Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure Page 9

  Jonas nodded. “Yeah, sorry Professor. I just noticed he really is like Sallah.”

  Calhoun turned back to Souleiman's energetic conversation. It appeared he was talking about the itinerary with some of the other students. They looked shaken by the erratic driving, which was only made worse by the blacked-out windows. It was impossible to see out, so each minor collision caught the occupants by surprise.

  “It is currently,” Souleiman paused as he exposed his left wrist to look at a gaudy black and gold Rolex. “Just about eleven in the morning. That means we will be going for brunch at the hotel first. Your bags will be taken to your rooms by my staff. After brunch, we must see the city; you will love it. This is the jewel of the Nile, after all." Souleiman's relaxed attitude slowly convinced the Americans that they were in little danger.

  Jonas felt his stomach rumble. He started daydreaming about food, swallowing reflexively as his mouth started to water. Distractedly, he reached into the mini fridge and pulled out a green beer bottle with a yellow label. He cracked it open and took a long draw. Once he stopped, the taste set in and he laughed in surprise.

  "Tastes like a Bud from back home!" Jonas held the bottle out to look at it. The label said ‘Stella’.

  "What a bold lad, to set into an unknown beer with such gusto," Souleiman commented.

  Calhoun laughed, tapping his bottle against Souleiman's. "It's a good thing it wasn't Raki, right?"

  Souleiman laughed loudly, holding his belly as he did. "You are right, my friend!"

  “Professor, what’s Raki?” Jodie asked from the rear of the compartment.

  “A spirit from Turkey. Even if you’re used to drinking, you are not ready for Raki,” Calhoun said with a sour face. “Hassan tricked me into drinking it exactly one time. My head still hurts when I think about it.”

  At that, Souleiman laughed even louder. His joy was infectious, and the students joined in.

  “Okay, but what is Raki?” asked Jonas.

  “Liquor made from grapes and anise. It’s like licorice flavored wine. Sort of. You won’t understand until you try it,” Calhoun said.

  After that, the other students grabbed glasses or cans, intent on joining in the fun. The conversation became more spirited. Jonas thought about grabbing a second beer, wondering at the name.

  “Stella, I think I’ve had that before,” he said aloud.

  Souleiman smiled and shook his head. “No, my friend. This is a local beer, and it doesn’t often make it out of Africa. You’ve likely had Stella Artois, a beer from Europe.”

  “Huh, thanks,” Jonas said. He started to reach for another beer but was brought short as the limo lurched to a stop.

  11

  "Ah, we have arrived. The driver will take care of your bags. We will have brunch in the hotel restaurant. It is quite good," Souleiman said as he opened the door. He stepped into the sweltering sunshine, beaming. He gestured toward the building behind him.

  The hotel rose into the sky, narrow glass windows reflecting the brutal sunlight, offset by the beige construction. It had brutalist architecture with jutting sides. Jonas decided it was a strange looking building. It towered over everything in the area. He could smell the Nile, as well as hearing boats. Several bridges blocked his view, but he guessed they were less than a block from the famous river. Souleiman purposefully strode up the stairs and into the lobby. Two massive words were emblazoned on the front of the hotel: 'Ramses Hilton'. ‘Hilton’ could also be seen far above near the roof of the building. He could see Arabic everywhere, though it looked like scribbles to him. He gaped in astonishment.

  "Close your mouth before you trap flies, Quartermain," Calhoun said in his typical taciturn fashion.

  "I've never been to a hotel like this," Jonas said as he indicated the high rise in front of them.

  "We can tell," Simon said with a raucous laugh.

  Jonas subtly flipped him the bird and ran to catch up with Souleiman. The sliding glass doors were open and a blast of cold air came from above, keeping the heat out. Souleiman led them across the brightly lit lobby and into a restaurant. People chatted animatedly, sitting at nearly every available table. It looked like an even mix of western business-types in suits and locals in loose neutral colored clothing. Diners glanced curiously at the group as they entered.

