The Blade of Gilgamesh. Jeff Edwards

favourable, but most regarded the gesture as mere posturing.’

      ‘Bastards! I expected them to arise and join with me in condemning the raid. This is the excuse I needed to gather the Arab states around me. If we can do that we can demonstrate to the world that we are united in the fight against the imperialism of the Americans.’

      ‘That won’t happen I’m afraid. The other leaders will make flowery speeches to condemn the raid and they may reduce their oil exports, while OPEC may vote to increase the price of crude oil, but eventually their greed will win out and in a year or two all will be forgotten.’

      ‘I won’t let it be forgotten! They’ll support me or pay the price!’

      ‘If you try to threaten them in any way you’ll drive them further into the American’s arms. Then they’ll never join you.’

      ‘I’ll continue my support of rebels around the world. Blood will be spilt, and the Americans will live to regret their actions.’

      ‘Perhaps, but they have demonstrated that they can attack you with their warplanes any time they wish. With no one of any authority stepping forward to condemn their actions they will be happy to do so again and again until they do kill you. You were lucky that our Italian friend warned you of their plans, but the Americans won’t allow that to happen next time. They’ll launch their attack from their carriers in the middle of the Mediterranean and we won’t know anything about it until they cross our coast. How many attacks will it take before they succeed? As for our Arab cousins, how many will want to support you if they know that the same fate may await them? Carrier based aircraft are mere hours away from all their capitals.’

      Gaddafi leaned back in his cushions and considered his friend’s words. ‘I can’t let them get away with this.’

      ‘There’s no reason that they should,’ he nodded, ‘Allow others to continue the fight. Let them destroy the western world’s pathetic need for peace and security.’

      ‘But the need for the Arab world to come together as one is paramount.’

      ‘Then find other means. Force has not worked. It is time to look for another way.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘Give the Arab world a banner to unite beneath. Find something that has universal meaning for them and that they can all accept as theirs and theirs alone.’

      ‘A religious symbol that is meaningful enough to unite the Islamic world!’

      ‘No! Religion hasn’t worked in the past, because of the warring sects, and it won’t work now. Leave religion to the imams where it belongs. We need to find a secular symbol, a symbol of power and might, something that you can hold aloft while the Arab world bows down before you. It has to be a piece of an ancient culture that is truly of Arab lineage, the spear or shield of an ancient warrior.’

      ‘Does something like that exist?’

      ‘There must be something. We have to search for it.’

      ‘If it must be something as ancient as you claim, it could be anywhere.’

      ‘Wherever it is we must find it and bring it here. Only then will we have a chance to unite the Arab states.’

      ‘But we don’t even know what we’re looking for and who has it. Such objects may no longer exist.’

      ‘This will not be a search of days or months. It will take years. That is not necessarily a bad thing as it will allow us time to prepare. We must first change our attitude toward the West, and that will take time, because they will be cautious of any olive branch we offer to them. Our policy must remain to be as belligerent as ever, but over time we will allow small concessions that will gradually lead to a more Pro-Western attitude. Then, when we have found our symbol we can unite the Arab world before the West becomes aware of what we are about to achieve.

      Swift action against an unsuspecting world will see us victorious, just as the US did with their air strike. We will learn from their lesson in deceit.’

      Chapter 1

      Lew Reynolds made his way to the ornately carved bar in his sitting room and took down the bottle of scotch to pour himself a drink. It was late afternoon and as he was now retired, he decided to have a drink in the garden before supper.

      His wife Judith was in the kitchen and Lew could hear the clatter of pots and pans as she prepared the evening meal.

      He reached for a thick crystal glass which he then placed on the bar, but several minutes passed without any further action on Lew’s behalf as he stood staring at the bottle in his hand.

      Eventually he felt a hand on his shoulder.

      ‘Let me help you,’ offered a well-dressed young woman, as she took the bottle from his hand and unscrewed the cap.

      ‘No!’ he exclaimed, snatching the bottle back, ‘I can do that!’ he yelled excitedly.

      Lew poured himself a large slug of liquor and banged the bottle back down onto the bar in frustration.

      Pushing past the upset young woman he made his way into the kitchen, ‘I’m going for a walk,’ he said crossly as he placed his untouched drink on the kitchen table.

      ‘Supper will be ready soon.’

      ‘I’m not going far,’ he replied with a grimace as he let himself out the back door.

      The tall, middle aged man, crossed the rear yard of his property and opened the gate that led to the path which wound its way along the bank of a wide river.

      He was upset and angry with himself because of the petulant way he had spoken to the young woman, but the reason for his angry outburst was not only his inability remember how to open the bottle, but the fact that he couldn’t recall the name of the young woman who had been seated with him in the study of his own home. He knew he should know it, but as hard as he tried he couldn’t bring her name to mind.

      Still trying to solve the mystery, he made his way to his favourite spot overlooking the river.

      ***

      Back at Lew’s house, the young woman made her way into the kitchen.

      ‘Dad picked up his bottle of scotch and couldn’t remember how to open it.’

      Judith looked glumly at her daughter and nodded, ‘The doctors said that sort of thing will start to happen.’

      ‘It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?’

      ‘I’m afraid so Elizabeth,’ she replied with the hint of a tear in her eyes, ‘It must get worse because there is no cure.’

      ‘How long did the doctor’s say?’

      ‘It’ll be years, but they can’t say how many. They estimate between three and ten. Each day he’ll forget a little bit more, and eventually there will be no more to remember and he’ll die.’

      ‘Oh my God! How can you stand by and watch it happen?’

      ‘What else can I do? I love your father and we’ve been together for forty years now.’

      ‘How is he taking it?’

      ‘You saw him just now. Most of the time he’s fine, but occasionally he’s like a spoilt child. I think having to give up his work has been the most soul-destroying thing in the world for him. You don’t go from being the senior partner in the family accountancy firm to being an unemployable layabout and not feel inadequate.’

      ‘I know John and the rest of the staff miss him.’

      ‘Your uncle Tony and your husband will soon have the firm back onto a firm footing.’

      ‘Yes, they’ve managed to persuade most of the clients who walked out to return to the company after they explained what caused the problem.’

      ‘I feel so sorry for all those poor people who