The 13th Tablet

Mina felt the clammy plastic being pulled over her head once more and her mind begin to darken. ‘This is madness,’ she thought, as she began to lose consciousness.

PART 1

IRAQ

Chapter 1

Four days earlier

December 1st, 2004. Mosul airport

Hassan had been pacing up and down the arrivals area for almost an hour. ‘The plane’s landed,’ he thought, ‘why isn’t anyone coming out?’ He approached one of the guards standing at the gate and asked him what was going on. The guard glanced down at the round-faced youth and replied, ‘Security checks.’

Hassan thanked him and sat down a little further away, ‘Security checks, more security checks. What do they think, Bin Laden’s on the plane? Will she ever come out of there?’ Suddenly, he caught sight of Mina Osman’s slender profile through the window and his face lit up.

Mina wore the tailored jacket and fitted jeans that Hassan and the other students knew so well from her classes. He had been wondering if she’d still be wearing a headscarf after spending time back home in America. At university she often wore a headscarf and made a point of always covering her hair on the streets of Mosul. He suspected Mina didn’t like covering her head, but knew better than to ignore local customs. Hassan remembered a discussion they had had months ago, after a class on the representation of foreigners in ancient Babylonian art. The conversation had veered to female dress codes in different countries and she had told him that she often let her hair hang loose in the US. But when she appeared at the arrivals gate, she was wearing a dark headscarf, dashing his hopes.

Mina was the most beautiful woman Hassan had ever been close to. She had almond-shaped eyes that seemed to look deep into your soul. She was slender, but not as tall as the top models he had seen in magazines. She had a natural elegance, as if she breathed a more refined air than those around her. Yet there wasn’t a hint of arrogance, other than a touch of academic pride. She was always polite and morally-speaking, irreproachable. Hassan was convinced that under her slightly stern scholarly persona, Mina hid a passionate nature. Half her students were hopelessly in love with her and the other half worshipped her as a goddess.

‘Welcome to Mosul, Madam!’ Hassan said with a large grin on his face.

‘Hassan! What a pleasure to see you. Thanks for meeting me. I was afraid you hadn’t received my text.’

‘I did. But I was worried. Your plane arrived more than an hour ago! The security checks are worse than ever. I’m really sorry, Madam.’

She laughed, ‘Don’t be. You weren’t the one rummaging through my belongings. It’s funny really. As an archaeologist, I’d expect to be searched on the way out, not the way in!’

Hassan laughed and said, ‘I thought you came to help us retrieve our looted artefacts, not rob them yourself.’

‘I’m so glad to be back,’ she said, speaking partly to herself. She added quickly, ‘But let’s get out of here. How are things, Hassan?’

‘What do you mean Madam?’

‘The news has been so distorted recently in the US, I have no idea what’s really been going on,’ she asked, looking concerned.

‘Frankly? It’s been awful, Madam,’ he answered, as they fought their way through the crowd, Hassan taking the lead and carrying Mina’s luggage. ‘Fighter planes, bombs,’ he went on, ‘Police stations were blown up, insurgents from Fallujah came into Mosul and while all this was happening, the US army fought alongside the Iraqi National Guard. At university, the lecturers were either on strike or in hiding. We were wondering if there’d still be a university after the fighting ended.’

‘I thought it had stopped?’ she asked.

‘Only on the 25th of November.’

‘You mean things have only calmed down in the last week?’ asked Mina.

‘Yes. We didn’t think you’d be returning,’ he said, shooting rapid glances left and right before adding, ‘I wouldn’t want to be an American right now. The jihadists think that the US only support the Kurds, so they’ve been ambushing many American soldiers and civilian contractors. To tell you the truth I don’t feel that bad about targeting some of those contractors, there’s nothing civilian about them.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ said Mina tersely.

He looked at her, a little taken aback by her cold tone. ‘On the other hand,’ he stammered quickly, ‘the jihadists are cowards. They’ve murdered Iraqi National Guard officers too. You know Muhammad, the short broody student who’s in your class on cuneiform writing?’

‘Yes, what about him?’

‘His uncle was National Guard. He received insulting letters, saying he was a traitor and warning that he’d better find another job. He dismissed the threats and they killed him. Do you know that bodies of beheaded officers have been found scattered all over the city?’

‘My God, poor Muhammad,’ she said, her eyes wide with fear.

‘Madam?’ Hassan asked, worried about her horrified expression, ‘I apologise if I’ve scared you.’

‘Aren’t you scared?’