Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure

by Lee Alexander

  “Yes! I get it, I broke my hand! Can we just go to the damn ambulance?”

  The man looked up at him in confusion, then around for a translator.

  “OW!” Jonas yanked his hand back, causing further pain as he accidentally bumped his chest with the manacles and rattling the broken bones. He breathed through his teeth; eyes clenched shut as he worked through the pain. A moment later a voice broke through the haze.

  “Mister Quartermain?”

  The man’s voice was unfamiliar, deep and scratchy from a long-term smoking addiction. Jonas opened his eyes and looked at the speaker. He wore a light-colored business suit with sensible shoes. His face was scruffy with five-o’clock shadow. He had hard eyes, but a kind smile as he reached out.

  “Let me take care of that,” he said as he pointed at the handcuffs. Jonas reached his hands out and the man used a small key to remove them. Jonas rubbed his wrist with his good hand.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  “I am Detective Seif Abboud. It seems your story checks out. The situation was just as you said. You are lucky to have escaped with your life.”

  “Can I have my lighter back?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” The detective sat down on the palace steps next to Jonas, then waved the medic off. “It is evidence in the trial against the man who abducted you.”

  “Wait, is Professor Calhoun alive? And how did you know where I was?”

  Just then Matsuoka Korekiyo approached from a nearby van, walking slowly. His arm was already in a cast and sling. When he got close enough, he greeted Jonas with a smile. His eyes were mildly glazed, the pupils swollen with drug euphoria.

  “Jonas, I’m glad you’re alive.”

  “Souka, you too. They do quick work at the hospital,” Jonas said as he waved at the cast.

  “The perks of working with the Department,” Korekiyo replied.

  “Whatever that means. Listen, I think I’m in trouble here,” Jonas said to his friend. He caught a glimpse of headlights racing through the desert off in the distance. He turned to the detective who nodded.

  “You are certainly a person of interest, Mister Quartermain,” said Detective Abboud. “As for your earlier question, Mister Korekiyo here informed us there had been a confrontation and abduction from the museum. He told us the likely destination was here.”

  The headlights disappeared behind a dune. Jonas kept looking back and forth between the two men.

  “And Professor Calhoun?”

  Abboud shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t reveal that information at this time.”

  Jonas sighed. “Well, what do I do?”

  “You stay in Cairo during the investigation,” Abboud said.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “Not presently. The handcuffs were for our safety as well as yours.” Abboud rattled the cuffs in his hand for emphasis. “Do you think you are a flight risk?”

  “What does that mean?” Asked Jonas. He felt completely over his head.

  “Are you likely to flee the country during the investigation?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m here for work, and the work is done.”

  Abboud shook his head, then signaled for Jonas to hold his hands out.

  “Unfortunately, that means we must arrest you. Your work visa will expire soon if that is the case, and unless your employer extends your visa, you cannot stay in Egypt legally.”

  Jonas looked at Korekiyo who offered a shrug. He hung his head, then held his hands out. His right hand had started to swell badly, turning purple and black as well. The car reappeared in the dunes, much closer. Abboud placed the first cuff, then looked at Jonas’ broken hand.

  “I do not wish to cause further discomfort. Would it be acceptable to be handcuffed to me for the time being?”

  “I guess. I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Asked Jonas back. In response, Abboud placed the second cuff around his right wrist. “Can I get something to deal with the pain? The medic left before he did anything to help me, and I can literally feel my hand throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Oh, and I think I have a broken rib. It hurts to breathe.”

  A look of concern crossed Abboud’s face, and he shouted something in Arabic to a passing uniformed police officer. The man nodded and hurried off. Jonas felt nauseous with pain. He gently set his right arm down on his knee. The car pulled up to the cordon set by the police. Work lights had been set up by that point, obscuring the person that stepped out of the vehicle.

  “I just want to go home,” Jonas said sorrowfully.

  “I’m sure. Unfortunately, you have to stay here.”

