Destination Unknown by Agatha Christie

 

Destination Unknown by Agatha Christie

published 1954

 

 

‘We’re going native for the next lap,’ she explained, ‘we leave our other clothes here.’ So the smart little American woman’s neat suiting and Hilary’s tweed coat and skirt and the nun’s habit were all laid aside and three native Moroccan women sat on the roof of the house and chatted together. The whole thing had a curiously unreal feeling.

 

comments:  Yes, a ‘curiously unreal feeling’ is right – this was another of Christie’s ventures back into thriller territory. I always linked it in my mind with Passenger to Frankfurt (blogpost here, wondering if it is the worst Christie) but it is actually much better, I enjoyed reading it. Though had to suspend disbelief a lot.

This is the one where a woman contemplating suicide is invited to undertake an undercover mission: it will almost certainly result in her death, but she will have helped out along the way. A good, memorable setup -  I was surprised to find there were two chapters and 24 pages before we get to this, I’d remembered it as the very beginning.

Hilary, the red-headed heroine, has to step into a classic impersonation – I’m sorry I’d forgotten this, also, when I did a series of posts on impersonation a while back.

In order to say anything more on the plot, I need to give some SLIGHT SPOILERS, but this IS from the cover of the book:

When a number of leading scientists disappear without trace, concern grows within the international intelligence community. Are they being kidnapped? Blackmailed? Brainwashed?

One woman appears to have the key to the mystery. Unfortunately, she now lies in a hospital bed, dying from injuries sustained in a Moroccan plane crash.

Hilary steps in, and is taken off to a secret location where the missing scientists are hidden. But what happens when she meets her supposed ‘husband’ you might say? This is the scene beloved in all impersonation stories – you will have to read the book to find out.

There are some splendidly creepy scenes, such as the one where some huge boxes appear, and Hilary is wondering…

‘I know what it is. The pilot told me. It’s not very pretty perhaps, but I guess it’s necessary.’ He added quietly, ‘There are bodies in there.

‘Bodies!’ She stared at him.

‘Oh, they haven’t been murdered or anything,’ he grinned reassuringly. ‘They were obtained in a perfectly legitimate way for research—medical research, you know.’

And the scene ends with this:

It was Dr Barron now who spoke to her. ‘But surely you know where we are going?’

Mrs Baker, drawing near, said cheerfully: ‘Of course she knows. But maybe she didn’t expect it quite so soon.’

Hilary said, after a short bewildered pause: ‘But you mean—all of us?’ She looked round.

‘We’re fellow-travellers,’ said Peters gently.

The young Norwegian, nodding his head, said with an almost fanatical enthusiasm: ‘Yes, we are all fellow-travellers.’

And there is someone with their own mad ideas:

She smiled contemptuously. ‘Christianity has made fools of women,’ she said. ‘Such a worship of weakness, such snivelling humiliation! Pagan women had strength. They rejoiced and conquered! And in order to conquer, no discomfort is unbearable. Nothing is too much to suffer.’

The home in the desert is completely absurd and ridiculous. I kept wondering about the lives of the ballet dancers. Don’t believe me? – this was one of my favourite sentences, and about as un-Christie-like as you could wish to find:

The audience did not include what might be called the technical staff: the laboratory assistants, the Corps de Ballet, the various service personnel, and the small assembly of handsome prostitutes who also served the Unit as purveyors of sex to those men who had no wives with them and had formed no particular attachments with the female workers.

But this wholly unbelievable world made for good reading, I enjoyed the book. I mean, it’s not a patch on a proper Christie murder story, but it’s not bad.

This is Hilary being kitted out:

‘I would suggest, if you agree, just a set of underclothing, a dinner dress, and perhaps a tailleur.’

Mademoiselle La Roche…took a few rapid measures and led Hilary into a big apartment with built-in cupboards. There were clothes here of every description, made of good material and excellent cut and in a large variety of sizes. When Hilary had selected the essentials of la toilette, they passed on to the cosmetics department where Hilary made a selection of powders, creams and various other toilet accessories.

Later she gets ready for dinner:

Hilary had changed into the dress she had selected. A soft shade of grey-green that made a good background for her red hair. She clasped a necklace of rather attractive costume jewellery round her neck and said she was ready.

 

I am now making a list of the thriller-esque Christies, from best to worst (and yes, it is entirely up to me which books I put into this category):

1.    Man in the Brown suit

2.    Seven Dials Mystery

3.    The Secret Adversary

4.    Destination Unknown

5.    They Came to Baghdad

6.    The Big Four

7.    Anything featuring Tommy and Tuppence

8.    Passenger to Frankfurt

Top photo shows a lot of Moroccan women on a roof – it’s from a travel book by Edith Wharton, and for a magical moment I thought she might have taken it. But I think it is just an illustration.  The other picture shows Women’s Day at a mosque in Morocco..

Woman in green dress from Clover Vintage Tumbler.

Woman with microscope is Barbara McLintock a noted geneticist – I have said before that I love to look at the Smithsonian Institute’s collection of photos of women scientists, which I use without any implication to link the subject of the photo with the book…