"Smith, Guy N - Crabs 01 - Night of the Crabs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

'I had a lot of ground to cover.' He shook his head sadly.

'I'm afraid we're a bit pushed for room.' Mrs Jones leaned close so that she would not be heard by the other guests. 'I know you won't mind sharing a table. There's a Mrs Benson over there in the corner. Her husband left her last year. A real rotter he was too. I'm sure you'll like her.'

Tm sure I will,' Cliff replied. His eyes were already on the dark-haired, petite girl who sipped tomato juice, a wistful expression on her face. She was wearing a cotton blouse above a tartan skirt, and he saw the outline of her small, arm breasts. It wasn't often these days he noticed such things. He put her age at about twenty-five.

'Hallo, Professor,' she greeted him, smiling up at him as he paused nervously at the table. 'I've been hearing all about you from Mrs Jones. Please sit down. My name's Pat.'

Within a matter of minutes the tension had ebbed from him. He felt relaxed. He wanted to talk to someone, and she was the perfect listener, sympathetic and interested. He hadn't meant to tell a soul about his experiences inside that compound. He felt that they were humiliating, but he told her just the same.

'My God!' she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. 'It's getting like a police state! If they don't want folks looking at their aircraft, why the hell don't they keep them out of sight? I mean, anybody might focus a pair of binoculars on one of those planes.'

'Of course, it could have been a decoy,' he pointed out, although the thought had only just occurred to him. 'Maybe they were expecting someone in particular to show an interest in it, and I just happened along and blundered right into the trap.'

Then he told her about Ian and Julie.

'Oh, how terrible!' She paused, a biscuit spread with cheese halfway to her mouth. 'I've been... bathing off the South End myself only this afternoon.'

A frown creased her brow as she recalled her afternoon spent on those golden sands with the deep blue sea creeping relentlessly back towards the shore.

'There . . . there was something I noticed,' she murmured. 'Something very strange. It might be nothing but...'

'Go on,' he urged.

'Well,' she continued, wrinkling her nose. 'As a kid I've often sat and watched crabs crawling across the beach. I know the sort of tracks they make in wet sand, the imprints of their pincers... well, out there today I saw some marks. They looked like crabs only, well the size of them. If they had been crabs then they'd have to have been the size of, I don't know, sheep!'

'My God!' Cliff Davenport blanched and his knuckles became bloodless as he gripped the edge of the table. 'So I was right after all! I didn't dream it! My God, what sort of creatures are they?'

'You've seen the marks too?' Her jaw dropped in amazement.

'This morning,' he replied. 'And another thing. There's a full moon at present. Now the moon affects the movements of crabs just as it has a pull on the tides. It was as though a herd of them had been crawling along the tide line. But... it can't be. No such creatures could exist!'

'You should know better than I do, Professor.' She smiled. 'But nobody has really explored the bed of the ocean properly. There could be a submarine life around these very islands which mankind has never dreamt of. There must be thousands of caves capable of hiding creatures as big as battleships. After all, they're still not certain about the Loch Ness Monster!'

'You're right,' he muttered. 'Yet it's so incredible. I've been amazed at some of my discoveries regarding plant life. I have to be sure though. A few marks in the sand isn't proof. I'd be ridiculed.'

Suddenly her hand rested on his as though such contact was the most natural thing in the world. He noticed subconsciously the mark where she had once worn a ring on the third finger of her left hand.

'I won't ridicule you ... Cliff.' She smiled, and he felt a stirring within himself that he had almost forgotten existed. 'Suppose we team up, do some investigating. I've nothing else to do. I came here to ... try and forget. Start life all over again. I'll help you to search for Ian and Julie too.'

He felt his eyes misting over.

'Thank you.' He glanced away automatically so that she would not see his emotions. His weaknesses. 'I'd ... be glad of that. Suppose we bathe together tomorrow? No, no, we'd better keep clear of the water. It's too dangerous until we know. We must explore the beach and look for more signs.'

'Fine! ' She squeezed his hand and rose to her feet. 'See you at breakfast in the morning, then.'

Both Cliff Davenport and Pat Benson rose late the following morning. Most of the other guests had already breakfasted and departed by the time they sat down and made a start on their respective melons.

Suddenly the headline of a newspaper lying on an adjacent table caught the Professor's eye: 'BATHERS MISSING OFF WELSH COAST'.