Wayward Son (17 page)

“Your turn, Johnny!”

“Mine will definitely take longer,” Juan Carlos told them. “Rather than just sit in the waiting room, why don’t you two go for a coffee across the street?”

“But I want to watch,” Amanda protested.

“Sorry, chica mia. It’s part of the surprise.”

An hour later, Juan Carlos strolled into the Starbucks, rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt, and peeled back a bandage on his shoulder.

Amanda stared quizzically at the image.

“What is it?”

But Laura instantly recognized the distinctive red, blue, and gold crest she’d seen countless times in her native, soccer-crazed Guadalajara.

“Real Madrid!” she exclaimed. “So that’s the big news?”

Juan Carlos beamed. “I guess they found themselves desperate for attacking midfielders this year.”

Amanda jumped up and hugged him tightly. “That’s wonderful, Johnny! When did you find out?”

“They e-mailed me the contract offer yesterday. I’m sorry to have kept it from you, but I wanted this moment to have some magic.”

As she watched them embrace, Laura’s euphoria began to fade. She didn’t want to prick the balloon, but she realized the implications: there was no Real Madrid in Los Angeles, and no Getty Museum in the Spanish capital.

“Well, we’d better capture this magic moment,” Laura said, trying to recover her mood. “Hey, how about that biker bar next door? That would make a pretty cool backdrop for a photo of you two.”

Juan Carlos scooped Amanda up into his arms and struck a pose in front of the bar. Laura snapped a few closeups and wide shots and then declared, “I’ve got to get going, guys. Sorry, but that accounting exam tomorrow is supposed to be a bear. Have a great time this evening. You deserve it!”

***

Early the next morning, Laura knocked on Amanda’s door at the Kappa house. The two girls always exchanged a hug before either one took an exam. To Laura’s surprise, there was no answer. Opening the door a crack, she could see that Amanda’s bed was empty.

“Oh, my! Well, I guess they really
did
go celebrate!” she smiled.

Laura then joined half a dozen other Kappas at the breakfast table. Needless to say, speculation about their missing sorority sister was rife.

Ten minutes later, Amanda sheepishly opened the front door and tried to head for the stairs.

“Not so fast!” exclaimed Patsy Marshall, the sorority’s social chair, in a playful tone. But when Amanda turned her head to face her sisters, a collective gasp ensued. Amanda had a fat lip and several livid bruises on the left side of her face.

“Ouch! What happened?” asked Laura as Amanda sat down wearily at the table.

“It was so stupid. We decided to go into the biker bar to shoot some pool. We thought we’d blend right in with our new tattoos. Bad idea. Around eleven o’clock some guys there started in on us. You know, the names, the rude remarks. Then this one ape grabbed me and that’s when Johnny went ballistic.”

“The biker gave you the fat lip?” asked Patsy.

“No, that was a gift from his ultrarefined, drunk girlfriend. While Juan Carlos was dealing with the jerk, she sucker punched me and knocked me down to the floor. I must have bruised my ribs when I hit the edge of a table during the fall.”

“What happened then?” asked Laura.

“The manager called the cops and the bouncers broke up the fight. Johnny got off with some bloody knuckles, but he messed the biker up worse. Then, we had the privilege of spending our night at the police station. I finally convinced the cops that we were the victims, and they let Juan Carlos go. But it took hours. I’m soooo sleepy,” Amanda winced as she stifled a yawn. Her ribs hurt so badly she could not take a deep breath.

“Come on, let’s go clean you up. Then I’ll get you to the health center for some pain meds.” Laura put a gentle hand on Amanda’s shoulder and led her up the stairs.

Amanda was able to sleep, but only until later that afternoon.

That’s when she finally heard from Nigeria.

***

Laura could simply not believe all that her friend had gone through in less than twenty-four hours. Just then, Amanda’s desk clock chimed.

“Yikes! It’s already eight thirty. I’ve got to get moving.”

Giving Plato one last backrub, she wistfully headed out the door and on with her day.

CHAPTER 18

Egypt, circa 3100 BC

AS WAS HIS CUSTOM, Cain rose before dawn. Here in the city of
Memphis
, not far south of the
Nile
delta, he liked to watch the sunrise over the great river. At the advent of each new day, he enjoyed seeing the town surge into life as the sun began to grace the streets and markets.

As always, the river remained the center of human activity. Beginning just before dawn, a steady stream of people of all ages flocked to the Nile—some to bathe, some to fish, and some with their donkeys and oxen, brought along to work the irrigation canals that watered the wheat and barley fields surrounding the city.

Ever since he had traveled to Memphis with the caravan, Cain had been overjoyed to be reunited with people. The length of the journey afforded him the opportunity to learn the essentials of the Egyptian language. Now, a settled existence in Memphis was a source of great satisfaction and relief to him.

Dressed in his best linen garments, Cain left his house soon after daybreak to visit Snefru, the father of the lad he had rescued on the cliff face six months before. When they reached Memphis, the grateful Snefru had facilitated Cain’s assimilation into Egyptian life, much as Omak had done in Enoch long before. Snefru offered him a substantial plot of land to farm, but Cain politely declined, informing his new patron that he had engineering experience and inquiring if there was a construction project of some sort he could join.

That morning, addressing Cain by his adopted Egyptian name, the tall, slender Snefru greeted him warmly.

“Good day, Kha ’ten! I have some excellent news to share with you.”

Cain returned his smile. “What news could possibly match the beauty of this morning, Snefru?”

“Well, my friend, I have been giving considerable thought to your aspirations, and I have arranged for a meeting this afternoon between you and my cousin,
Menes
.”

