The 13th Tablet

Jack woke up at two a.m. He’d had a horrific nightmare. Although in life he was constantly in control, dreams were beyond any man’s rule and they often revealed his innermost fears. The last image branded in Jack’s mind was that of Wheatley, laughing madly from the edge of a crater, Mina in chains, looking on helplessly as Jack fell backwards into the volcano’s roaring magma. He sat up, sweating heavily and trembling at the idea of losing Mina. He stroked her long, dark hair delicately. He got out of bed, turned on his laptop and started the scrambling software. He then turned on his mobile phone, but there were no new messages from Wheatley. He needed a drink. He puts some clothes on and sat down on the edge of the bed to tie his shoelaces. Mina stirred in her sleep.

‘Jack?’ Mina asked, ‘what time is it?’

‘Two a.m.,’ he answered and kissed her softly, ‘I’m just going out for a drink to wind down. I need to clear my head. I’ll be back before you know it.’

‘Any news?’ she asked.

‘No, not yet. I think Wheatley’s going to wait until the last minute to let me know the meeting place.’

‘That can only mean the meeting will be in Patong. We’d never have time to get anywhere else on the island,’ she said.

‘Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s going to be here somewhere. But it doesn’t change a damn thing. After all I can’t scout the whole town, hoping to find my mother and Jen.’

‘Hmm,’ she muttered.

‘OK,’ he said as he took the small rucksack containing the laptop with him, ‘I’m off. Don’t open the door to anyone. You know the drill.’

‘Night Jack,’ Mina said, before falling back sleep.

Jack left the bungalow quietly. His mind raging with thoughts, he walked slowly, twisting left and right through narrow alleyways. The only noises in the night were the muffled beat of dance music, the dying laughter of drinking parties and his rucksack brushing past coconut trees. He chose a bar in a slight recess, off the main street. It was less flashy than other places, but wasn’t seedy. He was no moralist, but he couldn’t stand the way prostitution was flaunted in tourists’ faces as if it were something Thai people were supremely proud of, ‘check out our temples, our great culture and our ping-pong banana shows!’ He sat down at the bar, and ordered a drink. ‘Poor mum and Jen,’ Jack thought to himself ‘their first trip outside the US and I’ve got them into this dangerous mess’. If only he could get his hands around Wheatley’s neck, he’d crush his windpipe and every bone in his body. He asked the barman to hit him again with another shot of Jack Daniels. ‘I’m feeling worse than before,’ he thought to himself. Now he was assailed by even darker thoughts, morbid images of Wheatley’s twisted face, covered in his own blood and guts. He opened his rucksack and pulled out the laptop. He looked at the JPEG file Mina had produced. She was quite the artist, Jack whistled in admiration. He’d never have thought it was a fake photograph. It looked like the tablet he’d seen himself. He copied the JPEG file onto a small digital USB storage key and called the barman.

‘Are you the owner?’ he asked him.

‘No, but I can get her,’ the barman answered.

‘Maybe you can help me, I need to print a good quality photograph right now.’

The barman looked at him thinking Jack was a lunatic.

‘At this time? All closed Mister!’

‘I’ll pay good money,’ said Jack.

‘OK. OK. I call my friend and take care of everything.’

‘Thanks, here’s the key. There’s only one document on there, it’s the image I need to print in high resolution,’ said Jack, handing him the USB stick.

The barman asked a girl working there to take care of the bar, and he left. Jack wondered if he really was going to call a friend or just go home and print it out on glossy paper on his own printer. In the end, he didn’t care one way or the other. He’d have the photograph in hand before the morning. He suddenly remembered his conversation with Mina half an hour ago. He’d said he wasn’t going to scout the whole island to find his mother and sister. Maybe he’d been wrong?