Rakitaki: A Jonas Quartermain Adventure

by Lee Alexander

  “Well, it doesn’t matter, because the idea was insane.”

  “Tell me anyway. I have dealt with many unusual circumstances in my time,” Souka said quietly.

  Jonas looked back and forth along the length of the hallway to ensure privacy. Finally, he spoke. “I dreamed about it.”

  “The tablet?”

  “The Crimson Night.”

  43

  “That… is fascinating,” Souka said in response to the recounted dream. They had taken a seat on the plush chairs in the hallway to talk. It had taken him some time to coax the full story out of Jonas. “What do you believe it means?”

  “I think it really happened. It certainly felt like it happened. It felt real… like when…” Jonas trailed off as he recalled the club again.

  After a long, awkward silence, Souka asked for clarification. “Like when? When what? Did something happen to you?”

  Jonas’ eyes shot around the still-empty hallway. “Look, can we take this somewhere more private?”

  “More private than a barred and empty hallway? I suppose. Let’s go to my office.”

  Jonas followed the older man to a door with a plaque that read ‘M. Korekiyo’. Inside, he sat in one of the guest chairs while Souka closed the door and took the seat behind the desk. “Okay, Jonas. This office is safe to speak in. What were you talking about in the hallway?”

  Jonas nodded. “I went to a club in Sharm El-Sheikh.” He paused. He wasn’t sure how someone of clearly higher standing would take it. When Souka nodded but stayed silent, he continued.

  “We were partying… uh, things got a little out of hand. I was dosed with a drug– against my will, of course. I thought it was coke at first, but now I’m pretty sure it was Rakitaki. The sense of strength, of power was… unreal. I threw a person, a whole person, through a window. Four people, actually. Without help. That was the same feeling from the dream.” Jonas sat with his knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around them. He gently rocked in place. The dream still had him shaken, questioning his reality.

  Souka looked at him, focusing on the deep bags under the young man’s eyes. “That is fascinating. I don’t doubt you believe the incident was real. How does it relate to your dig?”

  “It’s a few miles away from the pyramid. I think it was the true location of the support village. The, uh,” Jonas paused to find a way to keep from mentioning the pharaoh. He didn’t want further attention paid to him. “The person from my dream, he mentioned the endless wells. The same one from the tablet that led to the first dig.”

  “They still haven’t found it at the university dig site,” Souka said off-handedly.

  “I don’t think they will. I think I’m meant to find it.” Jonas suddenly sat upright. “I think I am. That must be what the company is after.”

  “Among other things, I’m sure,” Souka said slowly.

  “Do you have any idea who would want to steal that tablet? I mean, I have an idea, but I don’t think a mummy is going to break into a museum and steal only one artifact. Especially in a museum full of ancient artifacts that the ancient Egyptians claimed had great power.”

  “We unfortunately have no leads at present. The only evidence left behind was that single drop of dried blood. Too bad that is useless to us.” Souka sighed dejectedly. He waited a moment, then stood. “Come along, Jonas. If there is nothing else you need from me, I need to get back to work.”

  “Oh, wait!”

  Souka paused.

  “Uh, do you have any other documentation about the tablet? A photograph, or rubbing?”

  Souka shook his head. “No, it’s the strangest thing. Anybody can look directly at the tablet without a problem. But if you try to take a picture of it, it either comes out over-exposed or totally black. We tried over a hundred times. When we tried to take a rubbing, the paper was lost in less than an hour.”

  “Now that sounds insane,” Jonas said.

  “I know. Like I said before, I’ve seen some strange things in my time. Unfortunately, I can’t give you any further information about the tablet at this time. I’ll ask some of my colleagues if they have notes they can send over.”

  Jonas nodded and thanked Souka, then walked with him toward the busier sections of the museum. The faint odor of cleaning agents was soon replaced by smells of humanity in all its variety. As they approached the main lobby, Souka stopped Jonas with a hand on his shoulder. He held out a worn business card.

