Nergui raised an eyebrow. “Do they?” he said. “And what do they know?”
“They come out here to drink, quite often,” Batkhuyag said. “There aren’t many places to choose from down here, and we get decent beer for the tourists. We don’t encourage locals, but I turn a blind eye to the police.”
“Of course.”
“There was a bunch of them here last night. We have some music on most evenings-the usual traditional stuff for the tourists. Place gets full. There were some police officers and others here most of the night, knocking back the beer and the vodka.”
“Mongolians?” Nergui said. “The others, I mean.”
Batkhuyag frowned. “I’m not sure. There was a group turned up early on-a few police people I recognized and one or two I didn’t. Others joined them over the evening. A few of the tourists, mostly Westerners-we’ve got a fair number of Brits and some Americans here at the moment.”
“Is it usual for the tourists to drink with the locals?” Drew asked.
“It’s not unusual,” Batkhuyag said. “The language can be a barrier, but it’s amazing how easily you can make yourself understood after a few vodkas. So, no, there was nothing particularly odd about that.”
“So what were they saying?” Nergui asked.
“Well, I can’t pretend I was listening closely,” Batkhuyag said. “But I kept picking up bits of the conversation as I passed by.”
“Of course,” Nergui said, stone-faced. “You were working in the bar?”
“I do when we’re busy. Anyway, I overheard them saying something about things up north, in the city. It was the usual stuff about how the Ministry doesn’t know what it’s doing, keeping people in the dark. You know.”
“I know,” Nergui said. “And they mentioned Delgerbayar?”
“Not by name. But I put two and two together. What I heard-what I thought I heard-was something about a policeman coming down here stirring up trouble. They said-I’m sorry about this but it’s what I heard-they said, well, in effect that he’d got what was coming to him.”
“And did they indicate why they thought that?”
“Not that I heard. Tell you the truth, I was a bit shocked. I mean, we complain about the police all the time, but you kind of expect that they’ll stick together. Made me wonder what was going on. But also made me think that I’d be better off not inquiring too deeply.”
Nergui nodded, his face still giving nothing away. “You’re a wise man, Mr. Batkhuyag. Have you anything else to tell us?”
Batkhuyag shook his head. He looked less composed now than he had at the start of the interview, as though Nergui’s response — or lack of it-had for the first time confirmed to him that he might be on the edge of something serious here. “Who else would you like to see?”
Nergui looked across at Drew, though Drew had the impression that this was more from courtesy than anything else. “I think we need to see any of your staff who were working in the bar last night or who might have been around on the day that Delgerbayar was supposedly down here.” He handed Batkhuyag his open notebook and pen. “Perhaps you could write down the names, and then we can see people in order.”
Batkhuyag thought for a moment, then dutifully began to write a list of names. “I think that’s everyone, but if there’s anyone I’ve missed, I’ll add them.” He rose to leave, but Nergui gestured him back into his seat.
“Two more brief questions,” he said. “First, do you know the names of any of the guests who were with the police officers last night?”
Batkhuyag opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. “No, I don’t,” he said. “At least, there were a number, but I don’t know who-”
“Just some names,” Nergui said. “We will be discreet.”
Batkhuyag looked from Nergui to Drew and then back again, clearly considering his options and realizing how limited they were. “Okay,” he said. “There were a couple I can be sure of. I’ll ask them if they can spare a few minutes to see you-they’ve been off on a tour of some of the prehistoric sites but they should be back soon.”
“Thank you,” Nergui said. “And my second question-”
Batkhuyag had clearly already anticipated the second question. “I recognized the police officers, but I don’t know their names-”
Nergui raised his head and smiled coldly at Batkhuyag. “Really?” he said. “Well, I suppose I could always take you down to the police HQ and get you to point them out to me.”
“Look, a job like mine depends on discretion. If it gets around that I’ve been talking to you-”
“I can see that that would be a problem for you,” Nergui said. “Just write the names down. I will tell no one.”
Batkhuyag looked between them both again, clearly anxious now. Then he shook his head, and bent down to write the names on the pad.
CHAPTER 8
They spent the remainder of the afternoon working steadily through the list of interviewees. It was necessary work-the kind of balls-aching routine that, in Drew’s experience, dominated any major inquiry. But it was clear that they were making little progress.
The rest of the camp’s staff were either much smarter or much dumber than Batkhuyag-or, quite possibly, Drew reflected, they were both. Either way, they were admitting nothing. No, they had no recollection of seeing Delgerbayar at the camp. No, they hadn’t particularly noticed any strangers on the site that day, though it was difficult to tell with all the comings and goings. No, they had not overheard any conversations last night. Maybe there were some policemen in the bar last night-there often were-but, no, they couldn’t honestly remember for sure. And in any case it never paid to get too close to the police.
“It’s a waste of time,” Drew said, as the final staff member had been ushered from the room. It was particularly so for him since few of the interviewees had spoken any English.
“It’s always a waste of time,” Nergui agreed, “but we have to do it. You never know when someone might let something slip. Look at Batkhuyag.”
“He was being smart,” Drew said.