  They were ushered as a group over to a large circular table. Crisp white table cloth and placemats, wrapped silverware, and glasses sat evenly spaced. Two jugs of water glistened in the middle. The server helped each of the students into their seat, then poured water. Jonas sat next to Calhoun, with Souleiman on the far side. Jodie was next to him with Sidney on her other side. Simon sat next to Sidney, but had eyes only for the leggy blonde, totally ignoring the small, shy brunette. Dylan still read a book as he was seated at the table. A space was open between the redhead and Jonas.

  "Are we still in Egypt?" Jonas asked as he looked around. It felt like a fancy restaurant in Akron.

  "Quartermain..." Calhoun growled.

  Souleiman laughed and waved Calhoun's objection away.

  "Of course, we are still in Egypt! What you see here is the height of luxury. You can see the Nile just outside those windows. It is quite popular to sail through here. And, as you can see, brunch here is very popular, and for good reason!" He turned to the server and snapped his fingers. "Mimosas for everybody."

  Calhoun began to raise an objection, but Souleiman once again waved him off. The server walked off quickly. “Please, please my friends. The drinks are on me as a welcome. Enjoy the meal, we can speak of work matters another time. First, you must enjoy what Cairo has to offer.”

  As he finished speaking, the server seemed to materialize with a tray loaded with bright orange drinks. The drinks were quickly and efficiently placed in front of each of the group. The students all instinctually looked at Calhoun for permission. He sighed, then picked up his glass and took a sip. The students took his cue and picked their own drinks up. Souleiman chuckled, raising his own glass.

  After the first round of drinks were empty, Souleiman asked for menus for the table. The server disappeared, only to return a moment later with a new round of drinks and menus.

  “Eat up, you will see this is the best food in Cairo,” Souleiman said.

  “Mister Souleiman,” Jodie asked. Her blonde hair was still perfectly styled and practically glowed in the sunlight admitted through the restaurant windows.

  “Hmm?” Souleiman asked, more of a hum than an actual response.

  “When we were flying in, I saw a bunch of weird shapes out in the desert,” she said with a thumb over her shoulder.

  “You could look out the windows?” Asked Jonas. He blurted it out without thinking. Everybody at the table turned their attention to him.

  “Yeah, that's what most people do when they have a window seat,” Jodie replied. She turned back to Souleiman, repeating her question. “What were those weird boxes out in the desert?”

  “Ah, that,” Souleiman replied. He took a sip of his drink while he thought. “You see there was some turmoil that was recently ended. The war, though short, left a fair amount of debris. That is not a safe area. I'm surprised you were able to see the wreckage from the air.”

  “I have very good eyes,” she said.

  Souleiman nodded. “You must have. To good eyesight,” he said as he raised his glass to her.

  She smiled, then raised her own and clinked glasses. The server returned, took their orders, and disappeared. It seemed they prized being quick and quiet. Souleiman casually directed the conversation through different topics. He seemed kind and inquisitive, remembering the name of each of the students. He noticed Jonas' reluctance to join the conversation but did not pry.

  When their food arrived, the conversation fell into a lull as everybody ate until they were fit to burst. Jonas leaned back, soaking in the ambience of the restaurant. He let his mind wander, thinking of the great things he would do. Exploring ancient ruins, abandoned pyramids, fighting ruffians
and dodging snakes.

  “Quartermain,” Calhoun’s voice broke through his reverie. “Mister Quartermain!”

  Jonas sat up with a start, looking for the source of his interruption. “Y- yeah?”

  “We are leaving. You've been staring off into space for the last fifteen minutes,” said Calhoun.

  Jonas looked around the table, surprised to find that all the students had already left. He finally spotted them near the doors to the restaurant.

  “We are retiring to our rooms for an hour before we see the city. I would suggest a quick shower and power nap before we continue with the day’s events.” Calhoun pointed at the group while speaking.

  “Yeah, okay,” Jonas said as he abruptly stood. He leaned heavily on the table as his head suddenly swam. He blinked a few times to clear his head.