  “Jonas, give this man a call. I think he can help you out. He might have some answers for you.”

  Jonas accepted the card, looking it over. It was simple white card stock with several lines in both Arabic and English. It read ‘Toran Tufekci’ on the first line, then ‘Acquisitions’ on the second. At the bottom was a phone number with a few extra digits for the country code.

  “Uh, thanks. What kind of answers?”

  Jonas looked up from the card to find that Souka was gone. He stood alone in a sea of humanity. When he left the air-conditioned museum, he paused near the pond to take in a breath of fresh air. It smelled like cars idling, but it was a welcome respite from the air near the lobby. He looked at the statues and pond again, enjoying their serenity, then started on the ten-minute walk back to the hotel.

  On the walk back, he decided he wanted some food. He stopped off at the restaurant and ordered the American style breakfast. He looked out the windows at the lively city beyond. The Nile flowed by just outside, laden with ships of all sizes. People walked by with purpose on the sidewalk. Cars honked and jostled as the flow of traffic never stopped. The server, an English ex-pat with a walrus-like mustache, delivered the food while he took it all in. There seemed something magical to him, watching all these people walk or run or drive by, thoroughly engrossed in their own lives, their own stories.

  “It is quite nice,” Lily said from the empty seat next to him.

  He nodded, not yet talking to her. He had purposefully taken a far corner seat with few tables nearby. People walked through the lobby below, chatting with their companions. He could faintly hear the unending susurrus of horns honking on the streets outside. He finally looked at her sitting next to him.

  She smiled widely. Her green eyes glittered in the hotel’s lights, and her hair had a healthy shine. She was dressed in a loose white dress this time, complete with sun-hat and matching white flats.

  “What is your goal here?” She would ask him.

  “I don’t know,” he said quietly. Her smile turned to a frown.

  “What have you learned?”

  He shook his head. “The tablet I went to go see is missing. Anything I could have learned from it, I can’t.”

  She shook her head in return. “You’re missing something there.”

  He frowned. “Missing? The only thing missing is the tablet.”

  “Exactly.”

  He paused to think. She was pointing him to something. Silent laughter danced behind her eyes. She was waiting for him to see what she had already noticed.

  “The tablet is missing. There are no pictures or rubbings of it, so I can’t see it again. Someone stole it, but even beyond that it’s like the tablet itself doesn’t want the knowledge it contains out.”

  He sighed. She touched his shoulder. “You can figure this out.”

  He nodded. “Right. So, this tablet led to the pyramid, but can’t be captured on film. Based on what Souka told me earlier, a large chunk of it remains untranslated. That probably covers what the ‘Crimson Night’ is, as well as the ritual. The one I dreamed about. Hell, it probably helps explain why I’m having these awful nightmares. I think the hallucinations are explained by the sleep deprivation.” He shook his head. “I’m so damn tired.”

  The server stopped by his table and said something. It took a moment for Jonas to refocus.

  “Sir, is the meal to your satisfaction?”

  “Oh, yes, it’s very good. Can you bring me a phone?”

  “Of course, sir,” the server said. His moustache twitc
hed as he turned sharply and walked behind the nearby bar. He returned a moment later with a cordless handset. Jonas had never seen one in person before. It was a sleek, beige handset with gray buttons. ‘Sony’ was printed near the bottom. He marveled. Ads listed cordless phones for anywhere between one-hundred and often over four-hundred dollars.

  He lifted it and looked to the server.

  “Press the talk button, then dial the number. We will charge it to your room.”

  Jonas nodded as the man retreated to the bar. He took the beaten business card Souka had given him out of his wallet. He double checked the digits, then entered them into the phone. He put the card down on the table and pulled the lighter out of his breast pocket. He idly toyed with the lighter while the line rang.

  “Tufekci’s Antiquities, how can I help you?” A man answered.

  “Uh, hi. I’m looking for Toran Tufekci,” Jonas replied, using the pronunciation of the name he had just heard.

