Oberon didn’t seem to hear anything she said.
‘Where is the tablet?’ he asked.
Realisation dawned on Mina. This is what it had been about all along. The interview, the lunch, the invitation to the yacht… to seduce her into giving up the tablet. Now she was properly terrified. If Oberon had sent the three men to her flat in Mosul, her chances of leaving the yacht alive were slim.
‘In my room at the hotel’, she answered, trying to steady her voice.
‘No it isn’t,’ he replied.
Mina’s heart sank. How stupid. They had had all afternoon to search her room.
‘Should Natasha pursue her delicate work? Do you want to end up like your friend did’, turning to Natasha, ‘what was her name?’
‘Liat Hoffman, sir,’ she answered.
‘Oh Liat, no!’ sobbed Mina.
He looked back at Mina, deadly serious. She saw his blank eyes, without an ounce of humanity left in them. This man was a calculating machine, who would stop at nothing to get the information he wanted. He’d spoken of Liat in the past tense. Had they murdered her? She knew nothing. Mina hadn’t told her a word. She couldn’t keep up this charade any longer.
‘I sent it by special military courier to a hotel in Safed.’
‘Which hotel?’ Oberon asked matter-of-factly.
‘Central Merkazi’, she answered.
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
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.’
Chapter 16
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.
