Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

‘His office is real, but there’s something weird about his foundation, The Key to Tradition .’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked impatiently.

‘I did a few background checks and it looks too clean.’

Mina was taken aback, but remained calm. ‘Jack, I know you’ve lived in a world of deceit and double agents and whatever else, but believe me, this is my world and whether the foundation has clean or unclean records, is irrelevant.’

‘Mina, let’s meet half way on this. You see him at his home and I’ll stay in the car. I’ll give you an earpiece, so that we can communicate.’

She thought about it for a minute, played with her food absent-mindedly and finally looked up at Jack, ‘Agreed.’

‘Good,’ he concluded, ‘this salmon is delicious; maybe you should try it rather than just torture it. Now, we need to discuss what you’ll talk about, but more importantly, what you’re going to omit.’

‘Now why would I do that?’

‘First, we don’t want him to get involved and second, you don’t really know him and I don’t trust him,’ Jack said.

‘Alright. So what should I omit?’

‘Don’t tell him about Cambridge or the guy who sent the parchment, this Hildersham dude.’

‘Why not?’ asked Mina.

‘Because we’re the only ones to know about this right now and no-one should know what we’re up to.’

‘Ok. What else?’

‘I’m really not sure you should talk about anything frankly. Personally I’d hear what he has to say. I wouldn’t volunteer anything.’

‘Oh that’s great. I can just imagine the conversation. “Hello Dr Shobai, how are you? Sorry I’m calling on you like this, uninvited. Why don’t you tell me everything you know about a tablet you seem to be terrified by. Why? Just ‘cause I’d love to know.” That’s great, Jack.’

‘Just don’t volunteer too much, that’s all. Don’t talk about Wheatley trying to kill you or your friend. Don’t mention him at all.’

‘When do you want to go?’

‘I thought we could go later in the afternoon, when he’s back from his daily walk. It seems that Dr Shobai is still quite fit for his advanced age.’

‘Is there anything you don’t know?’ she asked Jack, smiling.

‘A smile, at last. Praise the Lord!’

‘One last thing?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m not going to barge in on him like that. I’m calling first to tell him I’m coming,’ said Mina.

‘I think it’s a mistake.’

‘It’s plain rude, Jack. Give me the number.’

‘Alright. Here’s it is.

She dialled the number under Jack’s irritated gaze. A young male voice answered, ‘Hello. The Key to Tradition . How may I help you?’

‘Hi. My name is Mina Osman. I’d like to see Dr Shobai today if possible.’

‘Let me see if he is available.’ She heard him flicking through a diary. ‘I’m sorry, Madam, he won’t be available until two weeks from now.’

‘Could you tell him I’m in London right now, and am staying over here only a short while?’

‘Yes of course. Shall I call you back on this number, madam?’

‘Yes please.’

The line went dead. Jack was observing her, with an ‘I told you so’ look written all over his face.

‘I’m sorry Jack, I had to do this,’ she said.

‘Now, you’re going to have to wait for the guy to call back, and maybe he won’t be free for days.’

She didn’t reply. They ordered coffee, and waited.

Half an hour later, the mobile phone rang. Mina picked it up.

‘Hello, Miss Osman?’

‘Yes, it’s me. Any luck?’

‘Yes. I spoke to Dr Shobai, and he managed to postpone a few meetings to be able to see you this afternoon.’

‘Fantastic.’

‘Could you come by at five o’clock?’

‘Yes of course. Thank you so much’, said Mina.

‘My pleasure. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye,’ she replied ending the call. ‘See Jack? Feminine charm. Beats devious spy methods every time.’

Moshe Shobai had just returned to the Foundation, a reconditioned semi-detached house on Boundary Road in St. John’s Wood. Jack’s contact had said he wasn’t too surprised to find that the old Jewish scholar had opened shop in this part of town, as there was quite a large Jewish community in that neighbourhood.

Shobai was dressed as a typical scholar, with corduroy trousers, a tweed jacket and a turtleneck jumper. He was in his early seventies and he walked slightly bent, but one could still make out his former tall physique. He had short white hair and a trimmed beard; his hands were old and refined and he seemed to measure out every one of his movements. In a blue Ford Escort parked opposite Shobai’s house, Jack observed the old scholar entering the house, walking up the stairs to the first floor, turning on the light and sitting down in an armchair.

Jack turned to Mina fidgeting in the passenger seat, ‘It’s time, Mina. He’s alone. Here’s your earpiece. I’ll be right here in the car. If things go wrong, just cough twice.’

‘A good thing I don’t have a cold right now,’ she joked.

Jack smiled but didn’t laugh. She was nervous and he knew it.

‘Good luck Mina. Maybe he is just an old scholar after all.’

She walked up to Shobai’s front door and rang the bell. Jack watched him stand up from his armchair and call someone from the landing. Mina took a step back and waited for someone to open the door. A young man appeared.

‘Hello. You must be Miss Osman?’

‘Yes. Is Dr Shobai in?’

‘Of course. He’s waiting for you in the library area on the first floor. May I take your coat?’

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s the first door on your right when you reach the landing.’

Dr Shobai was waiting for her at the door, with a large smile.

‘Welcome Mina, what a pleasure to see you again.’

‘You too Dr Shobai.’

‘Call me Moshe,’ he said, as they walked into the library. ‘I was surprised to hear you were in London. The last time I heard from you, you were teaching at Mosul University.’

‘I’ve been travelling quite a bit these last few weeks, you know, doing research.’

He smiled at her.

‘You haven’t changed one bit. The same wide-open eyes, as driven and passionate as when we met at Harvard.’

‘Dr… Moshe, we need to talk.’

‘You seem quite out of sorts my dear. Does it have anything to do with the tablet you found?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Let me make you some tea first and then we can sit comfortably and talk.’

He had not said much but his Eastern European Yiddish accent was quite distinctive under the British veneer.

‘I thought you were Israeli?’ she asked. ‘Your accent has more Yiddish in it than Ivrit .’

‘Is it that obvious?’ He wrung his hands and said, ‘ Oy smeir .’

She laughed at his impersonation of an Eastern European Jew.

‘Actually, I was born in Israel in a very orthodox family. Tell me about yourself while I make us some tea.’

‘You’re doing well Mina,’ thought Jack.

Mina sat back in her armchair and looked around the library. She was struck by its large wooden tables, where she guessed many students and scholars came to pursue their research. There were a few thousand volumes in this room alone. Row upon row of beautifully bound books covered all the walls, resting on mahogany wood shelves. Dr Shobai poured her a cup of Assam tea.

She took a sip and said, ‘You have a magnificent collection, Dr Shobai.’

‘Please call me Moshe, Mina. We’re scholars, not administrators.’

Mina felt totally at ease with this sympathetic old gentleman. ‘Jack is completely paranoid,’ she thought.