The Shadow Walker (21 page)

Drew wondered about trying to extract some moral leverage from Nergui's apparent embarrassment. But, in truth, he wasn't even sure how genuine this embarrassment was. Nergui struck him as a man who always knew exactly what he was doing. If he'd neglected to ask Drew first, this was probably because he didn't want to take the risk that Drew might decline. Much easier to go above Drew's head and get the deal done that way. Maybe in Nergui's position he'd have done the same. Maybe.

“Well, I think I've managed to square that side of it. Sue isn't best pleased, but I think she accepted that it isn't my choice. But what I can't really understand is why you want me to stay. I'm not sure there's really much I can add.”

“You are too modest,” Nergui said, in a tone that suggested sincerity about this at least. “Other than Doripalam, most of our men are amateurs or worse. We have never had to deal with anything remotely like this.”

“Who has?”

“Well, you have much more relevant experience than any of us.”

Drew wasn't convinced by this. His own suspicion was that Nergui wanted to have him around because he was a neutral third party. He imagined that Nergui's professional life was almost as lonely as his domestic life seemed to be. He had no obvious peers in the police, other than Doripalam, and the relationship there was uneasy. His relationship with the rest of the team seemed to be distant and untrusting. And no doubt his relationships with the Minister and his other political masters were far from straightforward. It was probably a relief to find himself working with someone who had no particular axes to grind.

“Well, I'll accept the compliment,” Drew said. “To be honest, I'd be sorry to have gone back now. Partly because there's nothing more frustrating than leaving a case before it's resolved. And partly because I want to see more of your country while I'm here.”

“I am surprised it holds many attractions for you anymore,” Nergui said. “The presence of corpses tends to take the edge off the tourist trail.”

“Is that what your Minister thinks?”

“It is one of his concerns, of course. Our tourist trade is growing, partly because this is seen as being one of the last unexplored parts of the world. But also because we have a relatively safe environment.”

“And the presence of a serial killer—or, worse still, two serial killers—doesn't particularly enhance that reputation.”

“Quite. But I think his bigger concern—
our
bigger concern—is that there may be something more behind this.”

Drew took a large drink of his beer. There seemed little point in holding back his thoughts. He was unsure what games everyone else might be playing, so there was probably some mileage in being completely straightforward. “My friend the ambassador thinks you know things you're not sharing. Is that true?”

“Me personally, or the Ministry in general?” Nergui said, without hesitation.

“Either. Both. I mean, I think the ambassador's concerns are with the Ministry. But from what I've seen, I think it's more likely that you might know something you're not sharing with anyone else. On your side or mine.”

“Are we on different sides, then?” Nergui regarded Drew with something approaching amusement.

“You tell me. The ambassador clearly thinks we are. I hope not. But all this is new to me.”

“Much of it is new to me also, Drew. I do not think we are opposing sides in this. But then I am not sure what the sides are.”

It was only afterward, as they were walking through the clear night air toward the embassy, that Drew realized that Nergui had not answered his initial question.

The evening was already becoming chilly, and Drew pulled his overcoat more tightly around him. Nergui had told him that, as
the winter approached, nights in the city became very cold—minus fifteen or more degrees. There was little cloud cover, and above the city lights and neon signs the skies were filled with stars. The main streets were well lit, and this early in the evening there were still plenty of pedestrians. The main streets around the hotel were busy with cars and buses.

Away from the busier thoroughfares, though, the atmosphere of the city was very different. The side streets were ill lit, and in many cases disappeared into darkness only yards from the main road. As they walked briskly toward the embassy, Drew thought back to the first victim, the body dumped in one of these dark silent streets. Involuntarily, he glanced back over his shoulder. There were a few other pedestrians behind them, mostly swathed in heavy coats and hats, huddled against the deepening cold. For a moment, he had a sense of being watched, maybe even followed, though none of those behind were paying any obvious attention to himself or Nergui.

Nevertheless, he was glad when they reached the brightly lit gates to the embassy. As Nergui rang the bell, he looked back again. There was a figure standing, half in shadow, by the corner of the street opposite. It was only a silhouette so it was impossible to tell if he was looking in their direction. A moment later, he turned and disappeared into the gloom of a side street. Drew found himself shivering slightly, unsure if this was just the effect of the cold.

“Gentlemen, welcome. Do come in. It must be freezing out there.”

Drew turned and was surprised to see the ambassador himself greeting them at the door. He wasn't quite sure what he had expected. During his daytime visits, there had been a receptionist and other staff dealing with visitors. In the evening, Drew had half-expected a butler.

He followed Nergui into the brightly lit hallway, and was surprised at the sense of relief he felt when the large front door was finally closed behind them.

“This way,” the ambassador said. “We're in my private quarters. Much more intimate than any of the official rooms.”

The ambassador led them along a corridor then up a flight of stairs. The door at the top of the stairs opened to reveal a small hallway, and then beyond that a comfortably furnished sitting room. A middle-aged couple were already sitting in armchairs, sipping sherries.

“Come in, come in, gentlemen. Let me take your coats.”

Again, Drew had been unsure what to expect from the dinner. He had vaguely imagined some kind of formal arrangement—perhaps waiter-served around a polished oak table. However, the ambassador had been insistent on informal dress, so some form of intimate gathering seemed more likely.

“Let me do the introductions,” the ambassador said, bundling their heavy coats into his arms. “Professor Alan and Dr. Helena Wilson.” He gestured at the couple, who had risen as Drew and Nergui came in. “And Chief Inspector Drew McLeish and, from our host country, Mr. Nergui of the Ministry of Security. I'll leave you to get to know one another for a few moments, if I may, while I put these down and get you both drinks. Sherry okay?”

