The Shadow Walker (14 page)

As Drew watched, one of the female staff in the group began to nod enthusiastically, talking hurriedly to Nergui. She was gesturing toward the photograph and then pointing toward a spot across the hall, close to the exit doors. As she pointed, she spotted a colleague walking slowly through the hall and called out to him. He looked up as she shouted, then hurried over to join the group. Drew wasn't clear what was going on, but it appeared to be important. Nergui was engaged in intense conversation with the woman, then, when the newcomer arrived, he turned and spoke rapidly to him also. The man was nodding and pointing over to the same spot.

Finally, Nergui turned to Drew and beckoned him to join them. Drew smiled vaguely at the group, who all simultaneously took a half step back as he approached. It was as if they didn't quite know what to make of a Westerner in their midst. There was no hostility in their response—just curiosity and a certain wariness.

“What is it?” Drew said. “You've got something?”

“Looks like it. I didn't really expect it. You have to ask the questions, but you can't really imagine that anyone would remember one passenger amongst hundreds a week ago.”

“And do they?”

“Definitely. But only because Delgerbayar behaved rather differently from most other passengers that day.”

“How?”

“It looks as if he arrived on the same flight we did today. He disembarked from the aircraft, made his way into here, and then
over toward the exits, where we assume he looked around for someone who was meeting him.”

“But how—?”

“It's not entirely clear what happened. Of course, nobody had particularly noticed Delgerbayar up to this point, even on the plane. We made inquiries among the cabin staff yesterday, but you saw how crowded the flights can get. Anyway, we assume that Delgerbayar got here and found the person he was due to meet. The first thing that anyone notices are some raised voices over by the exit doors. The whole room turns to look, and there are two men apparently having an almighty row. It's starting to turn into something physical—pushing and shoving, you know—when a couple of the airport police turn up to separate them.”

“What happened? Did Delgerbayar tell them he was an officer too?”

“Not clear, but we can check with the local police and find out who was on that day, see if anything was said. But my guess would be not. In fact, surprisingly, Delgerbayar and the other man both turn hurriedly and walk out through the exit together. They were being watched by our friends here—” Nergui said, gesturing to the two airport employees, “—along with everyone else. It appeared that they both jumped into the same truck and sped pretty rapidly away from the airport.”

“And they're sure it was Delgerbayar?”

Nergui nodded. “As sure as anyone can be in this kind of situation, I think. I pushed them quite hard on that and they've both looked carefully at the picture, and they're sure it was him. The others here weren't close enough to be certain, but these two both happened to be walking by the exits when it happened, so they were only a few feet away.”

“So—we know he definitely came down here. And we know he met up with someone. Which suggests that at least part of his story was true.”

“Though of course we don't know if his visit here was really
connected with the gold prospecting business, or whether it was something else entirely.”

As Nergui talked, Drew looked past his shoulder at the group of airport staff. The manager was hovering beside them, occasionally whispering something nervously. Drew raised an eyebrow to draw Nergui's attention to the scene behind him. Nergui picked up the signal instantly, but didn't turn around to look.

“He's asking whether any of them recognized the other man,” Nergui said, quietly.

“I think your hearing is better than he realizes,” Drew murmured, smiling faintly.

“My hearing is very good,” Nergui said. “I can hear them shaking their heads, and I almost think I can hear the relief in his voice. Or is that my imagination?”

“They're definitely shaking their heads,” Drew said. “I don't know about the rest of it.”

“Neither do I. But I think we need to keep an eye on our friend here.”

Nergui turned to thank the manager and staff, smiling pleasantly at the group. Most of them looked excited to be part of some sort of official investigation, and a number wanted to ask more questions. Nergui made what were clearly polite noises, and then led Drew out through the exit into the sunshine.

“What did you tell them?” Drew said, when they were outside.

“Not much. Official investigation. Following up some routine lines of inquiry. The usual.”

