December 3rd, 2004
‘Five more to go’ thought Mina, stretching. She was correcting essays in her office, but from time to time she would glance at the thin stone tablet peeking out of her handbag. She was still unsure what to do about it. Why had it been encased in an ancient fake clay tablet? Obviously to conceal its importance, to make it look like any of the tens of thousands of clay tablets produced at the time. She could not understand what was so special about the stone tablet that would require such a sophisticated disguise. Moreover, the tablet was incomplete, yet still someone had found it necessary to conceal it.
What she really needed to do was speak to an independent scholar who would understand the importance of the find without questioning the particular context of the discovery. There was someone she remembered from a seminar she had attended at Harvard years ago. He was an old scholar in Hebraic studies who specialised in the philological history of Noah and his counterpart in the Sumerian tradition. He had an unusual name. She remembered thinking it sounded almost Japanese. What was his name? Shobai, Moshe Shobai. That was it.
With a bit of luck she might still have his contact details. She turned on her laptop, drumming her fingers on the table, cursing her old computer for being so slow.
‘Bingo!’ She still had his email address. He worked for a Jewish foundation in London, The Key to Tradition. She remembered that it was ‘A very well-funded institution,’ a colleague at the seminar had told her in hushed tones. She emailed a short summary of the translation to the old man with a few notes reminding him who she was and what the problem was with the tablet. Hopefully he would get back to her soon. As she sifted through her emails, she noticed one from Nigel. Anxiously, she opened it.
Dear Mina,
I’m sorry to be the one to give you this news. Your travel grant application was turned down. I don’t think it has anything to do with your qualities as a scholar. There were many other high-calibre applicants and only two grants were offered this year. Don’t hesitate to re-apply next year. You may be luckier next time…’
She couldn’t read anymore. She slumped in her chair, crushed by the consequences of this news. She wouldn’t be able to pursue her research on Benjamin of Tudela in Safed. She had been so looking forward to it. She wondered if the result would have been different had she remained in New York as a full-time PhD student. But she hadn’t. It was idle thinking.
The next step was to call Hassan and ask where she could find the old labourer who had brought him the tablet. Hassan would be curious about this. Could she trust him with such sensitive information? She would think about what to do when it came to it. First she needed to ensure that he would keep his mouth shut.
‘Hassan?’
‘Morning Madam Mina’ answered the young man, sheepishly. ‘I’ve just made up my mind to come and see Professor Almeini, to apologise for my behaviour over the last month.’
‘That’s great news. Listen, could you come to see me first? I need to talk over a few things with you.’
‘Alright I’ll come before lunch.’
She still had a few hours ahead of her to focus on research. Hopefully no-one would disturb her. She picked up her notes on Benjamin of Tudela. She was so disappointed not to have obtained the funds to travel to Safed. She would have loved to research the strange discrepancies in his stories. She’d left out a few details in her account of Tudela’s manuscript when she’d spoken to Nigel. More importantly, she couldn’t tell him about her intuitions as he clearly didn’t seem to care. But like all researchers who spend a lot of time reading and deciphering every aspect of an author’s work, she could almost sense what Tudela had left out in his accounts.
She refocused on Tudela, and on his travels in Palestine. She sensed he had intentionally withheld information in his account of Safed. There was a mystery here that she needed to unravel.
It was almost lunch time. Where was Hassan? The phone rang. ‘Ah’ she thought, ‘he’s calling to say he can’t come’. But it was Jack.
‘Hi there Mina,’ he said in a cheerful voice.
‘Hi Jack,’ she answered, pleasantly surprised by the phone call. ‘Was the search successful?’
‘Yes, very. That’s why I’m calling. Would you like to come over to the village tomorrow and see how your and the professor’s deductions have created a lifeline for this village? We should hit the water source tomorrow, early afternoon.’
‘That’s great.’
‘So will you come?’ he asked again.
‘Well…’
The department secretary put her head round the door and mouthed that the professor wanted to see her when she had a moment. Mina put her hand over the receiver and said she would be with him as soon as she could. She resumed her conversation with Jack as soon as the secretary left.
‘Ok Jack, I’ll see if I can leave the office tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Could you ask the Prof to join us too? I haven’t been able to reach him all morning.’
‘I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.’
‘Oh, Mina?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t leave Mosul much after lunchtime. There are loads of checkpoints on the road, but it’s still dangerous. Parts of Mosul feel like the Wild West these days.’
‘Thanks. I’ll remind Professor Almeini about that,’ she said ironically.
Mina was pleased Jack had called her and she was looking forward to seeing his work, but before long she was worrying again. What if Nurdin, the restorer-turned-janitor had told the professor about the tablet, or worse, Hassan had met him before seeing her? She felt miserable not being able to discuss her discovery with Professor Almeini. He had been so good to her and this is how she repaid his kindness. She heard a familiar voice in the corridor. It was Hassan. Mina hesitated for a second, then stepped out into the corridor. She beckoned to the young man to follow her into her office.
