Carnival of Shadows

by R.J. Ellory

  “A pleasure,” Laura McCaffrey said, seemingly relieved that Travis had so swiftly altered the course of their exchange. She asked him what he liked—ham, cheese, corned beef, and did he want rye or white, and did he like pickles or tomatoes, and did he want his coffee with sugar, with milk, just black?—and Travis told her, and for a moment it seemed that he was in fact a regular person conducting a regular conversation. But he was not, and he knew it, and he knew that Laura McCaffrey would never be able to understand what was happening to him.

  When Laura was done, she handed him a sizable paper bag and a flask.

  “I want to ask you something,” Travis said as he took them from her.

  “Shoot,” she said.

  “It’s going to sound odd, but there’s a reason for asking.”

  “Oh, Agent Travis, I work in a small-town diner. You should hear some of the conversations that go on in a place like this.”

  Travis sat down, indicated she should sit too. “What do you think of the government?”

  She laughed. “Okay, well, I sure wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I just want your honest opinion,” Travis said.

  “Well, here goes. It’s something my uncle used to say. It was basically the joke that a democratic election was always the choice between the lesser of two weevils. You get it, right?”

  “I get it,” Travis said. “Is it a sentiment you agree with?”

  “Sure I do,” Laura replied. “Doesn’t everyone? I mean everyone with even a shred of common sense. I mean, seriously, are we expected to believe that these fellers go into politics because they really care about what happens to the ordinary folks in the street? Surely not. They don’t actually think that we believe that, do they?”

  “I don’t know, Laura.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t want to be saying anything about the government. I wouldn’t want to get myself in trouble.”

  “Really? You think that I’m going to write down what you say and tell someone?”

  For just a moment Laura seemed a little distant and serious. “I don’t know why you’re here,” she said. “Not really. I mean, I know why you say you’re here. That dead man and everything. But that can’t be the real reason, can it? I mean, if it was just about that dead man, then why wouldn’t Sheriff Rourke deal with it himself? That’s his job, isn’t it?”

  “Except when it gets a little more complicated than that,” Travis replied. “The Bureau deals with crimes that cross state lines, you see, and the carnival—”

  “The carnival makes people happy, doesn’t it?” Laura said. “I mean, that’s the crime they have committed, wouldn’t you say? Or have I got this completely wrong?”

  Travis frowned. She sounded annoyed, and her tone implied some kind of personal vexation.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “Have I done something to upset you, Laura?”

  She looked shocked then, as if surprised by her own words. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Listen to me, talking nonsense again. I’m really very sorry. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

  “It’s okay,” Travis said. “I’m just a little confused as to why you’d think that I had something to do with what has happened here.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. It’s just that everyone’s been talking, obviously. It’s a small town, you know? Small towns are like that. Everyone’s living out of everyone else’s pockets, and if one person has something to say, it isn’t an hour before everyone else hears about it.”

  “And what have people been saying?” Travis asked.

  “Well, I don’t know that it’s any of my business—”

  “Really, Laura. It would mean a great deal to me if you’d just tell me what folks are saying.”

  “People are always going to talk, Michael. You know that. More often than not, it’s just a handful of wild rumors all blown up to look like something it’s not.”

  “Tell me the wild rumors. I give you my word they won’t go any further.”

  “Really, you don’t want to hear what I’ve heard.”

  “I do,” Travis said. “I really do.”

  “Okay, well, here goes. When they arrived—you know, the carnival people—everyone was up in arms. Who are these people and what are they doing here, and what right do they have to come into our town and pitch their tents and whatever? People don’t like strangers. Anyway, people started calling up Sheriff Rourke and telling him what he had to do and how he had to do it, but Lester told me the law can’t do anything until someone actually breaks the law or whatever, and so Sheriff Rourke just had to let them be. Anyway, the tents went up, and people got excited about the carnival and whatnot. So the carnival opens, and everyone’s having a good time and word gets out. Saturday night comes and there’s ten times the number of people there. And people see they’re just circus folk, that they’re not crazy or dangerous or anything, and they’re trying to make a living just like everyone else. The fact that they’re a bit wild and different doesn’t make them bad, does it?”

  Travis didn’t speak. He didn’t want to interrupt her.

  “And then there was a dead man there, and everyone was wondering who the hell he was and what had happened. Then word got out that he was a gangster or something. I mean, if he wasn’t a gangster, then why would the FBI be involved? Maybe he’d come to kill someone, you know? But who would he want to kill in Seneca Falls? Perhaps it was someone in the carnival that he was supposed to kill. Like that Mr. Doyle, or maybe the big guy, the giant, you know? And if that was the case, then who were these people? I mean, who were they really? Was this some kind of cover operation for crooks on the run from the authorities and other gangsters? Everyone was trying to find out more from Jack Farley and Chas Rourke. Jack’s wife said the dead guy had already killed a bunch of people. Said he was from somewhere in Eastern Europe. That’s all that she’d managed to get out of her husband.”

