Interview with Agent Baxter
Shirley makes his way to Brixby’s library and enters without hesitation. Agent Baxter is a tall, lanky man who has sprawled across a large sofa, making notes in a small, leather-bound notebook. As Shirley enters, he snaps it shut and puts it in his pocket. “Edgar Baxter,” he says, by way of introduction, as he rises and extends a hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Addam.”
“Shirley,” says Shirley as he shakes hands, finding the informality a relief after Brixby’s stuffy demeanour.
Baxter grins. “You look as if you’ve come from one of Brixby’s exceptionally sanitary meals.”
Shirley’s expression is eloquent. “I hope you have not had to endure many yourself.”
Baxter’s smile turns into a knowing grin. “Timing is of the essence, and
His Lordship is nothing if not predictable and punctual.”
“I see,” says Shirley, nodding ruefully.
“Alexandria was most complimentary toward you,” Baxter begins.
“I fear Alexandria has a way of overstating praise.”
“Alexandria is… most enthusiastic about his job. But, you have a race to complete—good showing so far, by the by—and I don’t wish to keep you from it.” Baxter seats himself on the edge of the couch, gesturing to Shirley to take a seat. “Here’s the meat of it. Scotland Yard should like to to travel overland as much as possible to both Madras and Rangoon. Obviously, some sea travel is unavoidable, but if you can keep it to a minimum, that would be ideal. We should also like you to travel in disguise as far as Rangoon.” Shirley’s eyebrows go up, but he listens without comment. Baxter leans forward, and lowers his voice. “I can’t help but notice
that you are travelling with Dr. Byrd and her ward. Excellent move, that—Addison will be looking for individuals, rather than a trio, and as far as we know, Miss Esperanza’s appearance is completely unknown to him. Do you think that the ladies will consent to a disguise as well?”
“We have a collective disguise planned already,” Shirley answers.
“Alexandria said you were a natural at this. I’m rather inclined to believe him.”
Shirley’s sour thoughts at this revelation do not show themselves in his face. “Forgive me,” he says, “but your account of things differs somewhat from Alexandria’s. He gave me the impression that I was intended to draw Addison’s fire. What you say indicates that I am to avoid him as best I can—unless there is something about this you have not explained.”
“I can see how it would be a bit confusing, Shirley. You see, Addison already knows exactly where you are going to be, namely Government House in Madras and then Rangoon. If he is going to make a move, it would be there. All he has to do is watch who goes in and out. Therefore, all we have to do his watch him. We’re already putting our men into position, as we expect him to arrive before you do.”
Shirley thinks about this, shakes his head. “Something about this does not add up, and I will be frank about it, though I risk causing offence thereby. Essentially you are asking me to do what I would do in any case, given what has happened to me already and what the Times has reported. Since according to Alexandria you have investigated me thoroughly, you might well have guessed I would take precisely this course.
“Why, then, go through the entire rigmarole of making me a temporary operative? Surely that is a breach of this mission’s secrecy?” Shirley carefully does not say that he believes Scotland Yard may be playing him for a patsy, but Baxter might infer it from his tone of voice. He is quite willing to do whatever is needed, but he would very much prefer to know what he is accomplishing for them.
Baxter pauses, and closes his eyes. He seems to remind himself that despite Shirley’s obvious talents, he is NOT a professional detective. “Shirley, the Yard is doing this in order to protect you. Firstly, I should think you would prefer to know that you were being used as bait, and have a chance to consent to it.” Baxter waits for his answer.
Shirley’s diction tightens into a barrister’s precise brevity. “You do not seem to be using me at all, sir, to be quite frank; that was my initial objection, if you will recall. And, I must add, you have said nothing to Doctor Byrd and Miss Garcia—or if you have, they have not revealed it. Surely they should consent as well?”
Baxter remains calm and patient. “Shirley, it is possible that this case will not be wrapped up in Madras or even Rangoon. The Yard expects Addison to appear in India, but we do not know for a certainty that he will. In the event that he does not appear in India, you may rest assured that there will be a more active role available for you. I’m certain that you can see the benefit in involving you earlier, rather than later.”
“All right, then,” Shirley says, relenting. “Now you make sense. That is all I ask. Enough of the world has gone mad as it is; I like to keep my own small part of it in order.”
Baxter relaxes as well, and grins wickedly. “An admirable goal—Alexandria didn’t mention you were such an optimist.”
