Random Story To Tell

Salahadin plane flew over Athens early in the morning. From the aeroplane he looked down on the ruins of the Acropolis.

They looked wonderful in the early morning sunlight. But Salahadin was not a tourist. He was a detective and he had to

find Peterson.

Salahadin took a taxi from the airport to Piraeus, the seaport of Athens. He got out of the taxi at Piraeus and went to

an office at the dock gate.

“What time does “The Syria” arrive from Alexandria?” he asked.

“At midday,” was the reply. “And it leaves again for Venice at four o’clock.”

It was only six o’clock Salahadin walked back to the docks. He tried to walk through the gate, but the policeman stopped

him.

‘You can’t go through the gate without a ticket,” said the policeman.

Salahadin had an ideaa. The man in the office had said that “The Syria” was going to Venice. Salahadin went back to the

office and bought a first-class ticket to Venice.

When he got into the docks, “The Syria” had not yet arrived. Salahadin sat down on a box and waited.

“Peterson is not an Egyptian name,” thought Salahadin.
“It’s another Swedish name, like Borkman. Perhaps Peterson is Swedish, also. I’ll look for a man with fair hair. He’ll

carrying a box.”

“The Syria” was half an hour late. It arrived in the docks at half past twelve. Salahadin watched the people getting off

the boat. They were all Egyptian. There were some men with their wives and children, and many students. There was no one

looked Swedish.

At the moment, someone appeared on the top deck of “The Syria”. He was a tall man with fair hair.

“That’s Peterson,” thought Salahadin. “So, he’s decided to stay on the boat. Perhaps he’s going to Venice. I’ll get on

the boat and go to Venice, too.”

But Salahadin was careful. Perhaps it was a trick and Peterson was going to get off the boat at the last moment.

Salahadin waited, but no one else got off. At five o’clock, Salahadin got on the boat. The gangway was taken down and

“The Syria” was ready to leave.

Salahadin went to the ticket office on the boat and showed his ticket to the officer.

“I’ve just got on the boat,” said Salahadin. “Can I have a cabin, please?”

“You’re travelling first class, sir,” the officer said. “You can go into cabin 22. It’s just under the top deck.”

The officer turned to get the key for cabin 22.

“Wait a moment sir,” said the officer. “I’m sorry. I’ve made mistake. Cabin 22 isn’t empty. Mr Peterson’s in cabin 22.

He’s decided to go on to Venice. But cabin 23 is empty. You can go there.”

Salahadin took the key from the officer, went to cabin 23 and sat down. He had found Peterson.

11. Salahadin finds the Black Cat

Related Posts

• April 28, 2009 -- 14. Return to Cairo (0)
• April 26, 2009 -- 12. Death on “The Syria” (0)
• April 27, 2009 -- 13. Do Not Disturb (1)
• April 25, 2009 -- 11. Salahadin finds the Black Cat (1)
• April 22, 2009 -- 9. Beirut to Athens (4)