  Laura paused for a moment, and then she sighed.

  “It all changed after that,” she went on. “When you let them open the carnival again, you see? After that, folks figured it couldn’t be anything to do with the carnival itself. I mean, how could it? If they had really done something bad, the FBI would never have let them open again. And so everyone started wondering whether it was all a setup, you know?”

  “A setup?” Travis asked, amazed at how out of control and random the rumors had been about the death of Andris Varga.

  “Yes, a setup,” Laura said. “I mean, he was a killer after all, wasn’t he? And if he hadn’t been murdered by anyone at the carnival, then maybe he had been murdered by the authorities, and they needed to clean things up and make sure there were no loose ends. That’s why you were here. You had some kind of special instruction to make sure there were no witnesses and informants. People even got scared, you know? We started to wonder whether or not someone would suddenly have a heart attack, or maybe there would be another unexplained murder.”

  Travis had never heard such a thing in all his life. He was stunned by the revelation. He could not believe that this was the townsfolk’s explanation for his presence in Seneca Falls. He started to smile, to laugh even.

  He soon stopped laughing when he realized that Laura wasn’t sharing the joke.

  “And you believe this?” he asked her. “You think that the dead man was killed by the authorities, and that they sent me here to clean it all up and make it disappear?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Laura asked. “It’s true, isn’t it? I mean, the whole thing with the authorities. I mean, they can do whatever they like with anyone, can’t they? My sister’s neighbor said that the government can just make someone vanish, and not only do they vanish, but every record of them just disappears as well. It’s like they never even existed.”

  “That’s just crazy talk, Laura,” Travis said, at once amazed t
hat a woman such as this would possess such notions, but even as he heard his own response, he felt that his words possessed an element of hollowness and self-doubt. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I am not in Seneca Falls to cover up a government murder.”

  “Well, I just hope that’s the truth, because now I’ve put myself right in the firing line.”

  “You honestly believe that I’m the kind of person who would be capable of that?”

  “Well, to be truthful, I don’t really know who you are, ’cept that you grew up with no parents and you don’t much care for people helping you. You could be anyone, couldn’t you? Your name might not even be what you say it is. We don’t know a thing about you, and yet you can come in here and ask all the questions you like and we’re obliged to answer them. If you want to hear something uncomfortable, then you’d do worse than to listen to my uncle. He says the only difference between a Communist dictatorship and the United States is the longitude and latitude. Now, I don’t happen to agree with him, and I know his views can be a little forceful and intolerant, but I read some of the stuff in the papers about Senator McCarthy and all those people in Hollywood that he terrorized, and I start to wonder about whether what my uncle says is true. I mean, really, that’s not so different, is it? Putting people in prison for their political beliefs and goodness knows what else. Telling them that they have to give up the names of their friends and whoever else, otherwise they’ll lock them up and throw away the key. Seems to me that Senator Joe McCarthy and your Mr. Hoover might be two eggs out of the same box, though I know it’s really dreadful to say something like that, seeing as how you’re a federal agent and everything.”

  Laura looked down at her hands. She had been twisting a cloth between her fingers the whole time. “And now I’ve run my mouth off and said a great deal more than I intended to say, but you asked me, and if you’ve got to arrest me, then so be it. Danny always said I was never afraid to share my opinion, even when it was clear that no one else wanted to hear it.”

  “Arrest you?” Travis asked. “And what would I arrest you for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Some of those un-American activities, probably.”

  Travis didn’t know what to think. Laura McCaffrey certainly had a viewpoint, and yes, she had shared it with him, but had he been asked to predict what she would say, it would have been very far from what he’d just heard. For one so young, she seemed to carry a great weight of cynicism.

  Her manner changed then; she softened noticeably and said, “You seem like a good man, Michael Travis. I felt that from the first time I met you. Intense, serious, very dedicated to what you were doing, but a good man. Danny says I can see things in people that other folks don’t see. That’s part of the reason I was so interested in what was happening at the carnival. All that stuff, reading people’s minds, telling the future, all the gypsy things you hear about. That kind of thing fascinates me. Always has, probably always will. Anyway, I met you and you seemed too focused and committed, but there was something so lost about you, and I just felt…”

  Laura looked up at Travis. Were there tears in her eyes?

  “What, Laura? You felt what?”

  “I don’t know, Michael. You just seemed like the loneliest person in the whole world.”

  Travis reached out and touched her hand. “Well, if I wasn’t then, I think I probably am now,” he said.

  “Well, whatever they say about you, I still think you’re a decent man,” Laura said. “Maybe Danny is wrong. Maybe I can no more read people than I can read Japanese, but there’s something good about you. I feel that. I also think that you’re going to do the right thing.”

  “And you wouldn’t happen to know what that was, would you?” Travis asked.

  “Oh, I think we always know what the right thing is, wouldn’t you say? I think we’re just wired that way. I think being a decent person comes naturally to most of us. The bad guys are the ones who have it rough. I think they have to work extra hard to overcome basic human nature, you know?”

