Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

Around midday, she walked into the city centre. She bought a few clothes and an umbrella. When she passed the main market place and reached King’s Parade she stared in wonder at the spectacular walls of King’s College. Seeing its gigantic chapel and the peacefulness of the scholars walking about the college grounds, she felt her spirits lifting slightly. She asked her way to the University Library.

The library was the only place Jack and her were set to visit in Cambridge, after Eli told them about it in Safed. It would be his first point of call. A helpful young man who introduced himself as a student at King’s College walked with her through the college’s main quad, and over its private bridge onto Queen’s Road.

He asked her what brought her to Cambridge, so Mina told him that she was doing research for a week or two. He was very excited about the University Library and explained that it was a copyright library, like the Bodleian in Oxford and the British Library in London, which meant that it stocked almost every book published in English.

‘The great advantage of this library over the other two,’ he explained ‘is the fact that it is an open stack library. One wastes an awful amount of time at the Bod or at the BL requesting books that you don’t really need in the end.’ He joked about the building, comparing it to an erect phallus, with its huge central tower whereas the Bodleian in Oxford was more womb-like, with many subterranean floors where its precious volumes were held. He told her all she needed to do was to walk straight on, along the pedestrian path and she’d get to the library.

At the library reception desk, a clerk told her she’d need more credentials to get a reader’s ticket. She sighed with irritation; she’d have to email Columbia to request a letter from her department stating her research need and that meant leaving the library. So she walked back towards the city centre through Silver Street hoping to find an internet caf. but lost her way. She stopped at a sandwich shop to get a bite to eat. There were no internet caf.s close by so she hopped into a cab and returned to Mill Road where she’d spotted a couple earlier on.

She entered the Jaffa Net Caf. and emailed her department. She waited for an answer while sipping a mint tea in the courtyard, sitting among hookah smokers lost in volutes of apple tobacco fumes. After a while she checked her email. Her department had sent her the requested letter. She printed it out and decided to return to the library the next day. Although the caf. was pretty downtrodden, she enjoyed being there, surrounded by Arabs from all over the globe. Had the weather not been so dreadful, she would have almost felt at home, drinking tea and listening to fleeting conversations in Arabic. A few men were sizing her up, but let her be all the same.

Jack had slept most of the afternoon in a cheap hotel off Edgware Road. He’d managed to contact Stella the night before and they had made plans to meet in Soho later in the evening. Jack took the tube to Piccadilly Circus. As he walked through Soho’s bustling streets, he smiled at the memory of their last meeting in the dingy, smoke-filled pub. He remembered Stella’s joke. ‘Careful Jack! Just make sure you sit down opposite the right girl when you get back from the restroom.’

He spotted Stella immediately, sitting at the bar. He walked up to her, and they gave each other a warm hug. She was as sexy and sophisticated as the last time they’d met. She had short blond hair now and looked slightly older, but she still seemed as fit as a Marine leaving boot camp.

‘How long has it been, Jack?’ asked Stella.

‘Too long, Stella. So tell me, why is Intelligence onto me?’ asked Jack, going straight to the point.

‘Well, they’re not exactly onto you — more onto your lady friend. She seems to have something that interests them.’

‘It was stolen from her,’ said Jack.

‘Oh. Were you there when it happened?’

‘Sort of. They weren’t Intelligence.’

Stella seemed surprised but did not question Jack about it.

‘Listen Jack, the less I know, the less I can tell. I came to warn you to be careful and to lose the girl. Why get involved? I thought you were done with all this stuff.’

‘Stella, do I detect a twinge of jealousy in your tone?’

‘Don’t even go there! So what’s the story?’

‘I care about her.’

‘So? Send her a postcard. It wouldn’t be the first time, hmm Jack?’

‘Not this time.’

‘That’s a pity.’ There was just the slightest hint of wistfulness in her voice but she smiled at him broadly and so Jack pressed on.

‘What did you find out from the CCTV footage at the British Museum?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Yeah. No fighting, no body, not a squeak… that’s good news, right?’ said Stella.

‘Damn.’

‘Jack. What the hell have you got yourself into?’

Jack didn’t answer. He noticed a young man on the other side of the bar had been listening to their every word.

‘Well, as soon as Intelligence is satisfied that the girl’s got nothing, they’ll drop it. You know how they are. Too much on their plate to worry about what-ifs.’

‘Who did you speak to, Stella?’

‘That’s the weird thing. No-one. But you quit the service in a hurry. Maybe they kept a tab on you, just in case.’

‘Maybe. Anyway. It’s all over now. She doesn’t have whatever they think she had. I just want to make sure she’s safe.’

As he said those words, he turned to look at the young man but he was gone.

‘Dear Jack, I think you’ll be fine.’

Stella was smiling now. Jack smiled back at her. Now that the young Intelligence agent had heard what he wanted to hear, they should leave Jack and Mina alone. One less thing to worry about. But he couldn’t ask Stella or anyone else for help, or they’d come back after Mina with renewed strength. He laughed out loud.

‘I’d forgotten how sneaky those guys were,’ he said, ‘that’s a relief. Let’s go for dinner.’

‘Great. I know this fantastic Greek place in Coptic Street.’

December 15th, 2004. Cambridge

Mina walked through the revolving doors of the University Library. After obtaining her reader’s ticket, she walked up to the first floor. She passed the Catalogue Hall and entered the Reading Room. The Library itself was a modern edifice, but the oblong Reading Room’s white walls, large windows and its high wood panelled ceiling gave it a peculiar and ancient feel. Mina chose a seat among the many available for readers and sat down. She wondered what she was supposed to do now. Maybe she should email Dr Shobai and ask him for help? She felt lost without Jack. She decided to focus on the research units housed within this huge library. Poor Eli had told them about a group of scholars from the University Library in Cambridge on the very night he was murdered in Safed. She returned to the main desk and was given a small booklet with information for first time users of the library. She ran through the various research units and one caught her attention, The Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unit. She knew what a genizah was, a depository used for worn-out sacred Hebrew texts, but why here in Cambridge? ‘The 140,000 fragments of Hebrew and Jewish literature and documents rescued from the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo cover every aspect of life in the Mediterranean area a thousand years ago,’ she read.

Perfect. The scholars Eli had met must have come from this unit. She called them from an internal phone at the front desk and made an appointment to meet a research assistant after lunch.

Mina walked into The Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unit. She introduced herself as a scholar in Jewish studies from New York, looking to meet a researcher specialised in the history of Jews in the British Isles. Soon enough she was shown into an office by the unit’s secretary.