The Gilgamesh Conspiracy

by Jeffrey Fleming

  She thought back to the day all those years ago when they had first met. The end of the year was approaching and she had been facing the prospect of another Christmas and New Year alone when Richard Cornwall had summoned her with instructions to go on her annual liaison meeting at GCHQ in Cheltenham. ‘‘Do I really have to go?’ she had protested. ‘I’m due to go to Amman in three days and I’ve lots of stuff to research.’

  ‘But I heard you in the canteen telling your friend Fiona Bennett that you were hoping to play golf tomorrow, and as I’m sure that golf isn’t part of your mission you can damn well spend tomorrow in Cheltenham. Your train leaves Paddington at 7:25am and gets in at 10:00am. You’ll have to get up early but then it’ll help you get on to Amman local time, so that’s ok. Alternatively Brian Lincoln, Robert McAllister and Malcolm Cooper are taking the train this evening and staying the night. You could go with them if you like, it’s up to you.’

  ‘Oh not Brian Lincoln! I think I’ll take the train tomorrow.’

  ‘I remember that when you were accepted into exec ops it was emphasised that you were expected to maintain good relations with everyone on the team, including Lincoln,’ said Cornwall. ‘I don’t know why I put up with you.’

  ‘You put up with me because I’m the best Arabic speaker you’ve got and because I’m better looking than all of the blokes.’

  ‘Some of our chaps are very good looking Gerry, even though…oh I give up. Have a lovely day in Cheltenham.’

  ‘Yeah thanks…sir.’

  Outside GCHQ building Gerry snagged her tights on the edge of the seat as she climbed out of the taxi and let go a stream of Arabic invective. A young man about five feet nine inches tall, slightly overweight with unruly brown hair was approaching the entrance and he turned around when he heard her. He peered at her through his spectacles and then down at her legs. ‘Oh that’s quite some pair, er…some tear you’ve got in those legs, I mean tights.’

  Gerry finished her inspection of the damage and straightened up to her full height of six feet in her high heels and stared down at him. She was about to issue a withering reply but then he asked her forgiveness in Arabic and she noticed his engaging grin and the fact that he was blushing.

  ‘No problem,’ she replied in the same language and preceded him through security. In reception she was gazing at the display screen that showed visitors where their attendance was required when she was aware of him standing near.

  ‘Are you here for the seminar on the Middle East?’ he enquired. She gazed round at him and he quickly added, ‘because I’m Philip Barrett and I’m hosting it. You must be Geraldine Tate.’

  ‘Gerry,’ she said holding out her hand.

  ‘Er, I’m Phil,’ he said. ‘Look, without wanting to go into any boring explanations of how I know, there’s this vending machine that sells tights and other stuff in the ladies loo over there. If you want to get some more, that is.’

  ‘I can wait for you here…’ he saw Gerry’s raised eyebrows ‘or…or maybe I should go on up. It’s room two nineteen, second floor.’ He pointed vaguely towards the lifts and then hastened off, pushing his spectacles into place.

  ‘Hey Phil,’ she called after him.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Ok ladies and gentlemen, that concludes our day then I think,’ said Phil Barrett six hours later. ‘Unless anyone wants to bring up any last minute thoughts?’

  ‘Well Rob and Colin and I have a train to catch, so I think we’d best be going,’ Brian Lincoln announced. ‘How about you Gerry? Are you heading back to the smoke with us?’

  She had endured quite enough of Lincoln’s company for one day. ‘No I’m going to get a coffee and then I’m going to visit a friend. I’ll see you next time.’ She watched the three of them gather their things and prepare to leave and then realised that Phil and his GCHQ colleagues were looking slightly miffed.

  ‘Before you rush off I’d like to thank Philip for organising our day. It’s been really interesting and I’m pleased to have met you all. Once a year isn’t really often enough for our visits here, wouldn’t you agree Brian?’

  ‘Oh absolutely right,’ he said taking the implied rebuke comfortably in his stride. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’

  In the canteen she took her cappuccino to a corner table and pulled out her laptop and while it was starting up she heard some muttered conversation and saw the five people from GCHQ who had been at the seminar gazing over at her and one of the men gave Philip Barrett a small shove. He walked over to her table.

