The library was the only place Jack and her were set to visit in Cambridge, after Eli told them about it in Safed. It would be his first point of call. A helpful young man who introduced himself as a student at King’s College walked with her through the college’s main quad, and over its private bridge onto Queen’s Road.
He asked her what brought her to Cambridge, so Mina told him that she was doing research for a week or two. He was very excited about the University Library and explained that it was a copyright library, like the Bodleian in Oxford and the British Library in London, which meant that it stocked almost every book published in English.
‘The great advantage of this library over the other two,’ he explained ‘is the fact that it is an open stack library. One wastes an awful amount of time at the Bod or at the BL requesting books that you don’t really need in the end.’ He joked about the building, comparing it to an erect phallus, with its huge central tower whereas the Bodleian in Oxford was more womb-like, with many subterranean floors where its precious volumes were held. He told her all she needed to do was to walk straight on, along the pedestrian path and she’d get to the library.
At the library reception desk, a clerk told her she’d need more credentials to get a reader’s ticket. She sighed with irritation; she’d have to email Columbia to request a letter from her department stating her research need and that meant leaving the library. So she walked back towards the city centre through Silver Street hoping to find an internet caf. but lost her way. She stopped at a sandwich shop to get a bite to eat. There were no internet caf.s close by so she hopped into a cab and returned to Mill Road where she’d spotted a couple earlier on.
She entered the Jaffa Net Caf. and emailed her department. She waited for an answer while sipping a mint tea in the courtyard, sitting among hookah smokers lost in volutes of apple tobacco fumes. After a while she checked her email. Her department had sent her the requested letter. She printed it out and decided to return to the library the next day. Although the caf. was pretty downtrodden, she enjoyed being there, surrounded by Arabs from all over the globe. Had the weather not been so dreadful, she would have almost felt at home, drinking tea and listening to fleeting conversations in Arabic. A few men were sizing her up, but let her be all the same.
Jack had slept most of the afternoon in a cheap hotel off Edgware Road. He’d managed to contact Stella the night before and they had made plans to meet in Soho later in the evening. Jack took the tube to Piccadilly Circus. As he walked through Soho’s bustling streets, he smiled at the memory of their last meeting in the dingy, smoke-filled pub. He remembered Stella’s joke. ‘Careful Jack! Just make sure you sit down opposite the right girl when you get back from the restroom.’
He spotted Stella immediately, sitting at the bar. He walked up to her, and they gave each other a warm hug. She was as sexy and sophisticated as the last time they’d met. She had short blond hair now and looked slightly older, but she still seemed as fit as a Marine leaving boot camp.
‘How long has it been, Jack?’ asked Stella.
‘Too long, Stella. So tell me, why is Intelligence onto me?’ asked Jack, going straight to the point.
‘Well, they’re not exactly onto you – more onto your lady friend. She seems to have something that interests them.’
‘It was stolen from her,’ said Jack.
‘Oh. Were you there when it happened?’
‘Sort of. They weren’t Intelligence.’
Stella seemed surprised but did not question Jack about it.
‘Listen Jack, the less I know, the less I can tell. I came to warn you to be careful and to lose the girl. Why get involved? I thought you were done with all this stuff.’
‘Stella, do I detect a twinge of jealousy in your tone?’
‘Don’t even go there! So what’s the story?’
‘I care about her.’
‘So? Send her a postcard. It wouldn’t be the first time, hmm Jack?’
‘Not this time.’
‘That’s a pity.’ There was just the slightest hint of wistfulness in her voice but she smiled at him broadly and so Jack pressed on.
‘What did you find out from the CCTV footage at the British Museum?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Nothing?’
‘Yeah. No fighting, no body, not a squeak… that’s good news, right?’ said Stella.
‘Damn.’
‘Jack. What the hell have you got yourself into?’
Jack didn’t answer. He noticed a young man on the other side of the bar had been listening to their every word.
