The Angry Hills - Leon Uris [47]
She did not answer.
“Your occupation?”
“I am the wife of a farmer.”
“It seems that all you farmers are coming to Athens with fortunes these days.”
She worked hard at containing the uneasiness that flooded her.
“Open your travel bag,” the inspector demanded.
He poked through it. It was largely filled with undergarments and other types of things city girls wore. She had purchased them in Dadi as Jay had told her to do.
“You may close it.”
He handed the travel pass back and looked wearily down the long line of travelers yet to pass his station. He lit a cigarette and smiled at the girl. “And where will you be staying in Athens, young lady?”
She paused for several seconds.
“I stay with my aunt.”
“And—uh—how would you like to see the city with me?”
“My husband waits for me at my aunt’s.”
“Pass on! Next!”
She walked through the crowded terminal reading the many directions signs. It was all very strange and exciting and frightening. Eleftheria had been to the capital but once before and that was many years ago. Her anxiety threw a ring of solemnity about her that warded off the many amorous glances she was getting from German and Italian soldiers.
She stepped outside and looked around. A long line of taxicabs stood in wait. She took one.
As the taxi moved out, Eleftheria feigned indifference to all the amazing things that were happening. The big city and the many buildings—the car she was riding in. She had been in an automobile only three times before in her life—although she had had several rides in her Uncle Christos’ truck.
“I would like you to take me to the American Archeological Society,” she said.
The cab wove away from the congestion around the terminal and raced due east across town on the broad Leophoros Alexandrou. She tried to relax and remember the many instructions Jay had given her. She must carry out the job to perfection, she thought.
After several moments they made a right turn and drove alongside a wooded area that went through the northern portion of the plush Kolonaki section.
The cab drove slowly past many buildings, the American hospital, the former British schools and a network of other institutions. On the fringe of these buildings the cab came to a halt. It faced an ordinary-looking two-storied red brick building.
The driver had seemed irritated by Eleftheria’s uncommunicativeness during the drive but his face broke into a smile over her generous tip. Anyone connected with the Americans always tipped well.
The cab pulled away. Eleftheria bit her lip. She faced an iron gate that was locked across the driveway. Her heart pounded. She saw an open entrance, a short path leading to the house. She moved toward it with the feeling that she was walking on hot coals.
She pushed open the mammoth door and stood in a reception room filled with statues and paintings and odd bits of marble. There were many framed documents on the walls that she could not read. The room was large and airy and dark and stiff and added to her discomfort.
A middle-aged woman, obviously not Greek, sat behind a small counter with earphones on her head. There was a desk and many papers scattered on it. Eleftheria approached with great caution. The woman looked up and asked, “May I help you?”
“I—I wish to see Dr. Harry Thackery,” she whispered.
“Your name, please?”
“My name is Eleftheria.”
“Eleftheria what?”
“Eleftheria Yalouris.”
“Do you have an appointment with the doctor?” the woman asked, looking inquiringly at the uncomfortable peasant girl before her.
“No. He does not know me.”
“Just a moment, please,” the woman said. She rose from behind the counter and disappeared behind a large double door that led down a long corridor. Eleftheria thought it strange that a woman could sit in this room and smoke a cigarette—but so many strange things were happening...
The receptionist returned.
“I’m sorry. Dr. Thackery cannot see you.”
Eleftheria fidgeted with her handbag and shifted her weight several times. Why does this woman look at me so, she thought. She tried to think of what Jay had