“Not an optimist—merely a man who dislikes surprises. And of course I also understand—you need not say it—that Addison is probably not the utter end of this chain of events.”
Baxter nods. “I believe I can safely say that both you and I should be very surprised if he were.”
“Indeed.”
The agent stands up and wanders over to the window. “Added to that, you’ve had none of the training that our detectives do, and you are a temporary member of the Yard. Surely you didn’t expect us to send you out to tweak the Kaiser’s nose—or the Tsar’s—on your first go.”
“No,” answers Shirley quietly, “but I did not think it outrageous to have some part in capturing the man indirectly responsible for the murder of a former client who did me a number of good turns. Not to mention the terrible affair in Damascus, if indeed it is connected. With respect, I think you may underestimate the strength of my desire to see Addison and his employer taken.”
“Perhaps. However, the Yard considers you one of its assets now, one that it would prefer to retain for the duration, if possible. And rest assured that by helping flush him out, you are both assisting with the endeavour and, I hope, sparing other Ellipsoids from the danger he and his employer present.”
Shirley’s wicked and entirely undeceived grin echoes Baxter’s. “Alexandria—and perhaps Malta—told you how to talk to me, I see.”
Boyishly, Baxter waves his index finger back and forth, grinning. “I can only give you such information as the Yard decides that you need to know, Shirley. As for your travelling companions, I am authorized to speak to them as well—indeed, I have every intention of doing so—but until our conversation is complete, I cannot do so.”
“Good. That is a considerable relief. I have not liked the idea of keeping them in the dark.”
“From what little I know of Dr. Byrd, I doubt she would stand for it in any case.”
“Exactly.”
“You do understand that as she and her ward have not been deputized, they may not be privy to all the information that may come your way.”
“So long as none of the news touches her safety, I shall hold my tongue when asked to. Kindly explain this arrangement to her yourself; I think she will accept it more easily from you than from me.”
“Of course. The good doctor seems to be an eminently sensible person.”
“I have found her to be so. I shouldn’t wonder if in the end you are more grateful for her assistance than mine.”
Baxter lowers his voice to continue his interrupted enumeration. “Additionally, Shirley, in the event that you must defend yourself and Addison were to suffer—I shall be blunt—fatal consequences, even accidentally, such inquest as there is would be rather weighted in your favour if you are a member of the Yard, even a temporary one.”
“Hm. Alexandria did not tell you, then, that I do not go armed? Addison
is in more danger from the local water supply than from me.”
“Alexandria did mention it. However, a man may change his mind under difficult circumstances—and even if he does not, actions can have unintended consequences.”
“My mind is quite firm on this point. As you say, I have no training. A gun in my hands is more of a danger to myself, to my companions, and to you than to Addison—the more so because it might cause me to overlook other, perhaps safer or more useful, courses of action.”
“That is entirely your decision, Shirley, and a wise one, given your lack of experience. However, you do have a reputation as a resourceful chap—”
“Wholly undeserved.”
“—and a lucky one.” Shirley says nothing to that. “I have confidence in your ability to come up with a ‘more useful course of action’—and pull it off.”
“I wish I did—but thank you.”
“Finally,” Baxter concludes, “should something unfortunate happen to you during your time of service, you, or any heir or beneficiary you may have, would be entitled to compensation from the Yard.”
Shirley shrugs this off. “I am quite alone in the world, and in my specific case I doubt Addison has given or will accept orders to shoot merely to disable.”
Baxter begins to pace the room. “If we knew what Addison’s orders were, this entire situation would be much easier to resolve. There is a great deal we do not know, and so we take pains to take care of contingencies as best we may.”
“I am sure your preparations do you credit,” Shirley says mildly, knowing he should not ask for details.
Baxter stops pacing directly in front of Shirley. “This situation has been a tangled mess practically from the beginning. It’s frustrating work sometimes, but one must muddle through as best one can. Your co-operation is much appreciated, Shirley.”
“I have done nothing to be thanked for as yet. Shall I summon a servant to go for Doctor Byrd and Miss Garcia? Better, I daresay, if Brixby thinks they are meeting me rather than you.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer that you speak to her yourself. I expect she’ll have questions.”
“I assure you, only for Scotland Yard’s sake would I set foot back in that dining room,” says Shirley, leaving his chair. “I shall go and rescue them from Brixby, then.”
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