Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

‘You don’t seem ‘on leave’ around here.’

‘I left the army over three years ago. I’m not wearing a uniform, am I?’

He was trying to make her smile, but his efforts just infuriated her more.

‘You lied to me Jack. You fucking lied to me.’

‘I tried telling you that night in the desert.’

‘What? You didn’t try anything. What are you talking about?’

‘You asked me about my past and-’

‘And you avoided answering my questions.’

‘Well. Yes. You seemed to hate the military so much I didn’t know how to broach the subject.’

Mina changed the subject herself.

‘Why did you take my phone?’

‘I had to check a few things.’

She picked up her phone angrily, and tried calling Hassan.

‘No reply. What’s happened to him?’

Jack looked away.

‘Oh God, what’s happened to him? I’ll try calling his mother.’

She dialled another number, and was relieved when a woman’s voice answered.

‘Salam Aleikum. I’m Hassan’s teacher from the university. I’m trying to get hold of him. Is he at home?’

‘No Professor. He hasn’t been at home for two whole days. I’m very worried.’

‘Please don’t worry, I’m sure he will come home soon. Could you ask him to call me when he comes back? My name is Mina Osman.’

‘You’re Professor Osman?’

‘Yes,’ she answered.

‘He’s always talking about you.’ The woman’s voice cracked with emotion, He’s a good boy, Professor Osman.’

‘I know. He’s also one of our finest students. Please ask him to call back when he returns.’

Mina hung up, and burst into tears.

‘So, you can lie too,’ thought Jack to himself. He wanted to take Mina in his arms and comfort her, but he had a feeling it would only make matters worse. He observed her from a distance and all he saw was a woman in shock, blowing her nose and apparently trying to compose herself and retain some dignity under difficult circumstances.

‘Jack, or whoever you are, I can’t stay here. I’ve got to get back to my flat, talk to the police, the department.’

‘Mina, listen to me, I’ve talked to the Iraqi National Guard. I returned with them to your flat; the bodies were gone and so was all the evidence of the fight. To make matters worse, someone must have bribed an important police official because they’re dropping the case altogether claiming lack of evidence.’

‘My god. Who are these people? They weren’t even Iraqi.’

‘That’s the real question.’

‘I have to go back there. I have to change my clothes, pick up some things.’

‘Mina, you can’t go back to your flat! Don’t you understand? People are trying to kill you. Do you have any idea why?’

She didn’t reply immediately, ‘I don’t know, Jack.’

‘I heard them mention a tablet. C’mon Mina,’ he said, taking her hand in his.

She wrenched her hand from his and shot him a cold look that firmly reminded him where he stood with her.

‘Drop the sweet talk, Major Hillcliff. I’ll stay somewhere else. Anywhere. But not here. Please… just leave me alone.’

He stood up slowly, ‘Alright. You’re angry right now. Please call me if you want my help in any way. You know how to get hold of me if you need to.’

She did not answer and with a sigh he left the room.

Mina put her clothes back on and made a phone call.

‘Professor?’

‘Mina! I’ve been trying to get hold of you for over two days now. Where are you?’ he asked, frantically.

‘It’s a long story. I can’t talk right now. Can we meet at the university cafeteria in an hour from now?’

‘Of course Mina. I’ll be there.’

She bumped into the doctor in the corridor as she left the room.

‘Miss Osman? Where are you going? I think you should remain here for at least another day, until you feel well enough to leave the base.’

‘I’m fine doctor. Can I ask you a small favour?’

‘Of course. What is it?’

‘You know the computer in my room, is it connected to the internet? I need to check my emails.’

‘Yes. Just click on the web browser.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll be next door if you need anything,’ he said.

‘Thank you so much.’

Mina logged onto her webmail quickly and found dozens of new messages. She skimmed through the unimportant ones, as well as Almeini’s, and was left with two emails, one from Shobai, the Jewish scholar she’d contacted a few days before and the other from her former department at Columbia. She opened the latter first. It was from Nigel’s secretary.

Dear Mina,

I have tried reaching you since yesterday at your department in Mosul, but I couldn’t, so I’ve emailed you with all the details. I have some excellent news. An academic foundation, The Foundation for Academic Excellence, has offered to pay your research grant in full and any extra funding you may need during your stay in Israel. They only require you to meet them for a formal interview in Tel Aviv in four days time. You’ll find all their details in the attached word document.

Kind Regards,

Mina was overjoyed. What wonderful news. It was like a gift from heaven; she could escape from this twisted situation with Jack and from the thugs who were after her tablet. Also, she could take a break from Mosul and pursue her line of enquiry on Benjamin of Tudela with proper funding. She looked up the foundation online and found out that it belonged to a conglomerate, which was composed of a number of multi-milliondollar corporations, dealing with anything, from cosmetics to the fuselage of airplanes. They were at the technological forefront in each of their fields and had vested interests in related businesses all over the world. She wondered why they had decided to pay for her grant, but thought better than to look that gifthorse in the mouth.

As with all huge corporations, they probably had dozens of people working around the clock to find ways of obtaining tax-relief for their companies, and funding academic projects was an excellent means to do so. She knew that some scouted universities and even took on failed applications which they deemed interesting, just like hers. She checked the date of the email. It was a day old, which meant she had three days to get to the interview on 8th December. She would have to leave right away.

She quickly checked Shobai’s email. It was an automated out-of-office reply. Hopefully he would get back to her soon. She needed information and quickly. She wrote back to him immediately saying that she would be travelling in Israel for her research and that she would love to meet if he was free at any time over the next few weeks. As she finished writing the email to Shobai, she began to wonder what she should do about the tablet. Obviously, she couldn’t leave it in Mosul, but nor could she travel with it to Israel. She’d never clear customs with an ancient artefact in her luggage. The answer to her dilemma came in a flash of inspiration. She smiled to herself, it was a mischievous yet elegant plan.

Before leaving the base, she knocked on the door of the doctor’s office and asked if she could send something by special military courier on behalf of Major Hillcliff. He assured her that once it had been x-rayed and passed security, it would not be a problem. He could do it for her if she was in a hurry. She suddenly wondered if she should trust him. He sensed her hesitation, and hurriedly added that he would be honoured to take care of Major Hillcliff’s mail. He was dead serious. She thanked him, gave him the small package, and walked away.

A young officer appeared at the door and saluted Jack. ‘Sir. Miss Osman left the base, sir.’

‘Thanks. Good job. That’ll be all,’ said Jack.