  Calhoun watched the strange movement with apparent concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just stood too quickly. I’m more tired than I thought. Let's go,” Jonas replied. He waited in line to get his room key. Simon jockeyed for position until Jodie stomped on his foot. He let out a yelp and hopped back, injured foot in his hand. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder and gave him a sharp smile.

  “You can wait your turn like everybody else, Simon.”

  He gulped and nodded. She was nearly as tall as him, with a regal bearing that made it hard to argue with her. When he took his place behind Dylan and Jonas, she turned around and faced the counter again. Each of them was helped by a desk attendant within a few minutes. Jonas nodded at the man’s greeting. He was handed a small pamphlet with information about the hotel as well as his room number. He had a single bed in room two-hundred-thirty-one.

  The key was handed over last. It was a medium sized key with a large, square head with the stylized Hilton logo, and ‘Hilton’ stamped underneath. What was interesting about the key was the large bronze Ankh attached. The Ankh looked like a cross with a loop at the top, a very familiar logo to the students.

  “Pop quiz,” Calhoun said as he held up his own key. “What does the Ankh signify?”

  “Eternal life,” Jonas said reflexively. “It means multiple things beyond that, such as spiritual and literal health, as well as air and water. It is the symbol for the word ‘life’, and as such came to symbolize life itself over time. Often held by Pharaohs on their sarcophagus.”

  “Nerd,” Simon said.

  “You are in the same class, Mister Fleming,” Calhoun said with little emphasis. “Very good, Mister Quartermain. I’m glad you paid attention in class. Now, you have one hour. I suggest you make the best of it. We continue our tour of Cairo at,” he checked his wrist watch. “One PM. Now go.”

  Jonas took the instructions to heart and headed for the nearby stairs. He ascended to the second floor, then wandered the halls until he found thirty-one. He used the key and entered the room. He peeked into the well-appointed bathroom. There were two sinks on a wall-to-wall counter, a toilet, and a very large shower. The shower called to him, but his fatigue was more pressing.

  Past the bathroom was the main room. It had a queen-sized bed, a small desk, a couch, and a color TV on a large dresser. A small table partially blocked the way to a large floor-to-ceiling window. The bed drew him in with a thick comforter. His head missed the pillows as he collapsed onto the bed. The last thing he remembered to do was set an alarm on the digital clock on the nightstand.

  Forty-five minutes later, the buzzer began to sound, and he stirred sleepily. He shut it off, then stumbled into the bathroom like a zombie. He shucked his clothes and stepped into the shower. He turned the shower on and shouted in surprise as cold water splashed over him. He jumped back and stretched around the water to turn it hot.

  Ten minutes later, he heard hammering on the door. He quickly toweled off and dressed. Just as the third set of knocks began, he opened the door. Calhoun’s fist went for the door, swinging into empty air. He looked mildly surprised before the calm mask returned.

  “Mister Quartermain, it’s time to go. I hope your nap was good.”

  “And the shower,” Jonas replied as he wiggled a finger in his ear. “Let’s go.”

  He grabbed his keys and followed Calhoun down the stairs. In the lobby, the other students were impatiently milling about. Simon looked exhausted. Dylan still had his head in a book, though it looked to be a different one from brunch. Unlike the others, he wore a backpack. Jodie and Sidney were standing close together, whispering to each other. The height difference between the two was enough to make Jodie’s half-crouch look comical. Sidney’s brunette hair was pulled into a tight, no-nonsense bun. Jodie’s blonde hair was in a more relaxed ponytail. None of them had bothered to change, though they all looked freshly showered.

  “Mister Souleiman is waiting for us in the limo,” Calhoun said as he swept by. He led the way out of the hotel and back into the midday heat. Having come from Ohio just the day before, they were still unused to the significantly higher temperatures. Jonas paused to look up and down the street while the others hurried to the car.

  He was shocked to see every nearby vehicle dented and scratched all over. There was more than one Mercedes-Benz parked with part of its bumper missing. One BMW had a missing side mirror, and an Audi across the street had a series of bad cracks on the windshield paired with damage from a side-swipe. He hurried over to the open door, grateful for the cool draft as he settled in. Heavily tinted windows blocked out his view of the street.

