The Shadow Walker (18 page)

“Well, I hope you enjoy it all. Forgive me, but you do not strike me as the type who would normally be undertaking an organized tour of this kind?”

Collins signaled to the barman for another beer. “Spot on, buddy,” he said. “But I wanted to see the place, and this was the only way to do it.”

Nergui nodded. “It is still not easy to be an independent traveler here.”

“Nope. I prefer to make my own way, usually, but I was advised against it.” Collins seemed slightly more sober now, though he was still drinking the beer at a fast rate. “They told me it would make it harder to see the rest of the country.”

“That is probably true. It is not so difficult now as it was. But we do not tend to make it easy for people to travel on their own.”

“When do you cops ever make anything easy?”

“Well, that is not our job, Mr. Collins.” Nergui smiled. “Your companion from this afternoon. He is not here this evening?”

Collins seemed to hesitate, though only for a moment. “Nah, he's gone off to bed early. Had a headache. Probably all that intensive questioning you put us through.”

“We did not manage to extract very much from your companion,” Nergui said. “He is a friend of yours?”

“No, met him on the trip. We get along pretty well, though. Drinking buddies. Not sure why he came along with me, but he happened to be with me when your friend”—He gestured toward Batkhuyag behind the bar—“asked me to join you.”

“You never did tell us your line of business, Mr. Collins,” Nergui said.

“No, I never did, did I?” Collins said. “And I wonder why you're interested.”

“Just making idle conversation, Mr. Collins.”

“In my experience cops never just make idle conversation.”

“You seem to have a lot of experience,” Drew said.

Collins laughed. “Yeah, too much experience not to be careful what I say to the likes of you.”

“You are very astute, Mr. Collins,” Nergui agreed. “I suppose that is necessary in the minerals business.”

Drew tried hard to conceal his surprise. Collins's surprise, though, was obvious. “Jeez. Who the fuck told you that?” The belligerence was still there, but it was undercut now with a new hesitation. For the first time, Drew thought, Collins wasn't quite sure of his ground.

Nergui shrugged. “It is my job to know such things, Mr. Collins.”

“I thought you bastards had put the KGB days behind you. What have you being doing, bugging my
ger
?”

“Nothing so crude, Mr. Collins. Your occupation was stated on your visa application. I thought it wise to make a few standard checks.”

“Did you?” Collins said. “And what else did these—standard checks tell you?”

“Nothing to trouble you, I think, Mr. Collins.”

Collins leaned back against the bar and took another deep swallow of his beer. His eyes were darting around the room now, as if he were looking for someone to come to his aid. Behind them, the hubbub of conversation was growing louder.

Nergui was sipping his own beer very slowly. He smiled at Collins and then at Drew, who was watching all this with some fascination. He wasn't sure whether he should feel offended that Nergui had not chosen to share this information with him. “I hope I was not being intrusive, Mr. Collins. I made only the
briefest of checks, looking at material in the public domain. But such things are always interesting.”

Collins said nothing. He had drained his beer glass, and was clutching it in his hand like a lifeline. Drew wondered whether Nergui really had anything incriminating on Collins. He suspected not, but the fact that Collins was reacting in this way was telling enough.

“For example,” Nergui went on, “you obviously know that your friend—your acquaintance from this afternoon—Mr. Maxon, I believe—also works in the minerals industry. And also lives in Texas, though in Houston. No wonder you get on so well. You must have a lot in common.”

Collins shrugged, still watching Nergui closely. “We've barely talked about work,” he said. “Don't think we're really in the same field. But I don't see it's any of your business.”

“No, you are right. It is not.” Nergui paused, as though thinking over the ethical implications of this. “It is, in part, my business to be aware of who is entering our country, and to understand why they are here.”

“I'm a goddamn tourist, for Christ's sake,” Collins said. “I'm here on vacation. What else?”

“I am not aware of anything else,” Nergui said. “Unless you wish to tell me differently.”

“Jesus, you people.” Collins staggered backward, as though the impact of the alcohol had suddenly overwhelmed him again. “You'll never change.”

“How is that, Mr. Collins?” Nergui continued to sip on his beer, smiling.

Collins slumped against the bar. He looked up at the barman who, without being asked, placed another beer by his side. Drew wondered at what point they ought to suggest that Collins had had enough. It was difficult to be sure—his drunkenness seemed to ebb and flow with his moods. But his speech was definitely becoming more slurred now. “I don't know what the fuck it is with you people,” he went on. “You have the chance
to make something of this dump, but you want to keep control. You want to have it all your way. You'll go to any lengths to stop real money being made. You're all still bastard communists under the skin.”

“I'm not sure I really follow, Mr. Collins,” Nergui said, softly.

“Oh, you understand well enough,” Collins said. “Bastard communist.”

Nergui opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from behind them interjected. “Jesus, Jack. You had too much already?”

Maxon had appeared behind them, unnoticed. He was still wearing the dark glasses, even inside at night. With his eyes hidden it was impossible to read his expression, but there was the same thin smile on his lips. “I apologize, gentlemen. Jack can become a tad—aggressive when he's had a little too much.”

It was the first time they had heard him speak, Drew realized. His voice was soft, emollient, the intonation of a salesman used to dealing with difficult customers.

“Do not worry,” Nergui said. “Simply an exchange of views.”

Maxon's smile was unwavering. “I've told Jack before. It's never a good idea to exchange views too forcefully.” He paused. “Especially with the police.”

“Wise advice,” Nergui said.

“I think I'd better help get Jack to bed,” Maxon said.

“Jeez, I'm okay,” Collins said, waving Maxon away, but stumbling noticeably as he did so. “Fine for a few more yet.”

“I don't think so, Jack,” Maxon said. The words had the force of a command, rather than an expression of opinion.

