They_Came_to_Baghdad-Agatha_Christie

'He was my brother. He died three days ago. His business is mine now.'
Yes, it was possible that this was the brother also employed by the department. His passwords had
been correct. However, it was with great care that Carmichael went into the inner room.
Here were shelves full of goods. And a white ferwah lay on a small table.
If they had chosen a gun as the weapon, Carmichael's mission would have failed there and then. But
it had been a knife.
On the shelf in front of Carmichael there was a big copper coffee pot. The knife and the man's
reflection showed in the shining surface. In another moment that knife would have been stabbed into
Carmichaels back.
As quick as a flash, Carmichael turned and knocked the man to the ground. The knife fell.
Carmichael ran back into the crowded souk, turning first one way, then another.
Betrayed again!
He was on the run once more. Without money, without help. He came out of the souk at last and
walked on until he saw the familiar sign he was looking for: British Consulate. He looked up the street
and down. No one seemed to be paying the least attention to him. Nothing, it appeared, would be easier
than to walk into the safety of the Consulate.
But he thought of an open mousetrap with a lovely piece of cheese. That, too, was easy for the
mouse...
Well, the risk had to be taken.
He went through the doorway.