A jeep was standing, engine running, in what appeared to be the No Parking area immediately outside the airport building. As they emerged into the daylight, the driver jumped up then hopped out of the vehicle. Without hesitation, Nergui walked over and tossed his bag into the back. Drew followed and did likewise, then they climbed into the truck. Nergui spoke a few words to the driver, and they pulled out into the road.

Drew was struck that, even down here, ninety minutes' flight
from Ulan Baatar, Nergui seemed to be recognized instantly. Drew considered himself lucky to be recognized if he stepped outside his own office.

There was little to Dalanzadgad—a few concrete-built commercial buildings around the airport, some residential blocks, a sprawl of randomly constructed wooden huts, and the inevitable
gers
. The town was primarily a gateway to the southern Gobi, rather than an entity in its own right.

The jeep quickly left the town behind, racing initially along paved roads, then dirt tracks, and finally hitting the desert itself. They pounded along at high speed, scattering dust and debris. Nergui sat beside the driver, looking relaxed, enjoying the cool sunshine and the open space. For the first time, it struck Drew that this seemed the natural habitat for these peoples—even Nergui, city dweller, international traveler, seemed more at ease out here.

Drew was overwhelmed by the emptiness, the sense of space, the enormous blue spread of the sky. All sense of scale was lost here. Apart from the occasional hut or
ger,
there was nothing to provide perspective. Looking back, Dalanzadgad already looked both immensely distant and still strangely close. Ahead, there seemed to be nothing, just endless blank miles to the horizon.

The landscape seemed deserted. Once, they saw a distant figure on a motorbike speed by, miles away from them. Otherwise, there were no signs of life. Incongruously, the driver had turned up the volume of the vehicle's tape deck, so that the jeep was blasting American rock music as they drove.

After half an hour, there were the first signs of an encampment rising above the horizon ahead of them. It was impossible for Drew to tell how far away it was, but he could see a wire fence, a clustering of
gers,
and some larger wood-built buildings around it.

Nergui pointed. “That's the place.”

“Plenty of beach,” Drew shouted back, over the noise of the engine and the music. The camp seemed utterly isolated. “How do the tourists get out here?”

“They run buses from the airport. You'll be surprised how civilized it is when we get there.”

It was a surprisingly long time before the camp drew near. As they approached, Drew saw that there were indeed tourists—a few of them, at least—sitting inside the fenced area. It was a surreal sight. In this deserted spot, apparently miles from any other life, tourists in tee shirts and shorts were lying on sun beds, reading novels, sipping beers, looking like holidaymakers on any beach anywhere.

“Doesn't look busy,” Drew commented.

“Very late in the year,” Nergui said. “If you'd come in the summer it would have been full. The weather's too cool now.”

It was true. The sun was still blazing down from an unclouded sky, but the temperature was only mild. The sunbathers were being optimistic, trying to make the most of the sunshine, but it was barely warm enough to be sitting outside.

The jeep pulled up to the gate, and stopped in front of what was clearly a reception area. Nergui jumped out and grabbed his bag from the vehicle, Drew following behind, and then turned and entered the building.

The wooden building was warm and dark inside. It was sparsely furnished, just a reception desk and a couple of low chairs. The man behind the desk looked up as they entered and smiled at Nergui, uttering some words of welcome. Nergui nodded back, and gestured behind him, introducing Drew.

“Mr. McLeish,” the man said, smiling enthusiastically at Drew, “it is good to welcome you here.”

“You speak English?” Drew said.

The man nodded, modestly. “A little,” he said. “We have been receiving tourists from the United Kingdom and from the USA for a long time now—more than ten years. I have been trying to learn some of their—your—language.”

“You speak it well, Mr.—?”

“Batkhuyag. I ask our visitors to correct me when I get it wrong.” He laughed. “They are very happy to do so.”