  A large man walked past an officer who attempted to stop him. He looked like a football player, standing well over six feet tall and near three hundred pounds. His well-tailored suit made him look even more imposing. The police officers started to shout in Arabic, then drew their sidearms. Abboud looked at the commotion and shouted something back in Arabic. The men hesitated, then put their pistols away.

  The man walked out of the light for the first time, and Jonas recognized him.

  “Davion?”

  “Jonas, how good to see you. I left Cairo as soon as I heard what happened. Are you okay?” The man closed the distance at a surprising pace despite his relaxed demeanor.

  Jonas held his broken hand up then spoke. “I’m mostly okay. Calhoun might be dead.”

  “Don’t say anything else.” He stopped directly in front of Abboud. “Let my client out of those handcuffs and get his hand treated now.”

  Abboud silently nodded, then undid the cuff on Jonas’ wrist. Jonas looked down at his recently de-shackled wrist again, confused about the events. He had been in cuffs twice in twenty minutes, and now was free again. He looked up at Davion Jenkins who held a hand up for him to remain silent.

  “We will be leaving immediately after his hand is seen to. Everything has already been sorted out with your superiors.”

  Abboud tsked, kicking his foot at the ground. He nodded and stood. “Mister Quartermain, it has been a pleasure making your acquaintance.”

  “Uh, yeah, you too.” Jonas stood as well, and Davion placed a hand on his back to help him along. They walked directly to an ambulance at the edge of the cordon. Davion spoke in Arabic to the same medic that had seen to Jonas before. He nodded, then grabbed a box from the back of the vehicle. He withdrew a needle and a vial, then prepared Jonas’ arm. He swabbed a vein, then stuck the needle in and pushed the plunger in slowly.

  Jonas felt warmth flood his body and he grew sleepy. His hand still throbbed, and it still hurt to breathe, but he didn’t care.

  “What was that,” he slurred.

  “Morphine. Let’s get you to the hospital to look at your hand.”

  Jonas nodded, then walked with Davion to the black car he had arrived in. Jonas was helped into the car, drunkenly fumbling with the belt. He got it to click just as Davion sat in the driver’s seat. Korekiyo opened the door on the other side of the car from Jonas and took a seat next to the young man.

  “Did you call me your client?” Jonas asked. He felt fuzzy all over.

  “Yes. Don’t worry about that,” Davion said from the front seat. He turned the engine on, then shifted the car into gear. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Get some rest, Jonas.”

  They turned around, and drove into the desert. Jonas felt the morphine weigh on him like a heavy blanket. The rumble of the motor and the susurrus of sand against the body of the car lulled him to sleep.

  56

  Bright lights woke Jonas. They were rolling up to a large white building. Davion stopped the vehicle and got out. He walked around and opened the door for Jonas, then helped the young man to his feet. Jonas’ head throbbed in time with his hand. They walked into the emergency entrance of the hospital and Davion began speaking in Arabic. A moment later two men arrived with a hospital cot on wheels.

  “Relax, Jonas. I’ll be with you the whole way.”

  They started rolling down the hallway t
o shouts of other people in the emergency room that weren’t cared for yet. Jonas tried to roll his head to look at them, then gave up when the world started to spin. He held his hand up to look at it and was sickened by it all over again. It had swollen to nearly three times its size, was purple and black, and his fingers looked like sausages. It ached deep inside and was frozen into a claw. His wrist was in similar condition, swollen around the bracelet he still wore. Even his forearm looked inflamed.

  “That’s not good,” he slurred. Davion shushed him. They went through a set of double doors, then into a room with loudly humming machinery. He was transferred to a bed and his arm strapped in place. The straps hurt his swollen arm.

  “Why are they doing that? It hurts,” he complained.

  “The doctors need a clear x-ray of your arm. The doctor thinks it is broken in multiple places. What did you do?”

  Jonas shook his head. “I punched him.”

