شوک

CHAPTER THREE

A Shock

Kamerot Sokak was a narrow, quiet street of old apartment buildings. Tom walked along the pavement, looking at the numbers on the doors. There was only one street light and it was difficult to see. But finally, he found Angela’s address, number 11.

The building had a large glass door. Tom pushed it, but it was locked. There was no bell. He knocked on the door. Nothing happened. He knocked again, louder this time, and listened.

Silence Damn, he thought. He was impatient now. And worried.

He stood back in the middle of the street and looked up. There were five floors, and all the windows were black. There was no light anywhere in the building.

Angela, he said to himself, Angela! Where are you?

A short distance away, the man in the grey raincoat stood in a dark doorway. He was watching Tom, watching every move he made.

Tom did not know what to do. He knocked once more on the glass door - again nothing happened. Finally, he picked up his suitcase. With a last look at the building, he turned and started walking back towards Taksim Square.

Tom Smith, he thought to himself, as he walked. You need a hot bath and a good sleep. Then you can decide what to do.

The Park Hotel was expensive, but Tom remembered seeing one or two small hotels near Taksim Square. Finally, he was standing outside the Ankara Hotel. He went in.

‘Good evening,’ he said to the woman at reception. ‘I’d like a single room, please.’

The woman nodded.

‘We have a nice room upstairs. Come, I’ll show you.’

They went upstairs and she opened a door.

‘Very nice room,’ she said.

It was small, but it was clean and it looked comfortable.

‘I’ll take it,’ he said, and gave the woman his passport.

‘The bathroom is along the corridor,’ she said. ‘Breakfast is from eight to ten o’clock. Goodnight.’

Tom put his case down and sat on the bed. He suddenly felt very tired and unhappy. He was not having a good dinner in a nice restaurant. He was not sitting with the woman he loved. He was sitting alone, in a cheap hotel, in a strange city.

For a long time he sat on the bed thinking, But I saw Angela. I saw her from the bus!

Finally he stood up.

OK, he thought. Tomorrow morning I’ll go to Angela’s office and find out what has happened. There’s a very simple explanation, I’m sure. I’ll find out tomorrow.

He had a hot bath and got into bed. He was very tired after his long journey and soon fell asleep.

The man in the grey raincoat walked across Taksim Square. There was a telephone kiosk in the corner. He dialled a number, and waited. Then he spoke.

‘He’s in the Ankara Hotel,’ the man said. ‘He waited at the Park Hotel and then he went to the girl’s flat. Now he’s in the Ankara Hotel. Yes, yes of course I will.’

He put down the phone and left the kiosk.

The next morning, Tom felt much better. He had breakfast, then took a taxi to the office where Angela worked.

The taxi drove through the busy streets and crossed the Galata Bridge into the old city. Finally, it turned into a small street near the Railway Station. It was a narrow street of shops, small businesses and workshops. The taxi stopped in front of a grey building.

“F.Karamian and Co.Export/Import Agency”, said the sign above the door. Tom pushed open the door and went in. A secretary was typing at the reception desk. She looked up as Tom came in.

‘Good morning,’ she smiled.

‘Good morning,’ said Tom. ‘My name’s Tom Smith. I’m looking for Angela Thomson - she’s my fiance. I arrived in Istanbul last night and waited for her, but she didn’t.’

The secretary was staring at him. She stood up.

‘Wait a moment, please, Mr Smith.’

She hurried over to a door marked “Office”, and went inside. Tom could hear her talking to someone.

The door opened and a man came out. He looked very serious.

‘Mr Smith, my name’s Diinya. Please come in.’

Tom went into the office.

‘Please sit down, Mr Smith,’ said Diinya. ‘Look - er, I don’t know how to tell you this, Mr Smith. I have some very bad news for you. I’m very sorry indeed, but Miss Thomson, your fiance - is - is dead.’