  “I happen to be the very man. Who am I speaking with?” Toran asked in a heavy Turkish accent. He sounded like a jovial man.

  “I’m Jonas Quartermain. I was given your card by… an associate,” he said. He idly played with a slice of sausage on his plate.

  “An associate? Someone surely I must know then.” Static crackled on the line over his words. Still, to Jonas it felt like the man was standing just a few feet away.

  “Mister Korekiyo, from the Museum.” Jonas thought about eating the sausage, then decided against it. It would be rude to eat on a phone call.

  “Ah, yes! A good friend. Any friend of Souka is a friend of mine. How can I help you, Mister Jonas?”

  “Just Jonas, please. What can you tell me about the Murdus Tablet? It was donated to the museum a few years ago by my Archaeology Professor, Calhoun.”

  The tone on the far end of the phone suddenly changed. “We should meet in person, Jonas. Where are you located at?” Gone was the joviality.

  “I’m uh… I’ll meet you at the American University of Cairo.” Jonas picked up on the change and was suddenly nervous.

  “Excellent. Shall we meet at the Garden Entrance? In, say, an hour?” The man was back to sounding nice, but the short slip had Jonas on edge.

  “Yeah, no problem. See you then.” The line went dead and he placed the cordless phone on the table. A server appeared seconds later to whisk the plate and phone away. Jonas stared at the table for a long time before he stood to get ready for the meeting.

  44

  Jonas glanced nervously around as he sat idly on a bench. A long stone pathway lay in front of him with grass and ponds down the middle. It was lined with tall palm trees along both sides. Lights, both in the ground and up near the trees lit the garden very well. Most people that walked past were university students. It seemed even they worked and studied on a night schedule. He realized that he had not talked with Toran about how to identify each other.

  Ten minutes later, he saw a middle-aged Turkish man with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth and a black beard walking along the garden, closely examining every white person he passed. He wore a well-tailored white suit, probably made of cotton. It appeared very expensive. He wore a small white fedora to match. The man looked every inch an Egyptian businessman.

  Jonas watched the Turk examine other people as he walked. They either ignored him or brushed him off, but his smile never wavered. Finally, the man approached Jonas. He looked for a long moment at his face, then smiled wider and extended a hand.

  “Mister Jonas, I think. I am Toran Tufekci.”

  Jonas nodded, stood, then shook the proffered hand.

  “I am Jonas. How did you know?” Jonas pulled his hand back, then offered the other half of the bench to Toran.

  “It is quite simple; you told me when I asked! Now, you mentioned a tablet,” Toran said as he sat. Despite his size, he hardly made a sound. Most men with a gut like his would grunt as they sat, then groan as they stood.

  “Right. The Murdus tablet was donated by my professor. When I asked Souka about it, he gave me your card,” Jonas said. “I wanted to examine the tablet, but it was stolen last week.”

  Toran nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette. “That is unfortunate. I do not believe I can help you.”

  “Souka said you’d have answers. I need to know more about the tablet.”

  Toran shook his head, then put the cigarette to his lips and took another puff. “As I said, I do not believe I can help you. I am unfamiliar with a ‘Murdus’ tablet. If you’ll excuse me, I have other appointments.”

  “I know it relates to Crimson Night, and to…” Jonas paused before saying the name. Even so, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Atakheramen.”

  Toran paused with his hands to his knees, halfway through standing up. He slowly sat back down.

  “Where have you heard this name?”

  “I’m working on a dig related to him. And I have found a few… artifacts related.” Jonas knew he hadn’t found anything, but he had dreamed multiple times of the mummy, and even had the strange dream-memory.

  “I have lost many cousins in the last few years, some of whom said that same name.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. I need to know more, though. What can you tell me about the Crimson Night?”

  “That is a five-thousand-year-old prophecy best left in the deep, dark past. It is an evil thing. It should stay there.” Toran took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and wiped his brow. He folded it over, then returned it to the same pocket. “Please, let sleeping demons lie.”

  Jonas shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  He took a deep breath, hands clasped in his lap. “I think I experienced it.”

