Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure Read online

  Jenkins nodded, deep in thought. Jonas took the opportunity to ask a question.

  “Mister Jenkins, if you’re the liaison for the Department of Acquisitions, why don’t you know all of this?”

  Jenkins returned his attention to Jonas. “I have never been this involved with the process before. I normally oversee the project and delegate. This is important enough that the department wants me directly involved.”

  Souleiman smoothly entered the conversation again. “All of this will require fees paid to the appropriate parties.”

  “Fees are of no concern. Not if we find what we are looking for.” Jenkins put his empty cup on the table.

  “Hold on, I think we need to focus more immediately on the dig itself,” said Calhoun.

  “Of course,” replied Souleiman. He took a fresh pull on the hookah, then handed the wand-like pipe over.

  Jonas took the pipe and inhaled the sweet smoke as he watched the conversation bounce between each of the other members. They argued laws, restrictions, personnel, taxes, fees, on and on until Jonas found his mind wandering. All he had gathered up to that point was that the city had been built far from the Nile, which was the most abundant source of water in the region. A pyramid had been built, according to limited references, for the Pharaoh that ruled over the city.

  Dating of the tablet that mentioned the city was put around 2800 BCE, during the early days of the Old Kingdom. Back then, the capital of Egypt had been Memphis, which was located twelve miles south of modern-day Cairo. The city was somewhere far to the west, an unthinkable distance for a casual traveler. The pyramid, built over decades, disappeared, likely stolen for materials. The city itself fell into disuse then abandonment.

  Jonas reviewed what he knew about pyramids. The had been built as tombs in Egypt from the earliest recorded eras. Archeologists that studied Ancient Egypt assumed there had been far more pyramids than were known of in the modern age due to building materials. Early pyramids were probably built from mud, which would cause them to wear away with time. Once builders started to use stone, the pyramids began to last beyond even the civilizations that built them.

  The city they were looking for wouldn’t be close to the pyramid, as that would be the foundation of the necropolis. A city of the dead, somewhere no living person would choose to reside. In that harsh environment, without the benefit of modern vehicles, a mile or two of open desert would be enough. A large enough pyramid might even be visible at that distance.

  Jonas continued wondering about the pyramid as the conversation shifted from taxes and tariffs to import and export forms, weight and signage, and other shipping matters. Something was bothering him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the issue.

  ‘Where did the tablet come from? What does “Crimson Night” mean? What was this well that enabled a whole city to survive away from the Nile? Was it really only one well? How did it work? Technology? Or… something else?’ He thought to himself. More and more, the questions started to consume him. His head spun from the strong effect of the hookah. The coffee was switched out for tea, but he failed to notice exactly when. ‘There’s something else here, and I’m missing it.’

  14

  Souka’s voice interrupted his ruminations. “Jonas?”

  “Uh, yeah?” Jonas asked as he slowly returned from the far-off space inside his head.

  “What were you mumbling just now?” Souka held the hookah pipe in his hand. It looked like he had paused before taking a hit.

  Jonas looked around the group. It seemed he had been thinking aloud. “I think I missed something. I was kind of lost in my own world.”

  “We could tell,” Calhoun said. “You need to focus on the meeting. This is your first chance to take part in a real dig, you need to show you’re capable.”

  “Take it easy on the kid, Nic,” Jenkins said. He turned to Jonas. “What did you miss?”

  “The dig site, how do we know where we’re going?”

  “Ah,” interrupted Souleiman. “That one I can answer. Some American tourists paid money to a less-than-savory tourism company. That company has been warned by the government several times. In this case, it was a hunting trip in the desert to the west. One of the tourists went over a dune and disappeared. When they found him, he had fallen into a ruin uncovered by wind. He survived with injuries. They did not report to the appropriate authorities, but I have a cousin that works for them. He let me know, and with his help we located it and have it properly reported now. That company is no longer in business, in case you were wondering.”

  “Is that the city then?” asked Jonas.

  “Yes. The pyramid was uncovered by ordinance that was triggered by wildlife. A mine went off and revealed the edge of the base.” Souleiman looked far off. “It was not a good scene when I saw it for the first time.”

