“Tunjin?”
“Tunjin. It may be something and nothing. He’s a strange character at the best of times. But given his current—status, I’m a little worried. I think we need to get back. Are we okay to drive in this thing?” Doripalam gestured to the shattered windscreen. Luvsan had punched out the shards of glass so the interior of the truck was now open to the air.
“No choice,” Luvsan said. “Even if we were staying up here, I doubt we’d be able to get it repaired locally. It’ll be cold, but if we wrap up warm we should be okay.”
Doripalam nodded and thumbed a number into his cell. He waited a moment for the call to be answered, then asked to be put through to the officer who had called earlier. “Sorry for the delay in getting back. We had a bit of an incident up here, but it’s okay now. Any more news on Tunjin?” He listened for a moment then said: “Well, keep us informed. We’re heading back, but it’ll be a few hours before we reach the city. If anything happens in the meantime, call us straight away.”
He ended the call and turned back to Luvsan. “Nothing. No sign of Tunjin. They’re searching the apartment. It’s a mess—though they suspect that it was probably a mess anyway. Tunjin’s domestic life seems to have been everything that you might have expected. But it also looks as if it’s been searched pretty thoroughly already.”
Luvsan pulled open the passenger door of the truck. “What would Tunjin have that would be worth searching for?”
Doripalam shrugged. “Who knows? But nothing would surprise me about Tunjin.”
They climbed back into the truck. Luvsan turned it round, and slowly pulled back up onto the road and then turned left back toward the south. “Was there any sign of a struggle?” he said.
“What?” Luvsan was having to keep the truck’s speed fairly low, but even so the continuous blast of cold air filled the truck with noise.
“At Tunjin’s apartment. Any sign of a struggle?” Luvsan shouted.
“Difficult to tell, apparently,” Doripalam shouted back. “Whole place was turned over. No way of knowing if there’d been a struggle in the middle of it.”
“So we don’t know whether Tunjin’s just gone to ground for some reason, or whether something’s happened to him?”
Doripalam shook his head. “But as you were no doubt about to point out so politely earlier, someone like Tunjin doesn’t go missing easily. He’s a big person to lose.”
CHAPTER 13
The basement always made Nergui feel uneasy, though it was as secure as all other parts of the apartment block. This place mainly housed government officials, and, although Nergui had taken additional steps to address security in his own apartment, the whole place was designed to offer substantial protection to a potentially vulnerable group. The concerns had been greater during the early days of democracy, when there seemed to be a permanent fear that some form of revolution, or perhaps counter-revolution, was brewing just around the bend. Now, things had calmed and most of those who lived here paid little heed to the security trappings that this place offered. But Nergui was grateful, now as much as ever, that the block offered at least some protection.
Even so, the basement felt more vulnerable. It was mainly just that the lights were dim and the place was riddled with shadowy corners, as well as the potential hiding places offered by the rows of residents’ cars. It wouldn’t be an easy place to penetrate, but if anyone did get in, there would be plenty of places for them to hide.
And tonight who knew what might be waiting? Nergui crossed the concrete floor cautiously, his hand resting on the steel of his pistol, his eyes watchful for any sign of movement. He knew he was being paranoid. But he also knew that, on a number of occasions, it was paranoia that had kept him alive.
His own Mitsubishi 4x4 was parked a little way along the row. He reached it without incident, unlocked it and climbed in, throwing the canvas bag into the rear seat. He started the engine, reversed out and turned back toward the entrance. Still no sign of anything.
As he approached the entrance, he lowered the window to wave the electronic tag near the monitor. There was a moment’s pause and then the heavy metal gates that enclosed the entrance slowly drew back. He noted, in passing, that the slow movement of the gates might well allow an intruder on foot time to slip through once a car had departed. He had not thought about this before, and the revelation of this minor weakness in the block’s security increased his unease.
