‘No, but thanks for your offer. I have all the credentials I need.’
‘Of course you do. Well,’ he said as he stood up after Mina, ‘I’m delighted to have met you again, but I’m only sorry not to have been able to help you more in your current search.’
‘Thank you for your time Dr Shobai.’
The young student brought Mina her coat, and then left them. Dr Shobai walked her back to the door, and waved her goodbye as she left. Mina searched for Jack’s car, and his voice in her ear said, ‘Just walk down the pavement to the left. I’m on the corner of the street.’
As Mina turned the corner, Jack opened the passenger door and she jumped in. He seemed irritated, so Mina did not speak. When they reached the hotel, and Jack had parked the car, he finally looked at her and said:
‘It went pretty well didn’t it?’
‘Are you being sarcastic?’
‘No, why?’
‘Why? You haven’t said a word since I got in the car,’ she said angrily.
‘Oh, that.’
‘Yeah, that.’
‘I’m pretty sure we were being followed,’ he answered.
‘Oh my god. Who?’
‘I don’t know. This is the second time I sense we are being followed but I can’t see anyone.’
‘Maybe we’re not being followed then,’ said Mina cheerfully. But her smile froze when she saw Jack was dead serious.
‘You don’t understand, Mina. Not only was I trained by the best to pick up on someone tailing me, but I am particularly good at it. I know we’re being watched.’
‘So who are they? What are they after? Wheatley already has the tablet.’
He did not answer. Instead, he got out of the car. She followed him into the hotel. A crowd was waiting at the lifts, so they climbed the stairs. As they reached the third floor, he said, ‘Mina, as soon as we get to our room, grab your things. The hotel isn’t safe anymore. We need to move.’
‘OK.’
‘We need to get to a place with loads of people, and lose these bastards there, before leaving for Cambridge.’
‘How do we get there?’
‘We take a train from King’s Cross.’
‘Can’t we lose them at the train station?’ asked Mina.
‘We don’t want them to know we’re leaving London.’
They entered the room. Mina went straight to her case and started sorting her things, but Jack took a moment to sit on his bed and plan the next step. She suddenly had an idea and stopped what she was doing.
‘Jack, why don’t we go to the British Museum? It’s usually crawling with tourists day in and day out.’
‘Perfect. You’re right. Are you ready to go?’
‘Give me ten minutes.’
A quarter of an hour later, Mina walked to the reception, where Jack had just finished paying for their room. He rushed her to the exit. Jack felt like alarm bells were ringing all around him.
‘They’re here, Mina. I can’t explain, but I know they’re here. Transfer any valuables and your notes about the tablet in your small rucksack and when I tell you, drop your suitcase and run to the car. Don’t forget Hildersham’s letter.’ Jack watched her transferring all her things. He paused, ‘Now!’
They both ran as fast as they could but before they could get to their car, a blue Mercedes drove up and double-parked in front of it. Two motorbikes, driven by men in dark suits and helmets appeared out of nowhere. One was revving near the double parked car and the other had mounted the pavement. Jack reacted with lightening speed. He ran towards the biker on the pavement and kicked him square in the chest. The man flew backwards off his bike onto the pavement. Before he could pick himself up, Jack had turned the bike around, Mina jumped on the back, her rucksack dangling on one arm, and they were off.
Jack accelerated towards Little Venice and drove over the bridge Mina had crossed the same morning. Looking in his mirror, Jack saw that the Mercedes and the second biker were behind them and without a second thought he took a sudden hard right turn into a one-way street. They nearly crashed into a utilities van that was heading in the same direction but at a much slower pace. Jack slowed down as he turned right again onto the canal tow path. The Mercedes screeched its tires as its driver hit the brakes to avoid crashing into the front of the Bridge Pub, but the biker followed the same route as Jack.