Nergui nodded. “I like it when people are smart. It’s when they make mistakes.”
“He’s just got a big ego. Likes to tell you what he knows.”
“That will get him into trouble in a place like this,” Nergui said. “Maybe it already has.”
Nergui frowned. “There are some patterns forming here,” he said, slowly, “but I have no idea what to make of them. What are your thoughts?”
He sounded as if he was genuinely interested, though Drew suspected that he was being humored. “I’ve no idea,” he said. “What have we got? Delgerbayar makes his unscheduled trip down here, meets someone presumably by arrangement, gets into an argument with them, slips away when the police arrive and comes here, though we’ve no definite sightings. The person he met may or may not have been a guest here.” It didn’t sound all that much, now that Drew came to summarize it. “Then somehow, somewhere, he gets himself killed, and ends up, headless, in the factory where we found him.” He plunged on, willing himself not to envisage that scene again. “And then we find that, within hours, although the news has been kept under wraps, the local police are gossiping about his death and apparently saying that he brought it on himself. It’s not a lot.”
“It isn’t,” Nergui agreed. “And we shouldn’t necessarily make too much of the police down here. You’re not likely to keep that kind of thing very quiet, especially when so many officers were involved in finding the body.” He paused. “Which may, of course, be another reason why the killer set it up like that.”
“But why would they think he had it coming?”
Nergui shrugged. “Maybe just the usual small town resentment of HQ. Maybe they didn’t like the fact that he’d invaded their turf.”
“Or maybe they know something.”
“Maybe. Which brings us to our group of tourists-those who were chatting to the police in the bar last night. We should talk to them next.”
“It’
s not going to be an easy conversation,” Drew said. “Especially if you’re trying to keep Delgerbayar’s death quiet.”
“I think we should still keep it quiet. If the news is out there, I want to know who’s spreading it, and I’d rather it wasn’t me.” Nergui paused. “Just a friendly conversation is all we need.”
Nergui had asked Batkhuyag to track down some of the tourists. They were back now from their trip and were in their gers or out in the setting sun, resting before dinner. Moments later, Batkhuyag returned followed by two quizzical-looking men. Both were middle-aged, one short and overweight, the other tall and deeply tanned. The latter was wearing sunglasses and made no move to remove them as he entered the dim interior of the ger.
Nergui watched until Batkhuyag had backed out of the tent, and then gestured to the two men to sit. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am very grateful that you were able to join us.”
The overweight man scowled faintly. “What’s this all about? We’re supposed to be on vacation.” He was an American.
“I understand. I apologize for interrupting your leisure. I will be as brief as possible.”
“That would be appreciated.”
“You have been here a few days, that is right?”
“Four days. We’re flying back up to Ulan Baatar tomorrow. It’s an organized tour.”
“I hope you’re enjoying your visit to our country.”
“It’s very interesting. But I’d be grateful if you would get to the point.” Drew was watching closely. It was clear that the overweight man had little time for small talk, but it wasn’t clear if there was any agenda, behind his desire to conclude their discussion. The other man, Drew noted with some interest, had still not spoken, but was watching the discussion with a faint smile playing across his face, as though he were nothing more than a disinterested observer of the interview.
“Of course,” Nergui smiled. “As I think you have been told, I am a senior officer with the Ministry of Security here-”
“I was told you were a cop.”
“In effect, I am. I’m on secondment to the Serious Crimes Team. My colleague here-” Nergui gestured toward Drew, “-is most definitely a cop. He is a Chief Inspector with the British police.”
The overweight man looked across at Drew, baffled now. Whatever assumptions he had made about this meeting had clearly been overturned. “What’s this all about? What’s a Brit doing here?”
“It’s a long story, Mr.-?”
“Collins.”
“Mr. Collins. I won’t bore you with the details, as I realize how precious your time is. We’re investigating a potentially very serious crime in Ulan Baatar, which has also had an impact on some British interests there, hence Chief Inspector McLeish’s presence. Sadly, it appears that the case may also involve one of our own officers who went missing a week ago.”
“What does this have to do with us?”
“Nothing directly,” Nergui said. “Except that we believe that, after leaving Ulan Baatar, the officer in question came here.”
“Here? Why would he come here?”
“We do not know. As yet. He was seen at the airport, and we have some evidence that he came here. But we do not know what he did or who he saw. We are therefore interviewing a number of people-mainly staff, but also some guests-who may recollect him and shed some light on what he did here.”
“And why do you think we can help?”
Nergui shrugged. “I have no idea whether you can or not. As I say, we are simply speaking to a cross section of people. You have frequented the bar here in the evenings?”
“No law against that, is there? We tried that kind of law once. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“On the contrary,” Nergui said, “it is encouraged. Though perhaps some of my countrymen partake with a little too much enthusiasm. No, I simply wondered whether you had seen the officer in question in the bar?” He handed the photograph over to Collins.
Collins scrutinized it closely, then twisted and handed it to the other man, who looked at it very briefly without removing his dark glasses, and shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t help you,” Collins said.
