Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure

by Lee Alexander

  “That is correct,” Korekiyo said. “Souka, pronounced like Sokka, is the familiar form of my name. Much like Dave from David, or Bill from William. I work with the Museum on archeological matters.” He held out a hand to Simon, the first of the students; he shook their hands in turn as they introduced themselves. His English was crisp and clear, with a faint English accent. He gestured them to follow. They walked around the pond, past the statues, and up the stairs of the main entrance. The doors were even larger as he walked through, they appeared to be twenty feet tall.

  Jonas could already see many relics on display in the lobby alone. He felt a thrill run through him at the sight of tablets older than the Roman empire. He itched to get his hands on the jewelry, sarcophagi, urns, and other relics of the ancient Egyptian eras.

  Souka held a hand toward one of the many hallways radiating from the lobby. “If you follow me down this way, we can observe several exhibits before I show you the new, as-of-yet unrevealed exhibit. I am quite excited to have your help.”

  “You already know what we're going to be digging for?” Asked Jodie.

  “Not so much what you’re going to be digging for as where you’re going to be digging,” Souka replied.

  Souleiman spoke up from the rear of the group. “Please, let us focus on the museum! We will have plenty of time to talk business later, my friends!”

  Jodie grumbled quietly about not getting answers. She gravitated toward the back of the group and observed the passing displays. Souka walked backwards at the head of the group, talking animatedly about various objects as he passed, glancing occasionally over his shoulder to make sure he didn't walk into anything.

  Souka paused next to a statue on a pillar behind a glass wall. “This is a bust of Pharaoh Tutankhamen. He is one of our most famous figures.” He moved on quickly. “These are ancient counting devices,” he said as he pointed at a wall covered in knickknacks.

  Once more, he was off, pointing and explaining minor artifacts as they went.

  Calhoun walked facing forward next to Souka, ignoring his students. Jonas was at the rear of the group, pausing occasionally to take in a particularly interesting relic. Souleiman stayed near Jonas to keep him on track.

  Many turns later, somewhere deep in the labyrinthine building, they came upon several signs denoting a closed exhibit. Souka came to a stop only a half-step from the ropes, grinning wolfishly.

  “This, my fellow students of history, is why you are here.” He paused with his hand on the curtain, then with a flourish drew it aside. Darkness loomed beyond the curtain. Jonas saw something move in the shadows, a deeper darkness.

  Souka saw the lack of reaction and looked behind him. “Oh, I do apologize. One moment.”

  He disappeared behind the curtain. Dread consumed Jonas as the curtain flapped shut. Thirty agonizingly long seconds passed before any noise came through the soft barrier. Then a light shone through the small gaps all along the hallway entrance. Souka reappeared looking slightly disheveled.

  “Again, I apologize for the delay. Please, join me.” He held the thick material out of the way and waved the group into the well-lit room. Jonas still felt the lingering hint of panic from seeing the moving shape. He glanced into the exhibit, only to find the shape he had seen moving had been a stuffed jackal. He laughed at himself, then followed the group in.

  Souka opened his arms expansively to show off the room. It was still mostly empty. Tape marked the floor in places where display cases would be placed. Some cases were present, yet empty. “This exhibit is about a mystery. The mystery of a village far from any springs, oases, or rivers. How could life be accomplished without one of the absolute necessities of life? We have a tablet that describes a water collection device. Such a device was not seen anywhere else in the world until hundreds or even thousands of years later. Your dig is going to be focused on finding the secrets of this surprisingly advanced village.”

  Jonas kept one ear on the man's animated lecture as he wandered through the room. He looked at a fragmented tablet. It had a picture beside it with an artist rendition of what the hieroglyphs might have looked like. Nearby was a display case with several types of bangles. As he continued to circle, a question bothered him, until he came across the jackal again. He stared for a long time at the stuffed jackal, wondering how he had thought it to be moving in the dark. The empty displays in the room left it with a surreal feeling, an incomplete work. The room felt as if it were held in time, waiting for something that may never show up.

