The 13th Tablet

by Alex Mitchell

  Oberon had not said a word to Natasha since his arrival making her feel exceedingly uncomfortable. He climbed to the upper deck, into the yacht’s saloon, sat down in his favourite Chesterfield armchair and nodded at the barman to make him his usual drink, a dirty martini. He waited silently until the man brought it to him then, taking a sip, he finally uttered his first word.

  ‘Natasha?’

  ‘Yes sir?’

  ‘Is everything set?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Miss Osman has checked into the hotel.’

  ‘Excellent. That’s my girl.’

  He smiled at her.

  The taxi dropped Mina at the entrance of the Eretz Israel Museum. From reading a leaflet she had picked up at the hotel she knew that it presented the history and culture of Israel through a number of varied exhibitions, including the ethnography, folklore, cultural history, traditional crafts and archaeology of the land. It was very much a model of avant-garde museography, Mina thought, and decided to take a quick tour before calling on Liat.

  Although she thought the Planetarium was a tad gimmicky with its ‘Voyage through the Universe’ show, she really enjoyed the inner gardens. The entire museum was built like a beautiful shrine around an ancient mound, Tel Qasile. She soon realised that a proper visit of the museum would take hours, so she went to the main desk and asked to speak to Liat Hoffman. The lady at the front desk asked her to wait in the lobby, ‘Dr. Hoffman will be with you in a few minutes’. ‘Dr. Hoffman…!’ Mina thought, ‘well she didn’t waste any time’. Liat had only been studying for her Masters’ degree when they last spoke in New York. Mina felt slightly envious of her friend’s academic achievements, but the feeling quickly passed as Liat entered in the lobby. They rushed into each others arms and Liat gave her a long hug.

  ‘Mina, I’m so happy to see you! It’s been so long. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Last night. I thought I’d surprise you.’

  ‘You did,’ Liat laughed ‘OK. Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Can you leave your office just like that?’ asked Mina.

  ‘It’s the first day of Chanukah today. Things are a little lax. You know, people leaving early to be with their family.’

  ‘Of course, Chanukah. I totally forgot. What about you?’

  ‘You know me… I enjoy lighting a candle from time to time, but I’m not really into religion.’

  ‘Oh. I thought Chanukah was all about fighting foreigners?’ replied Mina, with a glint in her eye.

  ‘Mina, Mina. Had you said, ‘Oh Liat, I thought it was a pagan festival of lights that you find everywhere from here to Timbuktu during the bleakest time of the winter season,’ I would have thought, ‘she hasn’t changed one bit.’ But political sarcasm?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been through the mill recently.’

  ‘Don’t worry. You’re in my town and I know it’s your first time in Tel Aviv, so I’m going to take you on a tour! We’ll get drunk and talk about all the boys we never slept with in New York.’ Mina giggled, she felt like a feisty graduate student all over again.

  ‘Oh God, Liat, I’m so happy to see you.’

  The two women squeezed into Liat’s car, a ludicrously bright yellow reconditioned Fiat Cinquecento, and drove towards Yafo, in the south of Tel Aviv. Liat knew her audience well, so she began her history of Tel Aviv with its biblical origins. Mina learned that Yafo was mentioned in the Old Testament as a border city of the Territory of Dan; that timber from the fragrant cedar trees of Lebanon was shipped to Yafo to build the temple of Salomon in Jerusalem. Some scholars even thought that the city, also known as Joppa or Jaffa or even Yafo, was named after Japheth, one of the sons of Noah.

  Noah again! Mina wondered if she would ever escape the Flood saga.

  Liat parked the car and as they started walking she reminded Mina that before getting swallowed by a giant whale, the prophet Jonah had left his hometown Nineveh for Yafo where he had hired a ship to flee ‘from the presence of the Lord’. ‘You know why I’ve brought you to Yafo?’ asked Liat.

  ‘Yes, of course. You want to show me the origins of Tel Aviv and its Arab quarter.’

  ‘Nope. As usual you’re wrong. We are here because this is where we’ll get the best hummus in town.’

