Michael Walters - The Shadow Walker

Initially, the authorities had largely turned a blind eye. If these people were able to fend for themselves, however harsh the conditions, then so much the better. But crime levels had risen, and the groups of semiferal children became seen as a scourge by those in more fortunate positions. Pressure was placed on the police to deal with the problem, and Nergui recalled numerous raids on the area. Children were picked up in their dozens, and shipped off to shelters that were often only marginal improvements on the makeshift hovels they had left behind. Inevitably, many of those picked up simply ran away again within days, and the whole miserable cycle continued.

Gradually, though, things had changed. Crucially, the economy had slowly improved, and some foreign aid had been obtained to deal with some of the specific problems of homelessness. There was a growing number of decent children’s hostels, many of them run by international charities. Work was now more plentiful, and many of those who had been homeless were able to fend for themselves.

Nevertheless, this still tended to be a place where the homeless would cluster, particularly as the winter approached. Many of the formerly thriving factories now lay abandoned, and it was possible to find shelter close enough to the steam pipes to stave off the rigors of the winter nights.

Now, though, the area looked deserted. Alleys ran off between the factories, deep in shadow. In the open areas, the ground was thick with snow, melting only where the steam continued to billow, filling the frozen air with a dense white fog. Nergui stepped slowly forward, straining his eyes. He could see only a few feet in front of him.

He glanced at his watch. Nearly three, as Badzar had stipulated. Behind him, across the city, the sun was already setting, and the shadows were lengthening between the buildings.

This was insane, he thought. He had sought no permission for coming here, nor even told anyone, other than Doripalam, where he was going. This solitary action went against every rule of policing. On the other hand, he did not see much alternative. The Minister, if he had been consulted, would probably have seen things the same way, though might have felt unable to say so overtly.

The proper thing to have done would have been to initiate a full-scale police operation. They should have surrounded the area, given Nergui full backup, ensured that, whatever else might happen, at least there would have been no chance of Badzar escaping from this alive.

Instead he just had Doripalam, his gun, and his cell phone with Doripalam’s number already dialed. They had agreed that if Nergui should call the number without subsequently speaking, Doripalam should summon backup immediately. But Nergui had no illusions that backup would arrive in time to prevent Badzar’s escape.

However, if the worst did happen and Drew was killed, the Minister could present this as a maverick escapade, not officially sanctioned. At worst, they would be back where they started, and Nergui would be left to take the responsibility, probably posthumously. At best, though, this might just conceivably produce the positive outcome that would never be achieved through more orthodox means.

The afternoon was already growing dark. Nergui pulled out his flashlight and shone it down the narrow alleyways, though the illumination was almost useless within the dense clouds of steam. He could make out only the cracked and stained concrete of the old factory buildings. Above, there were lines of smashed and boarded up windows. Below, there was just scattered rubbish, the debris of abandoned industry, white shapes under the snow.

Badzar had not indicated precisely where he would be, or how he would make his presence known. He had simply told Nergui to come to this spot at three, and then to wait.

Nergui flashed the light up and around him, occasionally glimpsing, as the steam momentarily cleared, the dark towering factories. Once, far above, he caught sight of the densely star-covered sky. There were no working streetlights down here, though behind him he could see a faint glow in the distance behind the mass of buildings. Through the mist, the sky was darkening from red to a dark purple as the sun disappeared. Soon, the darkness here would be thick and heavy, softened only by the continually billowing steam.

The atmosphere was getting to him, and the shifting clouds of steam created phantoms as he moved forward. He thought of the headless corpses and, despite the cold, the sweat trickled down his back. He told himself that if Badzar wanted him dead he would have killed him the night before. But the thought did nothing to calm his nerves.

Nergui carefully moved the flashlight around him, watching the thickening shadows, the constantly shifting clouds, trying to keep his back close to the wall. The only sound was the insistent hiss of the escaping steam, the rustle of his own footsteps in the frozen snow.

And then, without quite knowing how, he was aware of another presence. He peered forward into the gloom and the steam, trying to make out any movement. Just when he was almost convinced that he had been mistaken, he saw something, across the open space, at the entrance to one of the many alleyways. At first, it was nothing more than a movement, undefined, a sense of shifting space. And then it resolved itself into a shape, a silhouette, half obscured by the darkness and the drifting steam.

“Badzar?” Nergui called. He pointed his flashlight toward the shape, but the beam made little headway in the foggy night.

There was no immediate response. Nergui was sure now that the figure was that of a man, dressed in a long dark garment, but could still make out little more. His hand clutched at his pistol in his pocket and he began to move slowly forward.

He walked forward some meters, holding the flashlight steady, watching the black figure emerge slowly from the darkness. “Badzar?” he said again.

The figure remained motionless, apparently watching him without concern. It was still little more than a silhouette, the face featureless.

He took another step forward, and at last the figure moved, raising its hand. “Stop there.” It was the same deep sibilant voice he had heard on the phone.

“Badzar. It’s not too late to put an end to this.” As he spoke the words, Nergui knew that he was lying, something had been set in motion here that lay far beyond his powers to resolve.

“Stop,” the figure repeated.

Nergui obeyed, holding the flashlight out toward the figure. As far as he could make out it was dressed in a long black coat, some sort of hood pulled over its eyes.

“What is it you want?” Nergui said. “Why have you brought me here?”

“The British policeman is safe,” the figure said, as though answering the question. “He will remain so as long as you have done what I say.”

“Where is he?”

“He is here. Close at hand. Are you alone?”

Nergui gestured with the flashlight. “Completely. As you can see.”

“How do I know that?”

“How do I know you have McLeish?”

“You don’t.”

“Likewise, then. You have to trust me.”

The figure nodded, as though considering this. He continued to stare toward Nergui, his face invisible. “I trust you,” he said. “For the moment.” And then he turned abruptly, and disappeared back into the darkness of the alley.

Nergui stared after him for a moment, then walked rapidly across the open yard to where the figure had been standing. There was no one there.

Nergui shone the flashlight down the alley. A trail of footprints disappeared across the icy snow. Nergui traced their path to where they ended at an open doorway leading into one of the factory buildings. For a moment, Nergui felt bizarrely reassured by the sight of the footprints-as, he realized, he had the previous night. It was as if he had to keep reminding himself that Badzar was, after all, only human.