The 13th Tablet Read Online Free Page B

– just in time – by a magician’s wand.
    Nigel was tired of what he saw as Mina’s inadequacies as a scholar. She had been a good student whilst in his care but he felt she had now strayed completely off rails and needed to face up to reality. He knew how damning his letter would be to Mina’s application, but he did not care that much. Picking up his fountain pen, he wrote quickly, and subtly in her disfavour. Without the support of her own PhD supervisor, any chance Mina had of getting this grant faded away.
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    Chapter 3
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    December 2nd, 2004
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    In the arid landscape of the Mosuli countryside, a young boy was running as fast as he could down a dirt track. The twelveyear- old was as scrawny as they came but quite resilient. He slowed down as he approached a group of workers, where he spotted his hero, the tallest, strongest, coolest guy he’d ever met. ‘Jack, Jack!’ he shouted.
    The ruggedly handsome 35-year-old American turned around to greet the boy with a smile. Jack had a square jaw, thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see and know everything. But what Muhad liked best about Jack was the crescent-shaped scar above his left eyebrow.
    â€˜Muhad? Catch your breath and tell me what all this excitement is about.’
    â€˜Jack,’ said the excited boy, breathing heavily, ‘we found the qatan .’
    Jack laughed. ‘The qa nat . You found the qanat . Now that’s great news. Take me there.’ He turned to the villagers, ‘Guys, take a break.’
    Jack was relieved. He’d worked in this village and been around Muhad long enough to know that the young boy was not only very resourceful but usually spot on. At last, his small irrigation project might just take off. He had almost run out of funding and had he not met that old scholar at the university, he’d never have thought of looking for a qanat , one of the numerous ancient underground irrigation canals that crisscrossed entire regions of Iraq.
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    Muhad had run on ahead and was standing on top of a pile of debris, with a huge smile on his face. He was so proud to show off his find to Jack, whom he idolised. He had lost both his elder brothers in a roadside bombing a year earlier and Jack was the next best thing.
    As Jack approached the small mound, he knew Muhad had found what they had been searching for. He unclipped his faithful trowel from his belt and started cleaning the clay canalisation. He looked up, trying to trace the progress of the qanat in an imaginary line. He wondered if it joined a spring or a subterranean river. He picked up his mobile phone and dialled a number.
    â€˜Hi. Jack Hillcliff. May I speak to Professor Almeini?’ asked Jack, in his strong East coast accent.
    â€˜Yes of course,’ said the secretary, patching him through to the professor’s office.
    â€˜Hello Jack,’ said Professor Almeini, always happy to speak to the engineer.
    â€˜Hi there Professor.’
    â€˜How’s work going?’
    â€˜Very well; we found the qanat .’
    â€˜Wonderful! Was it in the quadrant we spoke of?’
    â€˜Yes. Young Muhad found it this morning.’
    The old scholar laughed. ‘I might borrow him someday; he could help me find some long lost papers in the departmental archives.’
    â€˜The problem is I can’t see anything remotely watery in my line of sight. Also, even if I triangulate the potential direction it might have taken to find the water source, the landscape may have changed radically since antiquity.’
    â€˜I agree and as we discussed, some of these qanats go for many miles underground.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Jack, ‘I can’t start drilling holes all over the place.’
    Both fell silent.
    â€˜Jack, why don’t you pass by my office later today, and we will go over the maps once again. Maybe there is something we missed. I’ll also introduce you to