The Shadow Walker (19 page)

“But multiple murder—”

“I agree. It seems unlikely. We have been aware of some cases of—well, shall we call them ‘disputes' between different parties. And, I think, some of that has led to violence from time to time, though it is usually well concealed. But, no, nothing like this.”

Drew was unsure what kind of world he was getting involved with here. In his experience, serious businessmen might well be unethical and even criminal, but they were rarely violent. If only because violence was too messy, left too many dangling loose ends. It was the real villains who got involved in violence like the gangs fighting in the drugs feuds in inner city Manchester or Merseyside. But most of these were small fry—little men with ideas far above their station.

At the same time, he could not ignore the fact that serious organized crime really did exist. It wasn't just the product of over-glamorized Hollywood movies. And over the borders from here, in both Russia and China, different forms of economic and social transition had created societies where such interests could thrive. It wasn't so farfetched to assume that some of these forces might now be exerting some influence in this country.

If that were the case, Drew wasn't sure he wanted to be
involved. This was unknown territory in every sense. In this world, he wasn't even sure where the boundaries lay between criminality, politics and business. It was already clear that for all his intelligence and charm, Nergui was like no policeman Drew had ever encountered. Stick close and watch your back. But from whom?

“But do you think it's possible?” Drew asked. “That this is all connected?”

“I do not know,” Nergui said. “All we can do is try to trace out the patterns and see where they might connect. We keep returning to mining, to minerals. But then it is the future of this country. It already accounts for more than half of our exports and has the capability to change the fabric of our society. So it is perhaps not unexpected that it should dominate our thinking at every level, or that it should attract some dubious interests. But whether that is sufficient to justify all that has happened? I do not know.” He paused. “I am being fanciful again. But I have a sense of something working itself out. Something that is not straightforward. It makes me uneasy. I do not know where this is going.”

It sounded like the mother of all understatements to Drew, but there was also a sense of something unspoken, some understanding that Nergui was reaching that he was not yet able or prepared to share. Nergui stared, blank faced, at the floor.

“We should get some sleep,” Drew said, finally.

“You are right,” Nergui said. He looked up and smiled palely. “We do not know what tomorrow holds. We should sleep.”

Drew expected that sleep would not be easy to attain, but he was wrong. The lingering effects of the beer and wine helped, and he fell asleep very quickly after climbing into the narrow bed. He was wearing an old track suit which he had brought in place of pajamas. Nergui was wearing some similar old garment, which looked as if it might be military issue. Despite the chill of the desert night outside, the tent felt warm and comfortable. Nergui had turned out the electric light, and the darkness was almost complete, except for a very faint glow from the stove.

*

When he woke, Drew had no idea how long he had been sleeping. The tent was still in utter darkness, but almost immediately he had a sense that something had changed. He stiffened in the bed, trying to pin down the sense of unease that was rippling through him. Was there someone else in the tent? He lay still and tried to listen, but could hear nothing. Not even, he realized, the sound of Nergui's breathing.

He slipped out of bed, and fumbled his way carefully across the floor until his fingers touched the soft wall of the tent. Although his eyes were adjusting to the dark, he could see virtually nothing and the glow from the stove appeared to have extinguished. He thought he could see a faint shadow which might have been the low table. He stopped momentarily, wondering if he could hear anything, but there was nothing except the unnervingly loud sound of his own breathing.

Drew began to move forward, keeping his hand on the tent wall until he found the door frame. He ran his hand across the wood and fumbled until he found the light switch. He pressed the switch and the
ger
was flooded with bright light. The tent was empty. There was no intruder, no evidence of any disturbance. And there was no sign of Nergui.

His bed was rumpled but unoccupied. The sheets had been pulled back, as though Nergui had climbed out in a hurry.

Drew paused. Why was he getting so worked up about this? In all likelihood, Nergui had just gone off to the camp lavatories to relieve himself of some of the evening's beer.

But, somehow, Drew felt that wasn't the case. Something felt wrong. He looked around the sparsely furnished
ger
trying to identify anything out of place, something that might justify his sense of unease. But other than Nergui's overcoat being missing there was nothing.

Drew turned and pushed open the door. The cold night air hit him in the face, startling after the warmth of the tent. He stepped
back in, grabbed his own coat and thrust his feet into his shoes. Then he pulled back the door and walked out into the night.

The camp was silent. For the first time, Drew thought to look at his watch. Just after three a.m.

The perimeter of the camp was studded with small spotlights to light the walkways, but otherwise everything was in darkness. There was no moon, and the sky above was dazzling with stars, an even more brilliant display in the full night. The thick smear of the Milky Way stretched out above.

Drew walked forward cautiously, listening for any sound. There was nothing. All of the
gers,
and the larger administration and reception buildings, were dark and silent.

He walked a few more steps, then turned the corner into the main walkway that led up to the administration building. At the far end, in one of the
gers
nearest to the reception building, there was a light. The door of the
ger
was open, and the light from the interior stretched out across the walkway.

Drew walked up the path, his feet making no noise on the soft sand. He drew level with the entrance to the
ger
and moved forward to peer inside.

Nergui was standing, just inside the door, his back to Drew, motionless.

“Nergui?”

Nergui turned, with no obvious surprise. “Drew,” he said.

Drew walked forward, and looked past Nergui into the interior of the tent. He was, he realized, not surprised at what he saw. The bed nearest to the door was colored deep red by spilled blood. A body lay face down on top, its large frame half sprawled across the floor.

Across the room, another figure was lying next to one of the other beds, the body twisted, the head at an odd angle. There was no blood this time, but it was clear that this figure was also dead.

“I felt it coming,” Nergui said, quietly. “But I was too slow. I didn't take it seriously enough.”

