The Key and The Map
The events unfolded much like the movie, with Evelyn carefully presenting the intricately carved puzzle box and the faded, fragile map to Dr. Bey, her eyes glinting with both curiosity and excitement.
When the map was half-destroyed by the candle, the curator merely shrugged.
"It's for the best," Dr. Bey said, brushing off the damage. "Hamunaptra has been sought after for centuries. No one who's gone looking has ever returned."
Evelyn folded her arms, her expression unfazed. "Well, someone must've been there to come back with the stories," she retorted, her voice sharp as a knife. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel, with Kris and Jonathan following closely behind.
Kris watched her, his gaze lingering on the graceful way she moved. A faint smile tugged at his lips as she turned to Jonathan, a brow arched in playful challenge.
"And speaking of stories," Evelyn said, fixing her brother with a knowing look, "where exactly did you get this?" She held up the puzzle box, her tone dangerously sweet.
Jonathan plastered on his most innocent expression. "Oh, I… I found it in Thebes, of course!" he replied, the hint of mischief barely hidden in his voice.
Evelyn didn't buy it for a second. She closed the distance between them, practically backing him into a corner. "Oh, I bet you found it. Just like you 'found' Aunt Matilda's jewelry box when we were children, or that gentleman's wallet in Vienna."
Jonathan held up his hands defensively, his usual charm failing under her scrutiny. "All right, all right! No need to drag up ancient history." He sighed dramatically before muttering, "I may have… picked it off a man in Cairo."
Evelyn threw her hands in the air. "Jonathan!"
"Relax! He wasn't using it," Jonathan said breezily, straightening his jacket. "Besides, it's not as though he can complain. The man's locked up in prison."
Kris, who had been watching the exchange with barely contained amusement, stepped in. "I assume you mean Cairo prison?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
Jonathan nodded, looking pleased that someone was keeping up. "Yes, a former French Foreign Legion officer. Fellow by the name of Rick O'Connell."
Evelyn turned back to Jonathan, her exasperation palpable. "You stole this from someone who's incarcerated?"
"Well, I wasn't going to wait for him to get out," Jonathan quipped, earning an eye roll from Evelyn.
Kris, sensing it was time to step in, placed a reassuring hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "Let's focus on what matters. If this man knows something about Hamunaptra, we'll need his help."
Evelyn sighed, her frustration giving way to determination. "Fine. Jonathan, you're taking me to him. Now."
Jonathan grumbled but didn't protest.
"I'm coming too," Kris added firmly, earning a surprised look from Jonathan.
"Do you have any idea what Cairo prison is like?" Jonathan asked, half-laughing.
"I'll manage," Kris said smoothly. "Someone needs to handle the negotiations. Besides," he added with a glance at Evelyn, "I'm not letting her go alone."
Jonathan smirked, leaning toward his sister. "Oh, he's keen, isn't he?"
Evelyn shot him a warning look before turning back to Kris, her expression softening. "Thank you," she said, her voice warm.
Kris gave her a small smile. "Anything for you."
As they headed out, Kris fell into step beside her, the picture of calm resolve. Meanwhile, Jonathan trailed behind, muttering under his breath about how "ridiculous" it was to pay a bribe for someone he'd already robbed.
Kris shot Evelyn a playful look. "This is going to be fun."
Evelyn groaned. "You have no idea."
---
Visiting the Prison
Kris, Evelyn, and Jonathan arrived at Cairo Prison, looking every bit the part of outsiders. Their clothes were neat and unruffled, a sharp contrast to the scruffy guards and prisoners lounging around. The clatter of chains and distant shouts were the only sounds that greeted them as they approached the heavy iron gates, their steps echoing in the otherwise chaotic atmosphere. Every step felt like they were entering a world far removed from their own—one that was messy, unpredictable, and certainly not lacking in surprises.
As they neared the intimidating iron gates, the guards watched them with wary eyes, but Kris was already ahead of the game. His posture was relaxed yet commanding—the kind of quiet confidence that came from years of experience.
"Let me do the talking," Kris murmured under his breath, scanning the surroundings with a practiced eye.