  “The last eclipse was a year and a half ago. As you are an American, I assume you did not see it,” Toran replied. His jovial manner was gone. Instead, he was sweating constantly.

  “I mean the original Crimson Night.”

  “That occurred nearly five thousand years ago, sir. I do not have time for such fantasies.” Toran did not stir. It looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “I dreamed I was… him. I dreamed about the ritual. I felt it, the power. Whatever it was that happened to him.” Jonas looked over at the Turk, noting how pale he had grown.

  “The last time I attempted to take a picture of the tablet, the film would not develop. However, I may have a rubbing. I will need a day to locate it. I will meet you here, at the same time tomorrow.” Without waiting for a response, Toran quickly stood and speed-walked away. His hands fumbled a pack of cigarettes open and placed one to his lips. He did not look back at the young man as he lit it.

  “Guess I have to wait,” Jonas sighed to himself. He stood as well, then walked leisurely in the opposite direction. He pondered his options. Toran would not return to the Garden Entrance of the University until the next night. Then Lily’s words drifted through his mind.

  “Yeah, but I was either in class at the university or studying at home the entire time. I didn’t get to sightsee much at all,” she said as she walked next to him. He stared into her green eyes. The sights and smells of Cairo faded away, still there, but pale compared to her presence.

  “Why do you keep coming to me?” He asked.

  “Why do you keep summoning the figment of me?” She asked him right back. As always, a faint smile curled her lips. His heart skipped a beat seeing her like that. He pondered her words, even as she turned to smoke with the wind. Every time she appeared his heart soared. Each time she faded away he felt loss anew.

  Jonas wandered the streets, hoping to find a fair like the one he had chanced upon his first week in Cairo. He thought about Mister Holcomb and what would be a good present to give the man. He started looking for a sign for an ATM. He passed a small bank and stepped into the lobby. The machine was clunky and the screen flickered, but he found the option for English. He fought to remember the pin for the account, then withdrew three hundred dollars. His remaining bala
nce shocked him. He had more than a hundred left in his account. The Department were clearly throwing money at him.

  He trekked back to the hotel, then attempted to retrace his steps to the fair. He wandered streets, then alleys for an hour until he found himself near a familiar shawarma stand. He looked opposite the stand and found the little bookstore.

  A bell on the door rang as he crossed the threshold. Once again, the smell of old books and musty air filled his nostrils. He could just make out the spices of the food outside under the bookshop’s distinct aroma. Fingertips trailed through the light coating of dust on the shelves as he walked idly through. When he came to a stop at the glass-top counter, he looked at the books contained inside.

  ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ bright on its blue background. The red velvet under the book made the colors pop, even as it showed the age of the book. Rustling from the door behind the counter sounded, and the shop owner finally emerged from the back.

  “You again.”

  “I want this book.”

  “I already told you, I won’t let it go for less than four-hundred. Do you have that? Bah, I thought not,” the old man said without waiting for a response.

  Jonas shook his head. “I have two-hundred.”

  The man paused. “Three-fifty. You’re robbing me at this point.”

  “I can do two-fifty.” The thought of giving up so much money churned his gut.

  “Three-hundred.”

  “Two seventy. I can’t afford any more or I won’t eat this week.”

  The old man huffed. “If you can’t afford it, then you shouldn’t be buying it.”

  “I owe it to a friend. I wouldn’t be here without him. I’d still be in Akron, staring at the wall.”

  “I see. Very well, I will sell it to you for two-eighty. You are robbing me blind, but if it is for friendship, perhaps I can let it go.”

  “One moment,” Jonas said before he pulled his wallet out. “How do I know the signature is genuine?”

  The owner nodded. “A good question. Take a look at this.” He pulled the book out of the case and opened it to the signature page again. Jonas carefully examined it, then nodded. The owner flipped the page and pulled out a card. It read ‘Certificate of Authenticity’ at the top. Below was an unfamiliar name with a dozen letters behind it. The card was dated seven years before.