The Shadow Walker Read Online Free PDF Page B

without touching the object, the owner had had some premonition about its contents and had backed up the slope to track down the local police.
    It was fortunate that he had not looked more closely. The state of the body was even worse than that of the first. The head and hands had been removed, the severed neck and wrists yawning bloodily, and there were similar large knife wounds to the chest, this time cut savagely down to the bone. There was little blood and the body had not yet begun to decay. The murder had clearly happened in some other location, and relatively recently. The pathologist had quickly concluded that death had been caused by the stab wounds, but that again the removal of the limbs had taken place after death. Given the cold weather, it was difficult as yet to pinpoint the time of death precisely, but the killing had probably taken place overnight or even earlier that morning, perhaps only some six or seven hours before. It was not clear how the body had been transported to this spot, although it would not have been difficult to get a van or truck close to the edge of the ravine.
    The victim was dressed in a heavyweight burgundy
del,
the traditional garb of the herdsmen out on the steppes, a heavy robe wrapped around the body, tied with an ornate but faded belt, designed to combat the rigors of the Mongolian winter. Suchclothing was still commonplace even in the city, particularly among the older residents.
    â€œCan we identify the clothing?” Nergui asked. “This isn’t one of those mass-produced Chinese suits.”
    Doripalam shrugged. “We might. But I’m not optimistic. The
del
and the boots are both years old, though they’ve worn well. The labels have been removed. That stuff could have been made or purchased anywhere in the country. Probably goes back to Soviet times.”
    â€œSo what else do we have?”
    â€œNot much. Another male, probably in his late forties, fairly short and stout, and definitely Mongolian. There are no other identifying features. No other possessions. In a word—nothing.” Doripalam shook his head and then kicked at the hard ground in frustration. “Just another nameless corpse.”
    It was a cold clear morning, and the temperature had dropped from the brief Indian summer of the previous week. Winter was on the way, and the young man had a heavy black overcoat pulled tightly around him. He was a slight figure, constantly full of nervous energy. He took several steps out into the scrubby wasteland and then turned back, as though pacing a room. His dark hair, Nergui noted, was perhaps slightly too long.
    â€œThey weren’t making any attempt to hide the body,” Nergui said. It was a comment rather than a question.
    â€œIf they’d wanted to conceal it, they wouldn’t have chosen this spot.” He gestured up at the rows of
gers
visible above the ravine. “There are people down here all the time. People with their dogs. Children playing.”
    â€œLucky it was a dog found it, then,” Nergui said grimly.
    Doripalam nodded. “But you have to say,” he added, “that it’s as if they wanted it to be found.”
    â€œThat seems a potential link between the three killings,” Nergui said. “The bodies were left in places where they were bound to be found quickly, even though in two cases the murders took place elsewhere. But the killer has gone to great lengths to make surewe can’t easily identify the bodies. So why not hide the bodies as well?”
    Doripalam shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to imagine the thought processes of someone who does this.”
    Nergui had been peripherally involved in a couple of serial killer cases while liaising with his Russian counterparts, and he was well aware of the confused psychology that underpinned such acts. That, of course, was to assume that these murders were indeed the work of a psychopath. Taken in isolation, the apparent