Valley of Thracians Read Online Free PDF Page A

hotel.”
    “So, one morning, out of the clear blue,
the documents just appeared at a resort hotel, and no one knows how they got
there?” He was becoming impatient with these routine, uninformative answers.
    “Listen, Professor Matthews, you are
referring to a closed case already three years old. I did not deal with this
case. One of my colleagues wrote this report. I can only tell you what is
written. I cannot give you other information because I do not have other
information. I’m terribly sorry, but there is nothing further I can tell you
about the disappearance of your grandson.”
    Simon kicked at the sand one last time
before sitting down at an outdoor café to consider his options. From his
plastic chair, as he waited for someone to offer him a menu (hopefully one
printed in English), he took in the shore activity. He stared at the sunbathers
whose exposed Slavic skin was starting to redden in the sunlight. He grinned at
the sight of vendors hawking ears of hot corn on the cob and at the realization
that this offer was more appealing to the beachgoers than cold drinks or ice
cream. He smiled at the huge quantities of beer being consumed by the locals
without any visible effects of inebriation. He strained his ears to make some
sense of the strange and unfamiliar language being spoken. And he wondered what
his next step in this quest would bring.
    The young, freckled waitress didn’t
speak any English. Although he repeated the word “water” a number of times, she
failed to understand his request. He turned toward a nearby table, where three
noisy teenagers were drinking what appeared to be bottles of the mineral water
he sought, so he pointed at them and used sign language to convey his order.
The waitress nodded, reassuring him that he could manage in this foreign
setting, but when she returned two minutes later, she was carrying a green, perspiring
bottle of Zagorka beer. He shook his head, indicating his disapproval. To his
surprise, the waitress smiled for the first time and walked away. He didn’t
understand what had happened, but instead of complaining any further, he took
the bottle and sipped at it reluctantly.
    After he finished his beer and paid the
bill with the unfamiliar currency embedded in his wallet, he flagged down a
taxi to transport him to Golden Sands. His meeting at the Happy Sunshine Resort
Hotel was scheduled for noon. Although it was Saturday, the general manager had
agreed to see him. Even if he provided Simon with nothing else, Officer
Stoyanov from the Varna police force at least had been helpful setting up the
connection. Simon was hopeful that the meeting would provide him with new
information about his grandson’s activities, but when he walked inside the
hotel, he learned that the general manager was not present. The woman at the
front desk informed him that she was unaware of any set appointment. Simon
patiently explained to her that everything had been arranged the day before.
The woman kept nodding but seemed reluctant to offer additional assistance.
    “Who looks for manager?”
    Simon spun around to face an enormous
block of a man with a shiny shaven head and a frown as wide as his round face.
An immense, wide-shouldered build barely contained by dark pants and a white
T-shirt suggested that the man was either a professional weightlifter or a
Chicago Bears linebacker. His earlobes were huge; one of them sported a diamond
stud. The man’s narrow eyes darted back and forth nervously. This man appeared
capable of knocking out an opponent with one powerful punch. What damage could
he do to someone old and weak like a visiting American grandfather?
    Simon stepped back, partially in fear of
the man’s size but also to get away from the stench of his alcoholic breath. “I
have an appointment,” he said.
    “Manager not here. You here not now. Outside you.” The sentences were fragmented, missing both verbs and any sort of civility.
    The woman at the desk shot out a burst
of