Mina was on the verge of passing out in fear but she held onto Jack as they sped down the narrow bicycle lane at full throttle, dodging benches and terrified cyclists. She thought she heard a cracking sound. Jack shouted at her not to turn her head around, and to duck low. The biker was shooting at them. Even at this speed, Jack managed to drive in a zigzag so their pursuer couldn’t get a clear shot. He suddenly saw an opening in the hedge to their left, just as a group of cyclists was coming towards them. He missed crashing into the group by a hair’s breadth and he catapulted into the small path leading away from the canal and towards the main road. Their pursuer was not so lucky. He lost control of his motorbike, skidded on his side and all Mina heard was a loud splash as he crashed through the cyclists and into the canal. As they reached the main road, they dismounted the motorbike and Jack hid it in a convenient bush as Mina hailed a passing taxi. The cab slowed down and pulled up beside them. They rushed inside.
‘British Museum, please,’ said Jack.
‘Right you are,’ replied the cabbie.
‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ Mina kept repeating, as Jack held her hands and tried to comfort her.
‘We’re safe for now, Mina. Let’s stick to the plan.’
The driver of the blue Mercedes had watched the whole scene from a nearby bridge. He waited for a few cars to pass by, and calmly started tailing Jack’s cab.
The black cab entered Great Russell Street and slowed down as it approached the main entrance of the British Museum. Jack got out first, helping Mina out of the car. A cold wind was now blowing. Jack tightened his scarf around his neck and looked up to the sky. Dark clouds were forming above them. It would start raining soon and from the looks of it, it would be a heavy downpour. ‘It might just work for us,’ thought Jack, as he followed Mina through the great gates.
Just ahead of them was the outer courtyard, and beyond it the enormous building that had been a landmark in the London landscape since its construction in 1753, when Sir Henry Soane offered his private collection to the British public. It was much smaller then, the collection being kept in Montague House, but over the next centuries, more than sixty houses surrounding the museum were pulled down and a central edifice appeared with large gallery wings. The museum extended all the way to Montague Place, and housed the millions of objects that had been added each year to the initial 18th century collection. After much construction work, there rose a building of huge proportions, with a tremendous neoclassical facade, eight perfect ionic columns crowned by a pediment and flanked by a colonnade on either side.
As Jack walked past the guards, he gave a sidelong glance back to the main street and noticed the blue Mercedes driving slowly past the gates. Their pursuers had caught up with them and were not even bothering to hide anymore. Jack immediately assumed they’d have men near Montague Place, the other exit of the Museum, which was more discreet for a stakeout. They’d have to lose them at the museum’s main entrance. As they walked through the outer courtyard, Jack stared at the fa.ade, and for a few moments felt almost dwarfed by the edifice and its awesome presence. To him it resembled a Greek temple, standing fast in the coming storm, towering above London’s streets and his own personal problems. They seemed so petty in contrast to this monument dedicated to past ages and to the memory of ancient and great civilisations. They climbed the stairs into the main lobby. Mina walked straight into the Great Court.
‘Mina, walk slowly. There’s no rush.’
‘Alright. Where do you want to go?’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you show me the flood tablet you mentioned.’
‘OK. Don’t you love this gla
ss dome? It’s so clever.’
Jack did not respond. He silently cursed Norman Foster, the architect. When Mina had mentioned the British Museum, he had thought it was a perfect idea; he remembered awfully crowded corridors which were used both for museum visitors to circulate and to exhibit ancient artefacts. But walking through the museum today felt quite different, much less crowded, spacious in fact. No, he did not share Mina’s wonder at the cylindrical tower of the Reading Room, and the over-arching glass dome, it would make their task considerably more difficult.
‘Follow me,’ said Mina, ‘the room’s upstairs.’
They climbed the stairs around the Reading room, up to the swish Court Restaurant on the upper floor. They proceeded straight through to Mesopotamian Room 56, and then right into the other Mesopotamian Room 55, where an unassuming glass case held some of the most famous cuneiform tablets in the world.
‘Jack, take a look. Here it is, Tablet XI of the Gilgamesh Epic. Because it was found among the other tablets at the library of Ashurbanipal in Nineveh, we date it to the 7th century B.C.E.’