He disappeared back into the hallway. The Wilsons stood looking at Drew and Nergui for a moment. In Drew's experience, the mention of his police rank wasn't generally conducive to small talk at parties. But Nergui, as ever, was fully up to the moment. “Good evening,” he said, smoothly, gently gesturing them back to their seats. “You both work in academia?”

Professor Wilson shook his head. “Helena does. I used to, but I've been seconded to the Civil Service for a couple of years now. Working for the Government,” he added, presumably for Nergui's benefit.

Nergui smiled. “Ah, so we are both Government servants,” he said. “What is your field?”

“I'm a chemist by background,” Professor Wilson said.

“Ah. Very interesting.” Nergui nodded, as though giving serious
contemplation to this information. “I imagine there are few chemists in the Civil Service?”

“Well, not practicing ones, no, except in the Government laboratories. I'm a little unusual, I guess. I had a background in industry after completing my doctorate, with a parallel career in academia, so I bring a little commercial expertise to the policy field, as well as technical knowledge.”

“I understand,” Nergui said. “My own position is not dissimilar.” He left the comment hanging in the air. “And you, Dr. Wilson, are you a chemist also?”

“Please call me Helena,” she said, smiling. “No, I'm afraid I'm not a scientist at all. I'm an anthropologist by background, but for the last few years I've been working in the field of folklore and folk traditions. It's my fault we're here, I'm afraid. Alan's just tagging along.”

“It's hardly a burden,” he said. “It's fascinating. You have an extraordinary country here.”

“You are very kind. You are here to study our folklore?” Nergui prompted.

Dr. Wilson nodded. “The music, mainly. But yes, all of it. I'm no expert in the field—I specialize in English folklore and folk song—but I was interested to find out more. So I used my sabbatical to arrange an exchange with the university here.”

“And you have found material to interest you?”

“Very much. I was excited to hear the
khoomi
singing—hear it live, I mean. I'd only ever heard it on record. And you have a tremendous wealth of folk material—songs, stories.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” Nergui said. “I am afraid I can claim no expertise in the field, but of course I know songs and stories from my own childhood. Are these stories different from those in England?”

“There are parallels, and it's astonishing how often variants of the same stories recur throughout the world. But the stories here are distinctive. They reflect the geography, the history and the lifestyle here.”

“Everything here is different,” the ambassador said, entering the room with two more sherries. “This is like no other country.” “Have you been here long?” Drew asked.

“Three years now. They're looking to move me on, but I'm close enough to retirement that I think they might just quietly forget about me for the moment. This seems a decent enough place to wind down.”

“There must surely be more comfortable postings?” Nergui said. “For all my loyalty to my country, I wouldn't claim that it is the easiest place to live.”

“You're right but there are plenty of less comfortable ones too. This society is stable. The people are very hospitable. There is a wealth of history and tradition here which is different from anywhere else on earth. I can manage to get hold of most of the creature comforts I need,” the ambassador held up his sherry glass in demonstration. “I'm very happy.”

“Then you're very lucky,” Professor Wilson said. “I don't think many could claim that about their work.”

As though accepting a cue, his wife turned to Drew. “And you, Chief Inspector—”

“Drew. Please.”

“Are you happy in your work?” She was smiling, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness that Drew couldn't quite pin down.

“I don't know if I've ever really thought about it. Mind you, I've never thought about doing anything else either.”

“The ambassador told us why you are here. It's a dreadful case.”

Drew exchanged a glance with Nergui. He wondered quite how much the ambassador had told the Wilsons. Had he just explained about Ransom's death—which had received some lurid coverage in the British press—or had he also discussed the wider series of killings?

“Well, I wouldn't take the press coverage too literally,” Drew wasn't going to give anything away. “But, yes, it was a brutal
killing. And it somehow seems worse when it happens to someone so far from home.”

Professor Wilson opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but then stopped and looked across at his wife. “We shouldn't pry,” he said. “I realize that there must be things you have to keep under wraps.”

Nergui smiled, his face as inscrutable as ever. “You are right,” he said. “There are aspects of the case that we need to keep confidential, even in company as illustrious as this.” There was no way of knowing whether the final comment was intended ironically.

“But you really have no idea of a motive?”

Drew shook his head. “As Nergui said, it wouldn't be appropriate to say any more. We're progressing with our inquiries, as they say.”

“Of course, no. We understand. It's just a bit of shock when this sort of thing happens to a fellow Brit it makes you look over your shoulder, particularly when you're in a place as—well, as alien as this.” Professor Wilson glanced at Nergui. “I'm sorry, but you understand what I mean?”

Drew understood what he meant, all too well. Nergui simply nodded. “Certainly. Our country is very different from the West. We are becoming more Westernized in some ways—though less so in others, as the Soviet influence has declined. I can understand why you would feel very far from home.” He sat back in his chair, as though musing on this idea. “Mr. Ransom's death was dreadful, and a real shock to everyone. All I can say is that, despite that, this is a very safe and stable country. Our crime rate is low, generally, and we have little violent crime.”

“But you have had other murders?” Professor Wilson said. “Recently, I mean.”

Nergui gazed at him expressionlessly. “This is a city. People get drunk, get into fights. We have the occasional mugging, the occasional assault. And, yes, the occasional murder.”

“And do you think they're connected?” Professor Wilson said. “These occasional murders?” There was a definite edge to his
voice now. Drew assumed that Wilson was a variant on the type of “concerned citizen” who could always be relied upon to write personally to the Chief Constable.

“I really don't think it would be appropriate to discuss this anymore,” Drew said. “I'm sorry, but you're putting us in a very difficult position.” He was aware, even as he said this, that it was likely to be construed as a tacit admission that the murders were linked.

“I'm sorry, Chief Inspector, I had no intention of putting you in a difficult position. I was just interested to know whether it is safe for us to walk down the streets at night.”