Valley of Thracians Read Online Free PDF

heated Bulgarian that temporarily eased the man’s concerns, and he stepped
back. Simon assumed he was the hotel’s security officer, although he lacked the
minimum hospitality skills necessary for dealing with the public.
    “I will call the manager,” the front
desk clerk said, turning to the professor. “Maybe he can come in today after
all.”
    “Today Saturday,” the man said gruffly
as he turned to leave. “Manager no business on Saturday.”
    The man’s appearance was so outlandishly
goony, almost cartoonish, that Simon covered his mouth to suppress a smile. If
the sinister-looking guard hadn’t been so serious about his security duties,
Simon would have laughed openly at his broken English. He thanked the
receptionist and waited impatiently for the hotel manager.
    Happy Sunshine Resort
Hotel. The name was comical and not particularly conducive
to relaxation, he thought. Yet the glitzy lobby was full of tourists, mostly
elderly Germans and Russians from the looks of them. They strolled through the
public areas wearing bathing suits and wrapped in towels as they headed to the
swimming pool and the beachfront just beyond. Some of the visitors were more
elegantly attired, despite the fact that it was noontime. Distinguished-looking
men sported black suits, cuffed white shirts, and ties, while bejeweled women
at their sides dazzled the eyes in silky evening gowns. These fancily dressed
guests puffed at Cuban cigars and thin cigarettes and reclined contentedly on
uncomfortable-looking leather sofas and armchairs. Apparently they were on
short breaks from gambling frays in the Happy Sunshine Casino, a
twenty-four-hour-a-day establishment of buzzing activity situated at the end of
a long line of designer clothing and accessories shops. White-jacketed waiters
circulated with trays of alcohol and stood back subserviently as the foreigners
fumbled through wads of local bills to pay for their extravagances. The click
of high heels and the distant jangles of slot machines mixed with the slightly
nauseating elevator music being pumped through the lobby.
    Simon walked aimlessly among this crowd,
his baseball cap in his hands, feeling as out of place here as he had earlier
that morning on the Varna beach. He almost collided with a harried waitress as
she carried club sandwiches to the hungry gamblers relaxing outside the casino.
Finally, he stood at the far end of the lobby, looking out through the
curtained picture windows at the hotel pool.
    “Were you looking for me?”
    He turned to face the hotel manager.
Alexander Nikolov held out his hand in introduction, and Simon was surprised to
find him as finely attired as some of the gambling guests.
    “You’ll have to excuse my lateness, but
I was preparing to attend a wedding,” Nikolov said, brushing a piece of lint
off his suit jacket. “It is the brother-in-law of my wife’s sister who is
getting married today. We often have our marriage ceremonies on Saturdays.”
    “Thank you for coming in. I thought
Officer Stoyanov had arranged our meeting.”
    “Yes, he called, but I’m afraid I didn’t
understand anything he said. He certainly didn’t explain the purpose of your
visit.”
    “He didn’t?” Simon had been sitting with
the police officer when he made the call, but maybe he had been mistaken as to
what had been discussed over the phone.
    Nikolov casually ran a hand through the
greasy strands of his slicked-back hair and regarded Simon silently for a
moment. “Can I get you a drink? Some coffee perhaps?”
    “No, that won’t be necessary. But I
would appreciate it if we could talk, possibly somewhere a little quieter.”
    “Certainly. Please come with me to my office.”
    A few minutes later Simon was seated in
a deep-cushioned chair in the manager’s office, a half floor up from the lobby
level. The room was dark and shabby, in stark contrast to the bright lights and
glitter of the rest of the hotel. Nikolov went around his cluttered desk to sit
below a