The Gilgamesh Conspiracy

by Jeffrey Fleming

  ‘Ok Kolinski, what is it?’

  ‘A call from Frederikson in Amman. He’s just heard from a guy named Saeed Massoud in Internal Security there. He’s had a request from a guy named Adnan Marafi who’s ex of their organisation. He’s trying to track down a family with Iraqi connections and Massoud thought it was worth mentioning as Marafi retired five years ago and hasn’t been in contact for ages.’

  ‘Yeah, go on.’

  ‘Well I just ran Marafi through the computer and it came up with a list of things. He’s done some work with us in the past, all open and above board and he’s also worked with the Brits as well.’

  ‘Have you heard of him?’ Bruckner asked Fielding.

  ‘The name seems familiar, but I’m not sure.’

  ‘There’s something else sirs,’ said Kolinski. ‘He worked on a joint operation with Geraldine Tate. Twelve years ago. They got into a bit of a mess in Aleppo; Marafi was injured but Tate pulled him out of there.’

  Bruckner glanced at Fielding, then the clock and then turned to Neil Samms and Vince Parker. ‘Ok you two; it’s just coming up to eleven thirty in Amman. Flying time is about five hours so you can be knocking on Adnan Marafi’s door at dawn tomorrow if you get a damn move on. We’ll brief you further by sat com when you’re on board.’

  ‘Yes sir!’

  ‘Now get going!

  ‘Weitzman, call up the guys in Farnborough and make sure the airplane’s at instant ready to go!’

  ‘Yes sir!’

  ‘Ok show me Amman, and where this Marafi guy lives,’ Bruckner demanded. Kolinski tapped at his key board and a detailed three dimensional view of Amman appeared on the big screen. Kolinski tapped some more; shuffled his mouse and pressed a button.

  ‘That’s his house three hours ago sir.’

  ‘I’ve a good mind to call for a drone strike,’ Bruckner muttered.

  ‘Wait a minute Robert I don’t think you can do that in a built-up street in Amman,’ Fielding protested.

  Bruckner grinned at him. ‘Yeah I know, but my finger’s itching on the damn trigger.

  At midnight in Amman the roads were still busy but with Gerry’s memory of the general layout of the city assisted by Dan checking the map they made their way without incident to Nasariyah Street and the Almahwani garage.

  ‘What now?’ Dan asked.

  ‘He’ll probably have a night watchman,’ said Gerry. ‘Let’s just wait and see.’

  Fifteen minutes later two men armed with night sticks and carrying heavy Maglite torches emerged from a side alley and walked along the front of the building. They stopped at the big main access doors and inspected the locks, then peered through the windows assisted by their flashlights. ‘I wish I had my Taser with me,’ said Gerry, ‘but let’s go back to that bar round the corner and buy some soft weapons.’

  Thirty five minutes later the two men rattled the locks again and peered through the windows.

  ‘Hey, have you got a light?’ a woman called.

  They whirled round and played their flashlights over the speaker, who proved to be a tall woman with dishevelled clothes and disordered long dark hair. She was staggering along the street clutching a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other and another one between her lips.

  ‘Hey you guys!’ she called out again and the cigarette dropped from her mouth. She bent down to pick it up and sank down to her knees and then finally rolled over on to her back. The two men walked over to her, not noticing the man who walked quickly and quietly up behind them. A few seconds later without realising what was happening they were both disarmed and lying face down in the road with knees planted in their backs and arms crooked around their necks.

  ‘Do exactly what we tell you and I believe that it is the will of God that you will both live,’ said the woman.

  ‘Ok, I can’t find anything that relates to Rashid Hamsin,’ Gerry said after they had spent nearly an hour rummaging through Ismail Farahat’s office. ‘I was hoping that perhaps he was working with his uncle. However there’s a message from a woman named Farrah inviting the Farahat family over for a birthday party. I remember Farrah is Rashid’s sister; she married a local man and was living somewhere in Jordan.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time to telephone Ismail Farahat and have him come over, then,’ Dan suggested.