‘Well, as soon as Intelligence is satisfied that the girl’s got nothing, they’ll drop it. You know how they are. Too much on their plate to worry about what-ifs.’
‘Who did you speak to, Stella?’
‘That’s the weird thing. No-one. But you quit the service in a hurry. Maybe they kept a tab on you, just in case.’
‘Maybe. Anyway. It’s all over now. She doesn’t have whatever they think she had. I just want to make sure she’s safe.’
As he said those words, he turned to look at the young man but he was gone.
‘Dear Jack, I think you’ll be fine.’
Stella was smiling now. Jack smiled back at her. Now that the young Intelligence agent had heard what he wanted to hear, they should leave Jack and Mina alone. One less thing to worry about. But he couldn’t ask Stella or anyone else for help, or they’d come back after Mina with renewed strength. He laughed out loud.
‘I’d forgotten how sneaky those guys were,’ he said, ‘that’s a relief. Let’s go for dinner.’
‘Great. I know this fantastic Greek place in Coptic Street.’
Chapter 23
December 15th, 2004. Cambridge
Mina walked through the revolving doors of the University Library. After obtaining her reader’s ticket, she walked up to the first floor. She passed the Catalogue Hall and entered the Reading Room. The Library itself was a modern edifice, but the oblong Reading Room’s white walls, large windows and its high wood panelled ceiling gave it a peculiar and ancient feel. Mina chose a seat among the many available for readers and sat down. She wondered what she was supposed to do now. Maybe she should email Dr Shobai and ask him for help? She felt lost without Jack. She decided to focus on the research units housed within this huge library. Poor Eli had told them about a group of scholars from the University Library in Cambridge on the very night he was murdered in Safed. She returned to the main desk and was given a small booklet with information for first time users of the library. She ran through the various research units and one caught her attention, The Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unit. She knew what a genizah was, a depository used for worn-out sacred Hebrew texts, but why here in Cambridge? ‘The 140,000 fragments of Hebrew and Jewish literature and documents rescued from the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo cover every aspect of life in the Mediterranean area a thousand years ago,’ she read.
Perfect. The scholars Eli had met must have come from this unit. She called them from an internal phone at the front desk and made an appointment to meet a research assistant after lunch.
Mina walked into The Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unit. She introduced herself as a scholar in Jewish studies from New York, looking to meet a researcher specialised in the history of Jews in the British Isles. Soon enough she was shown into an office by the unit’s secretary.
‘Hi,’ said a portly woman wearing an awful purple turtleneck and a matching pair of trousers, ‘how can I help you?’
‘Well’, said Mina, ‘thanks for seeing me at such short notice. It may come as a surprise to you, but I was told about your unit by some scholars in Safed, in Israel.’
‘That makes sense, we work with scholars all over the world. Tell me about your research, Mina.’
‘I’m working on a small 18th century letter written by a Jewish scholar from Cambridge. I thought someone at the Research Unit might be able to point me in the right direction.’
‘Hmm.
That’s strange. You see, there were no Jewish scholars, well not officially, in 18th century Cambridge. They only became eligible to study and teach at the University in the late 19th century. The earliest scholar I can think of was a Hungarian rabbi by the name of Solomon Schiller-Szinessy. But we’re talking about the 1860s, not before… what is the name of the scholar?’
‘Hildersham,’ said Mina.
‘I don’t know any scholar by that name. Are you sure about it? It sounds German, a little like Hildersheim or Hildesheim?’
‘No. It’s Hildersham, from Cambridge’ replied Mina.
‘You know, there is a village called Hildersham, about ten miles east of Cambridge, beyond the Gog Magog hills. Maybe your scholar lived there?’
Of course! Mina felt so stupid. She hadn’t even bothered to check if Hildersham was a place. She could easily have googled it and found the answer within a few seconds.
Mina was about to leave and thank her profusely, when the woman remembered one of the unit’s associated researchers.
‘Daniel Bamart is from Hildersham. He might be able to help you out. I’ll give him a call at his office.’