  “What’s up with all the damage to the cars?” Jonas asked Souleiman.

  “It is quite normal for people to drive aggressively, as you would put it. Vehicles can be repaired, though it isn’t worth caring after mere cosmetic damage,” he replied. “If you listen carefully, instead of shouts between vehicles, you’ll hear horns and might even see the language of blinkers.”

  Simon shook his head in confusion. “Language of blinkers? And see what? The windows are so dark it’s like a mirror trying to look through one.”

  “As driving has become more popular in Cairo, a language of signals has been developed that is cross-generational and without normal communication barriers. Perhaps some time I will go over it with you. For now, I suggest we focus on our next destination: The Museum.”

  “Is that where we’re going?” asked Jodie.

  “Yes, we are going to the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities,” Souleiman said with great importance. He held a thousand-watt smile as he looked the group over. “I know it has been a long day, and I hope your brief respite helped. You have much to look forward to at the museum. There, you will see some of the greatest exhibits known to modern man. All, of course, because of the work of Archeologists.”

  “This will be a great example of the end result of thousands of hours of work by those that have come before you,” Calhoun added. “I know I assigned hieroglyphics as extra credit, but do any of you remember how to read them?”

  Jonas racked his brain, reviewing his knowledge of the ancient Egyptian language centered around images. Jodie beat him to the punch, raising her hand. Jonas started to raise his as well.

  “Mister Quartermain, I know you do. I've never had a student so dedicated, even if for the wrong reason. Miss Miller, I am glad to see you did the work for extra credit. It is a very difficult course that is covered more extensively in your fourth year.” Calhoun paused as he looked at Simon, Dylan and Sidney. “As for you three, well, I'm a little surprised. Some of you could use the extra credit. Nonetheless, you'll have plenty of opportunities to test your knowledge. Maybe I'll give a pop-quiz while we are there.” Calhoun settled into his seat, a faint smirk turning one corner of his mouth. It looked ominous to all the students.

  “Yes, a little test of your knowledge is always good,” Souleiman said. “I will speak with our liaison. He will meet us at the front doors, and we will have a private tour.”

  “At this time of day?” asked Jonas.

  “Of course! Astute of you to realize most residents work during the cooler hour
s of the night. During the day however, patronage will likely be lower and made up of primarily tourists,” answered Souleiman. “As I have heard it, there is to be a new exhibit revealed soon.”

  “Is it related to our dig site?” Sidney finally spoke up, though even in the close environment she was still quiet.

  “I can't give you any specifics, Miss Cooper. However, our liaison should be quite pleased to show it off before the opening. He is quite excited. Been talking my ear off about it, if I’m to be honest,” he said with a chuckle.

  The car lurched through traffic to a symphony of horns. Jonas frequently heard minor collisions, though found himself less bothered than the previous ride. He lost track of time as the group made small talk. The students often asked Souleiman questions about himself, who masterfully redirected the conversation away from himself and his work.

  The drive was very short, only three minutes. Jonas thought they had only gone around the corner. The car slowed, stopped, then the transmission shifted to park. Without being told, the group followed Souleiman out of the car and into the mid-day heat.

  12

  The museum was a sight to behold. It looked to stand a little over six stories tall, with bright red brick along the face of it. Statues adorned the entrance, with two sphinx replicas on either side of a pond with lily pads. More statues could be seen around the area. The entrance had a large, white stone archway, though Jonas couldn’t tell what type of stone from where he stood. Altogether, the museum had a strange mixture of fantastic and underwhelming features.

  A slim, middle-aged Japanese man in a well-fitted light gray suit standing at the head of the pond greeted them. “Welcome to the Cairo Museum!”

  He, like Souleiman, had a smile that threatened to blind.

  “My name is Matsuoka Korekiyo, but you can call me Souka.”

  “Why Souka?” asked Simon.

  “Because that’s the diminutive form of his name,” Dylan said quickly. He had finally put his book into the small travel backpack he wore.