Michael Walters - The Shadow Walker

Drew smiled. “I think it’s usually just a polite word for blind guesswork when I haven’t a clue what’s going on.”

“That could well be the case,” Nergui agreed. “But it is not entirely fanciful, I think, not in this case. We Mongolians are accustomed to the open air, to emptiness. It is our heritage. But today it feels to me as if we are surrounded by forces that are threatening that birthright. Do you know what lies that way?” He gestured toward the southern horizon.

For a moment, Drew was thrown by the apparent non sequitur. Then he turned to look where Nergui was pointing. The sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon, and the camp to their right was throwing huge shadows across the landscape around them. It would soon be dark.

Drew peered into the shadows. The line of the horizon was sharp against the deepening blue of the sky, but he could see nothing.

“You cannot see it from here, though it is not so very far,” Nergui said. “Close to the Chinese border, down there, you will find one of our country’s largest deposits of gold and copper, ready for exploitation.”

“Not yet being mined?”

Nergui shook his head. “The deposits were discovered a few years ago. There are several different exploratory sites now, and there has been initial work carried out by various consortia-companies from Russia, Canada and the US, among others. Interest has been growing, as it’s gradually become clear how substantial the deposits are. How much money there is potentially to be made. The Chinese are interested, as are the South Koreans. We are, as you might expect, nervous of the Chinese.”

“If there’s so much money to be made, why has it taken so long to get off the ground?”

“Mining is a risky and expensive business-we are talking about investment in the billions. I think, until the scale of the deposits was known, there was a nervousness about becoming involved. Perhaps there still is, but there is beginning to be a jockeying for position. Everyone wants to get in on the act. I am no geologist, but I believe there is much more out there.” He paused. “This could transform our country. That is also a cause for nervousness. We are talking about a level of investment that is more than our gross national product-maybe several times more. If China or Russia were to make that level of investment-”

Nergui was pacing across the sand, beginning to walk back toward the camp. The sun had set, and darkness had spread across the desert with startling speed. Already above them, the sky was filling with stars.

“What do you think they might do?” Drew asked, walking behind Nergui.

“Maybe nothing. But it is not an altruistic state. We have spent decades being a puppet of the Soviet Union, and before that centuries as a satellite of China. I would not like those days to return.”

Drew thought about Nergui’s background in the industrial sector, his experience in the US and Europe, his still unspecified role in the Security Ministry. It was not hard to see the connections in a society like this. “And you think that has something to do with this case?”

Nergui stopped and turned. The scattered lights of the camp were bright behind him. “I do not know,” he said. “But we are here, in the Gobi, within striking distance of the exploration. We are here because we are following the trail of a murdered policeman who was supposedly investigating some trivial case of amateur gold prospecting. You are here because you are investigating the murder of a British geologist.” He shrugged. “Of course, this may all be coincidence. But I feel something.”

This all sounded fanciful to Drew, who had never had much time for the notion of the detective’s intuition. His earlier response had been flippant but it had also been pretty close to the truth. He didn’t often trust his own instincts. When he did, he had generally found it to be a mistake. Certainly, some of the people they had seen today, like the manager at the airport, had seemed evasive. But people often had something to hide, usually nothing to do with the matter at hand. Probably Batkhuyag was taking bribes from suppliers, or even maybe from the police, for some scam or other. He was the sort who wouldn’t want the police digging too deeply into his business, but it was likely that his fears had little to do with the case they were investigating.

“But what kind of connection could there be?” Drew said. “I mean, we’re talking about brutal murders. The work of a potential psychopath. International mining companies may well have their ethical shortcomings, but I’m not aware they resort to that kind of stuff.”

Nergui stopped as they approached the gates of the camp. “You are right, of course. I am probably just talking nonsense. It is hard not to be affected by the nature of the crimes we are investigating. It is hard not to see this as the beginning of the end of the world. The beginning of the end of our world, I mean. Things are changing here. I do not know what will emerge.”

He stopped and looked back out toward the open desert. Far in the distance, it was possible to make out one or two lights, but otherwise, beyond the camp, the darkness was complete. The sky was heavy with stars now, sharper and brighter than Drew had ever seen. The absence of ambient light, the clarity of the air, made Drew feel that they really were poised on the edge of the galaxy, at the edge of the universe. And he felt, too, that at any moment they might begin to fall.

“Finally,” Nergui said, “you will have an opportunity to sample some authentic local cuisine.” He paused. “I apologize in advance.”

Drew laughed. “I’m sure the wine and vodka will compensate.”

“I am not sure about the wine, although I will see if I can influence our host. The vodka will be fine. But beware the airag.”

“Airag?”

“Fermented mare’s milk. It is an acquired taste. But you may prefer never to acquire it.”

“Sounds-interesting.”

“It tastes interesting. But we are not likely to be offered that here. You might be offered it if you visited a family in a ger, and I’m sure they arrange for the tourists to try it. People even distil airag vodka, which at least means that the inebriation compensates for the taste.”

“You don’t like it?”

“I love it, but I think you would not. But perhaps I am underestimating your Western tastes. In any case, as I say, we will not be offered that this evening.”

They were sitting at the end of a bench table in the large tent that served as the camp’s restaurant and bar. The space was already filling with crowds of tourists-most of them apparently English speaking, a mix of Americans, Canadians and British to judge from their accents.

“I still find it extraordinary that people come here as tourists,” Drew said. “With all due respect, it’s not an obvious holiday destination.”

Nergui smiled. “No, only in the days when we had a captive market of those not allowed to journey beyond the iron curtain. We are working hard to promote our tourist industry, though-it is one of the ways we bring wealth into the country. These days, it is still mainly the serious travelers who come here, those who enjoy visiting the most faraway places. This is one of the last remaining wildernesses on earth. After all, it is little more than a decade since we had no Western visitors at all. Even now this place hasn’t yet opened up in the way that Russia or Eastern Europe or even China have.”

“It is an extraordinary place,” Drew agreed.

“In a strange way, it is becoming even more extraordinary as the influences of the West begin to arrive,” Nergui said. “We no longer know who we are. We were Communist, but never wholly subscribed to the creed. The Buddhists were suppressed but never really disappeared, and now they are stronger than ever. A large proportion of our people are still nomads and herdsmen. And many of those in the cities would like to be. But Western influences are growing. We are building our fancy business hotels. The large multinational corporations are investing in our development. We are sitting on vast resources which we and others would like to exploit. But we still drink airag. And we still eat this stuff.”