  Gerry peeled the masking tape off the mouth of one of the two guards who were now tied to office chairs. ‘Oooh, sorry,’ she apologised, ‘it’s pulled out some of your beard; that must hurt. Now we need you to telephone Farahat and tell him that there’s been a break in at the garage. You haven’t called the police yet because the safe has been opened; financial papers have been examined and he might want to check everything is in order before the police come snooping around his financial affairs.’ She paused. ‘Did you get that?’

  The man gazed at her for a moment and then nodded.

  ‘Good!’ said Gerry. ‘And what will happen if you try to trick me in any way?’

  ‘You will use that welding torch on me.’

  ‘Yes that’s right. Now are you ready to make the call?’

  Fifteen minutes later a heavily built man, aged about sixty, well over six feet tall stepped out of a Mercedes saloon, along with a younger man smaller in stature, but carrying a handgun. ‘Hamed! Where are you?’ The first arrival called out as he barged through the door.

  ‘Up in the office Ismail!’ the guard called out.

  Ismail Farahat ran up the stairs and came in to his office. The two guards were seated on the chairs and behind them stood the two intruders. The man was clearly Euro or American. The women was harder to place; she was heavily tanned and dark haired and said ‘Good morning Ismail Farahat, peace be upon you,’ in well-spoken Arabic, and then when Farahat’s companion came in a few seconds later she said ‘Rashid Hamsin, peace be upon you. It’s been a few years since we met.’

  And to his complete surprise Farahat heard his nephew reply in English ‘Sandra Travis; what the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘I need to talk to you Rashid.’

  ‘You two know each other then,’ said Farajat.

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ said Rashid ‘She’s a British spy.’

  ‘Oh! One of those creatures,’ said Farajat, ‘and I suppose you’re one of those shit-stirring American CIA people,’ he said to Dan in heavily accented English. ‘You Americans with your British friends clinging to your hands like some bad behaved child, you just make trouble everywhere!’

  ‘We just want to talk to you. We’re not here to make trouble,’ Dan replied.

  ‘Wait,’ said Farajat reverting to Arabic. ‘So let me understand this correctly? You two burgled my business and frightened these guards just because you wanted to find Rashid?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gerry, ‘we haven’t disturbed anything.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you just get my telephone number and give me a call? Why all this business?’

  ‘She said she would burn my fingers off with a welding torch if I didn’t call you,’ said the security guard.

  Farajat stared at Gerry. ‘You really are a piece of shit aren’t you?’

  Gerry stared at him for a moment. ‘Yes I am,’ she said. She walked over to the window and gazed out into the street.

  ‘What did you say to her?’ said Dan, frustrated by his inability to understand the conversation but aware that she seemed upset.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Gerry. She turned round and wiped her face with a tissue ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Go where’ Dan asked. ‘We have to find out about this damned Gilgamesh. Aren’t you going to tell Rashid about his father? What happened to him, how he died.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to know.’ She sniffed. ‘I think we may as well just go home now.’

  ‘Gerry, neither of us has a goddam home to go to!’ Dan protested.

  ‘What about my father?’ Rashid demanded, ‘we thought he was killed years ago.’

  ‘Hooked him,’ Gerry said to herself, ‘no
w to reel him in gently.’ She wiped her eyes one more time and then told herself to cut out the theatrics before she overplayed her act. ‘It’s a long story; perhaps we can go somewhere more comfortable,’ she suggested.

  ‘Ok, we can go to back to my home,’ said Farajat. ‘You don’t want these people in the same house as Nadia and the children.’

  Gerry turned round and stared at Rashid. ‘Children…you have children?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, I have two. You haven’t done your research then.’

  ‘We don’t think you go by the name of Rashid Hamsin any longer,’ said Dan. He looked over at Gerry who seemed on the verge of tears again.

  ‘No, I am Rashid Farajat now.’

  ‘And where is your mother?’

  ‘She died five years ago. She never got over losing my father.’

  ‘Do you want me to drive?’ Dan asked as Gerry walked to the passenger side while she fumbled for the car key.

  She snapped out of her reverie. ‘No no, I’ll drive. I was just going to the driver’s side as if I was back in the UK.’

