When he arrived back at the Dan Hotel he found Laura having her bags unloaded from a taxi. She had just arrived from London where she had been researching the survey work carried out on the underground cisterns at the Palestinian Exploration Fund’s offices. It still seemed incredible to O’Connelly that the Fund continued to function and publish the Palestine Exploration Quarterly, more than a century after its foundation by fervent academics and clergymen whose desire was to promote historical and archaeological research in the Holy Land – backed by the interests of empire builders.
‘So how are our Victorian friends?’ he asked pleased to see her looking as fresh as ever even after a day’s travel.
‘Victorian!’
‘Was it useful?’
‘Of course, but it’s not the British Museum Library.’
‘I suppose not, but it is specialised in the Holy Land.’
‘What about you?’
‘Me? I’ve got a surprise!’
‘A surprise?
‘Yes, let’s go to the room and I’ll tell you all about it.’
O’Connelly told her of his find as they prepared for dinner, his meeting with Lehmann and his trip to Daliat.
‘So the mystery deepens, that bastard de Lussac plagiarised your man’s work!’
‘Not so fast, we don’t know that yet.’
‘Well I for one wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Don’t forget it was you who introduced him to me.’
She busied herself with her make-up ignoring his remark.
‘What we have to do is find his friends.’
‘What was the girl’s name again?’
‘Aisha Barghut, studying medicine, at least she was five years ago.’
‘Where?’
‘At Tel-Aviv.’
‘Okay, I’ll check that out tomorrow.’
‘She was from Jaffa.’
‘That’s good, at least it’s nearby.’
The next morning Laura’s investigations led her to an address in Old Jaffa in a students’ residence. The administrative office informed her that Aisha had left three years previously after graduation and gave her a forwarding address in Beit Hanoun in the extreme north-east corner of Gaza. Laura met O’Connelly back at the hotel at midday for lunch and handed him a piece of paper with the address on it feeling pleased with herself.
‘Where’s Beit Hanoun?’
‘I didn’t ask.’
‘Great, let’s check that out,’ he said turning to the concierge’s desk.
‘Gaza Sir.’
‘Gaza!’
‘Yes Gaza, it’s just over the border from Sderot.’
O’Connelly sighed.
‘Is it possible to go there?’
‘Yes, with the proper authorization Sir.’
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