“You do not need to come in,” Nergui said.
“It’s okay,” Drew said. “I’ve seen-well, I can’t say I’ve seen worse, but I’ve seen plenty.”
Nergui nodded. “We both have. But, like you, I have never faced anything remotely approaching this.”
Drew looked back at the officers outside, most of whom had now withdrawn from the room. “It must be a shock to your men.”
Nergui allowed himself a pale smile. “You have no idea how much of a shock.”
Drew looked around at the two armed men, then back at Nergui. There was clearly something else here, something he wasn’t getting.
It was Doripalam who turned to Drew, a look of horror etched in his young face, his handgun hanging limply at his side. “You see,” he said, “this is not just a brutal murder. Not just one of the most brutal murders I have ever seen. It is much more than that. We all know this man. He is a police officer. A senior officer.” He paused, as though struggling for breath. “This is the brutal murder of one of our colleagues. And all set up here like some insane circus sideshow.”
And the most terrifying thing, Drew thought, is that we appear to have come here as the invited audience.
CHAPTER 6
“This is really very good.” A long pause, broken only by the sound of their eating. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to sound so surprised.”
Nergui laughed. “No, it is understandable. My country is not known for the quality of its cuisine. We are a nation of warriors, not chefs.”
“And, for that matter, senior police officers are not usually known for their culinary skills. I speak entirely personally you understand. But no, really, this is excellent.”
“Well, thank you,” Nergui said. “I will assume that your comments are more than mere British politeness. I enjoy cooking. It’s something of a hobby of mine, but I rarely get the chance to try it out on others.”
Drew looked around Nergui’s apartment, wondering what clues could be gained to the character of the man opposite him. A few, no doubt, although he had the impression that Nergui was not a man who would expend much energy expressing his character through home décor.
Still, the apartment was comfortable enough, and surprisingly spacious. The narrow hallway led to a small but well-appointed kitchen, two closed rooms which were presumably bedrooms, and the large living and dining area where they were sitting. To Drew’s inexpert eye, the furniture looked moderately expensive, and he wondered vaguely whether these heavy dark wood tables and plush crimson seats were manufactured locally or had to be imported from Russia, China or even further afield.
He had initially been surprised when Nergui had invited him over for dinner, as they were finally driving away from the factory after their gruesome discovery. The scene of crime and forensic teams were still working away, but the body had now been taken away for examination, and Nergui felt that there was little to be added by their presence.
“I thought,” Nergui said, as they drove away, “you and Doripalam might perhaps join me for dinner at my home tonight? I would be honored.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you.” Drew glanced back at the dark silhouette of the factory. “But-well, are you sure? I mean, you mustn’t feel obliged to be my host. I realize this has been a shock.”
“A shock, professionally, yes,” Nergui said. “We have never experienced anything like this before. Of course, we have had policemen killed in the line of duty. But nothing like this.” Before Drew could respond he went on: “It is not that the victim was a personal friend, you understand. I knew him, had met him in passing a few times.” Nergui laughed, with an edge of bitterness. “The last time, I think, I was reprimanding him a little because he had failed to sort out some papers I needed for a case I was working on. But I understand he was a good officer. And he was, I imagine, a friend to some of those who were with us today.” He paused. “That is what is so horrific-that whoever did this tried to ensure that we would enter that place in force. He wanted to ensure that this body was found, not just by any passerby, but those who knew him best.”
Drew shuddered. Nergui was right. It was a horrific thought, suggesting an extraordinary cold-bloodedness to the murder. It also raised the questions of what had motivated the murderer to behave in this way, and-even more chillingly-where this motivation might lead him next. “But why?” he asked. “Why would anyone behave like that?”
“Who knows? We appear to be dealing with some kind of madman, though I can’t begin to conceive what kind. But we still don’t know whether the victims, including this one, were selected randomly or deliberately targeted. Even in this last case, I suppose it is possible that the victim was selected randomly, but then the killer chose to expose the body in the cruelest and most spectacular way he could.”
“But equally it may not be a coincidence that the victim was a police officer?”
“As you say. In which case, perhaps the previous victims were also not selected randomly.”
It was like gazing into a pool of clouded water, Drew thought. Occasionally some object swam into view, and you began to feel that you could recognize the shape of it. But then the water clouded again, and there was nothing but grayness and uncertainty.
There was no doubt that even Nergui, calm professional though he appeared, had been shaken by the day’s events. Nevertheless, he remained insistent that Drew should join him for dinner. “It is my duty as your host,” he said. “But, more importantly, I would welcome the opportunity to spend the evening with someone. It is not a day to be alone, I think.”
Drew was often grateful his domestic circumstances meant there was always someone to come home to. Sometimes he would share his experiences, but more often he would simply try to put them behind him. It made his working existence more bearable.
Ten years on from his marriage, he couldn’t really envisage life any other way, and he wondered what it must be like for Nergui, coming home every day to this comfortable but sterile apartment. He also wondered why it was that having faced a trauma like today’s, he could call on nobody other than his deputy and a total stranger.