  Mina remembered vividly how during their time in New York Liat talked relentlessly about hummus, and had been on a mission to find the finest hummus in the World.

  ‘So, your hummus quest ended here?’

  Liat put on her most serious face and said ‘Yes. Why do you think I took the job at the museum, if not for the hummus?’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘Of course I am, mad about hummus.’

  They entered a tiny kebab joint, and the Arab owner’s face lit up when he recognised Liat. He smiled at her, flashing all his golden teeth and said in Hebrew:

  ‘Ah. My favourite customer. I’ve kept you the best of the best!’

  ‘Hi Ahmed. This is my good friend Mina, she’s only visiting Tel Aviv but what sort of visit would it be if she didn’t taste your falafel and hummus?’

  ‘Quite right. Take a seat and I’ll be with you in a minute.’ They sat down on mismatched plastic chairs.

  ‘Liat, this is the tackiest sandwich shop I’ve ever sat in.’

  ‘Yes. A true pearl in a sea of mud.’

  ‘Is that a political statement?’

  ‘No, a culinary one.’

  ‘Just checking.’

  ‘Thanks. I remember the last time we had a political discussion. I thought I was going to tear your eyes out.’

  ‘I was pretty close to slapping you.’

  ‘But we’re all grown up now, aren’t we?’

  ‘I don’t know. Are we?’ They laughed, then, without any warning, as was her habit, Liat launched into a monologue on the modern history of Tel Aviv. Mina smiled at her old friend, thinking that people don’t change much over time.

  ‘The name itself, Tel Aviv ‘ Liat began, ‘means ‘the hill of spring’. In a way, it is an apt description of a city that sprang from the desert. Although it began as a suburb of Yafo, an association called the ‘Ahuzat Bayit’ founded Tel Aviv in 1910 on sand dunes north of Yafo. A good example of the early socialist beginnings of Israel, the land was divided into parcels by drawing lots. Believe it or not, commercial enterprise was banned throughout the new city, it was practically communist! But the emigrants did not stick to these principles for long, or it might have become a hill of winter rather than one of spring. The book Alteneuland or Old New Land by Theodor Herzl, who is, after all, one of the founders of the Jewish emigration movement, was a tale of rebirth. In that sense, it’s pretty close to the Hebrew meaning of Tel Aviv. In the early 1950s, the two cities of Tel Aviv and Yafo merged into one to form Tel Aviv-Yafo’.

  ‘That’s what’s surprised me so far,’ interjected Mina, ‘the contrast between old Yafo and Tel Aviv’s high towers and modern buildings ‘.

  ‘Yes. The architecture of Tel Aviv is linked to the influx of German Jews after the modernist architectural movement was banned by the Nazis in the thirties. The immigrants built hundreds of Bauhaus constructions, all white or yellow, which gave rise to Tel Aviv’s nickname: the White City. Today Tel Aviv is the second largest city in Israel, and because of its odd Old New culture, its beaches and swanky cafes, it has a youthful and hip feel to it.’

  ‘You’re not referring to this snack-bar, I hope.’

  ‘Duh.’

  The two women walked the old, narrow streets of Yafo, talking about the good old days. After a while they arrived at Tel Yafo, also known as ‘ancient Yafo’. The site dated back thousands of years and had been excavated by many archaeologists since the 1950s. The remains of a gate were found there with an inscription by the Egyptian Pharaoh Ramses II, dating back to the time he conquered the region. A replica of the gate lintels had been erected by archaeologists in their original location.

  Mina was enraptured by the abundance of history in Israel, the rapid succession of events
and the inexorable downfall of great empires. The Egyptian empire was countered by the Hittites from Anatolia in modern Turkey, but was not finally vanquished until Alexander the Great invaded it in the 4th century B.C.E. Then it was the turn of the Romans, who gave the names of Syria and Palestine to the region. Israel was the name of Jacob in the bible. In a way, it was both an ancient and a recent name. Crusaders followed, then the Ottoman Empire and finally the British took over, until they relinquished their Palestinian Mandate in favour of the creation of the new state of Israel in 1948. What a wonderful mess! Liat seemed to guess what Mina was thinking.

