Michael Walters - The Shadow Walker

“I know,” Nergui said. “And they mentioned Delgerbayar?”

“Not by name. But I put two and two together. What I heard-what I thought I heard-was something about a policeman coming down here stirring up trouble. They said-I’m sorry about this but it’s what I heard-they said, well, in effect that he’d got what was coming to him.”

“And did they indicate why they thought that?”

“Not that I heard. Tell you the truth, I was a bit shocked. I mean, we complain about the police all the time, but you kind of expect that they’ll stick together. Made me wonder what was going on. But also made me think that I’d be better off not inquiring too deeply.”

Nergui nodded, his face still giving nothing away. “You’re a wise man, Mr. Batkhuyag. Have you anything else to tell us?”

Batkhuyag shook his head. He looked less composed now than he had at the start of the interview, as though Nergui’s response — or lack of it-had for the first time confirmed to him that he might be on the edge of something serious here. “Who else would you like to see?”

Nergui looked across at Drew, though Drew had the impression that this was more from courtesy than anything else. “I think we need to see any of your staff who were working in the bar last night or who might have been around on the day that Delgerbayar was supposedly down here.” He handed Batkhuyag his open notebook and pen. “Perhaps you could write down the names, and then we can see people in order.”

Batkhuyag thought for a moment, then dutifully began to write a list of names. “I think that’s everyone, but if there’s anyone I’ve missed, I’ll add them.” He rose to leave, but Nergui gestured him back into his seat.

“Two more brief questions,” he said. “First, do you know the names of any of the guests who were with the police officers last night?”

Batkhuyag opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. “No, I don’t,” he said. “At least, there were a number, but I don’t know who-”

“Just some names,” Nergui said. “We will be discreet.”

Batkhuyag looked from Nergui to Drew and then back again, clearly considering his options and realizing how limited they were. “Okay,” he said. “There were a couple I can be sure of. I’ll ask them if they can spare a few minutes to see you-they’ve been off on a tour of some of the prehistoric sites but they should be back soon.”

“Thank you,” Nergui said. “And my second question-”

Batkhuyag had clearly already anticipated the second question. “I recognized the police officers, but I don’t know their names-”

Nergui raised his head and smiled coldly at Batkhuyag. “Really?” he said. “Well, I suppose I could always take you down to the police HQ and get you to point them out to me.”

“Look, a job like mine depends on discretion. If it gets around that I’ve been talking to you-”

“I can see that that would be a problem for you,” Nergui said. “Just write the names down. I will tell no one.”

Batkhuyag looked between them both again, clearly anxious now. Then he shook his head, and bent down to write the names on the pad.

They spent the remainder of the afternoon working steadily through the list of interviewees. It was necessary work-the kind of balls-aching routine that, in Drew’s experience, dominated any major inquiry. But it was clear that they were making little progress.

The rest of the camp’s staff were either much smarter or much dumber than Batkhuyag-or, quite possibly, Drew reflected, they were both. Either way, they were admitting nothing. No, they had no recollection of seeing Delgerbayar at the camp. No, they hadn’t particularly noticed any strangers on the site that day, though it was difficult to tell with all the comings and goings. No, they had not overheard any conversations last night. Maybe there were some policemen in the bar last night-there often were-but, no, they couldn’t honestly remember for sure. And in any case it never paid to get too close to the police.

“It’s a waste of time,” Drew said, as the final staff member had been ushered from the room. It was particularly so for him since few of the interviewees had spoken any English.

“It’s always a waste of time,” Nergui agreed, “but we have to do it. You never know when someone might let something slip. Look at Batkhuyag.”

“He was being smart,” Drew said.

Nergui nodded. “I like it when people are smart. It’s when they make mistakes.”

“He’s just got a big ego. Likes to tell you what he knows.”

“That will get him into trouble in a place like this,” Nergui said. “Maybe it already has.”

Nergui frowned. “There are some patterns forming here,” he said, slowly, “but I have no idea what to make of them. What are your thoughts?”

He sounded as if he was genuinely interested, though Drew suspected that he was being humored. “I’ve no idea,” he said. “What have we got? Delgerbayar makes his unscheduled trip down here, meets someone presumably by arrangement, gets into an argument with them, slips away when the police arrive and comes here, though we’ve no definite sightings. The person he met may or may not have been a guest here.” It didn’t sound all that much, now that Drew came to summarize it. “Then somehow, somewhere, he gets himself killed, and ends up, headless, in the factory where we found him.” He plunged on, willing himself not to envisage that scene again. “And then we find that, within hours, although the news has been kept under wraps, the local police are gossiping about his death and apparently saying that he brought it on himself. It’s not a lot.”

“It isn’t,” Nergui agreed. “And we shouldn’t necessarily make too much of the police down here. You’re not likely to keep that kind of thing very quiet, especially when so many officers were involved in finding the body.” He paused. “Which may, of course, be another reason why the killer set it up like that.”

“But why would they think he had it coming?”

Nergui shrugged. “Maybe just the usual small town resentment of HQ. Maybe they didn’t like the fact that he’d invaded their turf.”

“Or maybe they know something.”

“Maybe. Which brings us to our group of tourists-those who were chatting to the police in the bar last night. We should talk to them next.”

“It’s not going to be an easy conversation,” Drew said. “Especially if you’re trying to keep Delgerbayar’s death quiet.”

“I think we should still keep it quiet. If the news is out there, I want to know who’s spreading it, and I’d rather it wasn’t me.” Nergui paused. “Just a friendly conversation is all we need.”

Nergui had asked Batkhuyag to track down some of the tourists. They were back now from their trip and were in their gers or out in the setting sun, resting before dinner. Moments later, Batkhuyag returned followed by two quizzical-looking men. Both were middle-aged, one short and overweight, the other tall and deeply tanned. The latter was wearing sunglasses and made no move to remove them as he entered the dim interior of the ger.

Nergui watched until Batkhuyag had backed out of the tent, and then gestured to the two men to sit. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am very grateful that you were able to join us.”

The overweight man scowled faintly. “What’s this all about? We’re supposed to be on vacation.” He was an American.

“I understand. I apologize for interrupting your leisure. I will be as brief as possible.”

“That would be appreciated.”

“You have been here a few days, that is right?”

“Four days. We’re flying back up to Ulan Baatar tomorrow. It’s an organized tour.”