Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

Mina stepped out of the lift wearing a gorgeous evening dress and very expensive high heels. When she brushed past the reception desk, the entire male staff fell over themselves to greet her, open the door and wish her a good evening. She was enjoying herself immensely, smiling at each one of them in turn. She left the hotel feeling like a princess out of a fairy tale, her shawl flowing in the wind. As she headed towards the marina, slowly because of her long dress and heels, she half-expected a genie to rise from the sand and offer her three wishes. What would those wishes be? She would love to meet Jack again. That would certainly be her first wish. As for the other two, she would need to think a little more about them. Money wasn’t a particular issue for her but the large grant she had just been awarded would go a long way for her research. She also felt much freer in her travel plans.

What a strange world, the world of business. She had checked her bank account online, and found that the Wheatley Forecast Corporation had wired her $11,000 instantly. According to the agreement she had received that afternoon, her original travel grant had been transformed into a yearly fellowship of $45,000, paid quarterly. She could also send them requests for up to $30,000 over the next two years for scientific testing of various archaeological material in the course of her research.

Mina walked a little faster to arrive on time to meet Oberon before the party began. At the pier, a young man in full uniform hailed her.

‘Miss Osman?’

‘Yes?’

‘Please step in the tender. I am to take you to the Reverie . She is anchored slightly out of the harbour tonight to offer more privacy to Mr Wheatley’s guests during the party.’

A few minutes later, one of Oberon’s men invited Mina to come aboard the Reverie . She walked across a temporary platform that jutted out of the aft deck. Red Chinese lanterns had been strung up all around the yacht for the party and, as she climbed the winding stairs, she noticed soft up-lighting and outdoor heaters on the aft deck. Oberon appeared out of the dark.

‘My dear Mina, you look absolutely ravishing.’

‘Thank you Mr. Wheatley… Oberon.’

He smiled at her and gestured her to sit by his side.

‘What will you have to drink?’ he asked softly.

‘Champagne, please.’

‘Champagne it is.’ He turned to the barman, who nodded back at him.

‘May I thank you again for your generosity? Your funding will seriously further my research.’

‘I had no idea archaeologists could be so charming. Had I known earlier, I would have funded many more projects.’

‘I’m beginning to wonder why you funded mine.’

‘Please don’t. There was no photograph on your application. I’m happily surprised, that is all.’

‘In that case, I’ll be honest too. Since my interview today, I have felt like I was lost in a fairy tale. I thought to myself, am I in Tel Aviv or in A Midsummer Night’s Dream ?’

‘I suppose that being called Oberon doesn’t help.’

‘Well, no. Where’s Puck? Is he hiding behind the bar?’

They both laughed. The barman brought the champagne flutes, and served them Oberon’s best champagne.

‘Thank you Dominique, leave the bottle. Please make sure everything is ready for the party.’ As the barman was leaving the room, Oberon called him again, ‘Dominique, please ask Natasha to join us.’

He then turned to Mina. ‘I propose a toast to your success in finding out what happened to Benjamin of Tudela during his stay in Israel, and to the end of the war in Iraq.’

Mina was surprised that Oberon had actually read her grant application.

‘Those are two toasts I will happily drink to.’

Mina drank her champagne and closed her eyes for an instant. She was enjoying being transported into a world of luxury after her last gruelling days in Mosul. When she opened her eyes, she recognised by Oberon’s side the blonde woman who had introduced herself as his secretary before the interview. Two men in dark suits had appeared on either side of the table. Oberon made a gesture and one of the men pulled Mina backwards by the throat while the other tied her hands behind her back.

‘What’s going on?’ cried Mina.

‘I’ll show you what’s going on,’ said Natasha in a low, cruel voice.

Mina went mute. She tried to cry out but was unable to utter a single sound. She watched on, hopelessly, as Natasha slowly slipped on a pair of black leather gloves then slapped Mina hard across the side of her head. A spasm of pain shot through her cheek and eyes. All she could hear was a hissing sound. Had she gone deaf? Suddenly another hard strike from Natasha’s leather clad hand whipped across Mina’s face. This time her cheek went numb, and she fell out of her chair, hitting her head hard against the wooden deck.

The two men picked her up, and made her stand. Natasha balled her fist and punched her hard in the stomach, leaving Mina retching from the impact. She wouldn’t be able to sustain much more of this onslaught. But the pain had numbed her mind. Only one thought remained: the hopelessness of her situation. She looked pitifully at Natasha, entreating her to stop, but she just punched her right under the solar plexus in response. For a few moments, Mina couldn’t breathe, and collapsed to the ground. Her torturer knew exactly how far to carry out the beating. The men sat her down firmly on the chair.

Mina’s face was starting to bruise and she was bleeding from her nose. When she tasted the blood on her split lip, she fainted. One of the men shoved a bottle of ammonia under her nose, and she came to in a matter of seconds. Oberon had a strangely detached look on his face. He turned to Natasha, ‘Is it done?’ She nodded in return. He looked at Mina and spoke very slowly, all charm gone from his voice.

‘I’m going to ask you a question. If you answer me truthfully, you keep your full grant, and walk away. If you don’t, Natasha will continue her own particular brand of questioning.’

Mina looked at him, more terrified by his cold stare than anything she’d known before. She broke down in tears and heard him sigh with irritation. She saw him raise a hand to signal to Natasha to start beating her again.

‘No, please! I don’t know anything,’ she spluttered through her tears, ‘anything about anything. Please let me go.’

Oberon didn’t seem to hear anything she said.

‘Where is the tablet?’ he asked.

Realisation dawned on Mina. This is what it had been about all along. The interview, the lunch, the invitation to the yacht… to seduce her into giving up the tablet. Now she was properly terrified. If Oberon had sent the three men to her flat in Mosul, her chances of leaving the yacht alive were slim.

‘In my room at the hotel’, she answered, trying to steady her voice.

‘No it isn’t,’ he replied.

Mina’s heart sank. How stupid. They had had all afternoon to search her room.

‘Should Natasha pursue her delicate work? Do you want to end up like your friend did’, turning to Natasha, ‘what was her name?’

‘Liat Hoffman, sir,’ she answered.

‘Oh Liat, no!’ sobbed Mina.

He looked back at Mina, deadly serious. She saw his blank eyes, without an ounce of humanity left in them. This man was a calculating machine, who would stop at nothing to get the information he wanted. He’d spoken of Liat in the past tense. Had they murdered her? She knew nothing. Mina hadn’t told her a word. She couldn’t keep up this charade any longer.

‘I sent it by special military courier to a hotel in Safed.’

‘Which hotel?’ Oberon asked matter-of-factly.

‘Central Merkazi’, she answered.