  Davion’s response was not seen by Jonas. He traded a look with the x-ray technician. The pictures had yet to be developed, but both knew what the signs were. His bones had been shattered practically to powder. The amount of force needed to do the damage didn’t match the story they were given. It looked like his hand had been crushed by something. A nurse gave Jonas another dose of morphine and he quickly fell asleep, snoring lightly.

  The x-rays were taken and the film sent to the lab for development. Jonas was released from the table and put into a private room. Davion sat by his side the entire time, making quiet calls from the bedside phone. After an hour, a doctor walked in with several translucent slides. He placed them on a lightbox and turned it on to show the x-rays in detail.

  “There are several bad breaks. Three each in metacarpals two and three, a break in metacarpal one, two breaks in the wrist, and a bad fracture in the forearm.” The doctor pointed at the location of each as he named them. He was tall, handsome, obviously well educated. He had a firm jaw with the faint shadow of stubble. His voice was deep and commanding with flawless English, one of the countless English ex-pats scattered around Egypt.

  “What does that mean for Jonas?” Davion asked.

  “Surgery. We need to move the bones and set them with pins, and likely a plate. Then a cast for six months.”

  “Will he have use of his hand?”

  “Depending on how he heals, he could get half of the use back. This is a terrible injury. Did he hit a moving car or something?” The doctor looked at the slide again, inspecting it as if the x-ray could provide the story.

  “No, but that’s none of your concern. Get him into surgery, only the best.”

  “We’ll need to sedate,” the doctor said with concern.

  “Get it done.”

  Jonas mumbled in his sleep, wincing as he moved. The doctor looked at the young man, then back at the large imposing man making the calls.

  “Are there any other injuries? It looks like his side is swollen.”

  Davion nodded. “He complained of shortness of breath.”

  The doctor looked shocked. “We need to get him back in x-ray now.”

  He used a phone on the wall to page for orderlies. Thirty seconds later, two men took the gurney and rolled Jonas down the hall and back to x-ray. The films were taken and developed while the surgeon prepped in the operating room. They rushed him in and started sedation. Davion watched from an observation window.

  The surgery took four hours; Jonas’ ribs were wrapped after the doctor looked at the x-rays again. When the surgeon had closed the fixed hand, he walked out of the operating room and washed off. A moment later, he walked into the observation suite. He spoke of no complications, but mentioned the young man had extremely resilient bones, and the likely healing time. He also complained of the jewelry that had blocked easy access to the break in the wrist. He seemed perturbed that he couldn’t remove the bracelet, lamenting the loss of their bone saw. The blade had broken on the bracelet and they left it alone after that.

  The surgeon took his leave, and Davion walked alongside Jonas’ gurney back to the private room. There he lay in drugged sleep for several hours more. Davion continued to make quiet calls from the phone in the room. When Jonas woke, he had a scratchy throat and immediately asked for water. Davion pointed at a jug on the bedside table and a glass that sat next to it.

  Jonas looked at his bandaged hand, noting the inflexible cast covering up to his elbow. The arm was held in a sling against his chest. He reached across his body and shakily poured water into the glass, then took a sip. Relief washed across his face as the water soothed his sore throat.

  “Mister Quartermain, I am relieved to see you doing well. The surgeon said you might recover as much as half of the use of your hand with time and therapy.”

  Jonas gulped loudly. “Half? How badly did I break it?”

  “The doctor had never seen anything like it before. He asked if you punched a moving vehicle.”

  “No, just prof- I mean, Calhoun. After I headbutted him a few times, I started punching him to keep him stunned. I broke his nose pretty badly, maybe his jaw too. I can still remember the crunching noise.”

  “One of the things hard to forget in life. Killing a man will change you.”

  Jonas looked down at his left hand. Then he shook his head and looked back at Davion. “I didn’t kill a man. I ended a monster.”

  Davion nodded. “That’s the attitude I wanted to hear. I have an offer for you.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “Perhaps you should listen first,” he replied patiently. Jonas hesitated, then nodded. He continued after the approval. “I want you to come work directly for the Department. We see a lot of potential in you.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Would you like to continue being an archeologist?”