  “I appreciate your optimism, though my experience tells me that it might be unfounded.”

  “Hey, maybe you’ve just been spending too much time around the wrong kind of people,” she replied. “And I hope you’re not mad at me. Maybe I said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

  “Maybe you did,” Travis replied, “but that doesn’t mean I didn’t need to hear them.” He reached out his hand then, closed it over hers, and she looked at him with an expression he had never seen before. As if she had been waiting for him to reach out to her forever. “And no, I am not mad at you,” he added. “Could never be mad at you, Laura.”

  She closed her eyes for a second and breathed deeply. “And you’re not going to arrest me or my uncle for being Communists?”

  “Oh, sure I am,” Travis said. “Didn’t I mention that? Both of you, probably your brothers as well, because I’m sure we can nail them for something, even if we have to fabricate some evidence.”

  “We’ll have to go on the run, then,” Laura said.

  “Hey, you could run away with Doyle and the others.”

  “Great idea. Run away with the circus. Always wanted to do that.”

  Travis reached for the bag and the flask.

  “Thanks for the sandwiches,” he said.

  “You’re very welcome, Michael Travis,” she replied, and then walked with him to the foyer of the hotel.

  “Take care,” she said.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Travis crossed the street to his car. Before he got in, he glanced back. She was still there, watching him from the window, and when she caught his eye, she raised her hand as if to wave farewell.

  He smiled. He did not know whether or not she would see that smile, but he believed she would know it was there.

  There was something about the woman that broke his heart. That was the truth. It was perhaps not her, but all she represented. The things he did not have and perhaps would never have.

  For the first time, he believed he had made a mistake. Not just an error, not just a wrong step, but a real honest-to-God mistake.

  He had trusted everyone above himself. He had believed what he’d been told, and now he was starting to see it for what it was. The curtain had been drawn, and behind the scenes there was something disturbing and malignant. The world as he saw it was not the world as it was. He had been fooled. He knew that now. He had failed to confront that fact for as long as he could manage.

  Andris Varga had not been killed by anyone but his own people. Either that, or they were intimately complicit.

  Of this he now felt sure.

  Michael Travis started the car, and pulled away from the curb. He felt an indescribable weight on his shoulders, and yet for the first time realized he had been carrying that weight for as long as he could recall. It was everything his father had tried to frighten out of him, everything from which his mother had tried to free him.

  There was the line. Right before him. Right there in his line of sight. He would step over it, or he would not.

  The decision had been made.

  Travis glanced in the rearview mirror as Seneca Falls receded into the distance. A small town in the middle of Kansas. Nothing more than that. Probably of insufficient size to even figure on anything beyond a county map. Nevertheless, everything had happened here, and it was here that everything would end.

  Travis looked back at the endless road before him, running away toward the horizon like a dark ribbon.

  If he knew one thing and one thing only, it was that the life he’d known was now over.

  When he reached the highway, he pulled over. He got out of the car and paced up and down. He breathed deeply—in, out, in, out—until he started to feel dizzy. He had to learn the truth about Andris Varga. What had happened between his arrest in June of 1954 and his death in Aug
ust of 1958? Discover that, and such information would go a long way toward assisting him in making the decision he had to make.

  The road that stretched to Travis’s left and right was symbolic. It was one way or the other. He could not rest where he was. He could not just let it all slide, forget about it, give up this case and head back to Kansas. Maybe there were people who could do such a thing. Maybe that was the kind of person that the Bureau wanted—the unthinking, unquestioning, the trusting and doubtless—but Travis could not be that person.

  And if Andris Varga had been murdered by the FBI and placed here as a means by which Travis could infiltrate this group of people, then what else did that mean? It meant that everything else that Doyle had said could be true. The newspapers, the government, the drug companies, the arms manufacturers, the banks, the police, the entirety of the legal and judicial machine was riddled with corruption and lies, professing to defend the rights and civil liberties of the common man and yet serving only itself. Keep people afraid, you keep them in check. Foster suspicion, distrust, paranoia, and you controlled them. It was that simple.

  Travis walked back to the car. He got in and started the engine. If he could not go to Wichita or Kansas, then he would drive south to Oklahoma City. He knew no one there, and—notwithstanding the possibility that every Bureau field office in the country had been alerted to his identity and the fact that he was to be afforded no assistance—there was no reason he could not access information from there and make some progress on learning what he could of Andris Varga.

  It would be another three-hour drive, a straight run down 35 through Wichita and across the state line. Whether the office would be open, he did not know. It was Sunday, granted, but the federal government ran its own calendar. The Oklahoma office would be manned if there was some reason for it to be manned.

  Regardless, he had already broken into one office, and he could do it again.

  It was now no longer an investigation concerning an unknown Hungarian and a carnival of oddities; it was an investigation into the very organization for whom he worked.