  She followed Farajat’s car as he set off up the street.

  ‘You don’t think they’ll suddenly take off, try and lose us in traffic do you? Or telephone for the police.’

  ‘No. They want to be rid of us as quickly as possible so they’ll co-operate.’

  They followed the Mercedes to a well-to-do district of the city and watched as a pair of motorised gates opened up in a walled garden. ‘Maybe I should park outside.’

  They got out and walked through the gates Farajat was standing behind the car watching them walk up the drive and Gerry heard the gates rumbling and then clang shut behind them. He showed them into a comfortable sitting room. ‘Please sit down; would you like a drink?’

  ‘Just a bottle of water please,’ said Gerry.

  ‘That would suit me, thanks,’ said Dan.

  ‘Rashid’s just phoning his wife,’ he explained as he walked back into the room a minute later with a tray laden with soft drinks. ‘I hope this is not going to be too upsetting for him, this story.’

  ‘It will be upsetting for him, and for me,’ said Gerry. ‘He lost his father; I lost my fiancé and my daughter and I’ve spent the years since we last met in prison.’

  ‘What the hell…?’ said Rashid from the doorway.

  She looked up at him. ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you the story. I’m sure you’ll have questions, so just stop me any time.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It was nearly midnight when Gerry brought her narrative to an end by describing how she and Dan had broken into Farajat’s garage.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save your father. I’m sorry that you were ever involved. If you know where the Gilgamesh stuff is hidden you can tell us if you wish. I’ll not try and force you.’

  Strangely enough she felt that some burden had been lifted by the retelling of her story to Rashid. Suddenly it no longer seemed important that she ever found out what Gilgamesh was about. She wondered if she and Dan should make their way to Indonesia or the Philippines where they could hide somewhere amongst their numerous islands. She looked at Dan for a moment. He probably had military notions of honour and duty and would feel a responsibility towards Felix Grainger and Richard Cornwall and maybe also to Dean Furness and Philip. She’d had enough. She just wanted the two of them to make a life for themselves somewhere safe.

  ‘Come back to the garage tomorrow morning,’ said Rashid. ‘I’ll have decided by then whether I’ll tell you anything.’

  ‘What?’ Dan exclaimed. ‘After all she’s been through and what happened to your father…’

  ‘That’s ok Dan; I’m happy with that,’ Gerry interrupted. ‘Is nine am ok?’

  Ishmail and Rashid looked at one another. Ishmail shrugged. ‘It’s up to you, Rashid.’

  ‘Ok; nine tomorrow.’

  ‘Let’s go Dan.’

  Outside in the car Gerry drove around the corner and then turned the car around.

  ‘Are we going the wrong way?’ Dan asked.

  ‘No, I want to see where Rashid lives; we’ll follow him.’

  ‘Oh, ok.’

  They sat in silence for a minute and then Gerry leaned across and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I like being with you Dan,’ she said.

  ‘That’s good because I still…’ she stopped him saying anything else with a finger across his lips.

  ‘He’s just coming out,’ she whispered. ‘Where’s his car parked I wonder.’

  They watched Rashid walk a short distance up the road and then open another gateway and disappear inside. ‘He bloody well lives next door!’ said Gerry with a small chuckle. ‘Come on let’s get back to the Marafi’s place; you’ll have to navigate again.’

  The demands of finding their way along the dark streets curtailed any further conversation until they were much closer to their friends’ house.

  ‘Do you think they’ll still be awake?’ Dan asked.

  ‘I know Adnan will wait up for us, because he didn’t give me a house key. At any rate he’ll try and wait up, but he might have fallen asleep in front of the television.’

  She stopped the car beside the house. ‘He’s left the outside lights on for us anyway,’ she said. They walked up to the front gate and rang the doorbell, then when there was no reply she rang again.

  ‘He’s left the gate open for us’ said Dan who had given it an experimental shove and now pushed it wide open.

  ‘Oh shit!’ said Gerry. She pulled the gun from her waistband and ran up to the front door, followed by Dan who had realised the danger slightly later. The front door was open too and she pushed it open slowly and listened. Then she pulled off her shoes and threw them inside the hallway and there was an immediate crash when they knocked a ceramic jar off a table and on to the tiled floor. Then there was silence again.