  Jonas shook his head. “No, I guess everybody was right. Actual archeology is boring. The paperwork is killer too.”

  “Then I have the solution for you. We have a position earmarked for you at the Department. You would have the title of ‘Archivist’.”

  “And what would I do as an ‘Archivist’?”

  “It’s somewhat of a misnomer. Don’t get me started on it, I’ve lobbied to have the title changed for years. Think of it more as an ‘Acquisition Specialist’. You follow leads, go on site, and bring back artifacts of importance.”

  “So… like Indiana Jones.”

  Davion chuckled. “I had heard you’re a big fan. Yes, Archivists are like real-life Indiana Jones, finding artifacts all over the world. Like what you’ve done with that bracelet there,” Davion said as he pointed at the bulge in the cast.

  “Yeah, why do I still have it on?” Jonas asked curiously.

  Davion shrugged. “The doctors tried to remove it and broke a bone saw. Nobody tried after that.”

  Jonas nodded, making a note to never remove it in front of someone. “Why did they put the cast over the bangle then?”

  “You broke your hand in nine places, and your forearm. They had to cast the whole thing. Impressive work, Jonas.

  “Okay. That sounds pretty bad. How long will the cast stay on?”

  “The doctor said six months. I bet you’re out in two.”

  Jonas nodded slowly. “Got it. Now, why should I join your company?”

  “Because we’re going to let you keep the bracelet. We also paid for your release from Egyptian custody not once, but twice, in the interest of securing your services. We want you enough that we paid for your surgery and this room.”

  “What services?”

  “Why, the services of an Archivist, which you have a natural talent for.”

  “I’m going to have to think it over.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Davion stood, tipped an imaginary hat to Jonas, then left the room. Jonas lay back, considering his options.

  Epilogue 1

  Jonas stepped off the plane onto the boarding ramp. He walked to the terminal and looked around. His face lit up when he saw her.

  “Jon
as!”

  She ran up and crushed him in a hug.

  “Ow, ow, ow!” He said through laughter. She backed up, concern on her face. With his jacket drawn around his shoulders, she had failed to notice the sling holding his arm in place.

  “Watch the ribs… and arm. And face. It’s great to see you too, Lily.”

  “What happened?” She held him at arm’s length, looking him over.

  “There’s a lot to catch up on. For now, I think I need pizza and beer.”

  “It’s a date,” she said with a smile.

  His heart skipped a beat. “For real?”

  She nodded. “For real. But first, what the hell is that on your arm?”

  He looked down, noting that the bangle was only visible as a bulge in the cast.

  “Oh, that’s a long story. Call it a souvenir from Egypt.”

  She sighed. “Fine, don’t tell me. I still want a real date for a change. But, uh, not in the airport,” she said with a laugh.

  “Definitely. Where should we go?”

  “Let’s get back into town. Actually, you could probably use a shower.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Long flight.”

  She took his good arm and put her head against his shoulder. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

  They walked outside to a waiting limo. He looked askance at her. She shrugged then stepped into the back. It was a short limo with dark tinted windows. Inside, Elliott and Angie waited, sipping on champagne.

  “Welcome back, buddy,” Elliott said.

  “Yeah, welcome back,” Angie echoed.

  “Thanks guys. I guess this is a double date then?”

  “Ooh, are you going on a date?” Elliott teased. Lily shot him a look and he stopped chuckling.

  “Yes, we are. You two are welcome to come along, if you can behave.”

  “I think I can manage,” answered Elliott.

  “You’re asking for a lot there,” Jonas said with a laugh.

  The car took off as the four friends talked about the trip and what had happened in the intervening months since he left for Cairo the second time. It was the middle of May. Spring was in full force and flowers carpeted the landscape. Compared to the starkness of the Egyptian desert, Akron looked gorgeous to Jonas. He got lost in the sights more than once as they drove through town.