{"id":2493,"date":"2026-01-03T22:32:46","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:32:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/they-came-to-baghdad-christie-agatha\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:32:46","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:32:46","slug":"they-came-to-baghdad-christie-agatha","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/they-came-to-baghdad-christie-agatha\/","title":{"rendered":"They Came to Baghdad – Christie, Agatha"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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One<\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n
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I<\/span><\/p>\n

C<\/span><\/span>aptain Crosbie came out of the bank with the pleased air of one who has cashed a cheque and has discovered that there is just a little more in his account than he thought there was.<\/p>\n

Captain Crosbie often looked pleased with himself. He was that kind of man. In figure he was short and stocky, with rather a red face and a bristling military moustache. He strutted a little when he walked. His clothes were, perhaps, just a trifle loud, and he was fond of a good story. He was popular among other men. A cheerful man, commonplace but kindly, unmarried. Nothing remarkable about him. There are heaps of Crosbies in the East.<\/p>\n

The street into which Captain Crosbie emerged was called Bank Street for the excellent reason that most of the banks in the city were situated in it. Inside the bank it was cool and dark and rather musty. The predominant sound was of large quantities of typewriters clicking in the background.<\/p>\n

Outside in Bank Street it was sunny and full of swirling dust and the noises were terrific and varied. There was the persistent honking of motor horns, the cries of vendors of various wares. There were hot disputes between small groups of people who seemed ready to murder each other but were really fast friends; men, boys and children were selling every type of tree, sweetmeats, oranges and bananas, bath towels, combs, razor blades and other assorted merchandise carried rapidly through the streets on trays. There was also a perpetual and ever renewed sound of throat clearing and spitting, and above it the thin melancholy wail of men conducting donkeys and horses amongst the stream of motors and pedestrians shouting, \u201cBalek\u2014Balek!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It was eleven o\u2019clock in the morning in the city of Baghdad.<\/p>\n

Captain Crosbie stopped a rapidly running boy with an armful of newspapers and bought one. He turned the corner of Bank Street and came into Rashid Street which is the main street of Baghdad, running through it for about four miles parallel with the river Tigris.<\/p>\n

Captain Crosbie glanced at the headlines in the paper, tucked it under his arm, walked for about two hundred yards and then turned down a small alleyway and into a large khan or court. At the farther side of this he pushed open a door with a brass plate and found himself in an office.<\/p>\n

A neat young Iraqi clerk left his typewriter and came forward smiling a welcome.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning, Captain Crosbie. What can I do for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Dakin in his room? Good, I\u2019ll go through.\u201d<\/p>\n

He passed through a door, up some very steep stairs and along a rather dirty passage. He knocked at the end door and a voice said, \u201cCome in.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a high, rather bare room. There was an oil stove with a saucer of water on top of it, a long, low cushioned seat with a little coffee table in front of it and a large rather shabby desk. The electric light was on and the daylight was carefully excluded. Behind the shabby desk was a rather shabby man, with a tired and indecisive face\u2014the face of one who has not got on in the world and knows it and has ceased to care.<\/p>\n

The two men, the cheerful self-confident Crosbie, and the melancholy fatigued Dakin, looked at each other.<\/p>\n

Dakin said, \u201cHallo, Crosbie. Just in from Kirkuk?\u201d<\/p>\n

The other nodded. He shut the door carefully behind him. It was a shabby looking door, badly painted, but it had one rather unexpected quality; it fitted well, with no crevices and no space at the bottom.<\/p>\n

It was, in fact, soundproof.<\/p>\n

With the closing of the door, the personalities of both men changed ever so slightly. Captain Crosbie became less aggressive and cocksure. Mr. Dakin\u2019s shoulders drooped less, his manner was less hesitating. If anyone had been in the room listening they would have been surprised to find that Dakin was the man in authority.<\/p>\n

\u201cAny news, sir?\u201d asked Crosbie.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d Dakin sighed. He had before him a paper which he had just been busy decoding. He dotted down two more letters and said:<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s to be held in Baghdad.\u201d<\/p>\n

Then he struck a match, set light to the paper and watched it burn. When it had smouldered to ashes, he blew gently. The ashes flew up and scattered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said. \u201cThey\u2019ve settled on Baghdad. Twentieth of next month. We\u2019re to \u2018preserve all secrecy.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ve been talking about it in the souk\u2014for three days,\u201d said Crosbie drily.<\/p>\n

The tall man smiled his weary smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cTop secret! No top secrets in the East, are there, Crosbie?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir. If you ask me, there aren\u2019t any top secrets anywhere. During the war I often noticed a barber in London knew more than the High Command.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter much in this case. If the meeting is arranged for Baghdad it will soon have to be made public. And then the fun\u2014our particular fun\u2014starts.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think it will ever take place, sir?\u201d asked Crosbie sceptically. \u201cDoes Uncle Joe\u201d\u2014thus disrespectfully did Captain Crosbie refer to the head of a Great European Power\u2014\u201creally mean to come?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think he does this time, Crosbie,\u201d said Dakin thoughtfully. \u201cYes, I think so. And if the meeting comes off\u2014comes off without a hitch\u2014well, it might be the saving of\u2014everything. If some kind of understanding could only be reached\u2014\u201d he broke off.<\/p>\n