  ‘I’ve always thought of Israel as a palimpsest,’ said Liat.

  ‘I know exactly what you mean, the way history is written over and over again on the same parchment.’

  ‘Mina, I know I should wait patiently for you to tell me about Mosul, but I really want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Things are in a terrible state. You wouldn’t believe the daily tragedy.’

  Liat was about to say that things weren’t exactly rosy in Israel, but thought better than to comment.

  ‘Although I’ve never been in the line of fire, and luckily I was in the States last month when most of the carnage took place, I’ve witnessed the results. The bombed areas, the distraught families.’

  Mina went on to describe the continuous fear that people wore on their face like a grimacing mask, and before long she had portrayed the destroyed monuments, the lootings and the little hope she had that anything would improve in the near future.

  ‘I narrowly escaped being shot myself.’ She bit her tongue.

  ‘What do you mean? On the street?’

  ‘Yes, on the street,’ Mina lied.

  There was no way she would involve her friend in her ongoing troubles. Liat sensed there was something odd going on, but she let it drop. Mina would talk to her…, but not now.

  ‘So tell me more about this interview? Are you ready?’

  ‘I’ll tell you tomorrow, after I’ve made a fool of myself. I haven’t prepared for it enough really.’

  ‘What are you going to wear?’

  ‘I bought a few things in Amman.’

  ‘Your usual stuff?’ Liat asked, with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘I’m a bit short of cash until I get the grant money.’

  ‘Well, I’m not. I’m taking you shopping.’ She took Mina by the hand and they walked back to the car.

  After a few solid hours of shopping, the two women were laden down with bags and walked into a bar. They were both happy and giggling like schoolgirls. They had missed each other sorely, but had not realised it until today.

  ‘I’d forgotten how tiring it was to shop with you. I’m exhausted,’ Mina said.

  ‘But happy?’ asked Liat.

  ‘Oh yes. Very happy.’

  Mina dropped her bags and gave Liat a big hug. They sat down and as Mina looked at the drinks menu, she spotted the name of the bar. It was called Noa.

  ‘Is the name of this place really Noa?’

  ‘Yes, like the builder of the ark. Isn’t it funny?’

  Mina didn’t respond. She could not help noticing these small signs, which were starting to stack up like an omen. Maybe her choice of studies and her recent adventures had more to them than a mere scholarly pursuit. Was she fated to track the history of Noah? Her rational mind usually fought against such superstitious ideas, but she could not shake the strange feeling she was part of a larger story here. She had thought she was following in the footsteps of Benjamin of Tudela. Maybe she should have checked first if he had been following someone else’s footsteps himself.

  ‘Are you alright Mina?’ Liat asked her brooding friend.

  ‘Yes of course. Let’s order some drinks pronto.’

  ‘What’s the rush?’ Liat asked, half-yawning.

  ‘Too much time spent in a non-wine-drinking country, that’s what!’

  Two bottles of wine and some tasty nibbles later, Liat and Mina slumped back into one of the sofas. They propped their feet up on the coffee table in front of them and admired their newly bought Ferragamo high heels.

  ‘They’re lovely, Liat,’ Mina slurred.

  ‘Yes they are.’

  ‘If you don’t mind my asking…’

  ‘What?’ asked Liat.

  ‘With the fortune your parents left you, do you still need to work for a living?’

  ‘What you really mean is why am I working?’

  ‘Well, yeah.’

  Liat thought about it for a moment, and then simply replied, ‘Because I enjoy it.’

  ‘Good answer!’ She could sense that Liat was about to ask her what she was hiding and the amount of alcohol she had drunk would make her an easy prey to thorough questioning. But Liat was as tipsy as her. Instead she asked her about Charlie.

  ‘It just didn’t work out,’ said Mina.

  ‘Liar. He wrote to me at the time. You dumped him when you decided to go off to Iraq.’

  ‘Alright. I did. So what?’

  ‘You were a great couple, you could have stayed together. You’re twenty-nine, you know! Time’s ticking. Didn’t you think you should have waited for him? I know he’d have waited for you.’

