The Shadow Walker by Michael Walters Page A

presence.
    â€œI thought,” Nergui said, as they drove away, “you and Doripalam might perhaps join me for dinner at my home tonight? I would be honored.”
    â€œWell, that’s very kind of you.” Drew glanced back at the dark silhouette of the factory. “But—well, are you sure? I mean, you mustn’t feel obliged to be my host. I realize this has been a shock.”
    â€œA shock, professionally, yes,” Nergui said. “We have never experienced anything like this before. Of course, we have had policemen killed in the line of duty. But nothing like this.” Before Drew could respond he went on: “It is not that the victim was a personal friend, you understand. I knew him, had met him in passing a few times.” Nergui laughed, with an edge of bitterness. “The last time, I think, I was reprimanding him a little because he had failed to sort out some papers I needed for a case I was working on. But I understand he was a good officer. And he was, I imagine, a friend to some of those who were with us today.” He paused. “That is what is so horrific—that whoever did this tried to ensure that we would enter that place in force. He wanted to ensure that this body was found, not just by any passerby, but those who knew him best.”
    Drew shuddered. Nergui was right. It was a horrific thought, suggesting an extraordinary cold-bloodedness to the murder. It also raised the questions of what had motivated the murderer to behave in this way, and—even more chillingly—where this motivation might lead him next. “But why?” he asked. “Why would anyone behave like that?”
    â€œWho knows? We appear to be dealing with some kind of madman, though I can’t begin to conceive what kind. But we stilldon’t know whether the victims, including this one, were selected randomly or deliberately targeted. Even in this last case, I suppose it is possible that the victim was selected randomly, but then the killer chose to expose the body in the cruelest and most spectacular way he could.”
    â€œBut equally it may not be a coincidence that the victim was a police officer?”
    â€œAs you say. In which case, perhaps the previous victims were also not selected randomly.”
    It was like gazing into a pool of clouded water, Drew thought. Occasionally some object swam into view, and you began to feel that you could recognize the shape of it. But then the water clouded again, and there was nothing but grayness and uncertainty.
    There was no doubt that even Nergui, calm professional though he appeared, had been shaken by the day’s events. Nevertheless, he remained insistent that Drew should join him for dinner. “It is my duty as your host,” he said. “But, more importantly, I would welcome the opportunity to spend the evening with someone. It is not a day to be alone, I think.”
    Drew was often grateful his domestic circumstances meant there was always someone to come home to. Sometimes he would share his experiences, but more often he would simply try to put them behind him. It made his working existence more bearable.
    Ten years on from his marriage, he couldn’t really envisage life any other way, and he wondered what it must be like for Nergui, coming home every day to this comfortable but sterile apartment. He also wondered why it was that having faced a trauma like today’s, he could call on nobody other than his deputy and a total stranger.
    As it turned out, Doripalam chose to excuse himself from the dinner invitation. Drew could not work out whether this was a tactful judgment on Doripalam’s part or, more likely, it was simply that Doripalam had access to those domestic comforts which were so notably absent in Nergui’s existence.
    Still, Nergui was an excellent host. He had arranged an official car to bring Drew over to his apartment, and greeted him warmly at the door. He was dressed in what, to