They came to Baghdad - Agatha Christie [96]
Sheikh Hussein el Ziyara was renowned, as Dakin had said, throughout the Moslem world, both as a Holy Man and a poet of renown. He was considered by many to be a Saint. He stood up now, an imposing figure with his deep brown hennaed beard. His grey jacket edged with gold braid was covered by a flowing brown cloak of gossamer fineness. Round his head he wore a green cloth head-dress which was bound with many strands of heavy gold agal and which gave him a patriarchal appearance. He spoke in a deep sonorous voice.
‘Henry Carmichael was my friend,’ he said. ‘I knew him as a boy and he studied with me the verses of our great poets. Two men came to Kerbela, men who travel the country with a picture show. They are simple men, but good followers of the Prophet. They brought me a packet which they said they had been told to deliver into my hands from my friend the Englishman Carmichael. I was to keep this in secrecy and security and to deliver it only to Carmichael himself, or to a messenger who would repeat certain words. If in truth you are the messenger, speak, my son.’
Dakin said, ‘Sayyid, the Arabic poet Mutanabbi, “the Pretender to prophecy”, who lived just one thousand years ago, wrote an Ode to Prince Sayfu ’l-Dawla at Aleppo in which those words occur: Zid hashshi bashshi tafaddal adni surra sili.’*
With a smile Sheikh Hussein el Ziyara held out a packet to Dakin.
‘I say as Prince Sayfu ’l-Dawla said: “You shall have your desire…”’
‘Gentlemen,’ said Dakin. ‘These are the microfilms brought back by Henry Carmichael in proof of his story…’
One more witness spoke – a tragic broken figure: an old man with a fine domed head who had once been universally admired and respected.
He spoke with a tragic dignity.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I shall shortly be arraigned as a common swindler. But there are some things that even I cannot countenance. There is a band of men, mostly young men, so evil in their hearts and aims that the truth would hardly be believed.’
He lifted up his head and roared out:
‘Antichrist! I say this thing must be stopped! We have got to have peace – peace to lick our wounds and make a new world – and to do that we must to try to understand each other. I started a racket to make money – but, by God, I’ve ended in believing in what I preach – though I don’t advocate the methods I’ve used. For God’s sake, gentlemen, let’s start again and try to pull together…’
There was a moment’s silence, and then a thin official voice, with the bloodless impersonality of bureaucracy said:
‘These facts will be put forthwith before the President of the United States of America and the Premier of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics…’
Chapter 25
I
‘What bothers me,’ said Victoria, ‘is that poor Danish woman who got killed by mistake in Damascus.’
‘Oh! she’s all right,’ said Mr Dakin cheerfully. ‘As soon as your plane had taken off, we arrested the French woman and took Grete Harden to hospital. She came round all right. They were going to keep her drugged for a bit until they were sure the Baghdad business went off all right. She was one of our people of course.’
‘Was she?’
‘Yes, when Anna Scheele disappeared, we thought it might be as well to give the other side something to think about. So we booked a passage for Grete Harden and carefully didn’t give her a background. They fell for it – jumped to the conclusion that Grete Harden must be Anna Scheele. We gave her a nice little set of faked papers to prove it.’
‘Whilst the real Anna Scheele remained quietly in the nursing home till it was time for Mrs Pauncefoot Jones to join her husband out here.’
‘Yes. Simple – but effective.