Collins stared at Maxon, and for a moment Drew thought the aggression was going to return. Then Collins shrugged. “Yeah, maybe you're right. Been a long day.”

He thumped his now empty glass down on the bar and started to make his unsteady way toward the entrance, Maxon turning to follow him.

“Goodnight, Mr. Maxon,” Nergui said. Maxon turned at the sound of his name, and for a moment Drew thought he caught a
look of surprise before the blank expression returned. “By the way, Mr. Maxon,” Nergui went on, “how are you feeling?”

“How am I feeling?” Maxon paused, and there was a slight, but definite edge of puzzlement in his voice now. He looked across at Collins, but he was turned away, fumbling with the door catches. “I'm feeling fine. Never better.”

Nergui nodded slowly, as if he was giving this news serious consideration. “I'm very glad to hear that, Mr. Maxon. Very glad indeed.”

After Collins and Maxon had left, Nergui and Drew had decided to retire early. They had a brief, friendly chat with some of the other tourists—mostly Americans, but with a scattering of Europeans too—but had recognized that they were unlikely to extract any further useful information from the group. So they walked back through the cold night air to the
ger.
Drew started to say something about Collins, but Nergui raised a finger to his lips. “We do not know where Collins and Maxon are sleeping,” he whispered, very quietly. “Wait till we get to the
ger.
”

It was a long time since Drew had slept under a tent. He had bad memories of a few seaside holidays in North Wales as a child, spending days listening to the endless drumming of rain on the roof, always feeling just too cold to be comfortable. But Drew had to acknowledge that this particular tent with its wooden frame and thickly padded felt walls was a long way removed from the flapping canvas monstrosities he had endured as a child.

The felt, Nergui had told him, was made by hand, the rolled cloth being pulled behind horses across the desert. In the center of the
ger
was an iron stove, its chimney exiting through a hole in the middle of the peaked roof. The stove had been lit for them earlier in the evening, and the warmth in the tent now seemed perfectly adequate to repel the chill of the desert night. Even so, Nergui had told him that in the depths of the Mongolian winter,
gers
could only be made habitable by the collective warmth of multiple occupancy.

Inside, the
ger
was comfortably, if not luxuriously, appointed. The chairs they had used for the interviews were scattered around the floor. There were two narrow but comfortable-looking beds arranged around the walls, laden with blankets.

Once they were safely in the tent, with the door fixed shut behind them, Nergui said. “My apologies for not sharing the information about Collins and Maxon before. I had not intended to keep it from you. I called HQ earlier and asked them to look into the visa information. I picked up the message on my cell just before we went into the restaurant.”

“Don't worry. It made it much easier for me to keep a straight face. Like Collins, I didn't know how much you really knew.”

Nergui laughed. “Not much more than I said, unfortunately. I had checked on the occupations they gave on their visa applications. I got Maxon's name from Batkhuyag earlier.”

“Is there any indication of what exactly they do in the minerals business?”

Nergui shook his head. “Not really. In both cases the form just describes them as ‘executives' and mentions the name of the employing company. I got HQ to check the company backgrounds, and discovered they're both part of a conglomerate involved in mineral prospecting and exploitation.” He paused. “Mining, in other words.”

“They both work for the same company?”

“In effect, yes. Different operating companies. It took a bit of digging on the part of one of my people to trace them back to the same parent. It's a US-based group which seems to operate a whole range of sectors—mainly minerals like gold, copper, even uranium, all of which we have here. They also have various energy interests—oil, nuclear power.”

“And they claim not to have known each other before meeting on this trip?”

“Collins claimed that Maxon was in bed with a headache,” Nergui pointed out. “But he seemed to have made a good recovery.”

“But if they are out here for a reason, why travel as tourists?”

“My guess is that it's because it's the easiest way to get around out here without arousing too much interest. We don't actively discourage independent travelers these days, but we don't make their lives too easy either. The government are keen to encourage foreign investment and links with external business, but we like to know what's going on. So if people are traveling here outside of one of the organized tours that we've now got pretty well regulated, we tend to keep fairly close tabs on them. If they're here on legitimate business, then we usually know all about it in any case. If they want to travel for, say, scientific or social reasons, then we're happy to help so long as we know precisely what they're up to. We get a lot of visitors who have a specialist interest in things like our archaeology or geology, or even things like our music or folklore, but we usually arrange to work closely with them.”

Drew again wondered just who Nergui was talking about here. Was this the police keeping tabs on people, or maybe some more shadowy government agency? But the implications were clear enough. “So someone who wanted to come out here and wander about on their own would arouse some suspicion?”

“Well, let us say, some interest, at least. Even if their intentions were legitimate, we would want to know what they were.”

“And if their interests were not legitimate?”

“They would not get very far, I think.”

Drew nodded. “So if you were looking to come out here for some illicit purpose, then coming as part of a tourist group might give you some cover.”

“Absolutely. Of course, it would constrain your freedom of movement, but if your main aim was, for example, to make contact with someone or have some discussions, then it might give you enough scope.”

“Which might explain why Delgerbayar came down to this place?”

“If they were meeting him. Or, more likely, if he was aware of a meeting taking place down here. Yes, perhaps.”

Drew lowered himself on to one of the hard chairs. “Well, that closing little outburst of Collins's certainly suggested he was up to something.”

“I was relieved,” Nergui said. “I had almost given up on the possibility of taking advantage of his inebriation.”

“But none of it makes any sense,” Drew said. “I mean, even if Collins and Maxon are involved in something, it can only be some shady business deal. Why would that result in a series of brutal murders?”

“These things are not unknown. We are talking about some potentially very big deals here. There is a lot of money to be made. Those who were here early have gained some potentially major advantages. Others—some of them far from scrupulous—are now trying to muscle in on some of the opportunities.”