The Baghdad Railway Club(41)

I sat down opposite to him.

‘You’re early,’ I said.

‘I was just around . . . the corner,’ he replied.

He reached into his tunic pocket.

‘Your reply,’ he said, handing me an envelope.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘It came quicker than expected?’

‘Yes,’ Ferry eventually said.

Opening the envelope, I was not surprised to read the single word ‘CRATE’. Bob Ferry manipulated his pipe with his long fingers as I did so. In the cipher that I had agreed with Manners, the word ‘CRATE’ meant ‘Cannot accede to your request, continue investigation’. Even so, I thanked Ferry again. He must have read the message, but at best it would have meant something like ‘Your shortage of coal acknowledged’ or whatever was its railway code-book meaning.

Just then, Stevens entered. I introduced him to Ferry, since they did not appear to know each other.

Stevens asked me: ‘Are you speaking, then?’

I shook my head. ‘Maybe next time.’

‘Are you?’ he asked Ferry.

I was embarrassed for Ferry, since now his stutter would be discovered. He had got as far as removing his pipe from his mouth when Stevens said, ‘I’m speaking. Worse luck.’

He gave no outward indication of having seen me at number 11 Clean Street. He sat down, and set his great right leg bouncing. It was very irritating.

‘Some Arab’s going to bring up some cocktails, or something,’ he said, glancing over to the door. ‘I could do with a stiffener. Public speaking always makes me nervous. Ever since schooldays, you know. I did a talk on the National Debt and I couldn’t remember anything about it. “The first great rise in the National Debt occurred in . . .” Totally blank. The moment I apologised and sat down looking a prize idiot, it all came back to me and I’ve never forgotten it since.’

I nodded. Stevens continued to bounce his leg.

‘In the Revolution of 1688,’ he said, ‘the National Debt rose from £664,263 to over sixteen million.’ Turning to Ferry, he said, ‘Do you know what it was in 1816?’

Ferry removed his pipe from his mouth, and said, ‘I—’

‘There’s a cat over there,’ said Stevens. There were two long red sofas in the room, loaded with green and red cushions. Among them was a thin white cat that had just woken up. ‘I know her game,’ said Stevens, contemplating the cat, ‘she’s pretending not to look at us.’

I wondered whether he’d been drinking already.

A young Royal Engineer turned up just then, saying, ‘Did you hear about the trouble in town? An Arab was beaten to death just now.’

Stevens gave a shrug. ‘I heard something of the sort.’

I wondered: Did he do it? He’d certainly be up to beating a man to death, but he looked perfectly smart, carried none of the marks of a fight.

I enquired, ‘Do you think it was one of our boys that did it?’

‘Should think so,’ said Stevens.

An Arab entered with blue glasses and silver bowls on a board. He put them on the table by the window, walked out again without a word.

‘What is this place?’ I asked Stevens.

‘No idea,’ he said, sitting back in his chair.

‘It was once a restaurant deluxe,’ said the Royal Engineer. ‘Unfortunately that was some time ago.’

Turning to Ferry, who might be feeling a bit left out, I said, ‘What did you do on civilian street, Bob?’

‘Taught,’ he said at length. Thinking he wouldn’t be much good in a classroom with that stutter of his, I asked, ‘Where was that then?’

‘Oxford . . . University,’ he said.

The sound of voices came from the staircase. In walked a chap in the mid-fifties; he wore the white tabs of a political officer, and his badge of rank was crossed swords, denoting a brigadier general. Shepherd came in behind him. The brigadier removed his cap, and we all saluted. He had thin grey hair and sleepy, kindly eyes. ‘All students of the railway hobby, I take it,’ he said, in a husky voice. ‘Very good, very good.’ He then took up where he’d left off with Shepherd, speaking in a low tone. Presently, the brigadier drifted towards the window, and Shepherd came over. I introduced him to Captain Ferry ‘of the telegraph office at the Residency’.

The moment I said that, I thought: It must not come out that I’ve just sent from there.

Ferry said to Shepherd, ‘The fame of your club has reached as far as the . . . Annex.’

‘The Annex’ was what some people called the Residency. Shepherd had listened politely as Ferry had spoken that delayed last word, so I wondered whether the two had met before. I doubted it, since most of the telegrams sent by political staff such as Shepherd would go from the Hotel.