Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

He turned to Natasha. ‘Call the hotel. Ask if Miss Osman has a reservation there and if they’ve received a package for her.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘So, Mina, have you deciphered that delightful tablet?’ Oberon asked.

‘I… I just translated it’ she stuttered.

‘And?’

‘And it’s a version of the flood in the Gilgamesh’s Epic, the eleventh tablet.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yes. Should there be something else?’

‘I’m the one asking questions, Miss Osman,’ he replied icily.

Natasha returned, and whispered something into Oberon’s ear. He smiled and turned to Mina.

‘Well Mina, I’m sorry we need to part at this point in time. It would have been a pleasure to know you more… intimately.’

He paused. Then, savouring every word, he added, ‘Too bad, really. Had I been less pressed for time, we might have discussed the myth of the sacred tablets of Nineveh that enable their possessors to predict natural disasters.’

‘Tablets? There is more than one?’

‘Oh yes my dear.’ He paused. ‘I’m not in the habit of blabbering away, but as you will not be talking much in the foreseeable future…the myth and purpose of this sacred tablet is described on an ancient Chinese oracle bone I have in my modest collection. I’m told it dates back to 1500 BC and refers to a stone tablet from the land in the West between two mighty rivers, the text of which was copied onto four clay tablets that were sent East and West… and you seem to have stumbled upon the only surviving one, and quite evidently the original one. As the Epic of Gilgamesh runs on twelve tablets, one might call your stone tablet from Mosul the “13th Tablet”. All in all, thank you very much.’

He nodded at the two men and then shot a meaningful look at Natasha. They brought Mina to her feet and forced her down the stairs, back onto the platform. Stepping up behind her, one of the men knocked her unconscious, while the other prepared a large canvas sack, which they filled with heavy rocks. While they worked, Natasha scanned the location to make sure there were no witnesses. The men slipped Mina into the sack and tied it up. They then loaded it onto the tender. Before long they were out in the open sea.

Natasha was looking through her binoculars, and from afar saw the two men throw the sack into the dark waters. No-one would ever find her body. Oberon looked at her inquisitively. She nodded back to confirm the men had done their job. He relaxed visibly and picked up his champagne flute.

‘I think we should finish this excellent and rather rare champagne.’

‘Yes sir,’ she said, sitting down next to him, ‘It would be a shame to waste it.’

‘Well, that’s all sorted. My guests should arrive soon. Take the day off tomorrow, then make your way to Safed with your men and pick up the tablet. Call me when you’ve got it.’

Natasha seemed thoughtful.

‘What’s on your mind?’ Oberon asked, putting his hand on her knee.

‘I was wondering how the girl managed to send mail through a special military courier.’

‘She’s a resourceful one,’ he answered, as if he were talking about his clever golden retriever.

‘Was, sir.’

‘Of course, was.’

‘Should I cancel the standing order to her account?’

‘No, keep it running. It’s a great alibi. Had I planned to murder this delightful creature, would I still be paying her?’

He smiled as he thought about the bright young woman he had just disposed of. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry. Maybe she knew more than she let on.’ His doubts lingered, but only for a moment. He glanced at Natasha as she crossed her legs. She knew that look well and rose slowly from her chair. Turning around to face him she unbuttoned her top. She was not wearing any underwear. She pulled a silver clasp from her head and let her blond hair sweep over her bare shoulders and breasts. He watched her, breathing heavily as she walked around the table. He sat back in his chair and held her eye as she leant down and gripped him by his tie. She brought her face close to his, and slipped the tip of her tongue between his lips. He grabbed her from behind, trying to pull her down. She held him at a distance while she slowly slipped out of her skirt. He was overcome with desire for his deadly assassin. Leaving her thigh-length boots on, she stepped forward and straddled him. She moaned gently as she sank into his passionate embrace.

A few hours later, a man standing on a small boat in the darkness of the harbour made a phone call.

‘Master… she went on the yacht but it’s back in the harbour, and she hasn’t returned. We believe she was disposed of by Wheatley.’

‘That would be very unfortunate. Keep watching Wheatley and his men.’

December 9th, 2004

Mina woke up shivering. In a daze, she looked around and thought she saw metal walls. ‘Where the hell am I?’ She tried sitting up, but she was zipped up in a sleeping bag, and covered with a pile of duvets. Her head felt like it had been pumped up with pressurised air, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt on the left side of her face and at the base of her skull. Her whole body ached. In the dim light she could make out the figure of Jack looking at her.

‘Hi Mina.’

‘Jack? Where am I?’

‘You’re safe. Take these, and drink some water.’ She took the proffered tablets and swallowed them as told, then finished the whole glass in a bid to cool her aching throat.

‘You’re in the back of my van. Stay still. You almost died of hypothermia.’ He stroked her face and smiled at her.

‘I’m in your van? In Mosul?’ She felt nauseous, and tired beyond belief.

‘No. We’re in Tel Aviv. Sleep Mina. I’ll watch over you.’

She dropped back onto the floor of the van and fell into a deep sleep. Jack watched her and thought about the past few hours. He’d been waiting in the water for two hours by the tender while Mina was on the yacht. Powerless to prevent it, he had watched her being beaten up by Natasha and bided his time. When they put her in a sack, he knew the time to act had come. He hooked his belt to the tender and was towed along until Oberon’s men stopped, far away from the yacht. He swiftly detached himself as soon as they had slung Mina into the sea and turned the boat around to return to the yacht. He plunged after her. The water was icy cold but he was wearing a full scuba diving outfit he had rented that afternoon. He had a powerful torch but could hardly see a few feet ahead. A seasoned diver, he knew that if he did not find her in the next few moments, it would be too late. Suddenly he could make out the shape of the sack, dropping fast into the murky abyss. He reached out but missed it. He plunged further down, thrusting himself down as hard as he could, and caught it by the cord. He pulled out his knife from his ankle sheath and cut through the length of the sack, yanking Mina out and bringing her back to the surface in a few kicks. Placing his mask over her face, Jack made her breathe his oxygen, and tried to resuscitate her, but despite coughing up some water, she was still unconscious. He knew he would have to swim very quickly to the harbour, before hypothermia set in, which worried him more than anything else. He was furious for not anticipating Wheatley’s sadistic streak and how far he was prepared to go. Jack would make him pay for every bruise on her beautiful face.

‘Morning Mina,’ said Jack, offering her a warm drink, as she sat up sluggishly.

She looked at him with blank eyes, then, remembering fragments, her hands started twitching, she felt a long shiver shooting through her spine, and suddenly burst into an uncontrollable flood of tears. Jack held her in his arms. She cried for a long time while he slowly explained what had happened and how he had saved her.