The Adversary (38 page)

“You think I have materials that might incriminate you?”

“I don't know what the content of these materials is,” Muunokhoi said, “but I believe that your husband thought they might offer him some protection.”

“And that was why he sent them off for safe-keeping with some cousin on the other side of the country?” she said. “If so, it was another smart move. So he was one step ahead of you there as well.” She recalled the break-in at her apartment, shortly after Gansukh's death, when her world was still in turmoil. She had had few possessions of any value, and nothing had been stolen other than a small amount of loose cash. But the apartment had been left in a mess, presumably—or so the police had suggested—because the intruders had tried to find something else worth stealing. Now, though, she was sure that Muunokhoi's men had been behind this, hunting for these mysterious documents.

Muunokhoi nodded his head. “Smarter than we thought, certainly. It is a pity that he never had the
opportunity to exploit such intelligence. A pity also—for him, that is—that he never had the chance to use the insurance policy he had so carefully arranged.”

“The police thought he was about to make a deal,” she said. “Just before his death. It seems a strange time for him to have committed suicide.”

“Who can fathom the workings of the disturbed mind?” Muunokhoi said piously.

“I'm certainly having great difficulty just at the moment,” she said. She leaned forward. She was still feeling deeply anxious, trapped here in this bare room with a very dangerous individual, but somehow she had been able, for the moment at least, to push her fears to the back of her mind. The only way out of this was to reason her way out, somehow persuade Muunokhoi that it was not in his interests to harm her. It was the longest of long shots, but she saw little alternative. No one else knew she was here. Quite probably no one other than Nergui knew that she had been kidnapped, and she had no idea what kind of state Nergui was in. If he was safe and unharmed, then he would probably assume that Muunokhoi was behind her kidnapping, but she did not fool herself that mounting a search of Muunokhoi's properties would be a straightforward task, even for Nergui. In the meantime, the only option she could see was to keep probing, in the hope that she might uncover some means of justifying her release.

“What I don't understand,” she went on, “is what you're really worried about. Even if Gansukh did somehow manage to cobble together some potentially incriminating papers—and, even if he turned out to be
smarter than you expected, you shouldn't overestimate his abilities—surely the threat went away once he was … after his death.”

Muunokhoi nodded, as though absorbing new information. “We thought that was probably so,” he said. “But we couldn't be sure. If your husband really was smart, he would have wanted some bargaining counter in place in case he was threatened. He would need some means of releasing the incriminating material even if he were incapacitated or dead. Otherwise—and I speak only of what might have gone on inside your husband's fevered mind, you understand—the material would only have increased his vulnerability to threat.”

“So why wasn't the material released after his death, then?” she said. This all sounded far-fetched to her. She couldn't imagine Gansukh having the wit or the energy to engage in anything so sophisticated.

Muunokhoi shrugged. “I suspect that your husband didn't have his plans in place in time. He was concerned about what we might do to him. He wasn't expecting to be arrested. That probably took him by surprise.”

That sounded plausible enough. The story of Gansukh's life. Even if he had been foresighted enough to arrange this supposed insurance, it was almost inevitable that his plans would come to nothing. “But he'd already gotten rid of the documents.”

“I suspect he would have done that at the earliest opportunity, just so there was no evidence against him if we should become suspicious. Probably just sent them to his cousin—perhaps without much explanation
—saying he'd come to sort out the materials shortly. But he didn't get the opportunity to do it. Or to find anyone who might be prepared to release the documents if anything happened to him.”

“I can see why that wouldn't be an attractive role,” she said.

“Which may be why you refused to do it?” Muunokhoi said.

She looked up and him. “You think he asked me?”

“Who else could be trust?”

“Probably nobody,” she said. “But, by the same token, he wouldn't have trusted me either. Not with that. He never shared any of his—business dealings with me. He knew what I thought of them.”

“But you were happy to turn a blind eye and live off the proceeds?” Muunokhoi said, with a trace of amusement.

