While he was talking, Nergui cleared the dishes into the kitchen. He returned, a few moments later, carrying steaming plates. “Mutton,” he explained. “I hope you like it.”
Drew did like it, though he would have been hard pressed to describe the tastes. It was a spicy stew, which Drew would have characterized as Middle Eastern without really having much idea what it comprised. “Very good,” he said, truthfully. “You were telling me about your career,” he prompted.
“Well, it’s not that interesting,” Nergui said. “I progressed fairly rapidly up the ranks here, mainly just because I was in the right place at the right time. I was attached to the militia, but mostly working on intelligence projects alongside our Foreign Ministry, in the industrial and commercial field.”
“When did you move over to your current role?” Drew realized that he was still dancing around the nature of this role.
“I joined the police when it was established as a civilian force ten years ago. Most of the new police force was drawn from the old Government militia, as you’d expect, and at senior levels there was a need for those who’d had links with intelligence. We were not exactly overburdened with talent. As external interest in our country increased, we were encountering more and more instances of criminal activity-fraud, corruption, intimidation, industrial espionage, as well as more conventional crimes. Things were becoming more unstable in Russia. China was opening up to more commercial practices. You can imagine the growing pressure on this country.”
Drew could easily imagine it. He still couldn’t quite understand Nergui’s role in all this, though. The links between the militia and foreign investment seemed obscure, and Nergui’s subsequent movement into the police service didn’t sound an obvious progression. Unless, of course, these were all simply different outlets for the intelligence services.
“What kinds of cases does the Serious Crimes Team normally get involved with?”
“All kinds. Major robberies, homicide, corruption. Anything that doesn’t fall into the norms of day to day policing.”
“But you’ve moved back to the Ministry now?” Drew prompted.
Nergui nodded. “Six months ago, yes. Not particularly of my own choosing. There were those who thought my talents were-underutilized as a policeman. The police force does not have a particularly good reputation in this country-justifiably in many cases I think. We have invested insufficiently in its development and it does not attract the highest caliber of employees. These days, there are more opportunities for our graduates in the private sector. But there has also been growing concern about national security, so I was-how do you say it? — poached by the Ministry. It was one of those offers I could not refuse.”
“And what was your role in the Ministry?”
Nergui shrugged. “In general, dealing with cases that are perceived to pose a threat, in some way, to national security or stability. Not terrorism-we have a separate unit to deal with that, though it has not to date been a major problem for us, even with the breakup of the USSR. But things like major commercial fraud, corruption-anything that might pose a threat to, say, our economy, social stability or whatever.”
None of this made much sense to Drew. It sounded very different from any concept of policing that he was used to. “And murder?” he asked.
“Not usually,” he said. “But then we don’t usually encounter murders quite like these.”
“You really see these murders as a threat to national security? Is that why you’ve returned?”
“I have returned only because the Minister asked me to. It is embarrassing. Doripalam is a very capable officer, despite his youth. There’s nothing I can teach him, I think. But the Minister is anxious. He is protecting his back. As for security-well, who knows? If we are simply dealing with a psychopath, then of course the answer is no. If there is something more rational behind the killings-like a vendetta or whether at least some of the victims were targeted-then, well, yes, it’s possible. And there is also our concern for the stability of our country. Compared with many other parts of the old Eastern bloc, we have survived the changes remarkably well. We have been through very difficult times, but our society has stayed remarkably stable. This is quite a safe country. But the kind of fear that could be stirred up by these killings-well, so far we have managed to keep the full details from being published and we have not indicated any linkage between the killings. But we can’t keep this up for long. The press have been used to doing what the government tells them, but that is changing. I do not know, for example, how long we can prevent them from reporting that a police officer has been killed.”
Drew nodded. “And what do you think will happen when people find out?”
“I do not know. There are many things that people fear. There are many interpretations they could put on these deaths.” He stopped, enigmatically, as though unwilling to put his anxieties into plain words.
“And what about today’s killing?” Drew asked. “Where does that fit into this?”
“It is intriguing, is it not? Horrific, but intriguing. As with your Mr. Ransom, the question is whether there is any significance in the choice of this particular individual?”
“You mean, other than the simple fact that he was a police officer?”
“Quite so.” Nergui finished eating, and placed his fork and spoon neatly across the bowl. “I do not like to say so, but today’s murder may give us a little hope.”
“Hope?”
“Or at least somewhere to start in our investigations. To date, we have had nothing. No leads. We thought Mr. Ransom might start to lead us somewhere, but it appeared not. Perhaps Delgerbayar might.”
“Delgerbayar?”
“Our unfortunate colleague.”
“So you think there might have been some significance to his death? Some reason why he specifically was chosen as the victim?”
Nergui leaned forward across the table, placing his fingertips together. “I do not know,” he said. “But I do know, having asked some brief questions of his fellow officers today, that Delgerbayar had been acting oddly in recent weeks.”