Cain knew from their earlier conversations that the nobleman Menes was one of the town’s most prominent citizens. And Snefru had also commented on Menes’s own ambitions. He wanted to make Memphis the capital of all Egypt and unify its many tribes and cities into one great empire. Menes had the kind of visionary, charismatic dynamism that Cain—were he given to self-flattery—might have recalled he had embodied in Enoch.

Menes was not a native of Memphis, but rather had origins upriver in the vast district far to the south, universally referred to as Upper Egypt. Shipbuilding had made him wealthy. Many of the traders who plied the great river used his vessels. First made of papyrus reed mats and caulked with pitch, trading ships were now constructed, due to Menes’s entrepreneurial drive, from massive cedar logs imported from Byblos in the
Levant
, nearly four hundred miles northeast of Memphis. Reputedly, Menes’s knowledge of the river’s geography was encyclopedic.

Cain replied, “Why, it will be a great honor to meet your esteemed cousin. What will be the subject of our discussions?”

“My cousin and I were dining last evening, and I was privileged to learn a great deal more about his designs to power our city to preeminence. Menes envisions an immense earthen dike on the Nile to protect a large part of Memphis from the river’s annual flooding. This would give the city scope to expand our population and acquire additional economic clout. The fertile lands surrounding the city are capable, in his view, of producing crops with far greater efficiency.”

“From what I have seen during my stay here so far, I would say that makes a great deal of sense,” replied Cain.

“That is precisely why you two should meet. My cousin is a gifted administrator and a successful merchant, but he is no engineer. When I mentioned your background to him, his interest was roused.”

“As is mine,” Cain replied.

***

Menes’s compound was expansive. The sprawling main house was constructed of bricks made from Nile mud and strengthened with straw and pebbles. The exterior walls were plastered with limestone, and inside the residence a series of nature paintings decorated the principal rooms.

In front of the main house was a spacious garden centered around a pool containing lotus plants and several ornamental species of fish. It was here that they found their host. Menes was just finishing dictation of a message to a Nubian king. He rose and, as was the custom, bowed to his guests, who saluted him with their hands over their hearts. Dismissing the scribe, Menes waved them to finely carved, ornamental chairs flanking the pool.

“Welcome, Snefru,” the short, thickset Menes beamed in greeting. Cain made him to be about thirty years old. “And you must be Kha ’ten. I am so pleased to finally meet the man whose heroic exploits my cousin speaks of endlessly!”

“Snefru is prone to exaggeration, noble sir,” Cain responded.

“Please, call me Menes. Snefru already considers you a kinsman. And you may trust that the gratitude for your selfless act extends throughout our family.”

“Thank you, Menes.” Cain began to relax a bit.

“I am fascinated to know how your path crossed that of my cousin’s in the middle of the desert,” Menes inquired.

Cain recounted what now had become the standard fabrication of his prior history.

“As your cousin has probably told you, I hail from Syria. You have heard of the civil war that broke out there two years ago? The conflict forced me and my entire clan into exile. We were unaccustomed to such harsh conditions, so exposure and famine took a brutal toll. Eventually we were separated and had to fend for ourselves. In reality, it was I who was fortunate to have encountered Snefru and his caravan at the oasis, for I believe I would soon have perished.” Cain lowered his watery eyes as if in remembrance of his deceased clansmen.

A look of concern crossed Menes’s face as he replied, “The desert is harsh and unforgiving. I myself never venture any distance from the river. And actually, I had feared the worst when Snefru’s caravan was so long in returning. But perhaps we can regain our festive mood this afternoon. Will you both join me in a
beer
? Just
listening
to your saga has made me thirsty.”

Without waiting for a response, Menes’s hands issued two sharp claps, and momentarily a servant girl appeared with a tray holding three mugs of murky, amber liquid. Cain learned of the Egyptians’ fondness for this unique beverage promptly upon his arrival in the new land, although he had yet to sample any that he found agreeable. Perhaps in the house of a nobleman he would encounter a more delectable brew.

“Ahhh,” exhaled Snefru and Menes, almost in unison after each taking healthy gulps. Cain politely echoed their sighs following his more modest sip, while masking his true reaction to the bitter, chalky taste.

Menes leaned toward Cain after a second swig. “My cousin informed me last evening that the skills you employed in Syria rival your bravery and compassion. I understand you were an engineer?”

“Yes, that is so. I have some familiarity with ship design, though of a different sort than your merchant vessels. Mainly, I was involved in a variety of construction projects there, from fortified walls to bridges and water control.”

“Indeed, Kha ’ten, may I explore with you some ideas I have in regards to the latter pursuit?”

Cain listened intently as Menes described his vision for the dike project. As he concluded the outline of the basic concept, his voice stiffened.

“Some of my advisors contend that these plans cannot be accomplished. Others have endorsed their feasibility but question whether the investment of money and labor is wise. May I have your opinion?”

“Well, Menes, in Syria nothing of this scale was ever required, much less attempted. But if a river as vast as the Nile can be harnessed, how could the benefits for Memphis not be equally impressive? This is as noble an undertaking as I have ever encountered.”

Seeing Menes’s face brighten, Cain paused for a brief sip of beer before adding, “May I suggest that there is another possibility beyond the irrigation and flood control potential of the project?”

In the midst of another quaff from his mug, Menes arched his eyebrow as he gestured for Cain to continue.

“In my homeland we had begun to experiment with additional ways to channel the water, not just to the arable lands, but also to the city center for domestic and commercial uses. To my mind, you could exploit the power of the great river to provide civic enhancements that would propel the economics of your project well beyond levels your advisors have considered.”

Snefru cast an encouraging glance toward Cain while his cousin leaned back in his chair and pondered the newcomer’s words for a few moments. When it came, Menes’s rejoinder was framed with a winsome smile as he raised his mug in a toast.