“I earned my own living,” she said. “Not a great deal in those days, but then Gansukh was hardly rolling in money either. It sounds stupid now but I was in love with Gansukh. I didn't approve of what he did, and I told him so, but I didn't take much advantage of it either.” She didn't know why she felt any need to justify herself to Muunokhoi, except that perhaps she recognized that, even allowing for her youthful lack of judgment, there was some truth in his comment. “But I would be the last person he'd have trusted with something like that.”

“So perhaps he had difficulty in finding anyone,” Muunokhoi said. “Which is why the material remained unused.”

“Did it ever occur to you that Khenbish might have
just exaggerated things to ingratiate himself with you and maybe try to shift your attention on to Gansukh?”

“I'm sure he did,” Muunokhoi said. “But I'm equally sure that the documents existed. And that they still exist.”

“I still don't see how I can help you, or why you felt it necessary to bring me here against my will. So I've received some material that used to belong to Gansukh, which for some reason he deposited with his cousin. And some of that material undoubtedly relates to his business dealings. But I've been through it all. I didn't see anything that might incriminate you. And I've no doubt that if you had just wanted to get hold of those papers, you could have found a means of taking them.” She paused, her mind working. “After all, someone must have informed you that I'd received them in the first place.” She shook her head, marveling at her own naivety. She had thought she was being smart, registering the papers with her lawyer, keen as always to ensure that anything associated with Gansukh should be handled as formally and transparently as possible, so that her own professional position could not be compromised.

“It was important to keep a close eye on you, Mrs. Radnaa. Even after all this time. Just in case.”

So it looked as if Nergui had been right. Muunokhoi had indeed infiltrated everywhere. Whichever way you turned, his associates were there, passing on information. No wonder that Gansukh had been unable to trust anyone with the papers.

She shrugged. “It doesn't seem right that we should both be paying for my lawyer's services. I must ask for
a refund. But then surely all this is unnecessary. If my lawyer's on your payroll, the papers—or copies of them—must already be in your possession.”

Muunokhoi nodded. “And you are also right that there is nothing incriminating in the papers. Nothing significant, anyway. One or two things that might potentially cause me a little commercial embarrassment—or might have done at the time, anyway. But nothing major.”

“So why am I here, then?” she said. Maybe this whole situation was less rational than she had thought. Perhaps Muunokhoi wasn't simply after the documents. Perhaps there was something else. For the first time, she began to wonder about Muunokhoi's state of mind. She had seen him as a calculating businessman—not an attractive figure, but amenable to rational negotiation. Now she was less sure.

“I think you know more than you are saying, Mrs. Radnaa. I think that you knew that you might be under observation. I think you found something more in those documents which you chose not to deposit with your lawyer.”

“Why would I do that?” she said. “I don't want anything to do with all this. Apart from anything else, I've my own professional position to maintain. That's why I placed all Gansukh's materials with my lawyer in the first place, so no one could ever accuse me of hiding anything. If I'd found anything important in those papers, I'd have handed it over to the police.”

Muunokhoi smiled faintly, sitting back in his chair. “Ah, but would you, Mrs. Radnaa? Would you have even trusted the police with this material? You are an
intelligent woman, and I think you would have recognized that there might have been risks in handing over such material. Even to the police.”

She stared at him, astonished at the calmness with which he was confirming Nergui's worst suspicions.

Again, it was as if he were reading her thoughts. “And, interestingly, Mrs. Radnaa, we now know who was with you when we—picked you up. One of my people recognized him but couldn't initially put a name to his face. When he told me, my first thought was that this was a very intriguing companion for you. Nergui and I go back a long way. He is one of the senior officers whom you could certainly trust.”

“Nergui is a friend,” she said. “We also go back a long way, as you no doubt recall.”

He nodded, smiling now. “It is always good to reinvigorate an old friendship. But don't take me for a fool, Mrs. Radnaa.”