‘It’s clay, right?’
‘Yes?’
‘How is it that it was so well preserved?’ asked Jack.
‘Well, you see, Ashurbanipal was a king after my own heart. He loved scholars and kept adding copies of important documents to his library. We even have tablets describing how scholars were trained themselves. Anyway, when the palace eventually burned down, the tablets did not dissolve or burn like parchment or papyrus, they baked. And that’s why we still have them today.’
‘Fascinating. So this text is a copy?’
‘Yup. Also, it’s written in Akkadian, whereas a much older version, which is in the room we’ve just walked through, is in old Babylonian and dates back to the 17th century B.C.E.’
‘Sorry to interrupt you Mina, but don’t you smell something odd?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Something strong, like musk, but not the artificial stuff. I can’t quite put my finger on it.’
‘Yes, I do… and I think I’ve smelled the same thing not long ago.’
‘I know! It was outside the hotel. Let’s get the hell out of here.’
They rushed back to the central tower. A tall man with a black beard and smoked glasses was resting against the railing, pretending to read a leaflet. Jack quickly grabbed Mina’s hand, feigned going right but then rushed down the left hand staircase. Unfortunately the man caught up with them within a few seconds. Jack urged Mina to run away, as he turned around to face his opponent. She took a few steps down the stairs all the time trying to look back to watch the men wrestle above her. Amazingly, nobody seemed to notice the fight. Jack had bent the man’s arm behind his back and when he heard it crack he shoved his head into the wall. As the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious, a small vial fell out of his pocket and shattered on the marble steps. Jack and Mina immediately recognised the pungent fragrance they had smelled earlier. Jack picked up a shard of the vial and hurried down the stairs with Mina. They slowed their pace somewhat as they passed guards in the main lobby hurrying towards the staircase. Jack discreetly snatched a sopping wet umbrella, which a man had put against a column while shaking his trench coat.
They ran down the steps into the outer courtyard, heavy rain still falling from a darkened sky. The driver of the blue Mercedes was waiting near the gates, but did not see Jack and Mina dashing by shielded by an umbrella like any young couple keen to get out of the rain. They ran ahead, down Museum Street, and dodged into an occult bookshop.
Mina, who by this time was beyond physical and mental exhaustion, could hardly stand upright. Jack helped her sit down on a large and ancient-looking leather chair and pretended to browse through the books, all the while keeping a close watch on Museum Street. The shop owner barely glanced at them, as they did not seem like genuine seekers of the dark arts, just passers-by trying to escape the rain.
Mina was so anxious she could feel her hands shaking. To try to put her mind at rest she focused on at the collection of books, placed haphazardly on the shelves around her. Some of the books had the weirdest titles but she was too frazzled to understand what she was reading.
‘Mina?’ Jack hissed from the corner of his mouth. She did not hear him. He spoke again, louder this time and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Mina?’ She was startled, and looked at him with scared eyes.
‘What is it?’ asked Mina. Jack sighed and took her hand.
‘Mina, we have to separate. We haven’t shaken them off yet.’
‘No Jack. Please, no,’ she begged him, tears welling in her eyes.
‘We have to lose them. I’ll draw their attention, and while they follow me…’
‘Please Jack. Don’t leave me. I can’t do this alone.’
‘You can do it, Mina. You have to, OK? Wait for ten minutes after I’m gone, then walk out of here, left, into New Oxford Street and get in the first cab. Go straight to King’s Cross and catch a train to Cambridge. I’ll call you in an hour.’ He looked deep into her eyes and kissed her wet cheek softly, ‘You can do this Mina.’
He looked out of the front window for a few seconds, turned round a last time and walked out onto the street. ‘Good luck, Jack,’ Mina murmured, but he was already gone. While she looked at her watch and waited, an odd-looking man, wearing a large-brimmed hat with a feather stuck in its side, started talking to her, oblivious to her anxious state.