Drew stepped forward to look around the
ger.
“Who—?” He looked more closely at the bloodstained figure. “Collins,” he said.

Nergui nodded.

“And the other? Maxon?”

Nergui shook his head slowly. “Batkhuyag.”

“Batkhuyag? But why?”

Nergui shook his head. “I do not know. Perhaps they both said too much. But it is very strange.”

“You think it was Maxon?”

“That is the obvious explanation. But it is very strange.”

Drew wasn't sure what Nergui meant. “How did you find them?”

Nergui looked at Drew as though he had just asked an unexpected question. “You know,” he said, “I am not sure. I woke up—I don't know why. I am a light sleeper, always, and I woke with a sense that something was wrong. That I should have acted before. That I was too late.”

Drew thought back to his own awakening, his own sense of unease. “So what happened?”

“I put on my shoes and coat and came out. Just as you have done. I saw the light in here. The door was already wide open. And I came and found the bodies.”

Nergui was as blank faced as ever, but Drew had the sense that he was genuinely stunned by this.

“You didn't see anyone else?”

“No. I think I heard the sound of an engine as I walked up here. Maybe a motorbike. But it was a long way away, and I thought little of it.”

“You think it was Maxon?”

“It may have been. But he could still be in the camp.”

The thought chilled Drew. If Maxon was the murderer here, then it was likely that he had also been responsible for the previous killings. The thought that he might still be somewhere in the camp behind them was not pleasant. Drew turned and peered into the darkness, looking for any movement.

“We should call for backup,” Drew said.

Nergui pulled out his cell. “I already have,” he said. “But
they'll be a while. All we can do is wait here, I think. We need to watch the scene, and we need to ensure that, if Maxon is here, he doesn't make a break for it.”

Privately Drew thought that he might not be too worried if Maxon did make a break for it. He certainly wasn't sure he felt like trying to stop him.

“You said it was strange,” he said. “What did you mean?”

Nergui looked around. “Why should he do this?”

“As you say, maybe he thought they'd said too much.”

“But why do this? Why here? Why now? At the worst, these two might have raised a few suspicions. We were leaving tomorrow, they would soon be gone. We had no evidence to detain them. Maxon wanted to remain low key, that was obvious. So why commit a brutal murder under our noses? Why turn himself into the only obvious murder suspect?”

Nergui was right. It made little sense. “Maybe they had a fight of some sort. Maybe Maxon really is a psychopath. And perhaps it didn't take much to set him off.”

“It is possible. But there is something else happening here. I feel it.”

Drew felt it, too. He could feel the cold air of the desert penetrating this space, entering his bones. He could feel the cold glare of the empty galaxies above his head. He could feel the blankness of Nergui's gaze, who stared at these bodies as if he himself had been the perpetrator of their deaths.

This last thought was unexpected and struck Drew almost with the force of a blow. It was ridiculous, of course. The real killer was out there somewhere behind them, perhaps close at hand, perhaps far away. But watching Nergui's face, Drew was struck once again by how alien this world was, how little he understood. And he realized that out here, anything might be possible.

“I'm very disappointed, Nergui.”

“Of course. So am I. I take full responsibility.”

Anxiety was etched into the Minister's face as he paced slowly up and down the room. He was a heavily built man, his dark hair thinning. He was wearing an expensive-looking Western suit, but he wore it uncomfortably, as though he would rather be wearing traditional clothes. “Naturally,” he said. He smiled, though there was no obvious humor in his expression.

“I will of course tender my resignation, if you feel that to be appropriate. I should point out that Doripalam carries no responsibility for this.”

The Minister laughed. “Don't be ridiculous, Nergui. I don't know that there's anything else you could have done. And even if there was something
you
could have done better, I'm sure that no one else could. Let's face it, at least you were in the right place at the right time.”

“Not quite at the right time, unfortunately,” Nergui pointed out. “And it was only luck that I was there at all.”

“Nevertheless, the truth is, if you can't put an end to this, I'm sure nobody else can.”

Nergui nodded in acknowledgment. He knew the Minister too well not to engage in false modesty. “You may be right,” he said. “If so, the question is whether I can.”

“And what do you think?”

“I honestly do not know.”

“But you have some ideas?”

Nergui shrugged. “I do not know whether I would even dignify them as such. There are some patterns. Some leads we can follow. That is all.”

“That isn't much.”

“It is all we have.”

“What about Maxon?”

“Another mystery. He is a Westerner, on the run in our country, potentially accused of a series of brutal murders. But he has vanished from the face of the earth.”

“That's not possible. Not here.”

“It is not. But it has happened.”

“The US Government has shown no signs of involving itself?” The Minister presumably knew the answer to this already but he waited for Nergui's response.

“No. I suspect they may be slightly embarrassed.” Nergui allowed himself a small smile. “It appears that Mr. Collins was a dubious character. The FBI had a large file on him, potentially linking him to a whole series of possibly fraudulent deals. Action had been taken against him by the US regulatory bodies in connection with various doubtful business dealings, but he had managed so far to avoid criminal prosecution. He also appears to have connections with organized crime interests. If we had known any of this, he would not have been allowed into the country. I don't think the US will be rushing to uncover any further dirty linen.”

“Well, that's one relief,” the Minister said. He slumped himself back down behind his large, virtually empty desk. “And you're sure we've kept the whole thing tightly wrapped up in the media?”

“As best we can. There was no way we were going to keep this completely under wraps, given it happened in the middle of a camp full of tourists. And, frankly, we also wanted to get Maxon's picture in the media as quickly as possible so he could be picked up. So we've implied that this was some sort of bust up between American business associates, with poor old Batkhuyag getting caught up in the middle.”