Mina had mixed feelings. She didn’t want to pursue the discussion because she was still angry with Jack, but her mind had already started racing through various hypotheses. Reluctantly, she picked up her bag and took out her notebook. Luckily Oberon’s men were only interested in the tablet and had ignored the remaining contents of her bag.
Jack sighed with relief. She was back in the world of the living. Mina leafed through her notes while Jack pursued his analysis of the situation.
‘The next part is all described in the chronicle. The rabbis agree that Tudela’s letter wasn’t a fake. They spend the whole night discussing what to do if they found the tablet and apart from one guy…’
‘Rabbi Tammim,’ interjected Mina.
‘Yeah. Apart from that rabbi, they all agree to search for the tablet because they believe it could save lives,’ said Jack.
‘Yes. But with one caveat: not to disclose this information to anyone. I still don’t understand why. If they wanted to save people from future disasters, why keep it secret?’ Mina wondered out loud.
‘They were quite shrewd. Today, you’d call it ‘crowd control.’
Just imagine the panic that such information could produce: riots, plummeting stock-markets worldwide.’
‘Right. I get it. Then a search party is sent to Jerusalem to find the tablet.’
‘And,’ said Jack, ‘my guess is that this Ari character – I really like him by the way – gave instructions to send the tablet into the diaspora, as far as possible from Safed.’
‘Yup and he picked Lisbon’, replied Mina.
‘Then, someone called “The Dark One” steals the letter…’ said Jack.
‘No. He stole Tudela’s letter after the initial meeting and he wasn’t called dark or nameless until after the search party returned from Jerusalem. His name is crossed out everywhere, so there is no way of tracing who he was.’
‘What do we know about him?’
She read from her notes and summarised, ‘He’d been in some sort of catatonic state for about a year but came out of it during the conversation between the rabbis. Who knows what went through his head but evidently he was in violent disagreement with the council and decided to take matters into his own hands, literally.’
‘What do you think happened to Tudela’s letter?’ asked Jack.
‘If I’m right about his motivations, after having stolen the letter he would have destroyed it, as it went against his understanding of God’s Plan.’
‘I think I agree with you,’ Jack said, ‘and now the proof that any of this actually occurred has been stolen – for the second time in history.’
He suddenly paused. Mina looked at him inquisitively, ‘What are you thinking Jack?’
‘Since Eli’s death I’ve been wondering about something. Something that just doesn’t make sense. You would agree that as far we know, Wheatley isn’t aware of Tudela’s letter or the Safed chronicle. Remember how in the cemetery his men stopped pursuing us as soon as they had your tablet in their hands?’
‘Yes. And?’
‘For Wheatley’s men, Eli was just a means to an end, to get to us. So why did they look for him in the synagogue? And why was there hardly any sign of a struggle in the Ari’s room?’
‘It’s a tiny room. Eli was a frail old man. He’d have seen them coming towards him, abandoned all hope and succumbed to his fate,’ Mina said.
‘I don’t buy that. He had searched all his adult life for this chronicle. I’d bet a dollar to a dime that he would have put up some sort of fight.’
‘Maybe. So why didn’t he? And should we suppose that Oberon knew about the Safed chronicle?’
They both remained silent and deep in thought.
‘Eli, what happened to you? Why didn’t you fight back?’ Mina thought to herself as she shed a tear for the old man.
‘I think we should stay in London for a few days’ Jack resumed, obviously trying to focus on something practical. ‘And meet this old scholar researcher who warned you about the tablet. He obviously knows something.’
‘Yes. His name is Moshe Shobai. The poor man, when he hears what we’ve been through he won’t believe how prophetic his words were.’
‘How did you get to know him?’ asked Jack.
‘I met him at a conference a few years ago. A really lovely old man.’
‘He might be really lovely, but if he knew how dangerous this tablet was, he would have told you more about it. Didn’t he strike you as suspicious?’
‘In comparison to everything we’ve gone through, no I don’t think he’s particularly suspicious,’ she answered sharply.
