The Adversary Read Online Free Page A

Tsengel still stared at the floor, avoiding Nyamsuren’s eyes.
    Nyamsuren was smiling. He nodded at the two silent policeman who had been stationed each side of the courtroom door throughout the trial. “I think your escort duties are almost finished, boys,” he said.
    The two policemen made no response, but looked pointedly back past Nyamsuren. Nyamsuren looked over his shoulder. For the first time, his client had ceased staring down at the desk and had raised his head. Beneath his bald head, his eyes were dark and staring, now fixed on the two officers who stiffened, fingers resting on their rifles. There was no evident humor or warmth in his blank eyes but, like Nyamsuren, he was now smiling.

CHAPTER 2
    She should have gone with the others, taken the chance when there was still time.
    But she had been afraid to leave, worried that her departure would reveal too much. After all, a mother would never leave her child, would not willingly return to the steppe with her son’s fate still unknown. She had made that clear to the policeman. She had said: “I won’t leave. I won’t move on. Not till I know where he is. What’s happened to him.”
    The policeman had nodded, jotted down some words in his notebook. She suspected that he was not really interested, that he would never look again at the sentences he was scribbling down. He was going through the motions, trying to make her believe that they were taking this seriously.
    â€œWe don’t know that anything has happened to him,” he had pointed out, in a tone that was presumably intended to be reassuring, but which sounded merely dismissive.
    She didn’t blame him. He thought she was just another anxious old woman. Probably his own mother was the same. No doubt she fussed about the life he was living, about the risks he was facing as a police officer, about what his future might hold.
    â€œI know,” she said. “I know that something’s happened to him.”
    The policeman looked up at her, apparently surprised by the quiet certainty of her tone. “But you’ve told us everything you know?” he said. “You have no other information?” There was a mocking edge to his voice. He didn’t care about any of this. He didn’t care what she felt.
    She stared back at him for a moment, as if she were about to say something. Then she shook her head. “No. I’ve told you everything I can.”
    It was true, she thought. She had told him everything she could. Not everything she knew. But everything she was able to say.
    She had no idea who to trust. She certainly had no reason to trust this smiling, insincere young man. Outside her immediate family, she had no reason to trust anyone. All she could do was try to bring it all out into the open, make it public, arouse as much noise as she could.
    And hope that this would be enough to stop him.
    After the policeman had gone, she had sat hunched on the small stool at the entrance to her
ger
, staring out across the empty grassland. Behind her she could hear the soft movements of the horses, the clattering of equipment, the desolate cry of a baby.
    Her family were preparing to move on. She would not be traveling with them. Not yet. Some of them had offered to stay with her, but she had said no, fully aware that they were also afraid. Afraid for her, afraid for her son. But, mostly, afraid for themselves.
    They knew he would come.
    The rest of the family struck camp a week later, packing up their tents and equipment with the characteristic efficiency of the nomad. When the horses and trucks were loaded, her brother had come back to speak with her.
    â€œHow long?”
    â€œAs long as it takes,” she said.
    â€œWe will come back for you. When we’re settled. As soon as we’ve found somewhere suitable. It will only be a few days.”
    â€œAs long as it takes,” she repeated.
    She had watched them go, feeling as if her heart was