She picked up the phone and dialled his number. While she waited for him to pick up, she asked Mina where she would be in the next two hours. ‘In the Reading Room’, Mina replied.
‘Hi Daniel. How are things? Excellent! Really? Well, I have someone here who might need your help. Are you free later on? Great. Her name is Mina Osman. She’ll be in the Reading Room. In an hour. OK. Thanks. See you around,’ she said. Then she turned to Mina.
‘There you go. He’ll pop by in an hour or so. I hope it helps.’
‘Thank you so much!’ replied Mina, and she walked back down to the Reading Room.
An hour later, Mina noticed a lanky young man observing her from afar. He seemed to be in his late twenties, with a wild mane of ash blond hair and a dreamy air about him. He was handsome in an academic sort of way. Eventually, with much hesitation and an odd mixture of ‘ehms’ and ‘ahhs’, he asked her if her name was Mina Osman.
‘Yes, that’s me. Are you Daniel?’ asked Mina.
‘Yes Daniel Bamart.’ They shook hands, ‘Are you working at the Genizah?’
‘No. I’m doing some research based on a letter I found related to Hildersham. What about you?’
‘Oh, I’m a Hebrew scholar. I was brought up in Cambridge but I studied in Jerusalem. I’m currently working on a joint research project at the unit. To tell you the truth, the person who is most likely to be able to help you is my father.’
‘Really? Why’s that?’ asked Mina.
‘He’s a retired medical doctor but his passion is local history. He could probably answer any questions you have about Hildersham.’
‘Fantastic. When do you think I could visit him?’
‘What about right now?’ Daniel asked her tentatively.
‘Great!’
‘OK. I’ll drive you down there, I was off to see him anyway,’ he lied.
‘You’re sure he won’t mind me arriving unannounced?’ Mina asked.
‘No. Really. He’s retired you know; lots of time on his hands.’
‘OK. Let’s go then.’
They drove for twenty minutes in a slight drizzle. Mina watched the countryside rolling by on the eastern road out of Cambridge. She looked up and noticed dark clouds gathering in the sky. Daniel turned off the main road into Hildersham. They passed a small bridge, a few houses and he parked the car outside a charming old cottage, with a small brass plaque that read ‘Mulberry Cottage.’
‘The door’s always unlocked. My dad doesn’t believe in break-ins,’ Daniel said with a sigh.
They entered the cottage and walked through to a comfortable living room. Its centuries old white-washed walls were covered in black-and-white framed landscape photographs. Daniel’s father was asleep in an armchair, a book lying across his lap. Daniel woke him up gently.
‘Hi dad. It’s me.’
Dr Bamart smiled at his son.
‘Hi Daniel. I didn’t expect you until this evening.’
Daniel blushed.
‘I’ve brought a friend, Mina,’ he said to his father.
The old man rose from his armchair to take a closer look at Mina.
‘Daniel, where are your manners?’ said the man to Daniel, then, turning to Mina, ‘Good afternoon, I’m Joshua Bamart, Daniel’s father.’
‘And I’m Mina Osman, from New York. I’m doing research at the University Library, partly about Hildersham. Your son told me you might be able to help me and kindly drove me here to meet you.’
The old man puffed up his chest.
‘I’d be delighted to help you. I have huge archives upstairs which concern the history of this village and some of the neighbouring villages. I’m sure you’ll dig out your answer somewhere in there. Would you like a nice cup of tea first?’
‘Yes please,’ said Mina.
An hour and several cups of tea later, Mina was feeling guilty again. The more Dr Bamart was kind to her, the more she felt phoney and guilty about her lame research topic. The man was clever and so was his son. They were bound to realise she was lying. Bamart asked her where she was staying.
‘In a guest house off Station Road,’ Mina replied.
‘Oh. How dreadful. How long do you intend to stay in Cambridge?’
‘Two weeks. Actually, it is pretty depressing. You wouldn’t know of any nice accommodation in Cambridge?’
