A call to the hospital revealed that according to their records he had never been born at that location. Every search ended up the same.
When he tried to confirm that he had worked at the Los Alamos Atomic Lab, once again it was a dead end. Even when he read a newspaper clipping to them with a picture showing Dr. Lake standing inside one of the buildings at the facility, he got the same answer. Sorry, we have no such record on file.
Lake really didn’t exist. So who the hell was he talking to? Why would anyone go to such great lengths to erase the past of someone? Whomever it was, they had to be big and powerful. Only the Government or some clandestine branch could make someone disappear off the face of the earth. Out of sheer dumb luck, or as he liked to think of it, good investigative reporting, he happened to mention what he was working on to one of his colleagues.
“Hey, you should hook up with a Doctor…what the hell is his name. Botcher, Bonner, something like that. He had a similar story. You remember Langford? He was going to do a story on the guy but could never verify what the guy told him.”
“Really? Where is Langford now?”
“At Channel 5, the last I heard.”
Snapp called over to Channel 5 and was able to locate Langford.
“Hey George, what’s up? Long time no see,” Langford said.
“I was talking to Royster and your name came up. I just thought I would see what you were up to,” he told him.
“Sure it did. I know you too well Georgie-boy. What do you need from me? A job or information?”
“Can’t a guy check up on an old friend?”
“Sure he can but…”
“Okay. You win. Royster said you were doing a story on some doctor by the name of Botcher, or Boyer or something along those lines. He couldn’t remember exactly. I came across some material and I wanted to check the source. I think he might help me,” Snapp told him.
“Not the UFO stuff? Look, I talked to the guy. Nothing he said could be verified. He is a nice enough guy, if a tad eccentric. Basically it was not worth much as a story. Believe me, I tried to make a go of it,” Langford said.
“Would you mind if I took a look at it? My story isn’t about him. I just need confirmation on some details.”
“Well buddy, I wouldn’t risk my professional career on anything he confirmed or denied. He is a bit of a fruitcake,” Langford said.
“I’ll be careful. Can you give me his name?”
“Doctor Dan Barnett. Doctor Dan to his friends, the few he has.”
“Where can I find this guy?”
“Hell, you want me to write the story for you too?”
“Don’t bust my chops. I saved your ass plenty of times over here,” Snapp said.
“Oh sure you did. Well, the last time I talked to him he had a home over on Locus Street. Some place in the 3200 block. Big old house with a huge garage attached. It’s on the corner I think. You’ll spot it. It’s as weird as he is.”
“Thanks. Look, I owe you a beer. I’ll give you a call and we can get together and shoot the shit,” Snapp said.
“Sure, when pigs fly,” Langford replied as he hung up.
Snapp pulled into the drive. At one time there must have been an iron gate across the entrance. Two massive stone pillars stood on each side of the drive. The house was just like Langford had described it. Old, with peeling paint on the woodwork. It must have been quite elegant at one time but it was rundown now and seriously needed a renovation.
He parked and went up to the door and rang the bell. No one came so he rang it again. He was just starting to leave and go around to the garage when someone opened the door.
“Yes, can I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m George Snapp. I was hoping to locate a Dr. Dan Barnett. Does he happen to live here?”
“Who are you again?”
“George Snapp.”
“Why do you want to talk to him?”
“Well, it’s rather personal.”
“So you might as well tell me, I’m his personal secretary,” she said.
“I see. So the doctor does live here?”
“You’re not too bright are you? I said I was his personal secretary. Why else would I be here?”
“Yes ma’am. May I please speak to the doctor?”
“Wait here. I’ll see if he wants to talk to you. Are you a reporter?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. You’re like bad pennies, you just keep turning up,” she said and closed the door.
He looked around the yard while he was waiting. The landscape was in much better shape than the house. He wondered if it was a hobby of Barnett’s or of the secretary.
“Beautiful aren’t they,” a man’s voice said from behind him.
He turned and saw a well groomed man, probably in his sixties or early seventies. He had a white beard and was right at six feet tall, George guessed. He looked to be in fairly good condition for his age. He had his glasses down on his nose. He looked like what George envisioned a scientist looking like. He certainly didn’t look like a fruitcake.
“Mr. Snapp? I’m Dr. Barnett. My secretary said you would like to speak to me. She warned me you were a reporter, not some of her favorite people I’m afraid,” he said, taking a seat on the porch swing.