  ‘Hi, can I join you? I wanted to thank you for the commendation at the end and wondered what you really thought of the day.’

  Gerry smiled. ‘It was good; really.’ She closed the lid of her computer. ‘Perhaps you should get yourself a coffee, if you are joining me,’ she suggested.

  ‘So you’re going to visit a friend,’ he said when he had sat down opposite her with his drink. ‘That’s lucky being able to get in a social call in the same day. Does she…or he live nearby? But unlucky for me because otherwise I would have asked you out for dinner myself,’ he added with a rush.

  On the other side of the canteen Gerry saw his colleagues grinning and pretending not to listen. ‘Actually there’s no friend,’ she confessed. ‘I’m really just avoiding travelling back on the train with Brian Lincoln. I’m going to catch the following train, so I’ll have to be going now unless…’

  ‘Unless what?’ he asked.

  She raised her eyebrows and smiled at him.

  ‘Oh! In that case…perhaps you could have dinner with me after all, before you go?’ he asked, blushing again.

  ‘That would be lovely, but I don’t have very much time so shall we go now?’

  ‘Great!’ He jumped to his feet and upset the remains of his coffee on to the table top. Gerry quickly pulled a handful of paper napkins from a dispenser and blotted up the mess, and then she stowed her computer in her bag, linked arms with him and smiled at his colleagues as the two of them left together.

  Away from the pressure of work, Gerry found Phil a lively and interesting companion, with an excellent working knowledge of Arabic although lacking her familiarity of the vernacular and regional variations. She also found him entertaining on topics away from work and the evening passed quickly. While sipping their after dinner coffees she smiled and asked ‘So did you have a bet with your colleagues on asking me out, then?’

  ‘Oh…er…no actually, nothing quite that bad. They just said I wouldn’t have the courage to ask you. They told me you were out of my league and I’d find you too intimidating, they said. Sorry.’

  She smiled at him. ‘No need to be: I am intimidating.’ The smile dropped from her face. ‘I spend my working life being intimidating. I’m known as…oh never mind.’

  He saw her brooding expression and wondered what to say to restore her smile.

  ‘I think you’re lovely,’ he blurted out.

  ‘Now that’s just the booze talking,’ she replied.

  He smiled down at his glass of diet coke. ‘No really. I’d ask you out again but we do live a long way apart.’

  ‘That needn’t stop you.’

  ‘Ok! Well when I’m next in London, perhaps we could do this again, if you’re around.’

  ‘That would be nice, and I’ll look forward to it. I’m away for the next ten days or so but then I should be back home.’ She pulled a notepad out of her bag, tore of a sheet and wrote. ‘Here’s my private e mail address and my home number; call me when you’re coming. In fact call me anyway.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he took it from her and gazed at it as if it was a winning lottery ticket. ‘Look the last fast train back to London leaves in about twenty minutes. I can give you a lift to the station.’

  ‘I think perhaps I’ll go back tomorrow,’ said Gerry. ‘I could go to a hotel tonight.’

  ‘It’s quite late; maybe you should check there’s one available.’

  She stared into his eyes. ‘Go o
n Phil.’ She gave him her most winning smile. ‘Take a risk!’

  He stared at her for a moment before looking around the restaurant and then whispered to her. ‘Or, or you could come back to my place…if you like.’

  Phil proved to be a gentle and considerate lover and after four months of occasional liaisons driven by the irregular nature of their schedules Gerry began to rely on him more and more for her happiness. Then one day she came home from an operational screw-up with her front teeth broken and a heavily bruised face. Despite her reluctance to allow him to see her she was desperate for his company, and sent him an e mail as she was barely able to talk on the phone.

  ‘Before you come in, I look bloody awful,’ she mumbled through her slightly opened front door.

  ‘I can hardly believe that,’ he said, ‘you’ll always…oh shit!’ he finished as she opened the door wide.