Crosbie still looked slightly sceptical. \u201cIs\u2014forgive me, sir\u2014is understanding of any kind possible?<\/span>\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the sense you mean, Crosbie, probably not!<\/span> If it were just a bringing together of two men representing totally different ideologies probably the whole thing would end as usual\u2014in increased suspicion and misunderstanding. But there\u2019s the third element. If that fantastic story of Carmichael\u2019s is true\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

He broke off.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut surely, sir, it can\u2019t be true. It\u2019s too<\/span> fantastic!\u201d<\/p>\n

The other was silent for a few moments. He was seeing, very vividly, an earnest troubled face, hearing a quiet nondescript voice saying fantastic and unbelievable things. He was saying to himself, as he had said then, \u201cEither my best, my most reliable man has gone mad: or else\u2014this thing is true\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

He said in the same thin melancholy voice:<\/p>\n

\u201cCarmichael believed it. Everything he could find out confirmed his hypothesis. He wanted to go there to find out more\u2014to get proof. Whether I was wise to let him or not, I don\u2019t know. If he doesn\u2019t get back, it\u2019s only my story of what Carmichael told me, which again is a story of what someone told him.<\/span> Is that enough? I don\u2019t think so. It is, as you say, such a fantastic story\u2026But if the man himself is here, in Baghdad, on the twentieth, to tell his own story, the story of an eyewitness, and to produce proof\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cProof?\u201d said Crosbie sharply.<\/p>\n

The other nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, he\u2019s got proof.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe agreed formula. The message came through Salah Hassan.\u201d He quoted carefully: \u201cA white camel with a load of oats is coming over the Pass.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He paused and then went on:<\/p>\n

\u201cSo Carmichael has got what he went to get, but he didn\u2019t get away unsuspected. They\u2019re on his trail. Whatever route he takes will be watched, and what is far more dangerous, they\u2019ll be waiting for him\u2014here. First on the frontier. And if he succeeds in passing the frontier, there will be a cordon drawn round the Embassies and the Consulates. Look at this.\u201d<\/p>\n

He shuffled amongst the papers on his desk and read out:<\/p>\n

\u201cAn Englishman travelling in his car from Persia to Iraq shot dead\u2014supposedly by bandits. A Kurdish merchant travelling down from the hills ambushed and killed. Another Kurd, Abdul Hassan, suspected of being a cigarette smuggler, shot by the police. Body of a man, afterwards identified as an Armenian lorry driver, found on the Rowanduz road. All of them mark you, of roughly the same description. Height, weight, hair, build, it corresponds with a description of Carmichael. They\u2019re taking no chances. They\u2019re out to get him. Once he\u2019s in Iraq the danger will be greater still. A gardener at the Embassy, a servant at the Consulate, an official at the Airport, in the Customs, at the railway stations\u2026all hotels watched\u2026A cordon, stretched tight.<\/p>\n

Crosbie raised his eyebrows.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think it\u2019s as widespread as all that, sir?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve no doubt of it. Even in our show there have been leakages. That\u2019s the worst of all. How am I to be sure that the measures we\u2019re adopting to get Carmichael safely into Baghdad aren\u2019t known already to the other side? It\u2019s one of the elementary moves of the game, as you know, to have someone in the pay of the other camp.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there anyone you\u2014suspect?\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly Dakin shook his head.<\/p>\n

Crosbie sighed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the meantime,\u201d he said, \u201cwe carry on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about Crofton Lee?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s agreed to come to Baghdad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEveryone\u2019s coming to Baghdad,\u201d said Crosbie. \u201cEven Uncle Joe, according to you, sir. But if anything should happen to the President\u2014while he\u2019s here\u2014the balloon will go up with a vengeance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing must happen,\u201d said Dakin. \u201cThat\u2019s our business. To see it doesn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Crosbie had gone Dakin sat bent over his desk. He murmured under his breath:<\/p>\n

\u201cThey came to Baghdad\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

On the blotting pad he drew a circle and wrote under it Baghdad<\/span>\u2014then, dotted round it, he sketched a camel, an aeroplane, a steamer, a small puffing train\u2014all converging on the circle. Then on the corner of the pad he drew a spider\u2019s web. In the middle of the spider\u2019s web he wrote a name: Anna Scheele.<\/span> Underneath he put a big query mark.<\/p>\n

