Alex Mitchell - The 13th Tablet

‘Lolita?’ asked Jack with a chuckle.

‘Shut up. It’s a great book by Nabokov.’

‘Yeah, it’s also the name of that gorgeous boss of yours, isn’t it?’ Jack mused.

‘D’you want my help or not?’

‘Yes, sorry,’ he said grinning. It felt good speaking to an old pal.

‘Right. When you’ve done that, another window opens. Just type in the mobile phone number, and you should be able to track it, if it’s turned on of course. If the person is in motion, it might be more difficult to localise.’

‘Will it leave any traces on the owner’s phone?’ asked Jack.

‘No Jack. Unless you called me to obtain the commercial version of the software?’

‘Why? How does the commercial one work?’ asked Jack.

‘It simply asks the owner of the phone if he agrees to be tracked.’

‘That’s sort of stupid isn’t it?’ said Jack.

‘It’s to avoid being tracked by your wife or girlfriend without your knowledge.’

‘Come on Specs, that’s even more stupid! She could just borrow your phone for five minutes, accept the tracking software then delete the text messages. You’d never know you were being tracked.’

‘Jack. I hope your girlfriend isn’t anything like you!’

‘I wish. How do I localise the phone?’

‘Once you’ve typed in the number, a map software will start running and if the person’s in town, you should be able to pinpoint the phone within a few yards.’

‘You’re a life saver, Specs. I owe you one,’ said Jack.

‘No you don’t, just keep in touch mate’ said Specs and ended the call.

Within a few seconds, Jack received an instant message with a web address. ‘Specs, you’re my cyber god,’ thought Jack.

He stepped off the porch, onto the beach. He loved the warm and gritty feeling of sand scrunching between his toes. He approached Mina, lying half asleep on a colourful towel.

‘Mina?’

‘Hmm. I’m sorry,’ she answered, ‘I fell asleep. So tired. Found out anything?’ she asked, groggily.

‘No but I’ve sorted what we’re going to do now. I’m calling Wheatley. You coming?’

‘Of course,’ she said, jumping up from her towel.

He explained carefully what she needed to do while he spoke to Oberon. She was to keep her eyes on the phone location and jot down the exact coordinates when he gave her the go-ahead. He plugged his phone into the laptop, started a GPS scrambling software, and dialled Wheatley’s number.

‘Welcome to Phuket,’ said Oberon. ‘I expected your phone call last night.’

‘Where are my mother and sister, Wheatley?’

‘You’re a trifle direct, aren’t you, Major?’

‘You’ve made a big mistake attacking my family.’

‘Don’t fret. They’re perfectly well, alive and kicking. Well, not kicking that much, as I had to have them restrained, you understand I’m sure.’

‘Just you wait.’

‘Threats? Now, now Major.’

‘What do you want? Money?’

‘Money? You know exactly what I want. Where is it?’ asked Oberon, icily.

‘It’s safely tucked away, in London,’ said Jack.

‘Now that’s too bad for Miss and Mrs Hillcliff. Don’t you think?’

Jack looked at Mina, who confirmed she had pinpointed the location of Oberon’s phone.

‘Why do you need it so badly? Don’t you have a copy of it already?’

‘Don’t provoke me unnecessarily, my boy. We both know exactly what happened to those photographs.’

Jack put his hand over the phone and turned to Mina with a quizzical look, ‘You were right, he thinks we have it, and that we stole the photos of it.’

‘Tell him we have a picture with us,’ she whispered.

He was about to ask why, but she seemed so resolute, ‘OK. We don’t have the tablet here, but we have a photograph of the inscription with us.’

Wheatley didn’t answer. Jack waited for a few moments, then blurted out, ‘Listen man, that’s the best I can do for the moment. When my family is safe, and we’ve all returned to the US, you’ll get the real tablet.’

Oberon still didn’t answer.

‘I want,’ said Jack, ‘ we want out of this whole business. It was a terrible mistake to get involved any deeper than we already have with this tablet. I just want my mother and sister safe and sound. You won’t hear from us ever again.’

Wheatley broke his silence, ‘Tomorrow morning, nine o’clock. Bring the photograph in person.’

‘Where will we meet?’

‘I will text you the meeting place tomorrow morning,’ he answered and hung up.

Jack immediately looked over Mina’s jottings. The coordinates had changed quite a bit during the phone conversation. Oberon had been moving. But where? The first coordinates located the phone near Hat Kamala, a beach they had passed on the way from the airport. Then, the signal moved to another beach, Hat Surin, further north.

‘It doesn’t make any sense, Jack!’

‘He’s calling from a boat,’ Jack answered. ‘That settles it. There’s no way of finding him before tomorrow’s meeting.’

‘At least we have our bargaining chip now,’ said Mina.

‘Yes. But how are we going to produce the photograph?’

‘I’ll make a fake one of the Mosul tablet. I know the damn thing by heart,’ said Mina.

‘But how?’

‘I’ll download a few images from the web and then use software to alter them, and produce a photograph that will look like just like the tablet Oberon stole in the first place.’

‘Wouldn’t he remember what it really looked like?’ asked Jack.

‘I can’t see how. I don’t imagine he took the pictures himself. With any luck he’s never even looked at them properly,’ she replied.

‘OK. What do you need?’ asked Jack.

‘Download good image editing software. I’ll take it from there.’

An hour later. Kamala beach. A luxury hotel.

Oberon’s suite Oberon, wearing his favourite monogrammed bathrobe, was sitting comfortably in a wicker armchair. A beautiful Thai girl was massaging his shoulders. Natasha entered the room accompanied by a man built like a wardrobe.

‘So, did you get a lock on their location?’ asked Oberon.

‘Yes sir, but he was using scrambling software.’

‘He’s still in Patong, but we don’t know exactly where.’

‘Clever Jack. I wish he worked for me,’ said Oberon.

‘I’m not sure he’d feel the same way, Sir,’ replied Natasha.

‘Everyone has a price,’ he replied cuttingly. ‘Never mind. We’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Where are our guests?’

‘Ong-Tha delivered them to the yacht. We’ll bring them to the beach in the morning. We’ll anchor the yacht at a safe distance and have a small motor boat ready. Sir?’

‘Yes Natasha?’

‘I think you should have stayed on the yacht. It’s safer,’ she said.

‘God I miss my own yacht,’ he replied.

‘This one suits our purposes, sir. It’s faster and although we won’t go unnoticed, it is less conspicuous than your usual yacht.’

‘It’s tacky,’ he replied stubbornly. ‘I’ll stay at the hotel until this matter is over.’

‘Just don’t use your mobile phone while you’re here,’ said Natasha.

‘Fine. You know how to reach me if need be. We’ll meet in the restaurant on Patong beach but I want you to be close by, with both women there. I must have line of sight from our table.’

‘With binoculars you mean?’ she asked.

‘Yes. That Hillcliff is dangerous. We have underestimated him,’ said Oberon.

Natasha thought to herself, ‘I never did,’ but said, ‘At least we know who he is now, and he knows we can get to his family at any time.’

‘As long as he doesn’t ask for help from Intelligence.’