“Oddly in what way?”
“In a number of ways, apparently. Delgerbayar was not a particularly sociable person, I understand. People differ, of course. Our officers tend to be a gregarious bunch. You will generally find them after work throwing back the vodkas in one of our city bars. But there are exceptions to that, and Delgerbayar was one of them. He might join his colleagues briefly, but he would leave early in the evening. Nobody could ever recall seeing him at a party or a social gathering. I hope I’m not speaking ill of the dead, but he was generally seen as a rather-enigmatic character. He wasn’t married, had no close family as far as anyone was aware. No one really knew what he did with his time. He had risen through the ranks largely because he was seen as a hard worker, I think, rather than through any great talent.”
It was an interesting enough character sketch, but Drew wasn’t sure where this was leading. “How had he been behaving oddly?”
“Well, out of character, let us say.” Nergui smiled. “From what I hear, he had always behaved a little oddly. The first thing was that a couple of his fellow officers came across him one night in the bar in the Ulan Baatar hotel-another of our more upmarket places.
It was only a coincidence that they were in there-the police don’t tend to drink in the tourist hotels, as you might imagine. But they were there on duty, following up some petty thefts that had taken place in the hotel. And Delgerbayar was in the bar, sitting with a mixed group of Westerners and locals, apparently having a good enough time.”
“Do you know who was with him?”
Nergui shook his head. “No, the officers didn’t recognize any of them. They just thought it was an odd group to find with Delgerbayar-the Westerners looked well-off, business types. The locals also looked relatively prosperous-perhaps not the type you would normally expect to find associating with a police officer.”
“Criminals?”
/> Nergui shrugged. “The term is a broad one,” he said. “Maybe criminals. More likely those who have done well for themselves in our economy by-what is your phrase? — sailing close to the wind.”
“But wouldn’t you recognize those types?” Drew asked. “Surely they’d be well known.”
“I would probably recognize them,” Nergui said. “But in many cases-except for one or two larger celebrities-these kinds of people would not be well known to an ordinary police officer. Though our officers would probably be well acquainted with some of their employees.”
“I understand. So, as you say, not the sort one would expect to find consorting with a senior police officer.”
“No, but the two officers didn’t really think much of it-it’s not uncommon for officers to maintain some dubious contacts, particularly if they think they might extract some information from them.” He smiled. “I’ve been known to do it myself. So it’s quite possible that Delgerbayar’s contacts were-well, if not exactly innocent, still quite legitimate.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Who knows? With most officers, I would think it possible, though I might still be suspicious. From what I hear of Delgerbayar, it doesn’t sound likely.”
“And was there other strange behavior?”
“Yes, and a more significant issue. Delgerbayar had been involved in an investigation into some illegal gold prospecting-”
“Gold prospecting?”
Nergui nodded. “Our country is rich in many minerals, including gold. The gold is, officially, being mined by a small number of companies which have acquired the appropriate rights. It is one of the ways you become wealthy quickly in this country.”
Drew could imagine. Like much of the former Eastern bloc, this now appeared to be a country where substantial poverty could coexist very closely with extreme wealth.
“Not surprisingly,” Nergui went on, “there are those who, lacking other resources, try to obtain their own small share of this wealth.” Nergui’s face betrayed nothing of his feelings-positive or negative-toward such people. “There are a lot of problems with people prospecting illegally for gold. In the right places, you can pan for gold in rivers. You will find small amounts, but those can still be enormously valuable-particularly to a poor family without other work.”
“But these people can be prosecuted?”
“In principle, yes, very much so. In practice, the police often turn a blind eye, unless there is a direct complaint from one of the mining companies or the illegal activities are on a larger scale.”
“So what was Delgerbayar investigating?”
“We’d had a complaint, apparently, from one of the mining companies about a small encampment that had been established near one of their key sites. It wasn’t clear how much gold was actually being found by this group, but they’d been there for some time and I think they’d become something of a visible challenge to the mining company. I think they wanted something done to make an example of them.”
“What was Delgerbayar supposed to do?”
“There were two officers working on this, Delgerbayar and one other. The usual routine is that they would just give some sort of warning to the camp members, get them to move on. At most, they might formally caution them. But I don’t think they expected to arrest or charge anyone unless there was active resistance.”
“So what happened?”
Nergui leaned back in his chair. “Something strange happened. The day before they were due to visit the encampment, Delgerbayar disappeared.”
Drew looked up in surprise. “Really?”
“He appeared briefly at headquarters and left a message for his senior officer to say that he had stumbled upon an important lead in the gold prospecting case and was therefore having to travel urgently south, to the Gobi.”
“To the desert? Why?”
“He didn’t say. It’s difficult to see how there could have been any link to the prospecting case, which seemed like a trivial bit of business. He gave the name of a tourist encampment in the Gobi, where he said he was going to meet a contact.”
“But surely he wasn’t allowed just to disappear like that?”
