The Shadow Walker by Michael Walters Page B

scenes of his former glory. But that didn’t help his own position. To the rest of the team, Nergui’s arrival had simply confirmed their view that Doripalam had never been up to the job in the first place. Solongo had tried hard to conceal her disappointment when he had informed her, but he was clear that she too now assumed that his promotion was only a stopgap and that Nergui would be kept in the role until a more suitable candidate was found. She had never really believed that her husband was senior management material.
    In the face of all that, he should have told them what to do with their job. Or at least he should have ceased putting in all the extra effort that had become the norm over the past few months. And yet here he was again, stumbling into the building at six thirty in the morning, the day not even light, preparing for another day of minimal achievement.
    As he made his way along the corridor, he was surprised to see that the lights were already on in one of the other offices. The night shift would have been on duty, of course, but they were unlikely to have ventured up to the management offices. Then he realized. Even now, it seemed, Nergui couldn’t resist demonstrating that he was always one step ahead of everyone else. Knowing Nergui’s domestic circumstances, though, Doripalam wasn’t sure whether to feel irritated or pitying.
    He tapped lightly on Nergui’s door and poked his head around. “Good morning, Nergui. See you haven’t changed your habits.”
    Nergui looked up from the mass of paperwork. “Usual story about old dogs and new tricks, I’m afraid.”
    Actually, Nergui was sorry that Doripalam had found him here so early in the morning. He had always had a reputation for working absurdly long hours, which others found intimidating and which he knew wasn’t particularly justified. There was nothingwrong with intimidating people now and again, but Nergui didn’t want Doripalam to think he was engaged in some egotistical game. There was enough tension between the two men already.
    The truth was that Nergui needed little sleep. He had a suspicion that he could probably survive with virtually no sleep at all. But over the years he’d gradually settled for around four hours a night, generally between around one and five a.m.
    This morning, he had thought it worth getting in early. Although he had been through the case papers countless times, he wanted to reread them before they met Drew again later in the morning. Nergui had no illusions as to why Drew had been sent here. He knew it was a token gesture aimed largely toward the victim’s family and the UK media. He also recognized that there was probably little that Drew could add to the investigation in the limited time he was here.
    However, his years of working in this environment had taught Nergui that it was worth making best use of whatever resources were thrown in his direction. At the very least, Drew would bring another perspective to the case—and a fairly astute one, as far as Nergui could judge—which might complement his own experience and Doripalam’s perspicacity. More importantly, Drew was an experienced investigating officer, of a kind all too rare in this country. Nergui wanted to extract whatever value he could from his brief presence.
    Since arriving in the office at five thirty, he had read painstakingly through the case documents, highlighting apparently important points, making detailed notes, producing short English translations of anything he felt might be of interest to Drew, and reviewing again the innumerable, largely unpleasant photographs.
    Doripalam gestured to the mounds of papers and files in front of Nergui. “Surprised you managed to keep awake,” he said. “Find anything new?”
    â€œWhat do you think?” At least Nergui now felt that he was thoroughly up to speed with everything in the notes. Nevertheless, theoverwhelming