The Angel of Eden by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781788634243
Publisher: Canelo Books
Published: 2019-01-10T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Seven

March 1, 2005

Bergama, Turkey

We set out for Bergama, the city surrounding the Pergamon ruins, early the following morning. A ferry took us across the Sea of Marmara to Bursa, where I rented a car for the six-hour drive. By late afternoon we’d reached our destination: the Hera Hotel, deep in the twisting lanes of the old part of the city. It was a ten-room affair, an old Greek house built of local weathered stone, lovingly restored and so picturesque it seemed made to order for a travel magazine. Ornate iron grilles protected its tall blue wooden doors. Its art pieces and antique furniture reflected Anatolian themes – handmade throws and rugs in dazzling colors, vases and fat, rustic urns. From the lounge you could look down a jaw-dropping plunge to the Acropolis in the distance. It had all the modern touches too, including free Wi-Fi and a wine bar to die for.

After dinner I asked the owner about Bergama’s oldest hotels. He wrote down three names and gave me directions. “I’ll go tomorrow,” I said to Bennet. “There’s a slim chance Helmstetter stayed at one of them. I’ve got to start looking somewhere.”

She ran her hand through her hair, grown curly with the humidity now that we’d traveled south. “I was hoping we could sightsee around the old city. Get our bearings first.”

“Why don’t you start out without me? It’s entirely safe, I’d think. I doubt I’ll be long.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’ll have much more fun than poking around in old hotels.”

Night brought another terrifying episode of sleep paralysis. Again I’d had the sense of being watched – I’d peered into the gloom of the hotel room and thought I’d seen a figure move. A winged creature, moon-faced like the Hagia Sophia seraphim. I’d tried to get up, but as before, it felt as if my hands and feet were bound. It was the first instance since I’d started taking the drugs Dr Cass prescribed and it seemed even more of a nightmare.

Bennet tried her best, but even her consoling touch made me apprehensive. I couldn’t explain it to myself or to her. Eventually, as my heart rate slowed, I put it down to a resurfacing anxiety about Yersan. After all, we were much closer to his home turf. Still, I had no reason to suspect he knew where we’d gone.

After breakfast the next morning, Bennet parted from me reluctantly. I gave her a kiss and she turned to her right, off to see the Red Basilica. The day was bright and unseasonably warm – a relief from New York’s endless rain and perfect for a stroll.

Halfway up Soğan Dere Street I found the first hotel. Inside, an officious-looking gray-haired clerk gaped at me blankly as I explained my mission. He snapped his fingers at another man who was on his way out and spoke to him in Turkish.

“Would you mind explaining again?” the second man asked politely. He motioned toward the clerk. “Not understanding too well.”

“I’m looking for any record you might have of someone who may have stayed here thirty-five years ago.

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