They Came to Baghdad

Practically!’ His eyebrows went up quizzically. ‘You can put him in danger, too. There’s that aspect of it. Still, I gather he had a good record in the Air Force. I don’t suppose danger will worry him. Two heads are often better than one. So he thinks there’s something fishy about this “Olive Branch” he’s working for? That’s interesting – very interesting.’

‘Why?’

‘Because we think so, too,’ said Dakin.

Then he added:

‘Just two parting tips. First, if you don’t mind my saying so, don’t tell too many different kinds of lies. It’s harder to remember and live up to. I know you’re a bit of a virtuoso, but keep it simple, is my advice.’

‘I’ll remember,’ said Victoria with becoming humility. ‘And what’s the other tip?’

‘Just keep your ears strained for any mention of a young woman called Anna Scheele.’

‘Who is she?’

‘We don’t know much about her. We could do with knowing a little more.’

Chapter 15

I

‘Of course you must stay at the Consulate,’ said Mrs Cardew Trench. ‘Nonsense, my dear – you can’t stay at the Airport Hotel. The Claytons will be delighted. I’ve known them for years. We’ll send a wire and you can go down on tonight’s train. They know Dr Pauncefoot Jones quite well.’

Victoria had the grace to blush. The Bishop of Llangow, alias the Bishop of Languao was one thing, a real flesh and blood Dr Pauncefoot Jones was quite another.

‘I suppose,’ thought Victoria guiltily, ‘I could be sent to prison for that – false pretences or something.’

Then she cheered herself up by reflecting that it was only if you attempted to obtain money by false statements that the rigours of the law were set in motion. Whether this was really so or not, Victoria did not know, being as ignorant of the law as most average people, but it had a cheering sound.

The train journey had all the fascination of novelty – to Victoria ’s idea the train was hardly an express – but she had begun to feel conscious of her Western impatience.

A Consular car met her at the station and she was driven to the Consulate. The car drove in through big gates into a delightful garden and drew up before a flight of steps leading up to a balcony surrounding the house. Mrs Clayton, a smiling energetic woman, came through the swinging wire mesh door to meet her.

‘We’re so pleased to see you,’ she said. ‘Basrah’s really delightful this time of year and you oughtn’t to leave Iraq without seeing it. Luckily there’s no one much here just at the moment – sometimes we just don’t know where to turn so as to fit people in, but there’s no one here now except Dr Rathbone’s young man who’s quite charming. You’ve just missed Richard Baker, by the way. He left before I got Mrs Cardew Trench’s telegram.’

Victoria had no idea who Richard Baker was – but it seemed fortunate he had left when he did.

‘He had been down to Kuwait for a couple of days,’ continued Mrs Clayton. ‘Now, that’s a place you ought to see – before it’s spoilt. I dare say it soon will be. Every place gets ruined sooner or later. What would you like first – a bath or some coffee?’

‘A bath, please,’ said Victoria gratefully.

‘How’s Mrs Cardew Trench? This is your room and the bathroom’s along here. Is she an old friend of yours?’

‘Oh no,’ said Victoria truthfully. ‘I’ve only just met her.’

‘And I suppose she turned you inside out in the first quarter of an hour? She’s a terrific gossip as I expect you’ve gathered. Got quite a mania for knowing all about everybody. But she’s quite good company and a really first-class bridge player. Now are you sure you wouldn’t like some coffee or something first?’

‘No, really.’

‘Good – then I’ll see you later. Have you got everything you want?’

Mrs Clayton buzzed away like a cheerful bee, and Victoria took a bath, and attended to her face and her hair with the meticulous care of a young woman who is shortly going to be reunited to a young man who has taken her fancy.

If possible, Victoria hoped to meet Edward alone. She did not think that he would make any tactless remarks – fortunately he knew her as Jones and the additional Pauncefoot would probably cause him no surprise. The surprise would be that she was in Iraq at all, and for that Victoria hoped that she could catch him alone even for a bare second or two.

With this end in view, when she had put on a summer frock (for to her the climate of Basrah recalled a June day in London) she slipped out quietly through the wire door and took up her position on the balcony where she could intercept Edward when he arrived back from whatever he was doing – wrestling with the Customs officials, she presumed.

The first arrival was a tall thin man with a thoughtful face, and as he came up the steps Victoria slipped round the corner of the balcony. As she did so, she actually saw Edward entering through a garden door that gave on to the river bend.

Faithful to the tradition of Juliet, Victoria leaned over the balcony and gave a prolonged hiss.

Edward (who was looking, Victoria thought, more attractive than ever) turned his head sharply, looking about him.

‘Hist! Up here,’ called Victoria in a low voice.

Edward raised his head, and an expression of utter astonishment appeared on his face.

‘Good Lord,’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s Charing Cross!’

‘Hush. Wait for me. I’m coming down.’

Victoria sped round the balcony, down the steps and along round the corner of the house to where Edward had remained obediently standing, the expression of bewilderment still on his face.

‘I can’t be drunk so early in the day,’ said Edward. ‘It is you?’

‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Victoria happily and ungrammatically.

‘But what are you doing here? How did you get here? I thought I was never going to see you again.’

‘I thought so too.’

‘It’s really just like a miracle. How did you get here?’

‘I flew.’

‘Naturally you flew. You couldn’t have got here in time, otherwise. But I mean what blessed and wonderful chance brought you to Basrah?’

‘The train,’ said Victoria.

‘You’re doing it on purpose, you little brute. God, I’m pleased to see you. But how did you get here – really?’

‘I came out with a woman who’d broken her arm – a Mrs Clipp, an American. I was offered the job the day after I met you, and you’d talked about Baghdad, and I was a bit fed up with London, so I thought, well why not see the world?’

‘You really are awfully sporting, Victoria. Where’s this Clipp woman, here?’

‘No, she’s gone to a daughter near Kirkuk. It was only a journey-out job.’

‘Then what are you doing now?’

‘I’m still seeing the world,’ said Victoria. ‘But it has required a few subterfuges. That’s why I wanted to get at you before we met in public, I mean, I don’t want any tactless references to my being a shorthand typist out of a job when you last saw me.’

‘As far as I’m concerned you’re anything you say you are. I’m ready for briefing.’

‘The idea is,’ said Victoria, ‘that I am Miss Pauncefoot Jones. My uncle is an eminent archaeologist who is excavating in some more or less inaccessible place out here, and I am joining him shortly.’