‘Are you still pissed off at me?’ he grumbled.
‘I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. If Oberon disappeared from the face of the earth in a pool of his own blood, I’d feel less angry.’
‘Don’t despair, it could still happen. But for now we should concentrate on what we can do. I was trained not to worry about or wish for things that are out of my present remit. Why don’t you sleep? We’ll be in London in a few hours.’
She nodded in agreement, breathed in deeply a few times and closed her eyes. Jack recognised the years of yogic training in the way Mina relaxed all her muscles by a simple act of will. He had learned to do the same but the hard way, during military ops when he had to force himself to relax and sleep for a few hours before springing back into action. He picked up Mina’s notes and read through the last pages. Who was behind Eli’s murder? He had downplayed this subject in front of Mina, but he was not satisfied with their conclusions.
Same day. New York.
Natasha stepped through the glass revolving doors of the Wheatley Forecast Corporation building, into the main lobby. The security guards greeted her as she walked to the main lift. As the elegant glass lift ascended, she smiled at the irony of a glass building that housed within its walls a business that was anything but transparent. When she reached the thirty-second floor, she inserted a key into a slot next to the lift buttons and the lift rose to the thirty-third, Oberon’s floor. She proceeded through the main lobby decorated in an art deco style, with a mixture of glass and metal ornaments, and veered left into the sophisticated waiting area outside Oberon’s private office. His secretary, Miss Dawson, was a sixty-year-old Oxford-educated English spinster, always immaculately dressed and totally au fait with every aspect of Oberon’s official business. She looked up impassively at Natasha, ‘Mr Wheatley is expecting you.’
Natasha knocked on the door and walked into his office.
Oberon was on the phone, closing a deal with a major weather broadcast channel, for special rights on advanced meteorological information. A single glance at Oberon’s hunter’s smirk, was enough for Natasha to guess that he was forcing his deal down the other person’s throat, and enjoying every bit of it. He finished his call and looked at Natasha with glee, eyeing up the metal attaché case she held in her hand.
‘So my dear, what have you brought me?’
‘A certain stone tablet’ she answered.
She slid the attaché-case on his desk and opened it. He looked at the cuneiform tablet, picked it up and examined it on all sides.
‘What sort of stone is it?’ asked Oberon.
‘I’m looking into it,’ said Natasha. ‘We’ll have the results of the analysis in a day or two.’
‘Excellent. Send it to Professor Manfred this afternoon, under the usual confidential terms. I want the translation as soon as possible.’
‘That won’t be possible, sir.’
‘Just double his fee.’ Then, noticing that Natasha was avoiding his gaze, he asked, ‘Why not?’
‘He passed away three months ago.’
‘How unfortunate.’
‘I only found this out yesterday. Since then I’ve looked for a suitable translator, but I’m not sure we’ll get someone as amenable as Professor Manfred, when it comes to the sort of confidentiality we require. I don’t think we can trust any scholar faced with such a tablet not to publis
h their results or let alone refrain from talking about it.’
‘Oh. Is that all? In that case, we’ll just use the Vatican procedure.’
‘Sorry sir?’ she said.
‘When Vatican officials find an apocryphal gospel and feel that it may harm the orthodoxy of the Catholic faith, they don’t give it out to one translator. They divide the work between three or more.’
‘So that no-one but the officials have the full knowledge of the text’s importance,’ she answered.
‘Exactly. Photograph the inscription and split it between three scholars you have already listed. Make them sign the confidentiality agreement before sending anything.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘It was a stroke of luck, leaving those men behind in Safed’, he added.
‘Yes.’
‘What amazes me is that Mina Osman’s still alive.’
‘There was a man with her in Safed,’ Natasha added, ‘he might be the same one who was in Mosul. I suspect he has been protecting her all this time. I think I should find out who he is.’