“Of course not,” Nergui said. “His senior officer was furious. It is likely that there would have been some disciplinary action taken, unless he’d come up with a very good explanation for his behavior.”
“But-”
Nergui anticipated the question. “But that didn’t happen, no. He never came back-not alive, anyway. We don’t even know for sure if he reached the tourist camp. So far, no one’s admitted to having met him. He was booked on to a flight to the Gobi, and it looks as if he-or someone-may have traveled. But that’s all we know. The next time we saw him-”
Drew nodded slowly. “Today. But it does sound as if there’s a potential lead there.”
“Exactly. Of course, it’s possible that this is all coincidence and that the Gobi stuff wasn’t linked to this-maybe it was just a young officer showing off, thinking he’d stumbled on something and going off without thinking through the consequences.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time, in my experience,” Drew said, with a faint smile. “I might have even done it myself, if I think back far enough.”
“But, from what I hear, that doesn’t sound typical of Delgerbayar. If anything, he tended to be overcautious. People were genuinely taken aback when he disappeared-I think most people assumed there was more to it. Some sort of domestic crisis or something. There were some who thought he’d had some sort of breakdown.”
“So you have to assume a connection?”
“We do.” Nergui sat back slowly his chair. “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
“The food really was superb, Nergui.” Drew realized that it was the first time he had used the Mongolian’s name. He felt, just for a moment, as though he had fallen under a spell, as though the combination of the food and the alcohol and Nergui’s openness had compelled him to lower his guard. He wondered whether this had been Nergui’s intention, whether the unexpected openness about his background had been a deliberate ploy to gain his own trust.
Even as he felt this, he realized that the prospect didn’t concern him unduly. He wasn’t entirely sure whether Nergui could be trusted, but at the moment he felt some reassurance that at least they were in this thing-whatever it might turn out to be-together.
Nergui smiled faintly, as though reading Drew’s thoughts. “Now,” he said, “I have three questions for you.”
“Go ahead.” Drew couldn’t read the Mongolian’s expression, didn’t know whether or not he was being serious.
Nergui ticked off the questions on his fingers. “Three simple questions. One-would you like some coffee? Two-would you like some of our excellent vodka with your coffee.” He paused, slowly tapping his third finger. “And three-would you like to travel to the Gobi in the morning?”
CHAPTER 7
“We should have traveled business class.”
“This is business class. You should see economy.”
Drew laughed. This was like nothing he had ever experienced. He wasn’t sure he would ever want to experience it again, but for the moment it was sufficiently different to be worth enduring.
He had never seen an airplane so crowded. It was a small propeller driven plane, but it appeared to be more crowded than any 747 Drew had ever seen. It wasn’t quite true that there were people standing but it felt as if there were. Certainly, most of the passengers seemed to be carrying more than their allotted allowance of cabin luggage, which appeared to be stuffed into any available place.
“I hope this is safe,” Drew said, looking around them. As far as he could see, he was the only Westerner on board.
Nergui shrugged. “A better safety record than Aeroflot, anyway.”
“That’s very reassuring.”
It was only a ninety-minute flight to Dalanzadgad, but this was quite long enough for Drew. He still wasn’t sure that it was a wise decision to accompany N
ergui. He had a suspicion that Nergui’s decision to make the trip was prompted primarily by a desire to get himself and Drew out of Doripalam’s hair, to give the young man the opportunity to get on with some serious police work without interruption.
As far as Drew could see, there wasn’t a lot that he would be able to contribute to the investigation. On the other hand, it was a perfect excuse for a trip to the Gobi Desert, and it would have been a pity to have left this country without seeing it. Drew, who took his work very seriously, was uncomfortably aware that his visit to this country was a glorified public relations exercise, and he now felt additionally guilty about engaging in what was little more than a sight-seeing excursion. On the other hand, he told himself, he had not asked to come here. He was undertaking a task which his superiors felt to be worthwhile. And there was the small matter of having already been shot at, even if, as it had turned out, his life had not really been in danger. So maybe he should just sit back and enjoy this.
Although sitting back was not easy, given the state of the airplane seats. He had the impression that the passenger behind him was trying to insert a large cabin trunk in the space between their respective rows. He was also sure that he could hear the sound of a chicken clucking somewhere toward the rear of the aircraft.
“What’s the schedule today?” he asked. This had all been very sudden. The previous evening, after he had found himself agreeing to accompany Nergui on the trip, Nergui had made a couple of official-sounding phone calls to organize the tickets and accommodation. Drew had returned to his hotel-again in an official car-at around eleven, and had then been up at six to prepare for the journey. He had retained his room at the Chinggis Khaan at Nergui’s suggestion and left most of his luggage there, taking only his small shoulder bag with a change of clothes. There was only one return flight each day to Dalanzadgad so they would have to stay overnight. The intention was to stay in the same camp that Delgerbayar had been intending to visit.
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