  “Uh, Mister Korekiyo?” Jonas asked from a display showing off an ancient wood paddle.

  “Yes Jonas? And I thought I told you to call me Souka.”

  “Okay, mister Souka, how does this paddle fit in?” He pointed at the display for reference.

  “We have no artifacts yet; we are currently using artifacts from other finds to estimate the look of the exhibit. This will help us get the lighting set up, as well as determine positioning of the displays. Once you begin sending artifacts back from the dig site, we will populate the room and make adjustments accordingly.”

  “I see. So, none of this came from the dig,” Jonas said.

  Souka nodded. “Yes, unfortunately the only artifact we have is the tablet that helped us narrow down the location of the dig site. That is already on display here.”

  The group spent another ten minutes looking at the exhibit in mild confusion. Jonas spent most of his time looking at the tablets, hoping he could eke something out of the little he knew.

  Eventually, Souka guided them back out of the room. In an alcove he had missed near the exit was the tablet. Jonas tried to examine it, but he was pulled along by Souleiman.

  “Let's keep up with the group, Mr. Quartermain,” he said with a smile. He had a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, urging him to move.

  Jonas smiled back then waved at the tablet. “I just want to see this really quick. I think it says something important.”

  Souleiman shook his head. “I'm afraid we don't have the time for that. Perhaps the next time you are here.”

  Jonas hurriedly looked at the tablet, translating a single phrase as he was gently guided away.

  'Crimson Night'.

  Jonas thought about what it could mean as they continued through the maze-like museum. Souka energetically explained how a few tapestries hung in one hallway came into the museum’s care. He talked about several sarcophagi extracted from a tomb right on the Nile. One room they passed through had dozens of different vases. Some were for food storage, others carrying water, and one was even suggested to be an early type of battery. Jonas listened with interest. Before long, they were in front of the main entrance again.

  “Thank you for joining me on this tour,” said Souka. He gave a small bow as he spoke, then stood and ushered the students out of the museum. Souleiman led the way back to the waiting limo.

  “Though I am sure most of you took advantage of the break earlier, I am sure you are quite tired by now. It is only early afternoon, so if you sleep when we get back to the hotel, you can enjoy some of the night life Cairo has to offer. You will see, the city is far more alive at night, away from the heat of the day.”

  Yawns rippled through the group in reaction. They sat down and the limo jumped from the curb into traffic. Jonas felt his own exhaustion weigh heavily on him. He blinked, or so he thought, and found the limo empty.

  “Quartermain, get out here already,” said Calhoun. He looked impatient. Jonas started, then rose and quickly shuffled out of the limo into the intense heat. He followed Calhoun into the hotel. Relief washed over him as the blast of cold air hit him. Calhoun pulled him aside at the foot of the stairs. “Quartermain, we have a meeting tonight. I have decided you will attend with me.”

  “A meeting? What about?” Jonas asked.

  “Everything that has to be solved before starting on a dig. There might be some paperwork, but that’s usually handled by some unlucky first year lawyer.”

  “Who will be th
ere?”

  “Souleiman and Korekiyo. I’m not sure about the rest.”

  Something about the way Calhoun said it made Jonas think he was lying. He also noticed that the Professor preferred to refer to everybody by their last name. It was a habit he had too, imparted by his late firefighter father. Too tired to care, he nodded and walked to his room. He set an alarm and curled up for his second nap of the day.

  At nine pm sharp, the alarm started to buzz. Jonas groggily turned it off, then rolled to his back. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment. He took a deep breath and stretched out. Just then, a knock sounded at the door to his room. He rose, checked to make sure he was decent, then opened it.

  “Meeting in thirty. You ready?” Calhoun sounded disinterested even as he asked.

  “Yeah, just need to—"

  “Great, we need to get going.” Calhoun interrupted, then checked his watch. “A taxi should get us there on time.”

  Calhoun led the way, Jonas trailing behind. He wished for a cup of coffee despite the late hour. The air outside was cool, but it was pleasant instead of the oven-like heat of the day. Calhoun waved down a cab.