‘No,’ he answered, ‘you have enough on your plate as it is. What can they do? Try to steal the tablet back? I think not. Miss Osman will probably return to New York and cash in her quarterly research funds. I don’t think we’ll hear from them again.’
‘Right. I’ll go then Sir.’
Natasha’s intuition was that Mina Osman and her mysterious helper would be back on the scene. Oberon had already made a mistake talking to Mina on the boat about his Chinese oracle bone. However clever he might be, he was too arrogant to be considered wise.
Same day. Safed.
‘Master?’ said a man. He was dressed in dark clothing and sitting in a car with tinted windows that concealed him from passers-by.
‘Yes?’
‘We have recovered a parchment describing the council of rabbis in Safed.’
‘Good. Where is it?’
‘Ephraim is on a plane as we speak, bringing it back to you.’
‘It should have been destroyed.’
The man hesitated, then said, ‘It will be done Master, but the tablet is in Wheatley’s hands.’
‘Retrieve it.’
‘It will be difficult master. He is well guarded. I may need some… special… help.’
‘Do not fret. I will pray for you and I will send you instructions.’
‘Thank you Master.’
‘Your labours will soon be at an end,’ the voice said, and the line went dead.
Chapter 21
December 13th, 2004. London
Mina woke up alone in the hotel room. Jack’s bed was untouched. He hadn’t returned since the night before. She retraced their steps from the moment they landed at Heathrow airport; they’d taken a train to Paddington station in West London, then walked through Paddington Green to Maida Vale and come to the Colonnade hotel, where Jack had booked a room for a few nights. ‘We’ll be safe here,’ he had said. They were a few streets away from Little Venice, with its beautiful mansions and canal barges. For a millionaires’ haven, it was a wonderfully discreet part of London.
Mina had been exhausted when they’d arrived at the hotel but Jack had ‘people to see,’ as he put it enigmatically. She didn’t ask any questions and hadn’t seen him since. She couldn’t find her mobile phone anywhere. Had she forgotten it in Safed? No, she was sure she still had it in Ben Gurion airport in Tel Aviv. She remembered turning it off. It was the last time she’d handled it. Had Jack taken it? Again? She found a note stuck to the bathroom mirror. ‘Morning Mina. Meet me for lunch at one p.m. at the Waterway, on Formosa Street. Xx, Jack.’
She was a little miffed at his bossy tone, but she couldn’t deny that she looked forward to going on a date with Jack, if this was what he intended. They had been through so much pain and misery since they had met, a change of pace would be welcome. She lay half-asleep in the large, warm bed, all alone, thinking about Jack. She felt a growing desire for Jack’s muscular body. She wanted to feel his weight crushing her, wanted his strong hands to pin her down as he made rough, passionate love to her. She snuggled deep under the sheets, and closed her eyes.
Mina left the hotel an hour later to grab a coffee in Little Venice and gather her thoughts while she waited for Jack. She had asked for directions in the hotel lobby but expected to get lost in a matter of minutes. It was only her second visit to London and she had not spent much time walking in the city back then.
Two years ago, she had attended an academic conference on the ancient Near East at University College London, which housed one of the largest institutes of Archaeology in the world. She had been offered accommodation nearby, in Russell Square, from where she had visited the British Museum a few times, as well as Covent Garden. That was the extent of her knowledge of the British capital.
She strolled down the broad streets of Maida Vale. It was a delightful part of London; central but secluded all the same, five minutes walk from Paddington station but cut off from the bustle of London traffic. As she walked past large white mansions lined with expensive cars she knew she was nearing her destination. She arrived at the canal, on Bloomfield Road. She walked across a bridge towards a barge-caf.. It was painted in a glossy maroon finish and ivy tresses hung down from the upper deck on either side.
The weather was chilly, so she walked onto the barge and into the caf.. She ordered a cappuccino and a croissant. The Buena Vista Social Club soundtrack was playing, which put her in a good mood. She had an hour before meeting Jack. She took out her notebook and placed it next to her coffee mug, leaned back and watched the cyclists shooting by, using the local network of canal routes to get to Paddington station. She remembered Jack saying that one could access most of London and avoid all traffic by using the cycle paths along the canals.
