D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,70

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"You should hear yourself," Hopkins muttered after listening to the story till the end. “Read too many comics? Are you saying some gang abducts and kills people in a carnival, right before the very eyes of hundreds of visitors?"

"First, not of hundreds," the young man objected. "I've said, most people don't even guess this building is there. And second, that's just the point–nobody would ever think that such things can really happen!"

"What you described indeed can't be real. You know what the term 'fatal injuries' means?"

"Of course. What we saw is certainly a fake. But Jane thought that we didn't see everything. Cars can go by different routes. There may be some special rooms... for special clients... you know, the perverts for whom movies with real murders and rapes are made. There could be something like that! And while we're wasting time here talking..."

"I've heard only your fantasies so far. This carnival has all its proper licenses. All their rides have the corresponding certificates of safety..."

"It is possible to kill and torture even with quite safe objects! Not to mention that documents may mean one thing, while actually something else..."

"Who told you that anyone was killed or tortured there?"

"But Jane went there and disappeared!"

"For now she is only late in returning home. Formally I don't have sufficient grounds to declare her missing. Informally... yes, when a girl for the first time in her life doesn't come home on time, and not only her mother and female friends, but also her boyfriend knows nothing about it–most often it does mean something. And, alas, frequently it means something bad. But even if so–there are no grounds to conclude that it's connected with the carnival. You said yourself that she promised not to go there again?"

"Yes, but..."

"But what? It's eighteen minutes past midnight now. The carnival is already closed. Give me the slightest reason to enter and search private property without a warrant."

"The guy," Mike said. "With long black hair. About twenty five years old. Looked a bit like an Indian. Is he registered as missing? We saw him ride into the 'cave,' but what returned was only an empty car splashed by something red."

"No, he's not", Hopkins immediately answered.

"Are you sure? You didn't even check any records."

"Mike, don't teach me to do my work. Our town isn't very big. Any disappearance here is a rare event."

"So what–during the time when the carnival is here, nobody disappeared in the town? Except for Jane."

"I am not obliged to discuss confidential information with you ."

"So someone is missing! Sergeant, I'm just trying to help!"

Hopkins skeptically looked at Mike for some seconds. Then unwillingly muttered:

"Don't even think of repeating this. If the press kicks up dust, it can spoil the case. Yes, we are investigating one disappearance, but it doesn't fit your description. It's a child."

"A boy of eleven?"

"How did you know?"

"Is his name Cyril Parker?"

"No."

"Is he black?"

"No, white. So you guessed right only the age."

"When did he disappear?"

"No more, that's enough! I told you more than I should as it is. Go home and go to bed. Maybe your girlfriend will show up in the morning. She could even be at home right now."

"And if she isn't?!"

"Then in the morning I'll visit the carnival as soon as it opens and I'll check out what this 'cave' of yours looks like, though I'm absolutely sure that it's a false trail. Are you happy?"

Mike brought the weeping Mrs. Trenton home (her house, of course, was still dark and empty), but didn't intend at all to go to bed himself. He drove back home only to take the auto repair shop keys. In the shop he also didn't stay long and left it with tin snips and impressive-looking sledge hammer. His father had a pistol, but, alas, it was in the locked safe. Having told himself once again that this idiotic heroism was either nonsense if his suspicions were foolish or suicide if they were justified, Mike threw the tools on the right seat and drove to the suburb, to the infamous grounds where the carnival was now settled.

Having exited from the highway, he parked the car on the empty lot in front of the closed gate. The light of a lonely lamp which remained behind still reached here, but the carnival was sunk in the darkness of a moonless night; all multicolored illumination which brightly shone here in the evening was off, and behind the chain link fence, the silhouettes of motionless attractions only vaguely loomed. Symbolizing