And, he realized, his unease was feeding upon itself. The very fact that he was feeling so uncomfortable was unusual—the last time he had experienced this kind of sensation was when they had faced the series of brutal killings the previous winter. Then, as now, he had had the sense that his unconscious mind was telling him something that his conscious brain had not yet learned to interpret. That there was something more going on than he’d so far identified.
Nergui was smart enough and experienced enough to be able to assess realistically the risks involved in his journey tonight. As long as he was careful, they were likely to be minimal. But still something was nagging at him. There was still a sense that he was—not out of his depth, exactly. The waters would have to be very deep indeed before Nergui’s limits were reached. But certainly that he was much closer to those limits than his rational mind might suggest.
And Nergui had learned to trust his instincts. Not as something supernatural or magical, but simply as the expression of all his years of experience. However slight the apparent risk, he would take no chances tonight.
He pulled out from the apartment block and turned into the main street. He hesitated just for a moment and then took a right, heading in the opposite direction from his intended destination, traveling west along Peace Avenue, out of the city. He continued for two or three miles, the long strip of the railway prominent on his right, the Onion Mountain visible on the left. At this hour, there was no other traffic and no sign that he was being followed.
As the road straightened out, he did a sharp U-turn and headed back, passing clustered ger encampments and then industrial areas until he once again entered the central area of the city. He passed no other vehicles. Driving at this time of night was a mixed blessing in terms of security. On the one hand, it would be difficult for any pursuer to remain concealed. On the other, Nergui’s own car was highly conspicuous.
He drove back along Peace Avenue, and then turned right down toward Nairamdal Park. There were a few more people around here—drinkers tumbling out of the Khanbrau and East West Bars, a scattering of late-night pedestrians. Above to his left, he could see the clustering temples that formed the Monastery Museum of Choijin Lama. And then he was past that and the vast dark space of the parkland opened up beyond the road.
To his right, opposite the park, there was the squat tower of the Bayangol Hotel.
He turned into the hotel and parked his car inconspicuously alongside a row of others. Grabbing the bag from the rear seat and ensuring that the handgun was safely in his pocket, he jumped out of the car and crossed the road to the entrance to the park.
He looked around. There was no one in sight, and even the hotel lobby looked closed and deserted. The park gates were locked for the night but it was easy enough to climb over into the darkness beyond. He wondered quite how Tunjin would manage to negotiate the fence, but knew from experience that Tunjin would have identified his own entrance route.
He stepped away from the fence and walked a few meters into the shadow, listening hard for any sound of movement. The rain had long ceased, but he could hear the dripping of water from the trees as a faint breeze rippled through the foliage. Otherwise, there was nothing.
He began to walk slowly across the park, heading from memory in the direction of the lake. He had brought a flashlight, but wanted to avoid using it unless absolutely necessary.
There was no sign yet of Tunjin. In the near blackness, he could just make out the shapes of the aged Ferris wheel and other rides in the amusement area across the park.
He found the lake w
ithout difficulty, its dirty water giving a faintly luminous glow. The surrounding trees clattered quietly in the soft wind. He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. Almost exactly eleven thirty. Perfect. The only question now was whether Tunjin would make the rendezvous.
The question was answered almost immediately. A larger patch of blackness suddenly emerged from the shadows further along the lake. Nergui walked forward and said, only just audibly, “It’s me.” He didn’t give his name but knew that Tunjin—assuming that it was Tunjin—would recognize the voice. His hand slipped into his pocket, firmly gripping the pistol handle. He glanced briefly around him, keeping his back toward the lake so there was no danger of being surprised from behind.
Within seconds, he had no doubt that it was Tunjin. The ungainly movement of his large body was unmistakable. Nergui relaxed slightly, suddenly aware that he had been holding his breath. But he continued to grasp the gun, conscious that, if they had been followed, it was at this moment of exposure that they were probably most vulnerable.
“You made it,” Tunjin said, drawing up closer.
“It wasn’t that difficult for me,” Nergui said. “The more important thing is that you made it safely. You’re sure no one spotted you.”