  “You’ve been there?”

  Souleiman shook his head. “No, but my cousins brought pictures.”

  “How many cousins do you have?”

  Souka and Jenkins laughed while Calhoun smirked. Jonas looked at them in confusion, only making the situation worse. Souleiman joined in with his belly-rumbling laugh.

  “What? What did I say?”

  “He doesn’t mean his literal cousins, Mister Quartermain,” Calhoun said. “They are likely family friends, raised in the same neighborhood as a larger family unit. A common sight in Muslim countries.”

  “That is the way of it,” Souleiman said with a smile. “They help me, I help them.”

  “I see… so there are two dig sites? Talk about luck, having both found so close together.”

  Souleiman shook his head and exhaled smoke from the hookah. “They were found months apart. Clearing and staking out the sites, as well as securing the contracts took six months for the pyramid site, and nearly a month for the ruins.”

  “Okay. I think I’m following, but this sounds like a huge undertaking. Why are there students being brought in? Especially with Egypt being so aggressive about artifacts these days.” Jonas looked around the table.

  Jenkins nodded. “That was Nic’s doing. We contacted Professor Souleiman. He, in turn, brought in Nic. Sully is the top of his field.”

  “Davion, I have asked you not to call me Sully. Hassan, if you want to be friendly,” Souleiman said with the first hint of disapproval Jonas had heard or seen from the man. Davion smirked before relenting.

  “Alright, Hassan,” he said with a small laugh. “I swear I’m going to get you to let me call you Sully someday. Anyway, while Nic’s request is unusual, a few of his students were already on our radar. It was decided to allow students to lead the dig, as long as Nic was around to supervise.” He pointed a hand over at Calhoun for emphasis.

  “This also means my reputation as an archaeologist and teacher is on the line. As my most promising student, I’ve decided to have you as the lead.” Calhoun handed the hookah line to Jonas.

  Jonas was taken aback. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Calhoun bluntly replied.

  “Alright then. We have the city and the pyramid dig sites. How far apart are they?” Jonas asked, then took a drag from the pipe.

  “About two miles.” Souleiman poured another cup of tea for himself, then offered to top off the others. Souka accepted, the rest did not.

  Jonas started to daydream of snakes living in a pyramid, of mummies haunting dilapidated halls, of booby traps narrowly missing him.

  “I'd like to head up the pyramid dig, if I can,” Jonas said. He took a sip of the lukewarm tea.

  “That is exactly what your Professor Calhoun said you would say,” Souleiman said with a chuckle. “It has already been arranged so.”

  Jonas did a little fist pump to celebrate the perceived win, which made the gentlemen laugh. He grinned sheepishly. The hookah was making him light headed. He tried to keep up with the conversation, but it moved into the legal side again, and he lost interest.

  After several hours, the group stood and Jonas followed them out of
the tea parlor. They walked down the alley and out into a busy roadway. The sidewalk was thronged with people walking and bumping into each other. Their casually aggressive nature, much like the driving he had experienced, had him confused. He nearly lost his group a handful of times until they stopped at a small restaurant. A server greeted them in Arabic and English. They were taken to a low-slung table where they sat on cushions. Hassan rattled off an order of food in Arabic at machine-gun pace. He turned to the group with a smile.

  “You are quite lucky, they have hamaam in today. A local delicacy, one of my favorites.”

  Souka, sitting next to Souleiman, nodded. “I am glad. Hamaam is quite tasty.”

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had any,” Calhoun agreed. He looked excited. Davion grimaced on the other side; a flicker so fast that Jonas wasn’t sure he had even seen it.

  “What is hamaam?”

  Calhoun put a hand out to the table to forestall them. He turned to Jonas. “Just eat it. You can ask after.”

  “Is it gross?” Jonas sounded concerned.

  “No, but you have to keep an open mind about everything here anyway,” Calhoun said with finality. “Now, where were we?”

