The 13th Tablet (28 page)

‘Yes, I do… and I think I've smelled the same thing not long ago.'

‘I know! It was outside the hotel. Let's get the hell out of here.'

 

They rushed back to the central tower. A tall man with a black beard and smoked glasses was resting against the railing, pretending to read a leaflet. Jack quickly grabbed Mina's hand, feigned going right but then rushed down the left hand staircase. Unfortunately the man caught up with them within a few seconds. Jack urged Mina to run away, as he turned around to face his opponent. She took a few steps down the stairs all the time trying to look back to watch the men wrestle above her. Amazingly, nobody seemed to notice the fight. Jack had bent the man's arm behind his back and when he heard it crack he shoved his head into the wall. As the man crumpled to the floor, unconscious, a small vial fell out of his pocket and shattered on the marble steps. Jack and Mina immediately recognised the pungent fragrance they had smelled earlier. Jack picked up a shard of the vial and hurried down the stairs with Mina. They slowed their pace somewhat as they passed guards in the main lobby hurrying towards the staircase. Jack discreetly snatched a sopping wet umbrella, which a man had put against a column while shaking his trench coat.

They ran down the steps into the outer courtyard, heavy rain still falling from a darkened sky. The driver of the blue Mercedes was waiting near the gates, but did not see Jack and Mina dashing by shielded by an umbrella like any young couple keen to get out of the rain. They ran ahead, down Museum Street, and dodged into an occult bookshop.

Mina, who by this time was beyond physical and mental exhaustion, could hardly stand upright. Jack helped her sit down on a large and ancient-looking leather chair and pretended to browse through the books, all the while keeping a close watch on Museum Street. The shop owner barely glanced at them, as they did not seem like genuine seekers of the dark arts, just passers-by trying to escape the rain.

Mina was so anxious she could feel her hands shaking. To try to put her mind at rest she focused on at the collection of books, placed haphazardly on the shelves around her. Some of the books had the weirdest titles but she was too frazzled to understand what she was reading.

‘Mina?' Jack hissed from the corner of his mouth. She did not hear him. He spoke again, louder this time and placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Mina?' She was startled, and looked at him with scared eyes.

‘What is it?' asked Mina. Jack sighed and took her hand.

‘Mina, we have to separate. We haven't shaken them off yet.'

‘No Jack. Please, no,' she begged him, tears welling in her eyes.

‘We have to lose them. I'll draw their attention, and while they follow me…'

‘Please Jack. Don't leave me. I can't do this alone.'

‘You can do it, Mina. You have to, OK? Wait for ten minutes after I'm gone, then walk out of here, left, into New Oxford Street and get in the first cab. Go straight to King's Cross and catch a train to Cambridge. I'll call you in an hour.' He looked deep into her eyes and kissed her wet cheek softly, ‘You can do this Mina.'

He looked out of the front window for a few seconds, turned round a last time and walked out onto the street. ‘Good luck, Jack,' Mina murmured, but he was already gone. While she looked at her watch and waited, an odd-looking man, wearing a large-brimmed hat with a feather stuck in its side, started talking to her, oblivious to her anxious state.

‘Do you know,' he began, 'that you're standing in a genuine occult bookshop? It was once run by the head of a lodge called The Order of the Hidden Masters.'

Mina looked at him with a blank expression on her face. ‘And, one of the patrons of this order was Alistair Crowley,' he added mysteriously.

Mina didn't answer so the man walked towards another customer and started chatting to her. Mina checked her watch and noticed that ten minutes had gone by. She did as Jack had told her. She hailed one of many cabs passing down New Oxford Street, and after a few minutes ride, was at King's Cross station. She bought a ticket to Cambridge and enquired about the next available train, which was leaving in twenty minutes. She treated herself to a takeaway cappuccino, sat down on a chair next to the other travellers and sipped her coffee. She was utterly drained and incapable of thinking about anything. When the Cambridge train was announced she stood up, and numbly walked in the direction of platform 9A.

Jack felt stupid. No-one appeared to be following him. He had changed cabs three times, and was walking down Portobello Road in Notting Hill. Had they managed to lose their pursuers at the museum after all? Why hadn't he checked to see if they were still lurking around before leaving Mina? How stupid. They'd have both been on the Cambridge train by now. He tried phoning her, but the call went straight to her voicemail. ‘Oh god, I hope she didn't leave it in the suitcase' he thought. He went for a beer in a nearby pub and looked at the happy faces of men and women meeting for a drink after a hard day's work. What was wrong with him? Why did he always end up running for his life? By now, his face had probably been retrieved by the police from CCTV camera footage in the museum.

He waited half an hour and tried calling Mina, again unsuccessfully. He got in a cab and drove to their hotel in Maida Vale, hoping to get hold of the suitcase and check what had become of the mobile phone. An employee at the front desk explained that a man in a dark suit and sunglasses had just come by and picked it up. ‘I should've gone straight back to the hotel' thought Jack, increasingly angry with himself. He walked around Maida Vale for a while to gather his thoughts. He wondered if their separation could prove to be an asset after all; maybe he could sort out their other problem. He would contact Stella and ask her why Intelligence was interested in Mina. Stella was stationed in Germany. Maybe she could leave her base for a day, and they could meet up at the drinking den in Soho.

Mina had finally arrived at her destination. She felt much worse now than when she'd embarked on the train. Twenty minutes into the trip, she had searched her rucksack thoroughly looking for her new phone, but it was not there. She must have left it in her suitcase, or in the hotel room. How was she going to get in touch with Jack or Jack with her? She did not even know his email address. She walked out of the station, in the direction of Tenison Road where she saw a few guest houses. She picked one and booked a room for two nights, hoping to find something nicer within the next few days. She walked up to her room. Her hands shook as she opened the door. She dropped her rucksack on the floor, sat on the bed and cried silently, in the gloomy winter light filtering through the stained curtains.

 

Chapter 22

 

December 14th, 2004. Cambridge

 

 

 

Mina woke up late in the morning, wishing it had all been a dream. But there she was, in the same seedy guest house in Cambridge, alone. She took a quick shower and after laying out the bed sheet on the floor, slowly stretched through a series of yoga
asanas
. Later, pulling on her last pair of jeans she was reminded she would have to buy clothes, again. She left the guest house, her small rucksack hanging from one shoulder. A few builders wolf-whistled her as she walked down Tenison Road. She felt like telling them off but instead looked straight ahead to Mill Road. She entered a caf. at random and ordered a cappuccino, croissants and jam. As she drank her coffee, warming her hands around the mug, she looked out of the window at the grey street. It was raining again. The miserable weather was starting to depress her even more than her current situation.

 

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.'