“As sure as I can be,” Tunjin said. He glanced down at his heaving body. “You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but I’m actually quite good at giving people the slip.”
Nergui smiled, pleased at least that some signs of the old Tunjin were still in evidence. And the greatest miracle was that, as far as he could tell, there was no hint of alcohol on Tunjin’s breath.
“What about you?” Tunjin said. “You’re sure you weren’t followed?”
“In any other circumstance,” Nergui said, “I’d have you disciplined for impertinence.”
“You can’t,” Tunjin pointed out. “I’m already suspended.”
“So you are,” Nergui said. “And your own bloody fault too.”
“You’re not the type to say ‘I told you so,’” Tunjin said. “If you were, you’d be insufferable.”
Nergui laughed, softly. “Glad to see that this mess hasn’t entirely dampened your spirits.”
“I haven’t had time for my spirits to be dampened, other than by that bloody rain. Though I wasn’t feeling too pleased with myself, holed up in the back of a semi-demolished shop.”
“How are you?” Nergui said. “I mean, really.”
Tunjin shrugged. “As well as can be expected. I’ve been suspended from the only job I’ve ever known, a year off retirement. I’ve been exposed as the thorn in the side of the most dangerous criminal psychopath in the city. And I’m on the run, with no obvious prospect of salvation. In the circumstances, not so bad.”
“At least it’s gotten you off the drink.”
“And where the bloody hell am I supposed to find booze? It’s not for lack of wanting it, I can tell you.”
“So what are we going to do?” Nergui said. “How are we going to get you out of this mess?”
“I was rather hoping that you might be able to tell me that.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be easy,” Nergui said. “The problem is knowing who to trust.”
“That’s been the problem throughout this whole bloody affair,” Tunjin said. “Everywhere you turn, he’s got people. I mean, I know I was bloody stupid and it was half-baked, but I’d never expected that it would leak like that. No one knew.”
“Someone knew,” Nergui said. “Assuming that you’re not informing on yourself.”
“At least that would have been simpler,” Tunjin said. “Cut out the middleman and all that. No. Everywhere you turn there’s someone. I’m not even sure about you, sometimes.”
“To be honest,” Nergui said, “I wasn’t at all sure about you till you pulled this little stunt. And even now I’m wondering if it isn’t some kind of double bluff.”
“If you knew what I’d been through today, you wouldn’t have any doubts. And I guess I know that, if you’re not on the side of the angels, then the whole bloody police force might as well pack up and go home.”
“It may come to that,” Nergui said. “I’m getting nowhere in rooting out what really is going on there.”
“What about Doripalam?” Tunjin said. “You think he’s straight?”
Nergui hesitated. In any other circumstances he would be reluctant to express any views about a senior officer, particularly to the likes of Tunjin. But these were far from ordinary circumstances. “I’m pretty sure so,” he said. “But that’s the difficulty. All my instincts tell me he’s straight. But even with him I can’t be absolutely certain. And in any case there are too many others I don’t trust. I’ve started to get together some pretty damning evidence on one or two characters, but in most cases there’s just no way to be sure. We just don’t know how far this goes.”
“Further than you can imagine,” Tunjin said.
“I thought about trying to organize you police protection,” Nergui said. “But there’s no way.” He thought about what had happened to Sarangarel’s husband, a decade before. The tentacles were in place already, even at that time. There was no way of knowing how far they might stretch by now.
“I’ll happily decline,” Tunjin said. “As things stand.”
“It might be feasible to organize some sort of safe house through the Ministry,” Nergui said. “But even there, even in the intelligence services—”
“You don’t know for sure.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“I don’t know for sure,” Nergui agreed. “It would be your risk.”