Then he took his hat, and left the office. As he walked along Rashid Street, some man asked another who that was.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat? Oh, that\u2019s Dakin. In one of the oil companies. Nice fellow, but never gets on. Too lethargic. They say he drinks. He<\/span>\u2019ll never get anywhere. You\u2019ve got to have drive to get on in this part of the world.\u201d<\/p>\n

II<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHave you got the reports on the Krugenhorf property, Miss Scheele?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Mr. Morganthal.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Scheele, cool and efficient, slipped the papers in front of her employer.<\/p>\n

He grunted as he read.<\/p>\n

\u201cSatisfactory, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI certainly think so, Mr. Morganthal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs Schwartz here?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s waiting in the outer office.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHave him sent in right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Scheele pressed a buzzer\u2014one of six.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you require me, Mr. Morganthal?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I don\u2019t think so, Miss Scheele.\u201d<\/p>\n

Anna Scheele glided noiselessly from the room.<\/p>\n

She was a platinum blonde\u2014but not a glamorous blonde. Her pale flaxen hair was pulled straight back from her forehead into a neat roll at the neck. Her pale blue intelligent eyes looked out on the world from behind strong glasses. Her face had neat small features, but was quite expressionless. She had made her way in the world not by her charm but by sheer efficiency. She could memorize anything, however complicated, and produce names, dates and times without having to refer to notes. She could organize the staff of a big office in such a way that it ran as by well-oiled machinery. She was discretion itself and her energy, though controlled and disciplined, never flagged.<\/p>\n

Otto Morganthal, head of the firm of Morganthal, Brown and Shipperke, international bankers, was well aware that to Anna Scheele he owed more than mere money could repay. He trusted her completely. Her memory, her experience, her judgement, her cool level head were invaluable. He paid her a large salary and would have made it a larger one had she asked for it.<\/p>\n

She knew not only the details of his business but the details of his private life. When he had consulted her in the matter of the second Mrs. Morganthal, she had advised divorce and suggested the exact amount of alimony. She had not expressed sympathy or curiosity. She was not, he would have said, that kind of woman. He didn\u2019t think she had any feelings, and it had never occurred to him to wonder what she thought about. He would indeed have been astonished if he had been told that she had any thoughts\u2014other, that is, than thoughts connected with Morganthal, Brown and Shipperke and with the problems of Otto Morganthal.<\/p>\n

So it was with complete surprise that he heard her say as she prepared to leave his office:<\/p>\n

\u201cI should like three weeks\u2019 leave of absence if I might have it, Mr. Morganthal. Starting from Tuesday next.\u201d<\/p>\n

Staring at her, he said uneasily: \u201cIt will be awkward\u2014very awkward.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think it will be too difficult, Mr. Morganthal. Miss Wygate is fully competent to deal with things. I shall leave her my notes and full instructions. Mr. Cornwall can attend to the Ascher Merger.\u201d<\/p>\n

Still uneasily he asked:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not ill, or anything?\u201d<\/p>\n

He couldn\u2019t imagine Miss Scheele being ill. Even germs respected Anna Scheele and kept out of her way.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no, Mr. Morganthal. I want to go to London to see my sister there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour sister?\u201d He didn\u2019t know she had a sister. He had never conceived of Miss Scheele as having any family or relations. She had never mentioned having any. And here she was, casually referring to a sister in London. She had been over in London with him last fall but she had never mentioned having a sister then.<\/p>\n

With a sense of injury he said:<\/p>\n

\u201cI never knew you had a sister in En gland?\u201d<\/p>\n

Miss Scheele smiled very faintly.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yes, Mr. Morganthal. She is married to an Englishman connected with the British Museum. It is necessary for her to undergo a very serious operation. She wants me to be with her. I should like to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

In other words, Otto Morganthal saw, she had made up her mind to go.<\/p>\n

He said grumblingly, \u201cAll right, all right\u2026Get back as soon as you can. I\u2019ve never seen the market so jumpy. All this damned Communism. War may break out at any moment. It\u2019s the only solution, I sometimes think. The whole country\u2019s riddled with it\u2014riddled with it. And now the President\u2019s determined to go to this fool conference at Baghdad. It\u2019s a put-up job in my opinion. They\u2019re out to get him. Baghdad! Of all the outlandish places!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh I\u2019m sure he\u2019ll be very well guarded,\u201d Miss Scheele said soothingly.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey got the Shah of Persia last year, didn\u2019t they? They got Bernadotte in Palestine. It\u2019s madness\u2014that\u2019s what it is\u2014madness.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut then,\u201d added Mr. Morganthal heavily, \u201call the world is mad.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

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Book Preview One I Captain Crosbie came out of the bank with the pleased air of one who has cashed a cheque and has discovered that there is just a little more in his account than he thought there was. Captain Crosbie often looked pleased with himself. He was that kind of man. In figure … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2492,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[142],"class_list":["post-2493","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-agatha-christie"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2493","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2493"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2493\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2492"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2493"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2493"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2493"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}