friend?" Yosen nodded and looked up as the older woman bent lower over her beads. "Before you joined us, Pema and I spoke. I asked her if she knew any reason for this—" She gestured around the rust-stained cell on wheels. "Before they took us, they asked if we knew a woman named Sonam Gyari." "Did this Sonam commit a crime?" Shan asked. "Not a crime. A suicide," Yosen replied. Lokesh put a reassuring hand on the young nun's shoulder. "They can't imprison you for having a friend who died