  Jonas was amazed by the amount of people walking along the road and sidewalks. Cars honked and jostled for position. Vendors shouted about their wares. He could smell a dozen different meals cooking nearby. The streets were truly alive. A battered cab screeched to a stop in front of Calhoun. It drew several honks and shouts from drivers. Calhoun opened the back door and climbed in, waving for Jonas to follow.

  13

  The trip took ten minutes. For those ten minutes, Jonas sat in a rictus of fear caused by the casual violence of driving. With its blacked-out windows, the limo ride had been far better. Finally, the car turned into what looked like a dark alley and came to a stop. The driver mumbled something, and Calhoun handed a twenty-dollar bill over the seat. Then he pushed Jonas out of the cab and they stood in the night air once more.

  “It's supposed to be right around here,” said Calhoun.

  Jonas looked around. “What is?”

  “Where we’re meeting the others. It's a coffee house, I think,” Calhoun said as he continued to scan the darkened alley.

  Just then a burst of raucous laughter told them there were men drinking nearby.

  “That's probably it,” Calhoun said. He led the way deeper into the alley, which turned around a blind corner. Suddenly they were in a different area entirely. Bead curtains obscured the entrance, and light streamed through. A large man stood near the door, but he only gave them a cursory glance. Calhoun led the way in, with Jonas hesitantly following. Then two familiar faces turned toward the pair, and friendly waves showed them the area they were to sit in.

  The whole room was littered with low-set tables. Men sat on cushions around the tables; each of which had what Jonas thought was a bong. They were tall glass contraptions, some rising as much as three feet. They had hoses coming off the base, and the men took turns puffing on them, then exhaling smoke. Despite the dim lighting, Jonas recognized the portly form of Souleiman and the slim Souka beside him. A third man sat with them, partially in shadow.

  Calhoun sat first, then waved Jonas to the last available pillow. Jonas sat, then looked at the mysterious third person. He was the darkest man Jonas had ever met, as well as the most muscular. He guessed the man was six-six and two-hundred-fifty pounds of pure muscle. The man was nearly bulging out of his impeccably fitted suit.

  “I'm Davion Jenkins. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He spoke with a deep voice and American accent. It was so quintessentially American, Jonas was suspicious the man had been coached.

  “Uh, hi. I'm Jonas Quartermain,” Jonas replied.

  “Oh, I already know who you are,” Jenkins said with a rumbled laugh.

  “You do?” Jonas asked as he looked at the others around the table. They were engrossed in their own conversation.

  “Yes, I do. Don’t worry about that now though. We were waiting for the two of you. I work for the company that’s sponsoring the trip. More on that in a minute. It's good to meet you.” Jenkins held a hand out that Jonas shook.

  Calhoun had been talking with Souka and Souleiman all the while. Souleiman clapped his hands and the attention was brought to him around the table. A man approached a moment later, and Souleiman gave a rapid-fire set of instructions to the server in Arabic. The server nodded and disappeared, only to return a moment later with a ceramic bowl and several baskets.

  Calhoun leaned across Jonas’ field of view for a moment.

  “Good to see you, Jenkins.” He shook the large man’s hand.

  “You as well, Nic.”

  Calhoun leaned back. Jonas watched in fascination as the server prepared the bowl, set it on top of the bong, and placed glowing charcoal on top of it. Souleiman waved the server away, then picked up one of the hoses. He took a long draw, then passed the hose to Souka as he exhaled. A thick plume of white smoke escaped from Souleiman.

  “Are we smoking... uh...” Jonas started to ask.

  “This is called a Hookah, Mr. Quartermain, and shisha is what's placed inside. Think of it as flavored tobacco,” Calhoun said in his professor voice. He picked up another of the hoses, then took a long draw as well. He exhaled and passed the hose to Jonas. Jonas took it, then took a long pull off the hose. The smoke was sweet, reminiscent of peaches. He exhaled and passed the hose back to Calhoun. He was immediately struck by a heady high; a tingling that made his head float.