Tunjin turned. “I’m tired,” he said, in a tone that suggested that his weariness was more than merely physical. “Let’s find somewhere to sit down.” He began to trudge slowly across the silent park, Nergui following behind him, his senses alert for any other sign of movement. Ahead of them there were the floodlit façades of the Buddhist temples and then, beyond that, all the scattered lights of the city. By contrast, in the darkness, the park seemed inhospitable, a lifeless wasteland, its shadows containing who knew what kinds of threat.
They reached the play area. The rides were all firmly closed and locked, but there were benches where they could sit. The skeletal shape of the Ferris wheel towered above them, black bones against the cloudy night sky.
Tunjin slumped heavily on to one of the benches, the wood and metal creaking beneath his weight. Nergui sat carefully beside him.
“It’s not a risk I want to take,” Tunjin said, continuing their previous conversation.
“In your place, I’d feel the same,” Nergui said. “It’s one thing to be out here, keeping an eye out for yourself, however great the risk. It’s another to hand yourself over to someone else’s safe keeping, if you don’t have confidence in them.”
“And you’re saying you wouldn’t have confidence in the intelligence services?”
“I don’t know. No. Not entirely.”
“So, no, I don’t think so.”
“But what’s the alternative?” Nergui said. “You can’t stay on the run forever.” He paused. “It’s outrageous. After all these years. All my supposed authority. And I can’t even provide adequate protection for a police officer in trouble.”
“I’m still a police officer, then?” Tunjin said. “I wasn’t sure.”
“Of course you’re still a police officer,” Nergui said. “And as far as I’m concerned you’ll stay a police officer till you retire.”
“Assuming I live that long.”
“Assuming you live that long. And, at the moment, I don’t know how we ensure that. You can’t keep running.”
“I’m not exactly built for it,” Tunjin agreed, looking down at his vast bulk.
“So what do we do?” Nergui said. “I can try to find you somewhere to hide out. Somewhere only we know about. I’d take you back to my apartment, but I can’t believe that it’s not at least under some kind of surveillance. That’s why I was afraid of being followed tonigh
t.”
“I’m best where I am at the moment,” Tunjin said. “It’s not comfortable. But no one but me knows that I’m there. It’ll buy me two or three days at least. But I can’t stay there forever.”
“I brought you some food and water,” Nergui said, remembering the canvas bag he had slung over his shoulder. “Nothing much. I just grabbed what I had, but it’ll keep you going for a while. If we arrange another meeting, I can get you some more.”
“I could do with losing a pound or two, anyway,” Tunjin laughed.
“But it doesn’t solve the problem,” Nergui said. “All we’re doing is buying time. I’m out of ideas.”
“As I see it,” Tunjin said, “there’s only one way forward.”
Nergui looked across at the man sitting next to him. In the gloom, he could not make out his expression. “And that is?”
“I’ve got to finish what I started,” Tunjin said. “Only this time I’ve got to make sure I do it properly.”
There was a faint breeze rustling through the trees. For a moment, Nergui fancied that he could discern some other sound, maybe someone moving. He held his breath for a second, listening, but could make out nothing more.
“What do you mean?” he said, at last.
“What I say,” Tunjin leaned back on the bench which creaked alarmingly under them. “I need to finish what I started, but make less of a mess of it this time.”
Nergui shook his head. “I don’t know what you’ve got in mind,” he said. “But you’re hardly in the best position to start collating more evidence. And you presumably didn’t find it all that easy last time, which is why you’re in this mess.”
Tunjin shrugged. “Maybe I was too complacent last time. I thought I’d covered all the angles, but I clearly hadn’t. I didn’t realize how far this thing went.”
“I don’t think any of us really did,” Nergui said. “I was taken aback by what you tried to do, but I was even more startled that—with all your natural talents—you didn’t manage to get away with it.” He paused, as if wondering quite how many metaphorical cards to put on the table. “It scared the hell out me, actually. I mean, I always knew he had people on the inside. But then I also knew how smart you’d have been in trying to pull all that stuff off. And if you had gotten caught—well, I can't bear to think about it.”
The Adversary Page 18