She was, finally, beginning to feel angry now, her rising fury driving out her gnawing anxiety. “I'm not sure what to take you for,” she said. “I suspect you're insane. Pursuing some decade old—well, I'm not even sure what. A vendetta? Because, for all your ruthlessness, my husband managed to make more of a fool of you than you'd care to admit? Is that it? For once, someone was a step ahead of you, and you didn't manage to tie up every last loose end?”

She was aware that her temper was getting the better of her, that she might be losing whatever chance she might have had of talking her way out of this. But the words kept tumbling out of her mouth as she struggled to make some sense of her absurd predicament.
“I don't know what Gansukh did,” she said, “and after all this time I don't much care. Maybe for once he was smart. Maybe he did really have something on you. All I do know is that there was no sign of it in the papers I received.” She paused, recovering her breath and trying to recover her composure. “You're chasing ghosts, Muunokhoi. I think the truth is that you are going to end up in jail. But not because of anything that Gansukh might have had on you. Just because you're running out of time. You're not the man you were. Someday, somehow, someone's going to catch up with you.”

Muunokhoi seemed untroubled by her diatribe. “Your friend, Nergui, has been chasing me for twenty years and never gotten close. I don't think he's going to catch me now.” He paused, the empty smile playing again across his pale face. “But we are really wasting time, Mrs. Radnaa. I admit that, in your current position, you perhaps have plenty of time to waste. But I do not. I want to know what else was in those papers you received.”

She stared at him, unable to come to grips with what appeared to be little more than monomania. “I've told you, there was nothing else. Everything was placed in the hands of my lawyer. And so, it appears, was handed directly over to you.”

“I have told you, Mrs. Radnaa, do not take me for a fool. You're an intelligent woman. You would not have trusted your lawyer. You would not have trusted the police. You would have disposed of the materials in some other way. If you've handed them over to Nergui then I will need to arrange for their recovery.”

“Recovery?”

His smile grew wider, somehow emphasizing the emptiness of his eyes. “Ah, I see. You are concerned about Nergui's safety. Quite understandable, given the views you have expressed about my own morality. But you will not be placing Nergui in any greater danger by acknowledging that he now has the relevant material. You will merely be simplifying matters.”

“Don't you understand?” she said. “I've nothing to tell you. I've handed nothing to Nergui.”

He shook his head slowly. “Everything would be so much easier if you were to co-operate. But I can see that that would be difficult for you. You accused me of conducting a vendetta. But it seems to me that it is you—and, over the years, Nergui—who have been conducting the vendetta. Nergui has his own reasons for wanting me behind bars—not least, I think, because he sees me as the symbol of everything he has failed to achieve in his professional career. He is an honorable man and I've no doubt he has the best interests of our nation at heart, but he is a man out of time. He has been unable to hold back the tide of Westernization, and every day he sees our country embracing more and more of those corrupt decadent ways. It is a tragedy, no doubt, but it is not my tragedy.” He paused, as though daring her to interrupt. “As for your motives, Mrs. Radnaa, well—I don't know. A mixture, I imagine. In part, you hold me responsible for the death of your husband.”

“If you think—”

“And, in part,” he went on, overriding her, “it is no doubt a matter of professional pride to you. You had
to oversee a trial which was—well, frankly, a fiasco. Not through any fault of yours, I understand. But it must have been deeply frustrating to see a figure of my supposed criminal stature slip through your fingers in that way.”

“You really don't understand anything, do you?” she said, feeling her anger rising again at the presumption of this man. “You've no understanding of my feelings—or my lack of feelings—for Gansukh. And you don't even understand that my role as a judge is to ensure a fair trial, not to indulge some ancient, nonexistent vendetta.”

“Even when faced with a conflict of interest as great as this? Believe me, even if the prosecutor's office had not messed things up so spectacularly, I would have ensured that your own position in the trial would have come under close scrutiny.” His smile now looked as if it were painted on his face.