‘Do you know,’ he began, ’that you’re standing in a genuine occult bookshop? It was once run by the head of a lodge called The Order of the Hidden Masters.’
Mina looked at him with a blank expression on her face. ‘And, one of the patrons of this order was Alistair Crowley,’ he added mysteriously.
Mina didn’t answer so the man walked towards another customer and started chatting to her. Mina checked her watch and noticed that ten minutes had gone by. She did as Jack had told her. She hailed one of many cabs passing down New Oxford Street, and after a few minutes ride, was at King’s Cross station. She bought a ticket to Cambridge and enquired about the next available train, which was leaving in twenty minutes. She treated herself to a takeaway cappuccino, sat down on a chair next to the other travellers and sipped her coffee. She was utterly drained and incapable of thinking about anything. When the Cambridge train was announced she stood up, and numbly walked in the direction of platform 9A.
Jack felt stupid. No-one appeared to be following him. He had changed cabs three times, and was walking down Portobello Road in Notting Hill. Had they managed to lose their pursuers at the museum after all? Why hadn’t he checked to see if they were still lurking around before leaving Mina? How stupid. They’d have both been on the Cambridge train by now. He tried phoning her, but the call went straight to her voicemail. ‘Oh god, I hope she didn’t leave it in the suitcase’ he thought. He went for a beer in a nearby pub and looked at the happy faces of men and women meeting for a drink after a hard day’s work. What was wrong with him? Why did he always end up running for his life? By now, his face had probably been retrieved by the police from CCTV camera footage in the museum.
He waited half an hour and tried calling Mina, again unsuccessfully. He got in a cab and drove to their hotel in Maida Vale, hoping to get hold of the suitcase and check what had become of the mobile phone. An employee at the front desk explained that a man in a dark suit and sunglasses had just come by and picked it up. ‘I should’ve gone straight back to the hotel’ thought Jack, increasingly angry with himself. He walked around Maida Vale for a while to gather his thoughts. He wondered if their separation could prove to be an asset after all; maybe he could sort out their other problem. He would contact Stella and ask her why Intelligence was interested in Mina. Stella was stationed in Germany. Maybe she could leave her base for a day, and they could meet up at the drinking den in Soho.
Mina had finally arrived at her destination. She felt much worse now than when she’d embarked on the train. Twenty minutes into the trip,
she had searched her rucksack thoroughly looking for her new phone, but it was not there. She must have left it in her suitcase, or in the hotel room. How was she going to get in touch with Jack or Jack with her? She did not even know his email address. She walked out of the station, in the direction of Tenison Road where she saw a few guest houses. She picked one and booked a room for two nights, hoping to find something nicer within the next few days. She walked up to her room. Her hands shook as she opened the door. She dropped her rucksack on the floor, sat on the bed and cried silently, in the gloomy winter light filtering through the stained curtains.
Chapter 22
December 14th, 2004. Cambridge
Mina woke up late in the morning, wishing it had all been a dream. But there she was, in the same seedy guest house in Cambridge, alone. She took a quick shower and after laying out the bed sheet on the floor, slowly stretched through a series of yoga asanas. Later, pulling on her last pair of jeans she was reminded she would have to buy clothes, again. She left the guest house, her small rucksack hanging from one shoulder. A few builders wolf-whistled her as she walked down Tenison Road. She felt like telling them off but instead looked straight ahead to Mill Road. She entered a caf. at random and ordered a cappuccino, croissants and jam. As she drank her coffee, warming her hands around the mug, she looked out of the window at the grey street. It was raining again. The miserable weather was starting to depress her even more than her current situation.
Around midday, she walked into the city centre. She bought a few clothes and an umbrella. When she passed the main market place and reached King’s Parade she stared in wonder at the spectacular walls of King’s College. Seeing its gigantic chapel and the peacefulness of the scholars walking about the college grounds, she felt her spirits lifting slightly. She asked her way to the University Library.
The 13th Tablet Page 19