The Baghdad Railway Club(31)

I set out for the British Residency, which was the second HQ of the Corps, so to speak. Getting there was a matter of following the wires along the riverside alleyways. As I walked, alternately through dazzle and shadow, I took the envelope from my pocket. ‘Now as to communication, and encryption thereof,’ Manners of the War Office had told me, ‘we have decided in your own case to take the simplest possible approach.’

The thin booklet I had been handed by the boy scout summoned by Manners – and which I took from its envelope as I walked now – was headed ‘Railway Clearing House Code Book’.

‘Secret code,’ Manners had said, keeping an absolutely straight face, but letting me know it was costing him quite an effort to do so.

‘Not very,’ I had said.

I’d seen this booklet, or close variants thereof, lying about in many a railway office. Anyone sending a standard sort of railway message was supposed to make use of it, not so much for secrecy as for money-saving. It was drilled into any clerk that telegraphy was expensive, and brevity essential. But in practice the book was not much used, for the messages represented by its codes were too simple, and it was regarded as a rather comical production. Opening the book at random, I saw – under the list of code words related to ‘Duty’ – the word ‘Chute’. ‘Chute’, I read, meant ‘Proceed to the following station for relief duty’. Why did it mean that? No reason. There was seldom any obvious connection between the word and the message, although I’d always thought that railway clerks with time on their hands must spend long hours trying to make one. The bloke required for the duty at the other station would be sent down a chute to take up his position.

The booklet contained a folded sheet of flimsy paper.

‘Open it out,’ Manners had commanded.

I had done so in his office, and I did so now, seeing the following words in capitals, with their meanings set down alongside in lower case.

ANCHOVY – Move immediately to arrest and detention of suspect.

RUSTIC – Request prolongation of investigation.

GRUFF – Request identity of local agent.

RATIO – Impossible to proceed with investigation, request immediate return to London.

LOCOPARTS – Turkish treasure located and secured.

RELAX – Request telephonic communication.

The beauty of the cipher – according to Manners – was that the words in capitals corresponded to the ciphers in the railway code book. In that, as I knew without looking, ‘Anchovy’ came under the heading ‘Missing and Tracing’, and meant ‘Item certainly sent; have further search made, and wire result’, while ‘Rustic’ was under ‘Forwarding’ and meant ‘Wire full particulars of despatch under delivery’.

Now the telegraph clerk in the British Residency – a trusted man supposedly, but you never knew – would either have an understanding of the railway codes, and believe that I really was asking the Head Clerk‚ Department F, War Office – Manners, in other words – to wire further particulars in some railway matter. (Not completely unlikely, since I was in the railway office of Corps HQ.) Or he would just be baffled by the word ‘Anchovy’, recognising it as some new code, separate from the standard military ciphers (with which he would be closely familiar). The third possibility was that, as a student of codes in general, the clerk might recognise ‘Anchovy’ as belonging to the railway code, know its meaning as given in that book, but realise that in this particular communication it was being given some new meaning. In which case, as Manners had said, ‘So what?’ For he would not know the new meaning, and could not discover it without having sight of the paper I now held in my hands.

And whatever he thought, it was the clerk’s job to send the message.

Also listed on the paper were the words I might receive by way of reply:

CHRISTIAN – Will act as instructed.

CRATE – Cannot accede to your request, continue investigation.

JUMP – Terminate investigation.

I recalled that in the railway code ‘Christian’ stood for ‘Nothing to indicate sender or cosignee’. I could not remember the railway meanings of the other words.

I was restricted to this cipher. Therefore, I could not send ‘Boyd is dead. What do I do now?’, much though I would have liked to.

Manners had considered the code a very clever dodge indeed, and amusing into the bargain. ‘However,’ he had said, ‘I would much prefer that you did not use it. The matter is too sensitive. Unless you wire “Rustic” you will remain in Baghdad for a month collecting evidence and acting quite independently.’