The Baghdad Railway Club by Andrew Martin Read Free Book Online

looked to the Chief: ‘A regular terrier this man, Weatherill. In the first place,’ he continued, turning back to me, ‘he did wire. The day after the fall of Baghdad, he reported to us that he had an urgent and important matter to mention, and that he required a confidential channel of communication. Without any reiteration of his message, we replied by wire to the effect that he should seek direction from a certain other officer out there.’
    ‘A more senior one?’
    Manners blanked the question with a slight look of pain, continuing: ‘After speaking with this other officer, Boyd set down his concerns on paper in greater detail – although still not so very great.’
    ‘And he sent them to you in a letter.’
    ‘Which we received on April 15th. Mr Henderson-Richards of this department had sight of the letter. Four days later, he happened to be at York station – his mother has a place in the country nearby – when he bumped into Chief Inspector Weatherill here, who is of course a trusted man, known to this office. The two fell to gossiping.’
    ‘ Exchanging intelligence ,’ growled the Chief, and Manners, for the first time, actually grinned.
    ‘The name of Shepherd in Baghdad was mentioned to the Chief Inspector,’ said Manners, ‘who only a few moments before had by an unfortunate accident – which in fact was very fortunate – read the letter indicating the job offer to you from Shepherd.’
    Manners now slid the buff envelope towards me.
    ‘Open it,’ he said.
    ‘Is it the letter from this Captain Boyd?’
    ‘No, although it arises from his letter. It was written for you by one of my superiors, and it relays to you an arrangement made with Boyd.’
    Inside was a typed note, headed – ridiculously to my mind – ‘Top Secret’. It went on in peremptory fashion: ‘Captain Stringer to rendezvous with Captain Boyd outside the Salon de Thé (restaurant) at Baghdad railway station at 11 p.m. on Thursday May 24th. Stringer to observe, “It is closed.” Boyd to reply, “The coffee houses by the bridge of boats will do you very well if you don’t mind the walk.”’
    So I had a little under a month to get to Baghdad.
    I handed back the note. Since this arrangement must have been made in the few days since I came into the picture, it must have been made between the Intelligence office and Boyd via telegram. I asked if this was the case and Manners (with the greatest reluctance) nodded. I said, ‘How secure were those wires?’, for there must have been two: one proposing the arrangement, and one confirming.
    Manners said, ‘You need have no anxiety on that score. Boyd did not know the military codes, so his telegrams were sent, as we say, “clear” – that is in plain English – but you were not named in the wires, and nor was the rendezvous point named. In his letter to us, Boyd had already nominated that particular spot as “safe place” – the station being some way out of town – in which to confide his anxieties should we wish to assign a man to the case. A return to the station would also allow him to show exactly what he’d seen on the night in question.’
    ‘So the telegrams were to the effect X will meet you at Y place?’
    ‘You’ve caught on splendidly,’ said Manners, who now stood up, walked over to his fire, and dropped the note detailing the arrangement on the low flames. Since it was on the very flimsiest paper, it disappeared immediately.
    ‘By the way, I trust you committed that to memory,’ he said, with the hint of a returning smile. ‘Boyd’s a good chap – he’ll put you in the picture. You’ll take your place in Shepherd’s office. You’ll gather evidence and you’ll report back.’
    ‘And the aim is to bring Shepherd to book.’
    ‘Or put him in the clear,’ said Manners. ‘We’ll settle for either. But there is another aim equally important, and that is the uncovering of the treasure, and the securing of same for His Majesty’s