The Smuggler's Seal

Cylinder Seals

"Are you mad Jacobi? Every authority in the country will be looking for these."

Joseph Jacobi hovered wild eyed over the stash of stone cylinder seals covering every surface of the dingy dinner table. He passed a small pistol between both hands as his eyes flickered between the stolen loot and his associate.

"Look at them Mattson, they'll be worth a fortune if we can get them out of the county."

Doctor Henry Mattson scanned the hundreds of stone seals spread in front of him, shaking his head in disbelief. He picked up a large seal, a cylinder almost two inches tall and one in diameter, and rubbed his thumb over the famous, 4,000 year old banquet scene engraved into the worn lapis lazuli, reading the four cuneiform symbols engraved near the top edge: Pu-abum "Word of the Father" and er-esh "queen".

Queen Pu-abi.

The seal had belonged to the queen, ruler of the ancient kingdom of Ur and mouthpiece of Nanna, the Moon God who ruled over the city. It was her personal signature seal, one of only three in existence in the whole world. For 3000 years it sat undisturbed near the queen's right shoulder in her royal burial tomb in the city of Ur, along with a host of gold and gems and at least 52 attendants, including one lyrist to play music for her afterlife. Her seals were nearly priceless.

"Yeah, you're right Jacobi, you could be rich. Filthy rich. This seal here, it's worth at least a quarter million dollars. But this," Mattson swung his arm over the table, "Stealing these antiquities from the Iraqi Museum and smuggling them out of the country, this is wrong. Besides the fact you're going to jail if you're caught, it goes against everything we stand for as archaeologists. We're supposed to protect-"

"I am protecting them Mattson, I'm taking special care of these babies, and when we get them out of Iraq and sell them they will still be protected. Some of these black market collectors have better setups and security than the museum. You don't think I could have lifted this stash from the likes of Rassan Ghaihani do you?"

"So now you think you're a hero? What about all the other antiquities in the museum Jacobi? What about all the other looting. So much heritage destroyed and lost forever."

"All the more reason for me to secure these while I could." Jacobi grinned, holding a solid obsidian seal to the light so it played off the carved lines on the surface. "We are saving these relics from a worse fate Mattson, believe me. If I hadn't taken them, someone else would have, and they'd be dust in some bombed out crater by now. I'm doing a good deed. The fact that we'll be rich beyond imagining is just a bonus."

"Now," Jacobi set the seal back in place and tapped the barrel of his pistol against the tabletop. "I need a scholar to authenticate the seals to my buyers Mattson. Are you in?"

Mattson considered his options. There weren't many. The streets of Iraq were still a contested war zone. Coalition troops had made thunder runs into the heart of Baghdad two nights ago and were slowly securing the city from the inside out against Saddam Hussein's Elite Republican Army. He was unlikely to find any aid amid the storm of bombs and fire. And if he said no, Jacobi might just kill him for knowing too much.

"All right," Mattson shuddered, "I don't want to, but I'll help you get them out of the country, If only to make sure they don't end up in the hands of real thieves."

"That a boy. I knew I could count on you old friend."