The teacher was engaged in rewriting some ancient text. He was sitting on a soft cushion, cross-legged and writing on his knees. Initially, the Lama did not notice the strange behavior of the young men who could not find a place in the large library. But then he noticed the edge of the papyrus, sticking out from under Manlam’s toga.

‘My son, what are you puzzled about? We can talk about this, can’t we?’

Manlam held out for the teacher a scroll that he had found. The Lama quickly scanned the initial lines of the manuscript and put it aside. But a piece of cloth, decorated with a strange seal stirred the interest of the old monk. He took a long look around the print marks. Then he put the object behind the lapel of garments under his chest.

‘You're not ready to discuss this issue.’

‘Teacher, people say much about paradise in heaven, but nobody said that heaven is on earth.’

‘Ridiculous! The mortal body cannot attain bliss in the physical world. Only spiritual perfection leads to nirvana. Nothing could be more perfect than the rest. Death is inevitable for all living things.’

‘But Gelong writes that he saw people, beautiful bodies, like gods and the immortal have.’

‘The majority who live endeavor to reach immortality. I've heard some manage this. But in all my life I have not seen any of those who have been given eternal life, but the smoke of the pyre has claimed thousands of bodies in the sky. It was not known whether they returned back, reborn, or gone to other worlds, although there are undeniable facts, speaking about the possibility of transmigration of the soul. During the long years of work in the library, I read thousands of manuscripts, and gave talks about the incredible miracles that occurred in particular places. There were also others, causing doubt and thus completely denying the possibility of reincarnation. Now let's talk about an earthly paradise. Somewhere in the mountains, as legend has it, sheltered from the eyes of the mortal lies the Land of the Gods, called Shambhala. In our library there is too little information about this amazing country. Great lamas claim that the Land of the Gods exists, and some of them have even been there. But not everyone is destined to reach its limits, and especially cross border ownership of the Great Mahatma. Only he who hears the call of Shambhala is free to overcome an invisible line, protected by guards. I've heard stories of pilgrims that in one of the mountain monasteries appeared an old man. He was revered in the temple as a saint. He took a vow of Kamatang, who was a contemplative monk. Rumor has it that his inner vision saw a lot better than a good observer in clear weather. If you believe the rumors are true, he was the only old man still alive, who managed to go to Shambhala. In Tibet, there are closed monasteries; studying Kalachakra [9] Tantra, which is the only doctrine, has come down to us from the Land of the gods. It was difficult to get into their walls. One of them, the abode of Maitreya – Tantric Datsan, is located in Nepal. In contrast to the Tibetan temples, its gates are visible only for the search of true knowledge. Thousands of manuscripts will not replace the communication with those who are granted the happiness of heaven to get to the Land of the Great Mahatma. Now you have to go, I need to work.’ The teacher bent over a scroll.

Manlam went to Lha-khang, the room where he kept statues of the gods, but not for the passionate prayer before the statue of Buddha. He stood for a long time in the huge room, surrounded by terracotta statues of Bodhisattvas, [10] pondering what he heard. "Shambhala – is an amazing country, which inspires ghostly hope. Perhaps, true knowledge is more expensive than a human life! But the teachings of the Buddha tell a different story. Where is the search for the truth? " A young monk disciple turned sharply and went to his cell, where he lived in solitude as a full member of the monastic community.

At night he found himself far from the monastery. A cold wind was tearing at his maroon toga, snow gushing around, thus hurting his face. He walked to the side of the Zhongson pass, being at the borders of Nepal, Tibet and Sekima. The fragile young man was one of the forgotten people of Heaven and still on the mountain trail, dressed in his robes, with a knapsack on his back and a heavy stick in his hand. There, beyond the pass, on a high plateau, lost among the Himalayan snows, was the abode of Maitreya Buddha.

The Chief of General Directorate of Police in Bangkok, Narong Deng, sat on a soft leather chair drinking a little whiskey and smoking a good cigar, which was all that Deng needed at the moment. He ordered not to be connected with anyone on the phone and canceled all visitors. Although the working day had just begun, the problem did not take long to emerge. Much operational information had accumulated during the night. Narong scanned the sheets and laid them out on the table. Ten murders per day were usual for a fifteen million population metropolis. Next, the operation "East" was a joint development of the Anti-drug trafficking and Interpol. This was something new. Narong knew that a few days ago in Bangkok representatives of some special groups were in attendance. Deng blew smoke toward the air conditioner and set aside the document with the official seal of the Department, this problem had not been dealt with by the police.

The powerful fans from the air conditioner had dispelled a cloud of aromatic smoke after only a few seconds, filling the room with a pleasant coolness. It would be nice if the problem would melt away. The melodic buzzer lifted Narong from his thinking.

‘Chief, you have a call from the Department.’ It was a pleasant secretary’s voice came on the line.

‘Put him through.’

‘Hello, Deng, how are you?’ The voice of the first deputy head of the Department did not promise anything good.

‘Thank you, sir, not too bad.’

‘I've been waiting for you for three hours. Tack holds the documents in the case of Taihang.’

‘But, sir, the case is with the investigative team.’

‘I’ve been waiting for you for three hours!’ Short beeps were heard on the line.

It has begun! What kind of report can be discussed if the investigation has just begun? The accusation was based on the testimony of the two witnesses who were detained in Myanmar. Taihang tried to smuggle a large amount of cash to Sri Lanka with their help. According to the law, the detainees were threatened with a huge sentence and they kindly agreed to help the investigation in exchange for their inclusion in the witness protection programme. It had long been known that Taihang had a solid share of the illegal gaming businesses in Bangkok, but they could not manage to get close to him. His list of interests included drug dealing, arms trafficking and a network of brothels and hotels catering for many clients.

Taihang was a native of Taiwan, who had appeared in Bangkok five years ago. He was detained twice by police last time, on suspicion of murder. Money and networking had taken their toll. There was huge corruption and debts, but these were subsequently covered up in many cases. Witnesses disappeared, eyewitnesses refused to testify. In general, everything went according to the old accumulated scheme. As a result, Taihang remained at large.

Deng Narong foresaw that the case could be reversed, and it was imperative not to force things. He did not want to be extreme. The call from the Department alerted him. Had these important patrons decided to merge Taihang?