‘Why don’t you stay here, with us? We have two guest bedrooms. You wouldn’t be in the city centre but you’d have peace and quiet.’
‘That would be very nice. How much do you charge per night?’ asked Mina.
‘No no, dear me, I don’t usually rent out the rooms, they’re for guests.’
‘Oh, I see. I couldn’t, Dr Bamart.’
‘Hush hush. Call me Joshua. Frankly, now that I’m retired I miss company and if you promise to cook a Middle Eastern meal for me one evening, you’re most welcome to stay here for two weeks.’
Mina was moved by the old man’s kindness and thinking back to the horrible room that awaited her, was relieved to accept his offer.
‘In that case, I accept, on condition that I can cook more than one meal before I leave.’
Daniel felt over the moon as she said those words.
‘Well, now that’s all settled, you ought to bring your belongings from your guest house,’ said Joshua. ‘Daniel, can you drive Miss Osman back into town?’
‘Of course dad,’ he answered, and to Mina, ‘Come on Mina, I’ll drive you now.’
‘Thanks Daniel,’ she said.
As they got into the car, Mina thanked Daniel for his hospitality.
‘It’s a real pleasure. I should have thought of it myself. By the way, I’m really sorry about this, but you’ll need to catch a bus on the way back here. I’ve got things to take care of, but I’d love to have lunch with you tomorrow if you’re around.’
‘Of course. That would be great,’ answered Mina.
Mina spent a very entertaining evening in Joshua’s company. Her host had cooked a delicious vegetarian feast. They drank wine and talked about the many countries they had travelled to. He seemed so different from his son. He wore thick rimmed glasses, and was as short and plump as his son was tall and slim. He was a funny old man and was totally at ease in her company, probably due to his many years as a country doctor, used to seeing patients at home. He told her about his wife, Esther, a beautiful New York artist ‘with a dreadful temper,’ She’d died ten years ago but they had shared thirty blissful years together. He never remarried and since her death he rarely entertained guests. He enjoyed living with his memories and seeing his beloved Daniel whenever he was in the country. After dinner, they went for a walk along the river towards the nearby village of Linton. The night was cold and damp but the stars were shining in the pitch black sky. Mina wished Jack were there with her. They could have walked together under the stars. ‘God I miss you,’
she thought, looking up at the night sky and wondering where he was.
Chapter 24
December 16th, 2004. Cambridge
Jack had been tossing and turning in his king size bed since five a.m. He’d spent the previous day in London making sure he wasn’t followed and had driven off to Cambridge in the evening. He felt much happier for having seen Stella and knowing that, for the time being, the spooks were off his back and Mina’s. That left Oberon Wheatley and the other mysterious pursuers. But now that he was in Cambridge, he kept wondering how he was going to find Mina. He had opted to stay in a comfortable hotel on the banks of the River Cam, right in the city centre. He had asked discreetly after Mina at various hotels and guest houses near the train station, but no-one seemed to remember her. He only had one choice left, which was to go to the University Library and wait until she showed up.
Mina called the Genizah research unit and spoke to the secretary. She explained that she was Daniel Bamart’s guest and if someone called Jack Hillcliff came by the unit asking for her, she would be very grateful if they could give him Daniel’s address in Hildersham. Later that morning, Mina and Joshua had their first serious conversation about her research. She explained that she was looking for a Jewish gentleman who had lived in Hildersham or in Cambridge in 1755 and for any correspondence that may have existed between Hildersham and Safed from the 18th century onwards. Joshua looked at her strangely and said he wasn’t aware of any such correspondence. They were sitting in Joshua’s office, which contained a huge archive made up of filing cabinets and shelves upon shelves of documents that lined the walls. He said it was all at her disposal. He then explained that she would have to search the archives from different angles, as he didn’t have a specific 18th century section. It was thematic, divided according to parish records, public records, land ownership and so forth. She thanked him and got down to work. He smiled at her, and walked out of the office.
The 13th Tablet Page 20