They came to Baghdad - Agatha Christie [55]
‘Then it was someone – in the hotel?’
‘Yes, Victoria. And what is more someone in one particular wing of the hotel – for I myself was watching the stairs and no one came up them.’
He watched her rather puzzled face and said quietly:
‘That doesn’t really give us very many names. You and I and Mrs Cardew Trench, and Marcus and his sisters. A couple of elderly servants who have been here for years. A man called Harrison from Kirkuk against whom nothing is known. A nurse who works at the Jewish Hospital…It might be any of them – yet all of them are unlikely for one very good reason.’
‘What is that?’
‘Carmichael was on his guard. He knew that the peak moment of his mission was approaching. He was a man with a very keen instinct for danger. How did that instinct let him down?’
‘Those police that came –’ began Victoria.
‘Ah, they came after – up from the street. They’d had a signal, I suppose. But they didn’t do the stabbing. That must have been done by someone Carmichael knew well, whom he trusted…or alternatively whom he judged negligible. If I only knew…’
II
Achievement brings with it its own anticlimax. To get to Baghdad, to find Edward, to penetrate the secrets of the Olive Branch: all this had appeared as an entrancing programme. Now, her objective attained, Victoria, in a rare moment of self-questioning, sometimes wondered what on earth she was doing! The rapture of reunion with Edward had come and gone. She loved Edward, Edward loved her. They were, on most days, working under the same roof – but thinking about it dispassionately, what on earth were they doing?
By some means or other, sheer force of determination, or ingenious persuasion, Edward had been instrumental in Victoria’s being offered a meagrely-paid job at the Olive Branch. She spent most of her time in a small dark room with the electric light on, typing on a very faulty machine various notices and letters and manifestos of the milk and water programme of the Olive Branch activities. Edward had had a hunch there was something wrong about the Olive Branch. Mr Dakin had seemed to agree with that view. She, Victoria, was here to find out what she could, but as far as she could see, there was nothing to find out! The Olive Branch activities dripped with the honey of international peace. Various gatherings were held with orangeade to drink and depressing edibles to go with it, and at these Victoria was supposed to act as quasi-hostess; to mix, to introduce, to promote general good feeling amongst various foreign nationals, who were inclined to stare with animosity at one another and wolf refreshments hungrily.
As far as Victoria could see, there were no under-currents, no conspiracies, no inner rings. All was above board, mild as milk and water, and desperately dull. Various dark-skinned young men made tentative love to her, others lent her books to read which she skimmed through and found tedious. She had, by now, left the Tio Hotel and had taken up her quarters with some other young women workers of various nationalities in a house on the west bank of the river. Amongst these young women was Catherine, and it seemed to Victoria that Catherine watched her with a suspicious eye, but whether this was because Catherine suspected her of being a spy on the activities of the Olive Branch or whether it was the more delicate matter of Edward’s affections, Victoria was unable to make up her mind. She rather fancied the latter. It was known that Edward had secured Victoria her job and several pairs of jealous dark eyes looked at her without undue affection.
The fact was, Victoria thought moodily, that Edward was far too attractive. All these girls had fallen for him, and Edward’s engaging friendly manner to one and all did nothing to help. By agreement between them, Victoria and Edward were to show no signs of special intimacy. If they were to find out anything worth finding out, they must not be suspected of working together. Edward’s manner to her was the same as to any of the other young women, with an added shade of