‘Have you seen Professor Almeini?’
‘Ah yes. I’m sorry. You asked me to come first to see you but I bumped into him, so I decided to talk to him there and then.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘What is the matter?’
‘Nothing. Did you happen to tell him about the tablet you gave me?’ She asked, avoiding his gaze.
Hassan was surprised by her tone. She was usually so direct but now she seemed changed, as if she was hiding something.
‘No. We spoke of the courses I’d have to take and the readings I had to catch up with.’
She looked him straight in the eyes and said, ‘I need to ask you two things. First, would you mind not telling anyone about the tablet you gave me until… until it’s published?’
Hassan could tell she wasn’t being entirely straightforward, but he couldn’t work out what she was being so cagey about.
‘OK Madam. And the second thing?’
‘Where did you say the labourer found it?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered.
‘That’s really frustrating. You know how important context is in archaeology!’
‘I can find out where the labourer lives if that’s any help,’ said Hassan.
She breathed a little easier. ‘Yes that would be useful.’
Hassan felt compelled to question her. ‘Madam Mina?’
‘Yes Hassan?’
‘…What’s going on?’ he asked.
This clever young man had returned from enemy territory to the difficult path of an honest, hard-working student. She owed him a straightforward answer. Somewhere inside her she also felt the need to share this find with someone, and who better than Hassan? She needed to come clean.
‘You brought me something special the other day.’
’What, the tablet, Madam?’
‘Can I entrust you with something? You must swear that not a word of this conversation will leave the room.’
He looked straight at her. ‘Yes, you can. You know you can. I swear not to tell a living soul.’ He felt a wave of pride that Mina was about to confide in him.
‘You remember how heavy the tablet was?’ she asked the young man.
‘Yes.’
‘There was something inside it.’
‘Inside… you… you broke it?’
She blushed. ‘Well. I think you should have a look at what I found.’
She pulled out the shiny black tablet from her handbag and placed it on the desk. Hassan’s eyes widened in awe. ‘What is it?’
‘Hassan, this is probably the strangest account of The Flood that I know of.’
‘You mean, stranger than the fact it was encased in clay?’
‘Do you know Hassan, I’m glad you’re back.’
He beamed with pride.
‘Yes. Why would this have been hidden to start with? There must be something in the text… some secret information.’
‘Now you’ve been reading too many mystery novels.’
‘Why not? What else is strange about it?’
She described odd features of the tablet, pointing out to her wide-eyed student the various complex mathematical equations in place of the usual elementary Ark measurements, and the unexpectedly Jewish-sounding moralistic explanation of the Flood.
‘This could be one of the most important finds in Mosul in decades,’ Hassan stammered, clearly astonished.
‘I know,’ she answered, lost in her own thoughts.
‘And to think I just handed it to you like that,’ he said, looking utterly defeated.
‘Yup,’ she giggled. ‘You could have made a fortune. Instead,’ she added, ‘you’ll be famous.’
‘At least my mother will be happy,’ he answered with a smile.
Mina laughed. She was so happy to find that Hassan hadn’t changed, he was still as sharp and funny as he had been in her classes. But she suddenly became serious.
‘We need to keep this information to ourselves.’
‘I understand.’
‘You need to find the labourer’s whereabouts. I don’t think for a second that this tablet was stolen from a museum. He must have found it somewhere in an illegal dig.’
Hassan picked up his things. ‘I’m on it Madam. I’ll get the information by tomorrow.’
‘Thanks,’ she answered, relieved.
They left her office together and Mina walked on to Professor Almeini’s office.
‘Hello Mina’ Professor Almeini said, smiling broadly.
‘Hello Professor.’
‘I don’t know what you said to young Hassan, but he’s back. I’m so glad. It really would have been a shame to lose one of our finest students to the criminals who plunder our national heritage.’
Mina took a deep breath. That’s all there was to it. He had no idea about the tablet.
‘I got a call from Jack,’ she said, rapidly changing the subject.
‘Ah?’ said Almeini, pricking up his ears.
‘He’s invited us both to the village tomorrow afternoon. They are about to hit the underground water pocket.’
‘Tomorrow? It’s Saturday so I’ll be at home with my family. I can’t come unfortunately. What a shame.’
‘Maybe we could go another day?’ she asked.
‘No no. You go. Tomorrow will be a great day for the department too. After all it is thanks to you that he found the source.’
‘All I did was…’ she began.
He brushed her comments aside.
‘You should go there. How often do you get to meet handsome idealistic men in Mosul these days?’
Mina blushed from head to toe.
‘Professor! Really. That’s totally inappropriate!’
‘Inappropriate,’ he repeated, rolling his eyes. ‘Maybe you haven’t spent enough time in Mosul after all.’
He giggled and swept her out of his office.
Mina was mortified. Even her father had never tried a stunt like that one. Had he planned it all along, introducing Jack to her? She certainly hoped not.