The Shadow Walker by Michael Walters

Fixed between its two hands, as if mimicking some parody of a ghost, was the victim’s own head.
    Drew stood for a moment, transfixed. To his side, some of the other officers had begun to cluster around the door, their curiosity finally getting the better of them. One of them, one of the younger ones, moved forward to look at the scene, and then backed away, a look of shock on his face, his hand over his mouth. He turned and moved rapidly toward the entrance,retching as he ran. Others began to move back similarly, as if the bright room were somehow contaminated.
    Nergui looked up, and saw Drew. He nodded and beckoned Drew forward. Drew approached the room, uneasily but with less disgust than was evident amongst the police team. Although he had never seen anything quite like this, he had seen enough in his time to be able to cope.
    â€œYou do not need to come in,” Nergui said.
    â€œIt’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    Drew looked back at the officers outside, most of whom had now withdrawn from the room.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
    â€œThis 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.”
    â€œAnd, 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.”
    â€œWell, 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