Michael Walters - The Shadow Walker

No one with a grain of human feeling could blame them, but their actions were nonetheless illegal. The gold they found belonged to the ruthless predators operating in the valley before them. And the police were summoned like hired lackeys to do the producers’ dirty work for them.

Nergui wondered vaguely why the encampment had broken up and moved on before the police had visited. It was quite possible that one of the mining companies had taken the law into its own hands, maybe irritated at the police’s insistence on going through the proper channels. It would not have been the first time. But there was probably no way of ever finding out.

Their current interest lay not in the environmental chaos immediately in front of them, but in the cluster of gers that lay a mile or so beyond. It was here that, according to the records, some of those in the original camp had now retreated, hoping to find a livelihood among the fragments of gold. Nergui drove their Hyundai truck carefully past the pounding bulldozers and across the grasslands toward the encampment.

There was a group of men clustered around the gers, drinking beers and playing cards. They looked up, with some hostility, as the truck drew closer.

Nergui was unsure how to play this. The police were unlikely to be popular among this group, since they were seen as being little more than the hired hands of the mining companies. Except, Nergui reflected, that they weren’t even hired. They did this dirty work for nothing.

But there was little point in hiding their identities as police officers. They had to give a reason for being here, and, if it came to it, it was always possible to indulge in a little official intimidation. Maybe, as so often, the simplest route was complete honesty.

Nergui pulled the truck to a halt and jumped out. Doripalam followed him, a step or two behind. Nergui thought the younger man was making a creditable job of not appearing nervous. Or maybe he was just more confident than Nergui.

The group of men looked at them, unspeaking and expressionless. Their ages were mixed-the youngest probably in his thirties, the oldest maybe late sixties. They were all dressed in traditional clothes, wrapped warm against the chilly air.

“Good afternoon,” Nergui said, breaking the heavy silence.

No one spoke. Nergui sighed inwardly. This was not going to be an easy process.

“We’re police officers,” Nergui said. “We’d like a word.”

The youngest of the men smiled thinly. “Well, well. I would never have guessed. I’m just surprised it took you so long.”

Nergui shrugged. “I couldn’t care less what you do down there. Someone may come to stop you, but it won’t be me.”

“Oh, someone will definitely come to stop us. And soon. And I couldn’t care less if it’s you or someone else. But that wasn’t what I meant.”

Nergui looked at the young man more closely. He sounded well educated, much more articulate than most of the nomads he had encountered out here. He had, Nergui noted, already positioned himself as the spokesman for this group, despite apparently being the youngest of the men. The others seemed content to defer to his leadership.

“So what did you mean?”

“We’ve been expecting a visit from the police for some time now. It’s taken you longer to get out here than I imagined. But I suppose it is off the metropolitan beat.”

Nergui nodded, slowly. “You sound as if you’re rather off the metropolitan beat yourself.”

The man laughed. “It’s still so obvious? After all this time. I thought I’d put all that behind me.”

This was all getting a little too opaque for Nergui’s tastes. He had a sense that he was losing dominance of the conversation. It was not a common sensation for Nergui, and his usual response, in professional circumstances, was to engage in some intimidation. He had a feeling, though, that this approach would not be effective here.

“Can we sit?” he said mildly. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

“I should perhaps be careful,” the man said. “If you’re here in an official role, I might incriminate myself.”

“Are there grounds for you to incriminate yourself?”

The man smiled. “You’ll need a more sophisticated approach than that, I’m afraid.” He gestured toward the ger behind them. “Come in. We can talk in here.”

Nergui and Doripalam followed him into the dark confines of the tent. Inside, there were benches draped with blankets. He gestured the two officers to sit, and then squatted on the floor opposite them.

“My name is Cholon,” the man said. “Tell me how I can help. Though I think I have an idea.”

Nergui hesitated for a moment. “We are investigating a series of murders. Including one of a police officer called Delgerbayar.”

Cholon did not appear surprised at this information. He nodded, as if absorbing Nergui’s words, but made no response.

“We have reason to believe that this officer visited an encampment of illegal gold prospectors shortly before his death.”

“This camp?”

“No, not here. Further downriver. But we also understand that some of the inhabitants of that camp are now living here. Is this correct?”

Cholon thought for a moment, as though about to respond in the negative, then he nodded. “That is so,” he said. “A number of us, including myself.”

“How long is it since you moved here?”

“In my case, about six weeks. But the camp finally broke up only about three weeks ago.”

Nergui shifted on the stool, looking momentarily distracted. “Why did the camp break up?” he said, finally.

Cholon laughed. “The usual reason. Intimidation. Violence. Threats.”

“From the mining companies?”

“Certainly not from any environmentalists.” Cholon laughed. “Yes, of course from the mining companies.”

“Did the camp receive any visit from the police?”

Cholon lay back, stretching out his legs across the floor. “Not while I was there. But I understand that someone-a senior officer-came after I had moved on. Doing the companies’ dirty work as always.”

“Delgerbayar?”

Cholon shrugged. “I don’t imagine he was too keen to share his name with them. All I know is that it was the usual threats.” “This was an official visit?”

“You tell me,” Cholon said. “Surely you know what errands you send your officers on.”

“Suppose I were to tell you,” Nergui said, speaking slowly, “that Delgerbayar was operating as-well, let us call him a freelance. Would that surprise you?”

Cholon smiled. “Nothing about the police would surprise me,” he said. “And nothing about the mining companies, come to that. You’re both capable of anything.”

“I am sure that we-and they-are capable of many things. But I’m posing a serious question. Of course, there are corrupt police officers. The temptations are many. But you may be surprised to learn that the majority, the vast majority, are honest.”

Cholon raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on his lips. “If you say so.”

“I say so. But some of course are systematically corrupt. I do not know if any are directly in the pay of the mining industry-”

“I thought you were all in the pay of the mining industry. In practice.”

Nergui shrugged. “We are obliged to obey orders. We are obliged to enforce the law. It may on occasions be a bad law.”

Cholon snorted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t see where all this is leading.”

“I thought you said you had some idea why we might want to talk to you.”

“I-” Cholon stopped, then laughed. “So you do have more sophisticated approaches after all.”

“You would be surprised,” Nergui said, softly, “how sophisticated I can be. But let us go back to Delgerbayar. I will be straight with you. In visiting your camp, he was not acting in any official capacity. We do not know in what capacity he was acting. Did you have any similar previous visits from the police?”