Evelyn and Jonathan exchanged a quick look. As always, they trusted Kris to take the lead. Jonathan let out a small chuckle, the mischievous grin on his lips betraying his lightheartedness, while Evelyn simply rolled her eyes, arms crossed, exuding calm confidence. They both followed without a word.
As they approached the warden's office, Kris stepped forward with his usual measured calm. He offered a tight smile to the man behind the desk. "Good afternoon, Warden Hassan," Kris greeted smoothly, producing a thick envelope from his jacket and placing it on the desk.
The warden raised an eyebrow as he took the envelope, his eyes flicking to Kris, then to Evelyn and Jonathan before meeting Kris's gaze again. "You're also here for Rick O'Connell, I presume?"
Kris's lips twitched in amusement. "That's the one," he replied, his voice slightly amused. It seemed they weren't the only ones who visited O'Connell. "We need to speak with him."
The warden studied them for a moment, eyes calculating, before he grunted in agreement. "I'll allow you to speak with him, but the price for his freedom is still the same as I told others before you: fifteen thousand pounds."
Kris nodded without hesitation, his hand brushing his coat as he spoke. "Understood." He locked eyes with Evelyn and Jonathan. "Stay close," he added quietly, before following the warden inside the prison.
Inside, the air was filled with the clinking of chains, distant mutters, and the occasional screech of metal. It wasn't exactly a somber place—more like a crowded, noisy market of bad decisions. It didn't take long to find Rick O'Connell—slouched on a bench, looking every bit the part of a man who had no intention of following the rules. His hair was wild, his beard untamed, and there was a definite scent of alcohol in the air, as though it had become his personal cologne.
Kris's voice cut through the stale air. "Rick O'Connell?"
O'Connell didn't look up immediately, still nursing the remnants of his drink. After a moment, he met Kris's gaze, a cocky grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "That's me," he drawled, eyes gleaming with curiosity and mischief. "So, what is it you want?"
Evelyn frowned at him, clearly unimpressed, while Jonathan's gaze drifted to the gallows at the center of the prison grounds, his curiosity piqued. Kris, however, remained unwavering, his calm presence the only constant in the chaotic surroundings.
"We need your help," Kris said, his voice steady but with a sense of urgency. "You're the man who survived the City of the Dead. We're going there, and we need someone who knows the path—and how to make it back alive."
O'Connell snorted and leaned back against the stone wall, his feet casually propped up on the bench. "And why would I help you? You don't exactly look like the type to go digging around in the desert for old bones and rocks."
Kris's eyes narrowed, but his voice remained steady. "I'm offering you ten thousand pounds to help us reach Hamunaptra."
O'Connell's eyes gleamed with interest. "Now, that sounds more like it." He leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. "But I want half up front, and the rest when we return. And the deal stands only if you get me out of here."
A brief silence fell, broken only by the distant sounds of the prison. Kris turned to Evelyn and Jonathan, exchanging a look before nodding. "Deal."
The warden's grumbling continued as they haggled over the details, though the price had already been set. He seemed determined to squeeze every last coin out of them, offering increasingly ridiculous terms, despite having already made his demands clear. But eventually, after what felt like hours, O'Connell was finally freed. The heavy iron gates groaned shut behind them.
Outside the prison, Kris handed Rick the money, the weight of the transaction settled between them. "My half of the deal's done," Kris said, his tone firm but businesslike. "You've got your freedom. Now, you'll meet us at Giza Port tomorrow morning." He gave a pointed look, implying that Rick had plenty to prepare on his own. "Be there. No excuses."
---
Meeting Mary Poppins
Kris led Evelyn and Jonathan through the bustling streets of Cairo, his senses sharp. He noticed the subtle shift in the crowd, the faint traces of figures following them. He didn't acknowledge it—he knew all too well who was keeping tabs on them.
Kris continued to enjoy his easy rapport with Evelyn, the quiet, intimate exchange between them feeling natural as they walked side by side through the crowded streets. He subtly leaned in to whisper something to her, his smile full of quiet affection, while Evelyn responded with a playful remark, her eyes sparkling. Jonathan, trailing behind them, let out an exasperated sigh, watching their easy connection with a mixture of disbelief and mild annoyance. "You two are ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes as they carried on, completely oblivious to his irritation.