  “Thank you for joining us, gentlemen,” said Souka. “It looks like Mister Quartermain has already met our final party member, Mister Jenkins.”

  “We did our own introductions while Nic talked your ears off,” Jenkins replied with a smirk. Calhoun glared at him while both Souka and Souleiman laughed uproariously. He addressed Jonas. “I work for the organization that is sponsoring your academic trip.”

  “You mentioned that a moment ago, what organization is that?” Asked Jonas. Jenkins smiled at him, another of those mildly unsettling, all-too-bright smiles that seemed common around Cairo.

  “I must not have mentioned it. I work for the Department of Acquisitions. We like to find promising students in the archaeology program, and related fields, and help them along their career paths.” As icing on top, Jenkins winked.

  Jonas looked at Calhoun, who seemed to be carefully not paying attention. A glance at the other two showed them also seemingly uninterested.

  “I see,” he said. “So, what's this meeting about?”

  “First, the coffee,” interrupted Souleiman, just as a man appeared with their tray. The server dished an unhealthy portion of sugar into tiny cups, then poured the coffee after. The cups reminded Jonas of drinking espresso. As quickly as the server had appeared, he was gone again. He left the metal jug behind. Jonas hesitantly sipped the coffee. The taste hit him and he sighed in delight.

  The coffee was incredibly strong, with a heady scent and strong bittersweet taste that was alleviated by the sugar. It was thick enough that he felt he could practically chew the drink. However, he savored the cup. After he finished it, he looked at the others. They seemed content to enjoy the coffee.

  “Can I have another?” he asked as he held his tiny cup up.

  “Of course, Mister Quartermain,” said Souleiman. He took Jonas’ cup and poured another measure of coffee. The conversation began in earnest once each of them had a second round in hand.

  Jenkins spoke first. “We must have the projected artifacts.”

  “Of course,” replied Souleiman. “However, removing them from the country is bound to be quite difficult. As you know, the government is calling for all artifacts to be returned home.”

  Jonas nodded along, remembering reading an article in a journal recently about the Egyptian government’s response to theft of their artifacts.

  “I am aware,” Jenkins said. “There is always a way to make something work.”

  “Of course, of course. That is where the museum comes in. If we have the art
ifacts processed by the museum and then put on loan to your department for study, we can avoid much of the strain of taking artifacts out of the country.”

  Souka began to speak, but was cut off by Jenkins shaking his head. “That’s no good. We don’t know how long it will take, and the paper trail can’t go through the museum.”

  “I have a good resource for handling this,” Souka interjected. “Besides, you will need to have the proper paperwork regardless of what you do, unless you intend to smuggle them out of the country.”

  That caught Jonas’ attention. “We’re going to be smuggling?”

  Calhoun lightly backhanded Jonas’ shoulder.

  “No, and be careful talking like that. We are above board.”

  “That’s right,” Jenkins said. “No, we won’t be smuggling. Souka, what resource are you talking about?”

  “I have a business contact that works with the museum on select… acquisitions. They will be willing to step in and help.”

  “You’ve already discussed this with them?” Jenkins sounded incredulous and concerned at the same time.

  Souka shook his head. “No, but we have done work of this nature before. It won’t be an issue.”

  “Remind me why we have to work with this third party?”

  Jonas found a chance to shine. “You need to have an original bill of lading, airway or shipping bill, statement of origin, export license, a certificate of inspection, and a certified local business as the exporter.”

  Calhoun nodded proudly at Jonas. “Well done, Mister Quartermain.”

  Souka took over. “That is where our friend comes in. They sign as the originator and arrange for inspection and origin.”

  Jenkins nodded. “Do they use shipping, or flight? Can we have artifacts overnighted to America?”

  “I suppose, depending on the weight, something could be worked out.” Souka looked thoughtful. “Yes, I think something can be done if you need it on a short time scale. However, the fees will be extraordinary if you choose such a path.”