Nergui said a few more words to him in Mongolian. Batkhuyag nodded, and pointed behind him. “I have arranged a
ger
for you to use as a base,” he said, speaking English, clearly for Drew's benefit. “I try to find the most—what do you say?—private one for you to use so that you can speak to anyone you wish to without being disturbed.” He shrugged. “I really do not know if we can help you. The police down here came to ask some questions, but as far I am aware no one here was able to provide any real information. But we will help as much as we can. Please feel free to speak to anyone, to go where you wish.” He paused, as if unsure how to formulate his next sentence. “I would of course ask that you try to disturb our guests as little as possible. I know you may wish to speak to them, but please come to me first so that I can prepare them.”

Nergui nodded. “I do not know that we will need to speak to your guests. Would any of them have been here at the time that Delgerbayar—the officer we are investigating—was supposed to have visited?”

Batkhuyag nodded. “That was a week ago, yes? In that case, some of them would have been, although most are here only this week.”

“Well, we will see how things go. We may wish to speak to some of those who were here last week, but I promise you we will be discreet.”

“Of course,” Batkhuyag said. “I should not have raised the issue. You know your jobs, I'm sure.”

Nergui smiled. “If you've had the local police around here asking questions, I can imagine that discretion was not always evident?”

“Well, they are local men. They are doing their best, I'm sure. But I need to do mine, and the tourists are important to us.”

“We want them to see our country at its best,” Nergui agreed.

“I will ensure that they do.”

Batkhuyag led them back out into the open air, then through the cluster of
gers
toward the back of the camp. He gestured to
a tent which lay separated from the others, close to the wooden building which served as a restaurant and meeting place for the camp. “I thought this would be best,” he said. “We use it for staff during the busy part of the season, but it's empty now. You can use this to interview people and as your accommodation for this evening, if that's okay.”

It was clear to Drew that Batkhuyag was doing his best to ensure that the hospitality of the camp was not unduly contaminated by the presence of the policemen. The
ger
was as far as it could be from the remaining tents, and was clearly not of the same standard as the tourist
gers.
But Drew didn't blame the man for seeking discretion. Subtlety wasn't a quality generally found amongst policeman, and he didn't imagine that the police here were any different.

Batkhuyag opened the door of the
ger
and showed them inside. The interior was dark but, to Drew's surprise, there was electric light. The place looked surprisingly comfortable. There was an ornately decorated table in the center surrounded by rugs. Some hard wooden chairs had been placed, slightly incongruously, around it, but Drew imagined that those had been provided specifically for Nergui and himself. Around the far walls, there were two beds, again ornately painted. Sleeping here would certainly be an experience, but not necessarily an unpleasant one, he thought.

Nergui looked around and nodded, smiling faintly. “It looks fine,” he said. “Most comfortable.” It was difficult to be sure if there was a trace of irony in his tone. He gestured toward one of the seats. “You will join us, Mr. Batkhuyag?”

Batkhuyag looked surprised. “Me? I didn't really envisage—”

Nergui made a slight bow. “But, of course, Mr. Batkhuyag, you are the first person we wish to see here. I do not believe that anything happens in this camp of which you are unaware, no?”

Batkhuyag looked confused. It was, Drew had to admit, a neat question, a cunning balance of flattery and threat. “Well,” Batkhuyag said, “I'm not sure I would say that—”

“Come now, Mr. Batkhuyag, there is no need for false modesty.

I can see how well run this place is.” Nergui casually lowered himself on to one of the wooden chairs. Batkhuyag had no choice but to follow. Drew pulled back the remaining chair and turned it around so that he could sit leaning on the chair back. He carefully positioned himself slightly away from Nergui and Batkhuyag. As far as he was concerned, this had to be Nergui's interview. He would intervene only if he thought there was something he could add.

Nergui leaned forward in his chair, his hands together. “Now, Mr. Batkhuyag, how much do you know about why we're here?”

Batkhuyag shrugged. “Not a great deal. Just what the local police chief told me when they visited.”

“Which was?”

“That you were investigating some internal case involving one of your officers, who you believed had visited the camp a week or so back. They really just wanted to know if he had been here. They showed me his photograph.”