  ‘No you can’t hug me,’ she said backing off and holding out a hand.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’ve got a broken rib.’

  ‘What the hell happened, poor love,’ he asked as they sat down on her sofa.

  ‘I was in a car accident, I wasn’t wearing a seat belt,’ she began. Then she sighed. ‘Sod it! Why don’t I tell you the truth?’ She stopped and stared at her right hand and he realised that her knuckles were bruised and split. ‘I was in a fight; in Leipzig; I got beaten up.’

  ‘Oh hell Gerry, I didn’t realise you did the dangerous stuff.’

  ‘What? Because I’m a woman?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘No of course not, because you always seem such a…a calm person,’ he said.

  ‘Oh hah bloody hah! You really don’t know who I am, do you? Poor little Philip. Safe amongst your code breaking and translating and not realising that your girlfriend is a fucking killer. You want to know what happened to the guy who smashed my face? I broke his fucking neck. I beat him unconscious and then I knelt on his back, got hold of his head and twisted it. It makes a really weird noise you know when the neck breaks. That’s who you’ve been shagging for the last few months; someone who kills people and gets paid for it. So I wouldn’t blame you if you just walked out and went back to your nice quiet life in Cheltenham.’ She stopped, turned away from him, and began running her tongue over the remaining stumps of her front teeth.

  ‘Please don’t speak to me like that again,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take the week off and the next week off after that if you’re not better, and furthermore if you don’t behave I’ll never leave you in peace again. In fact I don’t think I’ll ever leave you Gerry unless you chuck me out. Now what do you need me to do for you?’ He smiled. ‘I’m actually pretty good at making soup you know.’

  ‘Ok, well the first thing you can do is give me a lift to the orthodontist, I’ve got an appointment in forty minutes, but I don’t like soup much. I think I need ice cream, chocolate and pistachio.’

  ‘What, together?’

  ‘No! Two separate flavours of course.’

  Later on she was lying on her back in bed which was the only position which prevented her ribs from hurting, and describing the realities of her life to him in more detail. ‘So you’re not going to leave me then, are you?’ she finished up.

  ‘Of course not. Is there anywhere I can give you a kiss where it won’t hurt?’

  ‘On my face, you mean?’

  ‘Not necessarily’ he grinned at her.

  She managed a small smile. ‘You’d better make it my forehead. I don’t think I’ll be ready for anything strenuous for a while.’

  Then while he was sharing her flat he had applied for a job in the MI6 headquarters in London, and with his linguistic skills he was readily accepted. He had not suggested that they live together on a permanent basis; instead he had rented his own place until he had sold up in Cheltenham and bought a small terrace house in Twickenham. He was able to afford it because his parents had died when he was only twenty-four and left him a fair amount of capital. She had been a little put out that he had not even suggested that they live together but then there was his recent promise never to leave her and she realised she was content with their off and on cohabitation at each other’s homes. It wasn’t until she returned home pregnant after the Mulholland business that she realised that actually she really did love Philip. She had been looking forward with some trepidation to telling him that he was going to be a father, because she had absolutely no idea what his thoughts would be. The idea that she would become a parent had never seriously crossed her mind and so she had never discussed the possibility with him. She wondered if he had been similarly disinterested or whether she had just been extraordinarily selfish. But before they could resolve any of these issues together she had received that message from Richard Cornwall. The time had been 11:37.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘Gerry! Wake up!’

  She sat up abruptly. The sun was just beginning to raise a red rim on the eastern horizon. She groaned and rubbed her eyes.

  ‘Why did you wake me up?’ She yawned widely.

  ‘It’s nearly dawn, time for us to have some water.’

  She saw him grimacing as he spoke to her. ‘Are you ok?’ she asked. She stretched her arms up, gazed across the sea to the east where the sky was brightening and yawned again.

  ‘Yes I’m alright, I think.’ He frowned. ‘It’s just my head.’ He struggled to a sitting position and the sudden effort sent a pulse of pain through his head. He put his hand on the place where his hair was still matted with dried blood and moaned.

  ‘Ali what’s wrong?’

