Michael Walters - The Shadow Walker

Cholon opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. There was a genuine anxiety in his eyes now. “I do not know,” he said. “I do not know for sure.”

A chill was beginning to creep down Nergui’s spine. Once again he had a sense of something moving, circling, coming closer toward resolution. Behind Cholon he could see Doripalam shifting in his seat. There was an expression in Doripalam’s eyes which Nergui could not read.

“What is it,” Nergui said, “that you do not know for sure?”

Cholon stood up, slowly, as though his limbs were aching. He began to pace across the floor of the ger. “I thought that was why you had come,” he said, again. “I–I dreaded you coming, but I also hoped that you would. So that at least I could know.”

Nergui sat in silence, hoping that Doripalam would not break in with a question. Cholon needed space to speak, to articulate whatever thoughts were twisting inside his brain. Nergui knew this moment well from his interrogations. An inappropriate question would provide Cholon with an escape route, allow him to defer whatever it was he needed to say. Silence would allow him no exit.

“I need to know,” he said at last. “I need to know what my brother is capable of. I need to know if-if he can really be the one.”

“Behind the murders?” Nergui said, his voice quiet.

Cholon looked up at him. “You are playing with me? That is it. You do know.”

Nergui shook his head. “We know nothing, Cholon. But you need to tell us what you think.”

“My father’s death was a terrible thing,” Cholon said. “It was not simply that he was killed. It was how he was killed. He was-butchered. The only blessing was that he must have died very quickly. But it was a horrible death-” “Your brother witnessed it?”

“I think so. He would never say. But, yes, I am sure he saw it all.”

“And what happened?”

“The death-the whole incident, but especially our father’s death-affected us all very badly. I was thrown into-well, depression is what you would call it, I suppose. I found it hard to rebuild things, to carry on. I did not want to work. Everything seemed pointless.”

“That is not so very surprising. In the circumstances.”

“No. But it took me a long time, months, before I was able to move on. And even then it was not like before. But it affected Badzar far worse.”

“Worse?”

“Very differently. I found myself unable to work, unable to move on. Badzar became angry. Furious. At the injustice. At the inhumanity of it. He wanted revenge.”

Nergui was feeling cold now. The day was drawing late, and the sun would be setting outside. It would be an icy night, but the cold that flowed through Nergui’s body was internal, the chill of fear. “What sort of revenge?”

“Initially, he went crazy. He went to the mining operations down here-” Cholon gestured through the walls of the tent in the direction of the valley floor. “He was convinced-rightly, I’m sure-that it was the company behind what had happened. He stormed into their camp, found the office of the site manager, and attacked him. With his bare hands, but he did a lot of damage before they dragged him off. He had a knife in his pocket, though he had not used it.”

“Was he arrested?”

“No. The man was battered and bruised but not seriously injured. I imagine that they did not want the police probing around too much into Badzar’s accusations. He was thrown off the site, that was all. But they probably imagined they could get their revenge in some other way.”

“And did they?”

“Badzar was too smart. He left here, kept moving. I didn’t know where he was, though I heard stories of him joining other camps, other groups of nomads in the area. He had a motorbike and some money we had gotten for the gold.” He paused, as if hoping that Nergui would interrupt. “And there were other attacks. Workers-managers, mainly-from the mining companies. There were several cases-attacks at night. Some were injured, in one case very seriously. One was killed.”

“You think this was your brother?”

Cholon nodded. “I cannot be sure. The company blamed us, and we had to suffer more assaults from them. But, as far as I know, none of the attacks was reported to the police.”

“Not even the killing?” Doripalam said.

“Not even the killing.”

“So where is your brother now?” Nergui said. He was watching Cholon intently now, his eyes unblinking.

“Again, I do not know for sure. But I think he is in the city.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I saw him last about a month ago. He turned up here one day, on his motorbike. He looked… wild-eyed, disturbed. The way he talked was different. He talked slowly, as if he was drugged, and he talked about destiny and the need for action. He told me he was going away, and that I should not expect him to return.”

“He mentioned the city?”

“Not specifically. But he borrowed some more money. He was not staying in this area. I do not know where else he would go.”

“And you think he is responsible for the killings?” Every word was like a pebble being dropped into an icy pond.

“I do not know,” Cholon said. “Genuinely, I do not. I don’t want to believe that he could be capable of that.”

“But you can believe that he was responsible for the attacks out here?”

“He is a disturbed man. I saw the look in his eyes. I heard the way he was talking. I do not know what he is capable of.” Cholon stopped, as though he had finally run out of words. The silence stretched on. Finally he said: “But yes, in my heart, I think it is possible. It is possible.”

By the time they emerged from the ger, the sun had already set. The sky was a deep mauve and darkening quickly. Glaring spotlights illuminated the waste of the valley floor, and the bulldozers were still slowly patrolling the landscape, tearing up earth and grass. Even at night, the noise was extraordinary, a ceaseless roaring echoing back from the surrounding hills.

“You will need to come back with us,” Nergui said. “You will do that.” It was not a question.

Cholon nodded. “If you think it will do any good.”

“I do not know. We do not know that your suspicion is correct. But we have nothing else to go on. No other ideas. And time is growing short.” He had not mentioned Drew to Cholon, and he felt again the rising fear that he had been trying to suppress throughout the day. “At the least, if your brother is in the city, we need to find him. And you may be able to help us in that.”

“Perhaps. There are people I can speak to, who might have seen him, might have some idea where he is.”

Nergui wondered whether he should be calling back to headquarters, getting officers out trying to round up some of these contacts, ready for their return. But he was worried that any sudden flurry of activity might drive Badzar to ground long before they arrived. At the same time, he could not guess at the possible implications of any delay. In the circumstances, the prospect of a four hour drive through the night was not an attractive one.

In the event the drive was even worse than he had anticipated. There was only a single route from here to the city-it could hardly be dignified with the title of road-composed from years of horse and motorized traffic pounding down the hard earth. It was badly rutted along its length, the ground broken and pitted, and Doripalam had to drive carefully, peering into the light of the headlamps, to avoid being caught in any of the larger holes. In the darkness, it was impossible to gain any more speed, and Nergui found the slowness of their pace increasingly frustrating.

He sat in the back of the vehicle with Cholon. Cholon was chewing his fingers, looking anxious, with no evidence now of the superficial confidence with which he had greeted them earlier. It was as if he had been hiding some truth from himself, and now could no longer pretend.