  Gerry felt round the side of the door and found the hall light switch and then she saw the body of Adnan Marafi lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

  ‘Leyla!’ Gerry shouted and she ran into the house while Dan bent down and felt for a pulse in Adnan’s neck, and then heard Gerry call ‘Oh no!’

  He found her bent over Leyla’s corpse. The old lady’s hand still clasped a big kitchen knife but it had been no defence against the bullets that had caught her in the centre of her chest. She stared down at the dead woman for a few seconds and then looked up at Dan. He could see her tears.

  ‘Whoever did this was really clumsy. I’m sure they were meant to interrogate them, not just kill them. They won’t have learnt anything from them at all. Unless they’ve found fingerprints or something, they won’t know for sure that we were here. We didn’t leave anything of ours in the house did we?’

  ‘Maybe they’ve got the place under surveillance,’ said Dan ‘Could be someone outside; could be a reconnaissance drone. We have to leave now.’

  ‘They’d still be alive if we hadn’t come here.’

  ‘Not now Gerry! Come on, we have to go.’

  ‘Stay where you are!’ commanded a voice from the doorway.

  They turned and saw a powerfully built Lebanese man pointing a MAC-10 machine pistol with a sound suppressor at Dan.

  ‘So you two are ones the Americans are looking for.’

  ‘Are you Saeed Massoud?’ asked Gerry.

  ‘My name doesn’t matter. In a short while they’ll come to pick you up.’

  ‘You killed my friends, you bastard!’

  ‘The Marafis…pah!’ He spat on the floor.

  Gerry bent down and hugged the corpse. ‘Leyla, I’m so sorry.’ Then she suddenly snatched up the dead woman’s body and charged at Massoud. He was so surprised he barely had time to fire more than one quick burst. Two shots thudded into the corpse before the combined weight of the two women slammed into him and they all tumbled to the floor. Massoud scrambled to his knees but Gerry, much quicker than him, kicked him in the head and he collapsed face down. She jumped on to his back, wound
an arm around his neck and pulled his head up.

  ‘Can you see her face, the old woman you killed?’

  ‘Yes…yes,’ Massoud gasped.

  ‘Good…look at her while you go to hell!’

  Dan winced as she broke his neck, and then saw the blood on her leg as she stood up. ‘You’re hit!’

  Gerry glanced down at where Dan pointed. ‘No I’m ok. It must be Leyla’s blood; one of the bullets went through her but it missed me.’ She looked around at the scene of death. ‘Whoever comes along, it’ll take them ages to piece together what happened here. Now we’d better warn Rashid. Oh shit Dan, I’ve got Adnan and Leyla killed, and now Rashid and all his family could be next. I wish we’d never come.’

  The need to navigate the streets back to the street where Rashid and Ismail Farajat lived and agree their next course of action distracted Dan and Gerry from brooding on the death of her friends. They parked outside Rashid’s gateway and rang the bell. He appeared after a couple of minutes hastily dressed in jeans and the shirt he had been wearing all day with the buttons mis-matched. ‘You’re back already,’ he stated briefly through the cracked open doorway, across which Gerry could see a strong chain.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry to have to say this but we’ve been trailed. You need to get your family away from here for a while…immediately - I’m sorry.’

  Rashid stared at her. ‘You bloody mad dangerous bitch. Why did you have to come here? You’ve caused me and my family nothing but…’

  ‘Yeah I know, but you really have to go now!’ Gerry insisted. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So you keep saying, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.’ Nevertheless he unhooked the chain and ushered them through the door. On the other side they saw a young woman with wildly tousled hair wearing jeans and what appeared to be a night dress with a sweater on top.

  ‘This is my wife, Selwa,’ said Rashid.

  Gerry held out her hand but Selwa lashed out with her palm towards her face. Gerry effortlessly deflected the blow and grabbed the woman’s wrist. ‘Please don’t do that. Go and get your children ready to travel in the shortest possible time.’