  ‘It’s my head; it really hurts.’

  Gerry stared at him and saw the right side of his mouth drooping and his right eye closing. ‘Oh shit you’re stroking. Oh hell Ali. Lie down.’ She eased him back against the side. ‘Talk to me!’

  His breathing had taken on an awful rasping quality. What could she do? She staggered over to the corner and snatched up the remaining water.

  ‘Drink this; come on.’ She tilted the bottle to his mouth and encouraged him to drink. After drinking half of it he pushed the bottle away.

  ‘I haven’t told you about Gilgamesh yet.’ His voice was slurred but she could just make out his meaning.

  ‘Oh fuck Gilgamesh,’ she said. ‘Come on, drink some more.’

  She offered him some more of the water and he drank it gratefully. His breathing became less stressed.

  ‘How do you feel,’ she asked.

  ‘My head still aches,’ he mumbled. ‘I can’t feel my arm.’

  Gerry looked all around the raft, seeking inspiration from she knew not what. ‘Ok, maybe the worst is over. You must have had a blood clot where you were hit on the head.’

  ‘I’ll tell you about Gilgamesh now. Tabitha knows where it is. It’s hidden in my house back in Baghdad.’

  ‘What? You have a copy?’

  He managed a crooked smile. ‘That photocopy of the original, which Mansour made. I kept it. I never got the chance to give it back. It’s signed by all those people.’

  ‘Whose signatures?’ she asked, ‘who signed it?’

  ‘And seals. Official seals. I kept it hidden away. At my house in Baghdad. It’s been there all these years.’

  ‘Where is it hidden Ali?’

  ‘But first promise me you’ll find my son. And Tabitha…they know.’ He began to cough.

  ‘I’ll get you the rest of the water. Hold on.’ She retrieved the bottle from where she had dropped it, unscrewed the cap and supported his head with her other hand. ‘Here drink this.’ Then she realized his head was sinking down on to his chest, his breathing became more labored, slowed down further, then he gave one last sighing, groaning breath. She lifted his chin and immediately saw his right eye was closed and his left had a fixed stare. She placed her fingers under his jaw and tried to feel for a pulse, but she had seen enough death to know his life had ended.

  She lifted up the water bottle and inspected the contents. She ran her tongue over her dry lips
and drank what little remained. Then she slumped back against the other side of the raft and stared at him, turning over in her mind what he had told her. There was a Gilgamesh document; it was signed by a list of people who would not want its contents revealed; it was hidden at his house in Baghdad and his wife Tabitha or son Rashid would know where it was.

  ‘Now all I need to do is get safely off this raft,’ she muttered, ‘then I have to avoid the bastards trying to kill me; find my way to Baghdad; identify your house; befriend your wife and son; locate this document and bring it safely home. Should be a piece of piss really.’

  Then suddenly she felt a sense of rage and outrage flooding through her. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ she shrieked. ‘I want to get those bloody bastards!’ She slammed her hands on the side of the raft. ‘I want to kill the bloody fuckers.’ She hit the side with alternate hammer blows of her fists, ‘I want to beat their bloody brains out, rip their hearts out, they killed Phil; they locked me up for fucking years; took away my baby; oh shit, shit, shit!’ she collapsed onto the floor and howled in rage and frustration until the emotion slowly drained away from her.

  Gerry pulled Ali’s body into the meagre shade given by the edge of the raft and pulled his eyelids down. ‘Ali, I’m going to try and survive,’ she said quietly, ‘and if I do…well they’ll get what’s coming to them.’ She tugged off his sweater, arranged his arms across his stomach and draped the sweater over his face in a forlorn gesture of respect.

  She shaded her eyes and stared overhead. Apart from a thin layer of cloud out to the west the sky was clear and the sun was climbing above the horizon. She looked at the sea. This morning there were no white capped waves, just an even swell over which the life raft steadily swooped up and dived down. She had become so accustomed to the rhythm she barely noticed it. She decided to set up the canopy again. If it looked like it was likely to become splashed by spray she would take it down and wrap it up so as to keep it salt free.