  ‘No. That was part of the problem. Charlie and I would never have stayed together. Do you remember Susan and her Italian boyfriend? Remember the hours she spent on the phone talking to him instead of being with him? Remember how she was never free but alone all the same? It was painful to watch. Long distance relationships? No thanks.’

  Both girls went silent.

  ‘You seemed to get along.’

  ‘There was no passion, Liat. Not on my side anyway. I loved him, don’t get me wrong. But in the end, it was like having a good friend and living in the hope it would turn into something greater.’

  Mina didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the talk about former lovers, but Jack’s image had entered her head and would not leave. ‘I hardly know him,’ she said softly.

  ‘What? Who are you talking about?’ Liat asked, her gossip antennae quivering.

  ‘No-one,’ replied Mina.

  ‘Yeah. Like I’m gonna let that one slip. C’mon, talk to Auntie Liat.’

  ‘OK. There is someone.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Jack.’

  ‘American?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Kind, supportive, does the dishes after dinner… or a bad boy?’

  ‘You’re being silly’, laughed Mina.

  ‘Fine. Where did you meet?’

  ‘In Mosul.’

  ‘Journalist, diplomat or military?’

  ‘Are those the only American men available there?’

  ‘Oh, let me guess; you found yourself the only American archaeologist mad enough to work in a war zone.’

  Mina smiled, ‘I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘Not as much of a liar as he is.’

  ‘Bad boy then,’ concluded Liat.

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Any regrets?’

  ‘Yes. We never even kissed.’

  Liat was about to laugh, but saw the genuine sadness on Mina’s face. She gave her a long hug instead.

  Another bottle of wine later, in the early hours of the morning a very drunk Mina stumbled into the Sheraton Tel Aviv Hotel & Towers.

  Chapter 14

  December 8th, 2004

  Mina woke up at 08.00, still exhausted. She had overslept and was suffering from a monumental hangover after her drinking session with Liat. She felt more disorganised than she had ever been and desperately wondered how she would cope at the interview under these conditions. The only course of action was a long, hot shower and by the time she had finished drying her thick black hair, putting on her make-up and choosing an appropriate ‘interview skirt’ among the clothes Liat had bought her the previous afternoon, it was 10.15.

  As she sat in the restaurant to have breakfast, the waiters kept glancing at her w
hile she poured herself some tea. She jotted down a few notes in preparation for the interview as a means of refreshing her memory. She had always made a point of never reading her notes at presentations or during teaching sessions as it helped her moderate her talk based on her audience’s reactions. She checked the interview venue in the document emailed to her by Nigel’s secretary. It read ‘11.a.m. Foundation Grant committee – The New York Hall Meeting Room.’ She asked a waiter how to get there and found that it was on the eighteenth floor.

  As she arrived at the entrance of the meeting room, a young blonde woman introduced herself as one of the Foundation’s secretaries. She thanked Mina for coming, and told her not to be intimidated by the grand appearance of her surroundings. It was the only appropriate room available for interviews. She then explained that only two members of the committee would conduct the interview and that they were already inside. Mina entered the room and felt increasingly apprehensive as she approached the two men, both dressed in dark suits, pink shirts and silvery-grey ties. They were sitting at the very end of the room, at a table covered with a variety of papers and files. Mina noticed that the secretary had followed her into room and taken a seat by the door.

  Mina thought the men looked slightly odd, more like businessmen than academic interviewers. Maybe it was the fact they worked for a corporate foundation. They suddenly noticed Mina and rose to greet her.

  ‘Miss Osman. Thank you for attending this interview. My name is John Gridlam and this,’ pointing at his shorter, fatter colleague ‘is Bill Rowley.’

  ‘Thank you for inviting me, I’m honoured to be here. It was quite unexpected and I only received the invitation by email a few days ago.’

  They seemed surprised and concerned. ‘Do you feel up to it? Would you like more time to prepare?’

  ‘Not at all,’ lied Mina.

  ‘Let’s begin then,’ said the taller of the two men.