  “I believe we have resolved all issues. The relevant paperwork will be taken care of by our relative staffs during the day,” Souleiman said. Jonas looked past Souka to the rotund Egyptian. “Then we’re just eating?”

  “Indeed, now we eat and drink like friends,” Souleiman replied loudly. A server arrived a moment later with a tray on one arm. It was laden with five very tall, frothy golden beverages. The sight of the beer made Jonas’ mouth water. A glass was placed in front of each of them, then Davion raised a toast.

  “To having all that done, and to having an excellent dinner. Cheers!”

  Davion, Souleiman, Souka, Calhoun, and Jonas all raised their glasses and clinked them together. They all shouted and took a long drought of the beer. To his astonishment, neither Calhoun nor Davion put their beers down until they had finished. Jonas looked at Souleiman and Souka for their reactions, only to realize that Souka had emptied his glass in a single gulp. Souleiman laughed, then tipped his glass back and emptied it. The four men looked at Jonas expectantly. He shrugged, then poured the rest of his beer down his throat in a practiced move.

  “Another,” cried Souleiman. Cheers erupted from another table seemingly in support of the idea. Soon after, the server arrived with another round of beers, which were quickly followed by a platter loaded with what looked like tiny roasted chickens. Jonas’ mouth started watering. He followed the lead of Souleiman who pulled a bird to his plate and started carving meat from it. He savored the well-seasoned roasted meat. He had not realized how starved he had been until he started eating. He cleaned the bird down to the skeleton, then patted his belly and leaned back.

  “Enjoyed it then, my friend?” Souleiman asked with a gleam in his eye. Jonas lazily nodded.

  “Don’t tell him,” Jenkins said with some mirth in his voice. He was leaning back, using a toothpick to clean his teeth.

  “Don’t tell me what?” Jonas sat up, looking around the table. Each of the men were stifling laughter, even the normally stoic Calhoun. Finally, he broke. “What? What is hamaam?”

  “Pigeon,” Calhoun said quietly, laughter in his voice.

  Jonas looked at his professor with incredulity.

  “Pigeon. Like, little rats with wings, flies through the city shitting on everything PIGEON?”

  “That’s the one,” Jenkins said. “Don’t yell though. You’ll just out yourself as a tourist if you do that.”

  Jonas shrugged. He had dealt with worse pranks at house parties. And the food had been quite good. “Alright. It was delicious anyway.”

  “Damn, I was hoping for more of a scene,” Jenkins said as he pulled a note from his wallet and handed it over to a waiting Calhoun.

  “I told you, he’s a kid but he handles change pretty well.”

  Souka shamefacedly handed a note over to Calhoun across the table.

  “You too, Souka?”

  “Kid’s got your number now, Souka,” Jenkins laughed.

  Another round of beers appeared, and they continued to chat. The rest of the night passed in a blur of pungent food, drunken revelry, and continued back-and-forth negotiating. The sky began to lighten outside the restaurant. The weak early morning light began to bathe the street in gray.

  Calhoun shook his shoulder to get his attention. “Alright, that's everything solved. We start the dig in two days. Let's head back to the hotel and get some rest.”

  “That sounds really good,” Jonas said drunkenly. They walked out of the restaurant and caught a cab on the street. He barely registered the bumpy, jolting, violent ride back. Once they arrived, Jonas fished the key out of his pocket and stumbled back to his room. There, he slept long and deep, waking only at sunset.

  He showered first thing, hoping it would help with the hangover. It did take the edge off. His stomach rumbled and he began to crave greasy food. Jonas dressed and walked down to the restaurant. It was just after sunset, around ten in the evening. The restaurant was full. He looked around and spied a table with the other students on the trip. Simon and Dylan were talking animatedly on one side while Sidney and Jodie whispered conspiratorially on the other. It was a large table, capable of seating eight, yet they had it to themselves. Jonas found it strange such a large table was given to the team, then something clicked in his hangover-addled brain and he realized it was the same table they’d eaten at both times before in the restaurant.