"Where are we going, anyway?" Jonathan asked, his voice cutting through the bubble of easy affection between Kris and Evelyn, his tone tinged with playful annoyance.
"We're meeting someone," Kris said, glancing at Evelyn and Jonathan. "I've arranged for a boat to take us up the Nile, but there's someone I want you both to meet first."
At a quiet corner café, they found Biscuit—disguised as Mrs. Mary Poppins—waiting with an air of smooth, composed ease. Her wide-brimmed hat and modest dress made her seem like part of the scenery, yet her sharp gaze immediately found Kris as he approached.
"Ah, Mr. Reynolds," she greeted with a knowing smile, giving a brief nod to Evelyn. "I trust the arrangements have been finalized?"
"Mrs. Poppins," Kris said with a warm, casual smile. "Everything's good. The boat's ready, but before we head out, I wanted you to meet Evelyn and Jonathan." He turned to them, his tone light yet with an undercurrent of sincerity. "This is Mrs. Mary Poppins. She's my governess." He paused, giving a wink. "And she'll be joining us on the trip. She'll be your chaperone."
Jonathan, a little taken aback, shot Kris a teasing glance. "A governess, huh? Thought you two were a little more serious."
Kris grinned, glancing at Evelyn with a playful gleam. "We're working on it."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, instead offering Mrs. Poppins a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Poppins."
Biscuit's smile was cool but genuine as she nodded. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Evelyn. I've heard much about you." She then turned to Jonathan, her gaze sizing him up with quiet curiosity. "And you must be Jonathan, yes?"
Jonathan, still somewhat bemused, gave a small nod. "That's me. So, you'll be joining us on this little adventure, huh?"
"Indeed," Biscuit replied smoothly, her tone calm and collected. "It seems I've been tasked with making sure you two don't get into too much trouble while you're off gallivanting through the desert."
Kris chuckled lightly at the comment, but there was an edge of seriousness behind his eyes. "She's not just along for the ride. Mrs. Poppins knows how to handle things when they get... complicated."
Evelyn smiled, finally relaxing into the moment. "Well, it sounds like we'll be in good hands, then."
Biscuit smiled back, but her gaze was sharp. "Well, you are—dear, you are—indeed."
---
River Boat at Giza Port
By the time the morning sun painted Giza Port in golden hues, the docks were alive with the hum of activity. Sailors hauled crates, merchants shouted over prices, and the Nile sparkled in the distance, promising adventure. Kris, Evelyn, Jonathan, and Biscuit stood confidently at the arranged meeting point.
The riverboat they had secured was already docked, gleaming and ready for departure. A crew bustled about it, their movements efficient and orderly—a testament to Kris and Biscuit's thorough planning. Biscuit adjusted her hat with a slight smirk, her ever-present composure reinforcing the group's sense of readiness.
Rick O'Connell appeared not far from the dock, clean-shaven and sharp, his transformation from scruffy prisoner to capable guide evident. He approached the group with a confident stride, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder, his demeanor relaxed.
"Morning," Rick greeted, his voice carrying a wry edge as he shook hands with Jonathan.
He quickly checked his pockets afterward, though.
Jonathan shifted uncomfortably but forced a grin.
Rick's smirk deepened before he turned to Kris, extending a hand. "Mr. Reynolds."
Kris shook Rick's hand firmly, his expression polite but focused. "I trust you've made all the preparations you'll need?"
Rick gave a curt nod. "I'm ready to get us to Hamunaptra and back, so long as your people can keep up."
Evelyn stepped forward, her eyes sweeping over Rick's polished appearance. "Well, you clean up nicely," she said with a hint of playful sarcasm. "I almost didn't recognize you."
Rick flashed a grin. "Don't get used to it, lady. The desert's not exactly forgiving."
Biscuit, standing to the side and observing the interaction, cleared her throat. "Shall we board, gentlemen and lady? Time waits for no one."
Rick glanced at her, intrigued by her air of authority but said nothing. Instead, he motioned toward the boat. "After you."