As it turned out, Doripalam chose to excuse himself from the dinner invitation. Drew could not work out whether this was a tactful judgment on Doripalam’s part or, more likely, it was simply that Doripalam had access to those domestic comforts which were so notably absent in Nergui’s existence.
Still, Nergui was an excellent host. He had arranged an official car to bring Drew over to his apartment, and greeted him warmly at the door. He was dressed in what, to Drew’s eyes, appeared to be a leisure version of the herdsman’s robes, a brightly colored flowing gown wrapped with a gold sash, his feet enclosed in finely embroidered leather slippers. Drew wondered if this was the typical dress of the average Mongolian at home, or perhaps simply a more overt expression of the dandyism which, in his professional life, Nergui appeared to confine largely to his choice of ties.
As he entered the apartment, Drew had been surprised to find that Nergui was cooking the meal himself. He had hardly struck Drew as the domesticated type, so it was incongruous to see him standing before a cooker, stirring and tasting the contents of the array of pans.
“There. It is fine. It is all under control,” Nergui said, leading him into the lounge area. “Fifteen, twenty minutes, it should all be ready.”
Nergui offered him a beer, and also produced two bottles of red wine for the meal. “It’s not bad,” he said, apologetically. “Bulgarian. It’s difficult to get any better out here.”
Nergui was a relaxed host, and Drew felt no discomfort even though they initially sat in an amiable silence. It was clear that Nergui had much on his mind, and he said little until he had served the first course-a spicy soup containing chicken and prawns. Drew expressed his compliments on the quality of the food.
“I’m afraid it is far from authentic local cuisine,” Nergui said. “But then you should probably be thankful that it is not authentic local cuisine.”
“I wish I could produce food like this.”
“You don’t cook at home?”
Drew shook his head. “Not really. I mean, basic stuff but nothing like this. My wife’s the chef.”
Nergui nodded. “You have children?”
“Two,” Drew said. “Boys. Eight and ten.”
“That must be exhausting.”
“It can be. Especially for my wife, when I’m working long hours, which seems to be most of the time. So she tells me, at least.”
Nergui smiled. “Does she work also?”
“She’s a teacher. Primary school. Young children.”
“Hard work, then. I imagine you don’t have an easy time, if you are both working in these kinds of jobs?”
Drew thought about it. The question might have felt intrusive coming from someone else, but Nergui just seemed genuinely interested.
“It can be,” Drew said. “We both end up working long hours at times. Sue has preparation to do. And I think the work is very tiring for her. But we seem to get through all right, most of the time.”
“That is good,” Nergui said, sincerely. “I enjoy living alone, but there are times when I envy people like you.”
“Well, likewise,” Drew laughed. “Sometimes a bit of solitude would be welcome.”
“I’m sure,” Nergui nodded. “I’ve never really known anything else.”
“You’ve never-?” Drew stopped, embarrassed, unsure how he had been intending to finish the sentence. Been married? Been in a relationship? Anything sounded crass.
But Nergui seemed untroubled. “I was married once,” he said. “Briefly. A long time ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. As I say, a long time ago. It was the reason I first went to the West.”
“Really?”
“A long story. I met a young woman-a journalist from the US. This was what, fifteen years ago? I was working for the government here. My task was to show her around, look after her.”
Something about the way Nergui spoke the last words made Drew look up. Again, it occurred to him to wonder about Nergui’s background. What had been his role in the government, in the days when this country was still a satellite of the Soviet Union? And how precisely had Nergui been charged to “look after” the journalist? For that matter, had he similarly been charged to “look after” Drew? It seemed unlikely-Nergui was clearly the officer in charge of the murder case-but it also appeared that Nergui’s current relationship with the police force was not necessarily straightforward.
“Anyway, you can no doubt guess how things turned out. We had a relationship. When she finished her assignment here, she left for the US and I decided to try to follow her. I didn’t think it would be possible. Foreign travel was highly restricted in those days, and traveling to the US was almost unheard of. If I had been refused permission, I don’t know how things would have turned out, whether I would have tried to leave somehow illegally. Probably not. I’m a very law-abiding individual, as befits my current role.”
“But you were allowed to go?” Drew said, with some incredulity.
“I was very fortunate,” Nergui said. “Things were just beginning to change here and in the USSR. This was the days of Gorbachev. There was a lot of optimism in the air, but also a lot of anxiety. We were already encountering pressures from commercial forces looking to exploit the resources we have in this country.”
Drew wasn’t entirely sure where this was leading. “You mean minerals?”
“We are a potentially wealthy country. There were already people visiting our country who we suspected were engaged in-well, industrial espionage, I suppose. The interest was in discovering what resources we had, and how capable we were of exploiting them ourselves.”
“You’re talking about commercial companies-multinationals?”
“Some of them. There was also support from various Governments, of course-the US, China-preparing to get their fingers in the pie. The USSR as well, I think, saw the writing on the wall for its own future, and so was looking at commercial alliances as a means of protecting its own position here.”