“No? Well, we have to keep asking. Thank you for your time, Mr. Collins and-?” He looked at the other man, who smiled and nodded back, but still said nothing. “We are very grateful to you. I hope you will enjoy the remainder of your trip. Have you had a chance to meet any of the locals down here?” He added the last question as an apparent afterthought.
“Locals? One or two-I can see what you mean about them knocking back the booze. We’ve had one or two lively nights in the bar.” With the interview at an end, Collins sounded more relaxed.
“The local police use this place a lot,” Nergui said. “We thought that might have been why our colleague came here. But they seem to know nothing about this.”
“They-” Collins began, then stopped. “I don’t know who we met. We couldn’t really make ourselves understood. Except through the international language of the bottle.” He looked back at the other man, and Drew wondered whether some sort of signal passed between them. But Collins had his head turned away and the other man had not removed his glasses, so there was no way of knowing. “Well, if you’ve finished with us, gentlemen, I think we’ll go and prepare ourselves for another night of socializing and inebriation.”
“Please, be our guest,” Nergui said. “Have an enjoyable stay. Everything in moderation, as they say.”
“Except moderation,” Collins said, as a parting shot. The door of the ger closed softly behind him.
Nergui waited a moment, swinging softly on his chair, then said, “What do you think?”
“I think he’s guilty as hell,” Drew said.
Nergui nodded slowly, as though contemplating this opinion and giving his reluctant assent. “But of what?”
“Haven’t a clue, I’m afraid. Probably nothing to do with this case.”
Nergui laughed and rose slowly from the chair. “Come,” he said, “we’ve spent enough time in the darkness going slowly round in circles. Let’s at least step into the sunshine as we do it.”
Drew followed Nergui out of the tent. At first, the light was blinding after the dim interior of the ger. Although it was still only midafternoon, the sun was already low above the horizon, casting long shadows across the desert. The day was growing noticeably cooler.
“It will be cold tonight,” Nergui said. “Zero or perhaps lower.”
They walked slowly out of the camp gates, and made their way across the sand, Nergui leading. There was no obvious destination. The undulating sands stretched emptily ahead of them. Off to the left, in the far distance-it was impossible to tell how far-there was a small clustering of gers, but little else to be seen on the expanse surrounding them.
They walked a few hundred yards away from the camp, and Nergui stopped, looking back. “It looks very peaceful, no?”
“Miles from anywhere,” Drew agreed.
“Miles from anywhere,” Nergui repeated. “Miles from civilization, certainly.” He kicked the sand with his foot. “Desert,” he said. “Emptiness.” He began to walk again, heading away from the camp as if striding toward the desolate horizon. Drew followed, glad to be out in the air, but wondering where this was leading.
As though reading Drew’s thoughts, Nergui stopped again, turning to face Drew. “I do not like this,” he said, at last. “I do not like the pattern.” He spoke as though commenting on an item of clothing or furniture, and for a moment Drew was unsure what he meant.
“The case?”
“The case,” Nergui said. “I do not like the fact that we are down here in the Gobi. I do not like the involvement of the police. I do not like the systematic nature of these killings. I do not like the fact that-in the face of all that-we nevertheless appear to be dealing with a psychopath.”
“We still can’t be sure of that.”
“No, we can’t. Though I am not sure how else you would characterize such killings. But
it is not just that. It is the totality of it that disturbs. It does not-how can I put this? — it does not fit together. And most of all, because there is a pattern here I still cannot read, I do not like the fact that we are down here, in this part of my country.”
Drew was lost now. He watched Nergui, who was striding up and down the sand, as though he were unable to stand still for a moment.
“I don’t understand. What is it you find so disturbing about this place? I mean, it’s a desolate enough spot, but-”
“Desolate,” Nergui repeated. “Yes, certainly. But it is the emptiness that disturbs me.”
This was all becoming a little too philosophical for Drew’s tastes. He would not have imagined that Nergui was a man prone to these kinds of imaginative fancies, but then he did not understand this culture.
Nergui smiled. “You think I am a superstitious fool?”
“No,” Drew protested. “It’s just-”
“I am expressing myself badly, trying to capture a feeling I have.” He shrugged. “The famous detective’s intuition. You have that?”
Drew smiled. “I think it’s usually just a polite word for blind guesswork when I haven’t a clue what’s going on.”
“That could well be the case,” Nergui agreed. “But it is not entirely fanciful, I think, not in this case. We Mongolians are accustomed to the open air, to emptiness. It is our heritage. But today it feels to me as if we are surrounded by forces that are threatening that birthright. Do you know what lies that way?” He gestured toward the southern horizon.
For a moment, Drew was thrown by the apparent non sequitur. Then he turned to look where Nergui was pointing. The sun was beginning to disappear below the horizon, and the camp to their right was throwing huge shadows across the landscape around them. It would soon be dark.
Drew peered into the shadows. The line of the horizon was sharp against the deepening blue of the sky, but he could see nothing.
“You cannot see it from here, though it is not so very far,” Nergui said. “Close to the Chinese border, down there, you will find one of our country’s largest deposits of gold and copper, ready for exploitation.”
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