  He sat near Simon. One look from the brutish man told him conversation wouldn’t be happening. He was fine with that; the hangover was dominating his morning. Dylan gave him a half nod in greeting, then went back to his discussion with Simon. Sidney and Jodie ignored him completely. When the server arrived, he ordered a plate with bacon, eggs, sausage and hash browns. The server looked him over and brought a mimosa to help with the hangover. He was thankful.

  Calhoun stopped by the table a few minutes after Jonas’ food arrived. He looked at Jonas and snorted, then addressed the table.

  “You have one more day to finish adjusting to the schedule, then we’re going to the dig sites. Mister Quartermain, I hope you remember what we discussed yesterday. I have another meeting today.”

  “Uh, Professor, do you want me to go with?” Jonas asked with equal measures of hope and fear.

  Calhoun shook his head. “You’re not necessary for this one, and it looks like you got a bit too wild last night. Take it easy today, you won’t have that luxury starting tomorrow. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He nodded and walked out of the restaurant.

  Simon glared at Jonas, then returned to his conversation with Dylan. They were discussing music, something they agreed on. Hair metal, of all things. He couldn’t hear what the girls were talking about over the susurrus of the restaurant. He focused on his food, thankful the alcohol in the mimosa was kicking in. By the time he finished the meal, he was feeling human again.

  With nothing else to do, Jonas wandered out of the hotel and into the bustling streets of Cairo. The night life was something else to him. The city was far more alive at night than it had been during the day. Traffic was worse than ever; a constant cacophony of minor collisions and honking horns. The braying of donkeys and calls of camels could be heard around buildings. The medieval city was still just behind the modern facade of steel and glass.

  Jonas kept his hands in his pockets, protecting his wallet as kids ran by. As at the airport, they would shout ‘bashish’ at him as they pulled on his sleeves and pockets. He remembered what Souleiman had said and ignored them. They would run on, looking for the next uninitiated tourist wandering the streets. He found a street market and wandered in. Knick-knacks of all sorts were on sale. Most looked like cheap trinkets made for a penny and sold for a dollar.

  “Mister Holcomb did ask for a gift from Cairo,” Jonas mused to himself. He started walking around, trying to find
something that would fit the eclectic tastes of the older man. He remembered Holcomb mentioning books, and thought of the older style of the building. One recessed building called to him. Inside were shelves from floor to ceiling lined with books of every kind. He looked through, but none caught him. That is, until he walked past the glass counter at the rear of the shop and spotted a blue book with English writing. The title read ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ in white against the dirt behind. Jonas recognized it from his English class. What confused him was why the book was behind the glass counter.

  “Ah, good sir, I see you have spotted one of my greatest books,” said the owner. He had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, causing Jonas to jump.

  “Geez, you scared me.” Jonas caught his breath. “Why is that one behind the glass?”

  The Egyptian man raised a finger and winked. “Why don’t you take a look.” He retrieved the book and set it on a velvet cloth on the glass. He gently opened the cover, despite it being in great condition. Inside was a scrawled name.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  The shopkeeper nodded sagely. “This was signed by Hemingway himself.”

  ‘This is perfect,’ Jonas thought to himself. “How much for it?”

  “This I can’t let go for less than four-hundred US.”

  Jonas shook his head. “I can’t afford that.”

  The shopkeeper put the book away and waved Jonas out of the store. “Go, if you are to window shop there are much better stores for that. Go, go on with you.”

  Jonas left, but filed the book in the back of his mind. It would have been perfect, if only he’d had the cash. He ran through dozens of ideas as he wandered the market. His late grandparents had collected post-cards on their road trips around America. His parents had never traveled, working constantly to raise their ever-growing family.

  One shop had the smell of age and value wafting subtly from it as he passed. He stepped in out of curiosity. There were dozens of bins in the center with rolled fabric sticking up. The walls were lined with countless rugs overlapping. Most were brown or red with fantastic details sewn in. Some had tassels, others frayed edges. He started to feel overwhelmed with the sheer number of choices. A thought occurred to him. Even if Holcomb had the room and liked the rug, where would he put it? Jonas shook his head and left the shop to continue wandering.