had been given something of Jane's to smell, virtually dragged a police canine officer after it; the lead was stretched bar-taut. Lawrence made a sign to the canine officer, obviously, wishing the dog to sniff Mike. The dog obeyed the command, but without any enthusiasm–thus confirming that during the last few last days Mike hadn't met the missing girl–and then again pulled the lead towards the path through the bushes. In just seconds the officer and his dog disappeared in the thickets. If it had not concerned his girl, Mike could have looked at Lawrence in triumph.
And then from the bushes a dreadful howl came.
"Shit!" Lawrence muttered, bringing a walkie-talkie to his mouth. "John, what's there?"
"No big deal," reached the voice through the howls. "Just this damned dog... I don't know what happened to him. He refuses even to approach this glade. Balked and no way. Even shat from fear, can you imagine? Never I saw him like that before. Now he just sits and howls."
Hopkins came out of the trailer.
"What's this concert?" he frowned.
Lawrence explained.
"What a damned nuisance... " the sergeant murmured. "All Dobbins' papers are OK, and they don't contain the slightest hint of any 'Cave of Horror.' And... I can't say this guy seemed to me a paragon of courtesy, but, in my opinion, he isn't lying. So it looks like it's time to put handcuffs on our boy again. But there is still something strange. I just got a call from the station. All whom you, Mike, described as victims, are indeed in the lists of missing persons. And their cases usually didn't get much media coverage so it isn't clear where you could learn about them... But you know, Mike, what's the most interesting? All of them disappeared at different times. Some a year ago, some six, and some even thirty years ago. But they look, according to your words, the same as at the moment of their disappearance. How do you explain it, Mike?"
Mike knew how to explain it. He knew it as clearly as the fact that it was useless to din it into Hopkins. He knew that neither dummies nor imitators have anything to do with it, and that he nevermore would see Jane. Because his girlfriend was dead... worse than simply dead. Much, much worse. If THEY are capable of living after death, what could prevent them from dooming their victims to the same? Isn't it the ultimate dream of every sadist–the victim incapable of escaping even through death?
Behind the bushes in the anxiety born of hopeless horror the dog still howled.
HOUSE
"Monsieur, Count de Montreux wants to see you."
Jacques Dubois fastidiously frowned.
"Tell him that I can't receive him."
But the visitor, having resolutely moved the servant out of his way, had already entered the office. The thin lines of his thoroughbred face, a faultless suit, the subtle scent of an expensive lotion–everything about him spoke of his belonging to an old noble family which had nothing in common with the just-bought baronies of the nouveau riche; such attributes are formed by centuries. Even now de Montreux carried himself with dignity which did not well match the purpose of his visit.
"If you came to ask for a delay, count, you are wasting time," Dubois stated. "The term of your mortgage has expired, you haven't paid the money, and the house becomes mine by right."
"Nobody challenges your rights, monsieur," de Montreux answered, "I only ask you to understand my position. My ancestors lived in this house throughout three centuries. I understand your desire to obtain a fine old mansion and you are rich enough to do it. But besides my estate, there are others..."
"I like yours; let's finish with this."
"Monsieur Dubois, I'm not asking you to cancel my debts. You will receive the money, only a bit later, as soon as my circumstances recover..."
"Your circumstances will never recover and if you don't understand that, you're even a bigger fool than I thought."
"How dare you to speak to me that way!"
"I dare, Monsieur Armand Philippe Count de Montreux! I, the pitiful insignificant commoner on whose ancestors your ancestors could set the dogs just for entertainment, now speak with you as I like, and you will listen to me! You ruled France throughout centuries, gambled away huge fortunes out of boredom, and arranged Caligula-style orgies. You possessed everything–power, honor, women–but now your time is gone! You stupidly squandered the wealth stolen by your ancestors in crusades and feudal wars and wasted the life earnings extorted from