She thought back to their conversation in Tel Aviv the day before their departure to London. Jack could be very persuasive but she would not have left for London had she not felt deep down that he was right. She still felt utterly devastated about Eli’s death. She kept repeating the words that Jack said: she had neither wanted him dead nor had she killed him. Someone else had: Oberon Wheatley. He might be legally untouchable, as Jack explained, and would never stand trial for the crimes he had perpetrated, but by going to London she could at least make sure he would never learn about the other tablet. She would get there first for Eli and for all those who believed in saving mankind rather than annihilating them or holding them to ransom.
Right now, Wheatley had the stone tablet and most likely the rabbi’s chronicle as well. But they held the upper hand, as they already knew the contents of both and knew where to head next: Cambridge. Clearly the letter between the two brothers, from Cambridge to Safed, indicated that an ‘item’ was safe, and would one day be returned to its rightful place, the temple in Jerusalem. What else could this item be but the Jerusalem Tablet? She would have loved to know how the tablet had come to be a family heirloom of sorts, cared for by these two brothers. But first she had to speak to Moshe Shobai. Whatever Jack’s misgivings about the man, she would meet him. The whole world was not after them, Jack was being overcautious. One couldn’t be so na.ve as to think that academic pursuit was not fraught with danger. Shobai probably knew something about the tablet as a scholar deeply immersed in the field and was wise enough to keep away from what he sensed to be dangerous. He had kindly told her to leave it well alone but she hadn’t heeded his warning.
Her thoughts had drifted so much she’d almost forgot the time. She paid the waitress and left her a generous tip. Walking briskly across the bridge, she turned left down the street towards the restaurant. Jack was waiting for her out front holding a beautiful bunch of roses.
‘Hi Mina,’ he said, offering her the flowers.
‘Hi Jack. Thanks,’ she answered, taking the roses and kissing him on the cheek. ‘Now can I have my phone back?’ she added, smiling sweetly.
He grinned and pushed her gently into the restaurant. He had made a rese
rvation for a table by the window. As they sat down, Mina looked out at the canal through the glass. Jack ordered a bottle of red wine and some sparkling water. They looked at each other without a word until the drinks arrived.
‘What should we toast to?’ asked Mina.
‘To the success of our quest! By the way Mina, if you’d checked your mobile you’d know that Hassan’s fine.’
‘He’s fine?’
‘Yes, he is. I’m not quite sure how he escaped Wheatley’s grasp but he did and he texted you to say he and his mother were staying with relatives in the countryside. I texted back saying it was good news and that you’d get in touch sometime soon.’
‘Thanks for that Jack. Now, seriously, where’s my phone? Are you a kleptomaniac? It’s the second time you’ve taken my mobile while I’ve been asleep.’
‘Technically, you fainted the first time. Does that really count?’
‘Just give me my phone.’
‘Here you are,’ he said, handing her a brand new one.
‘That’s not my phone.’
‘I know. Yours wasn’t safe to use any longer. We need to stay under the radar for the time being. Here’s a British passport by the way.’
‘A passport? You have been busy,’ she answered.
‘Let me explain.’
The waiter came to take the order. Jack chose the salmon, and Mina who hadn’t paid attention to the menu, said she would have the same.
‘Please, do explain,’ said Mina, sarcastically.
‘We have no idea how powerful Wheatley is,’ Jack said, ‘my guess is his area of influence is huge; politics, finance, police. We don’t know that he won’t try to get hold of you again. I couldn’t do anything about it while we were in Israel, but in London things are different. I met a contact last night, and he sorted out a few things for us including fake IDs and a car. I bought us two pay-as-you-go mobile phones and I found Moshe Shobai’s office address in St. John’s Wood. It’s a funny place to have an office, as it is mainly a residential area but there it is.’
The 13th Tablet Page 17