Into The Land of Punt

Five

As he woke up in the middle of the bed, Martin felt like cursing out. His head felt like it was going to explode. All he felt like doing with it was to cut it and put it on the table as he took a bath and answered the goddamn phone. Somebody please answer it! He thought as he covered his heavy aching head with a pillow.

The phone continued ringing and he thought he was dreaming. Though it hurt his ears, a telltale that he wasn't dreaming.

He opened his eyes, and the light made his eyes hurt. He closed them for a moment and opened them at a regular interval to grow himself accustomed to the light. Something, besides his hangover was off. He pressed the pillows to his head as the phone rang once more.

The pillows, he realized. they were rather soft. Not as hard as his was. This felt like they were made from feathers. He quickly got up wondering where he was sleeping, and his head felt like someone was pressing salt on an open wound. A sharp excruciating pain hit him.

He closed his eyes once more and let himself fall back into the bed that bounced him up slightly.

Yep! He wasn't in his home. But how did he get here? Was he in a hotel or was it an inn? What about a bed and breakfast was it…? He got up slowly again and stole a look around with squinted eyes.

There was a typical hotel room around him. Did a hotel get constructed around him overnight? Did he…? He searched himself as he recalled talking dirty to a girl in the bar. He found his wallet on his trouser in the ground and it still had a bundle of cash in it.

He looked at it. Okay he didn’t buy a prostitute. That was good.

He didn’t offer to pay anyone’s tab. Still okay. And he wasn't robbed.

But why was he in a hotel?

He went to the ringing phone and answered it. “hello?”

“hi, this is Lisa Mon-afield, we talked yesterday but you were a bit hammered, and I was wondering if we could have a breakfast meeting at the any nearby restaurant you are comfortable with, I would buy.” An unfamiliar voice said in the hotel telephone and his head went numb.

Lisa? Mon-afield? what? was that some lazy parent trying to name their daughter Mona Lisa but failed terribly because their surname wasn't just mona but Mon-afield?

“I’m sorry, I don’t recall talking to…” he remembered smiling sheepishly to a girl in front of him and he nearly pulled out his hair. He remembered asked her if she was a prostitute and saying he would by everything she was selling.

He remembered telling the girls if she didn’t want s*x, she could just lay, and he would hit it without her feeling it. Was he serious last time? She wouldn’t feel it? Did he forget that he had an African origin, people who genetically have a huge c**k? Was that girl her?

“it’s Lisa Head of archaeology from…”

He remembered.

“No, I am in the right one.” She responded sitting next to him before giving him her business card. ”Lisa Mon-afield, Head of archaeological digs, WIC incorporated. I came to offer you a job.”

He better stop drinking.

“I recall, but I thought I told you I wasn't interested.” He responded as he thought of how he got into this hotel. He remembered walking out of the bar alone and then, blacking out. What happened.

“I recall asking you what would change your mind and getting ridiculous responses of a drank man. So, I came to give you a chance.”

“hmm, quick question, how did you know to call this number?”

she hesitated for a moment, then answered, “I paid for your room.”

Right.

“okay, thank you, how much is the room?”

“No don’t worry, all I need is a fifteen-minute meeting and I would let you off for it.” He closed his eyes as the last of yesterday’s memory hit him. he remembered his ridiculous demands.

“we can meet in my room; all I need is fifteen minutes too to take your pants off.”

“I’m not joking Mr. Moore. I am here strictly for business.”

“have you ever seen me wearing a suit and tie?” he asked sinking back into the bed.

“no, I have not.”

“good, then you should know I don’t do business.”

“Mr. Moore, what would you say if the police showed up with a warrant saying you molested me last night in that hotel room after forcing me into it?” he rose up from his bed wondering if he had done that. He didn’t recall it, but she certainly didn’t just threaten him without some backing. Could she?

He thought of everything he did the day before. He was threatened to pay thirty million or risk losing his sister to the Russian mafia. He was then taken for a drink by Markov who apologized to him, and he was only served Whiskey. But was it spiked? he certainly didn’t pay the tab. No hotel also would allow anyone to go in without paying the for the room.

“is that a threat?” he asked knowing fully well that things today weren’t looking in his favor.

“call it what you may. I’ll meet you in the lobby in half an hour, do hurry up please.” She said and hung up.

He stood staring at the telephone sheepishly before he got up and took a shower amidst his hangover.

He sat down in the empty Korean restaurant and waited for his blackmailer to show up. He had redialed her number and changed the meeting place after realizing that the hotel was owned by her company, WIC International company.

She made her way into the Korean restaurant as he started eating haejang-guk, a Korean hangover soup.

She sat in front of him and though she was wearing casual, He had to admit that she was a beautiful Latino. The suit and the alcohol last night didn’t do her much justice.

“so, have you thought about it?” she asked without even greeting or making any small talk. She was just let’s get down to business.

“Good morning to you too.” He greeted and bowed his head back into his bowl of soup. “I took the liberty of ordering you Saengchae, its Korean salad, best salad you can ever taste since I didn’t know whether you were a vegan or not.” He started as he called for the owner.

“I’m okay.”

“don’t hurt the old lady’s feeling’s feelings, she wasn't open, and I forced her to open and cook you a meal. And let’s wait with business can we, my head is a bit fuzzy, I might refuse your offer if you don’t let me take care of my hangover. “

She kept quiet and accepted the plate she was offered by the old woman who ran the shop. She ate quietly without any complaint.

 He finished his soup first and stared at her as she ate. She did look beautiful still as she ate. She wiped her lips regally and tried to put the dirty serviette into the plate and he caught it.

“where I come from, you finish everything on the plate. You don’t throw anything away.” He told her almost slapping her hands.

“but I’ve had my fill.” She complained pushing the plate aside.

“we are not in America.” He started. “you can waste as much food there as you want but not here or anywhere. Plus, that granny, she is a true blood Korean, if you don’t want another plate placed in front of you, be watched while you eat, I would suggest finishing up.”

She forced herself to finish the food as another girl watched them outside the window with pained eyes.

“now that wasn't hard, was it?”

“I can’t breathe.”

“too bad, now we can talk, or should we wait until you have digested?”

“I can talk.”

“good, how did you know about me?”

“you came highly recommended by your former professor, Professor Richard Pankhurst. Only student to finish his course within a year. Still get the highest mark.”

“how did you find me?”

“someone told us where we could find you. I don’t need details from HR.”

“Ok, what do you want me to do?”

“examine something we found in Somalia for us. Translate it. I was told you are fluent in Ge’ez and Nsibidi.” She said looking at him in the eyes.

“can’t blame my brain, but what if I refuse? I don’t like working for huge companies. Especially when their motives are unclear.”

“then, like I said yesterday, I would like to know why I was declined. Money for us is no object. We could write you a check even now.”

“I am not interested in money.”

“then what do you want? Sure, we can work something out.” She said and Martin felt the temptation to do as he did the day before, but he stopped himself.

“what if I…”

“can you excuse me; I need to use the bathroom.” She got up and went to the bathroom directed by the signs. The girl who had been watching them walked into the restaurant and walked up to him.

Martin looked up from his phone and saw his sister standing in front of him with mad angry eyes. He shot up, almost made the chair fall.

“hello Martin."