“So how did this affect your being able to leave the country?”
Nergui laughed. “Very simply, as it turned out. I had been involved in some work here in the field of-well, I imagine you would call it industrial development. It was primitive stuff, looking back, but we were concerned that, when he finally opened our borders properly, we should not be exploited by our more powerful and experienced competitors. When I decided I wanted to leave, I proposed the idea that I should go to study business studies at Harvard. I would be able to learn what our Western rivals did and bring the knowledge back.”
“And the government allowed you to do that?”
Nergui looked momentarily embarrassed. “Ah, well, I do not like to-what do you say? — blow my own trumpet, but I had been a rather successful student during my time at university here. In academic terms, an outstanding student, I suppose. I was supposedly destined for great things in our government service, so it did not seem that outrageous an idea when I proposed it. A few years earlier it would have been impossible, of course, so I was very fortunate.”
“So you went to Harvard?”
“I did the MBA, yes. My friend-my girlfriend, I suppose she was by then-was based in Washington. But, from here, I thought that would be close enough. It wasn’t, of course.”
“I’m sorry,” Drew said.
“These things happen. Our marriage was an attempt to keep it alive, but I think we both knew it was going nowhere.” He shrugged. “It’s not the first time it’s happened. It won’t be the last. And it was probably all for the best. All of it, I mean. If it hadn’t happened, well, I would have spent my whole life here. Which wouldn’t have been a bad thing in itself, but I’m glad I’ve got a sense of what the world is like out there. It’s a privilege shared by few of my fellow countrymen.”
“I suppose not,” Drew said. Various intertwined thoughts were drifting through his mind. He was trying to make sense of Nergui’s story, which sounded just a little too neat, a little too pat in its narrative arc from love, through pursuit and parting, to self-consolation. Maybe it was just that Nergui had smoothed out the details and airbrushed out the pain and uncertainty that must surely have accompanied this story. Or perhaps the story itself was simply fiction, a cover to explain Nergui’s visits to the States and the UK. Would it really have been possible to make such trips from here, even in the heady days of perestroika?
Which led inevitably to the second question. Just why was Nergui telling him all this? They had just met, scarcely knew one another, had nothing in common other than their interest in five brutal murders. It wasn’t even clear that their interests in the murders coincided. So why would Nergui unburden himself of all this personal material? Was it simply that he really did have no other friends he could share this stuff with? Was it just that he was taking his first opportunity in years to talk about himself with someone who could do nothing with the information?
It didn’t seem likely. Nergui didn’t strike Drew as someone fraught with unspoken sorrows. He had told his story in straightforwardly factual terms, no sense of welling emotion. It was as if he had merely thought that Drew might be interested. Just making conversation.
And then, of course, lurking behind all that was the ambassador’s parting comment. Stick close to Nergui, but watch your back. What the hell had that meant? For a moment, Drew felt very tired and very far from home. He was a simple man-intelligent enough, certainly for his current job, but with no real interest in or aptitude for politics, large or small. He disliked game playing, and it seemed like some games were being played here, even though it was far from clear who was involved. Drew very much wanted to trust Nergui, particularly in facing down the horrors they had encountered that afternoon, and his instincts told him that Nergui was trustworthy. But he knew that, so far from everything familiar, it would be madness simply to trust his instincts.
“I finished the MBA, and then-well, I thought I’d carry on. I spoke with the authorities here, and it was generally agreed that I should get the most out of it while I was in the West. I ended up taking a Doctorate in Business Administration at your London Business School. It was hard work because I knew that I would not be able to stay more than a year.”
“You completed a Doctorate in a year?” Drew said. Maybe the story was fiction after all.
Nergui nodded. “As I say, it was hard. I’d already begun some of the research at Harvard, so I was able to build on that.”
“Even so,” Drew said, “that’s impressive.”
“Well, I don’t know. I’ve always had an aptitude for academic work, research. It comes fairly naturally to me. These are skills I can still use in my work. You also, I imagine?”
Drew laughed. “Not to the same standard, I’m afraid. I have a university degree but nothing special.”
“As I say, it’s just a gift-a small one, but sometimes useful.”
If Nergui was making this up, he was doing so very convincingly. There was no sense of arrogance or boasting about his achievements. If anything, he seemed mildly embarrassed, with something of the air of a golfer who has just hit a hole in one but doesn’t know quite how he did it. And, if it was true, there was no doubting Nergui’s intelligence at least.
“What did you do when you came back here?” Drew asked. “How did you end up in-your current role?” He realized, almost too late, that he didn’t actually officially know what Nergui’s role was.
“Another long story. But basically I came back as-well, what you would call an intelligence officer, I suppose. I was well regarded, as you can imagine, especially with my newly gained experience and qualifications. By this time, we were beginning to approach something closer to what you Westerners would consider normality. People were actually being allowed to visit countries outside the Eastern Bloc. We had tourists coming here for the first time. Foreign investment began to enter the country. We even started to build some sort of relationship with China. So it was an ideal time for someone with my background.”
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