D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,74

before the arrival of the carnival. Dirty old tires, rusty cans, broken glass and crushed plastic bottles, sodden cardboard, black plastic bags, torn and crumpled paper... Not a single trace of the “cave.”

Mike turned his head to the right, there, where there had been a cash booth. It also wasn't there. In its place only a metal barrel stuck out–rusted through and deeply grown into the ground.

"And how do you explain this?" the sergeant inquired.

"Yes, how do you explain it?" coldly asked a new voice.

All four turned back. On the path behind them stood a lanky gentleman about forty five, dressed in a three-piece suit with a tie. The gaze of his watery-blue eyes passed from one face to another and stopped on Hopkins, having identified in him the man in charge.

"Who are you?" asked the latter not too kindly.

"Robin Dobbins. And if armed police break the lock and trespass on land I've rented, I want at least to know what's the matter."

There was nothing wrong with his fingers, as well as with his legs. His right cheek was lightly marked by a small scar, but it didn't resemble traces of bites at all. It looked much more like a consequence of some fight in his youth.

"Here is the warrant, Mr. Dobbins. May I see, in turn, your ID?"

Dobbins pulled the driver's license card from his jacket pocket. The sergeant studied the document and returned it to the owner.

"So?" the owner of the carnival inquired.

"How long ago was the building here dismantled, Mr. Dobbins?"

"What building?"

"Cave of Horror".

"We have no such attraction. And never had. Did you see the carnival map?"

"We know that it isn't present on the map. But this young man claims that he was there. And moreover–he saw a missing person we are searching for disappear there."

Dobbins contemptuously looked askew at Mike, then again moved his glance to Hopkins:

"And if he tells you that at my carnival he was abducted by aliens, will you also believe him?"

"And why, in your opinion, do I know that missing guy by sight?" Mike exclaimed.

"The police should find it out from you, not from me," Dobbins parried.

The sergeant pulled a photo from his pocket.

"And have you seen this person?"

"I don't remember," shrugged Dobbins. "Quite probably, he might visit our carnival, but, you understand, I don't meet and I don't see off every visitor. You can talk to the cashier when he comes, but I don't promise he'll remember either. Hundreds of faces per day pass before him... and moreover, he looks mostly not at faces but at hands with money."

"And did this man ever work as a cashier for you? In general, was or is anybody from these ones among your employees?"

"N-no, never. In any case, definitely not in recent years. If you want, let's go to my trailer, and I will show you all documentation on attractions and the lists of employees. I have a legal business, and I don't deal with anything shady."

"He's lying!" Mike shouted in despair. "They simply smelled trouble and dismantled the ride!"

"Seems to me, this guy is obviously out of his head," said Dobbins. "Do you see any traces of a ride here? Perhaps we also specially grew this grass?"

The grass, yellowed by the sun, indeed didn't look like yesterday-planted. As well as the dry firm soil did not resemble recently laid turf.

Hopkins looked at the old slumped garbage, then at Mike's confused face.

"Nevertheless let's wait until this place is examined by our dog," the sergeant uttered. "Thomson, stay here. Don't let anybody destroy evidence. And we'll go with Mr. Dobbins to look at the documents."

Again having exited from the bushes on the other side of thickets, Mike paid attention to what he hadn't noticed at once: the wooden pole stood in the same place, but there was no "Cave of Horror" sign on it.

The sergeant followed Dobbins to his trailer, having left Lawrence "to keep an eye on surroundings and on our impressionable young man as well." By his tone and the look which accompanied this remark, Mike understood that now he was suspected in something worse than false testimony.

"Think of me how you want," he fatalistically murmured, "but I really was in this 'cave.' And Jane, too."

"Sure, sure," Lawrence nodded.

Mike sat down on the grass, rested his elbows against his knees, squeezed his temples with his fists, and stared at the ground. He didn't know how much time passed until he heard hasty steps and a dog panting. A big black dog, which probably