‘Gilgamesh? What the hell are you talking about?’ I ask him. Anyway the guy begins to talk in Arabic about this document that was carried across the border from Saudi Arabia in the middle of February. I was involved in that project, and so were you in a small way, because it all came out of that meeting we were both at in Frankfurt. You remember?’
‘Yes of course I remember it,’ said Gerry. ‘Go on.’
‘Well I’d recorded what Ahwadi had said in Arabic, but I hadn’t followed it all ‘cause my Arabic’s not that good, so of course I call up Phil who knows the language from all sides around.’ He paused and lit another cigarette while Gerry watched him intently.
‘I’m sorry to say that he was overdoing the boozing. I nearly said something — we were pretty good buddies by then — but our time out there was nearly up and I figured that when he got home he’d sober up ok again. You know Phil hated his assignment out there and wished he’d not let himself in for it, but I’m afraid you’re a little to blame.’
‘What the hell do you mean by that?’ she demanded.
‘He told me he had this girlfriend who worked in the field, and although she had never suggested for one moment that he should get himself involved, he always felt guilty that she was out there doing the dangerous stuff while he was in London. He felt that his assignment in Abuja made up for it a bit. At that time I had no idea that it was you he was talking about.
‘Anyway we met up at this restaurant we liked to go to. I remember there was a TV in the bar. It was showing CNN and they showed that newsreel of when President Bush arrives on board the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln. Bloody idiot, grandstanding like that! Anyone would think he’d just flown some combat mission out in Iraq, not sat in the back seat as someone flew him out to a ship thirty miles off the US coast. And then he makes his speech with that banner above him. Mission Accomplished! Actually it was just the ship’s banner to mark the end of a long commission, but that’s not what it looked like to everyone else, and as sure as hell it sounded like he was making a victory speech. I tell you Gerry we’re not gonna be out of that country for years! It’s a helluva fine mess.’
‘Of course you’re right Dean,’ Gerry agreed, ‘but stick to your story.’
‘Yeah ok, sorry… anyway I say to Phil that we should talk to Ali Hamsin…’
‘Ali Hamsin the translator?’ Gerry broke in.
‘Yuh, didn’t I say? We’d brought him out of Baghdad on the same flight as Ahwadi and we were holding him there as well, and Ahwadi mentioned him as knowing all about it too, the Gilgamesh thing. Anyway Phil is on my case because Hamsin had always cooperated with us and Phil didn’t want me giving him any of the rough treatment, which I have to say I found a bit rich because your people in London might not have been doing the asking, but they were sure involved in setting some of the questions.’
He frowned, took a drag on his cigarette and stubbed it out.
‘Sorry I’m digressing again. Anyway we’re keeping him and the other prisoners in the barrack block room in this dilapidated old military camp. As I said he’d cooperated fully and so he’d been given good treatment and reasonable food too. However he’s got no idea where his family are and although Phil had tried to find out for him, he was in a bad way with worry and all. He admits to knowing Kamal Ahwadi and listens to the tape and when he hears it he agrees to tell us what he knows.
‘Having got Hamsin’s story down on tape, I get in touch with Jasper White as he’s the senior man I most trust. I hoped he would come out, but instead it’s Bruckner himself who turns up, along with two bag carriers, one of our guys I don’t recognise and some English guy from your lot. Bruckner tells me and Phil that we’ve done really well but he warns us not to talk about it to anyone at all, this Gilgamesh business. Then he tells us he’s arranged that we take Hamsin and Ahwadi to Guantanamo for further debriefing and that we’ll drop Phil off in London on the way back.
‘Now I’d promised this local contact guy called Achebela who does security at the airport that I would give him my motorbike when I ship out, a sort of reward for services rendered, so next morning I give Sergeant Myers my bags to take in the car and I arrange to meet him and Phil at the airport terminal. I ride off there and wait for them but they don’t show. Then I notice that the engine covers are still on the airplane and those red streamers that show that the landing gear pins and stuff are in place. Time’s going by and there’s no sign of Bruckner or Hamsin or the pilots and Phil’s not shown up still. I go back to my friend Sam Achebela, the guy who’s going to have my BMW, and get him to call the control tower. He tells me there’s no flight plan filed for the Gulfstream. So I’m really getting jumpy. I get back on my bike and head off back towards the city.’
He pulled out another cigarette. ‘Sorry, did you want one?’ She slowly shook her head and watched him light up. Then he looked at her. ‘Are you ready for this?’
‘Yes. I don’t know how or why, but I know he’s dead. Go on.’
‘About five miles down the road I stop. Across the other side of the freeway I see the blue Toyota Camry lying on its side in the ditch at edge of the road with its roof blown off and all the windows shattered. It’s surrounded by police cars and an ambulance and a tow truck. The police were busy all around it keeping away the onlookers. I was just waiting for a gap in the traffic to drive across when I see this other car pull up. This western guy gets out along with a senior local policeman, more medal ribbons on his chest than a Russian general. These two go and take a good look inside the car. Now I run across the road still wearing my crash helmet. You can’t hear too well wearing one of them but I heard the western guy making some comment about there only being two people in the car. Then I realise that he’s the English type who was with Bruckner.
‘Now of course I know I’m the missing third man who should be in that car and I’m frankly scared that my own people have issued a kill notice on me and Phil. Then I’m wondering if Ali Hamsin’s ok so I make a phone call to Sergeant Simski at the guard house telling him I’m coming over and ride back to the prison.
‘Simski greets me as his old buddy just the same as usual so I decide it’s safe to walk in there and tell him I need to see Hamsin. Simski tells me that some guy turned up with orders from General Bruckner and marched Hamsin clear out of there.
‘Oh ok, I say, I’ll go and have a word with Kamal Ahwadi instead,’ said Dean Furness. ‘So I go to his cell and I find that Ahwadi’s lying on his bed. He looks to be asleep, but I can’t wake him. No pulse and his pupils fixed and dilated. I go back to the guard house and find Simski talking on the phone. Well to cut it down a little, Simski has orders to arrest me. By now as you can imagine I was ready for something like that and I jump Simski just as he’s trying to pull a gun on me.
‘He tells me that there’s a detail on its way to arrest me and I tell him that I’m gonna drive down to Lagos, get down to the docks and find a boat to take me down to South Africa, as I’ve got friends down there. Instead I ride the bike to one of the northerly border roads crossing into Niger, work my way east using the desert tracks and then approach Ndjamena in Chad from the north avoiding the busy road from Nigeria through Cameroon. Then I get on a cargo flight up to Algiers, cross the Mediterranean by sea and then I get to England. Then I come to see you.’ He fell silent and took another look around.
‘So how come you found out that I was his girlfriend?’ Gerry asked.
‘Well he’d talked about his girlfriend, said some real nice things about you too, and he had a photo of you on his desk. I didn’t recognise you from that though because you were wearing sunglasses with your hair loose and a floppy blue sunhat, and… well just a bikini bottom. Also you were sitting down so I didn’t see how tall you were. Your height’s a bit of a giveaway for someone in our line of work if you don’t mind me saying.’