Before any of them could cross the gangplank, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted the group. The air around them seemed to shift as a figure waddled into view—a man with a greasy, slicked-back bald head, a thick paunch hanging over his trousers, and a general air of unkemptness that screamed sleazy opportunist. It was Warden Hassan, his sweaty face glistening under the harsh sunlight, his expression almost comically smug.
Kris groaned inwardly as Hassan approached, his steps slow but deliberate, his eyes scanning the group with a sense of entitlement. He was dressed in a cheap, ill-fitting suit that did nothing to mask his lack of hygiene or the faint odor of body odor that clung to him. Despite his obvious discomfort in the heat, he acted as if he were a tourist coming aboard a cruise ship.
"Mr. Reynolds!" Hassan boomed in a voice that carried more arrogance than confidence. "I trust there is still room for me aboard the ship, no?"
Kris shot him a glance, his expression souring. "What are you doing here, Hassan?" he asked, his voice clipped.
"Oh, I'm here to ensure your little expedition goes according to plan," Hassan replied, completely unfazed by Kris's irritation. "You didn't think I'd let my investment go unprotected, did you?"
Evelyn exchanged an exasperated look with Kris. "I thought we agreed to give him a cut, not for him to tag along," she said, her voice laced with frustration.
Kris sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration as he introduced the warden to Biscuit. "This is Warden Hassan," he muttered, nodding toward the greasy man. "He's... well, let's just say he's more interested in his financial stake than the actual journey. Think of him as a tourist who's tagging along for the ride."
---
A Full House
The riverboat was a sight to behold, its elegant frame cutting a stark contrast against the lively chaos of Giza Port. Its polished wood glistened in the morning sun, and the crew moved with practiced efficiency, tying ropes and hauling supplies onboard. Kris, Evelyn, Jonathan, Rick, and Biscuit stepped aboard, taking in the bustling atmosphere of the deck.
Jonathan, always one to break the silence, let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Finally, something that doesn't smell like a camel's backside."
Evelyn rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her amusement. "Jonathan, must you?"
"I must," he quipped, tipping his hat as he made his way toward the railing. "Besides, this is quite the upgrade from the prison."
Kris, walking slightly ahead with Biscuit, remained observant. His sharp gaze darted between the various groups of passengers. The boat wasn't packed, but it was clear that everyone onboard wasn't here for a leisurely cruise. This journey had a purpose—and it wasn't sightseeing.
As they settled their belongings in their cabin, Kris led Evelyn and Jonathan back to the deck, where they could take in the fresh Nile breeze. It wasn't long before they noticed the first group of familiar faces.
At one end of the deck, three Americans stood in a tight group, their confident demeanor impossible to miss. Dressed in rugged adventuring gear, they had the look of seasoned explorers—revolvers holstered at their hips, wide-brimmed hats perched at a jaunty angle. Amid their laughter and boisterous conversation stood a bespectacled man in a tailored suit, engrossed in a stack of maps and notebooks.
"Looks like competition," Jonathan muttered, leaning toward Evelyn.
Evelyn studied them, her curiosity piqued. "Treasure hunters, I'd wager. And that gentleman with the glasses must be an Egyptologist."
Kris gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. "They're here for the same reason we are," he said simply, not bothering to elaborate further. Evelyn and Jonathan exchanged a glance but didn't press him.
As they made their way to the ship's restaurant for breakfast, Kris's attention was drawn to another group seated near the corner. Zheng and his team were hard to miss. Zheng sat at the head of the table, his calm yet commanding presence drawing attention. Flanking him were Jie, Kampa, and Zero, their quiet confidence a clear indicator of their experience.
Four others sat with them—two men, a woman, and a boy—all of them visibly less composed. One of the men fidgeted with his silverware, while the boy stared out the window, wide-eyed and nervous. Kris's gaze lingered for a moment before turning back to Evelyn.
"They're still sticking out like a sore thumb," he said softly, shaking his head.
"What was that?" Evelyn asked, glancing at him with a curious expression.
"Nothing, dear," Kris replied quickly, motioning for the waiter to bring their menus.
As they waited for their food, Kris spotted another familiar face: Yanwei. Dressed elegantly yet practically, looking like Rachel McAdams from the Sherlock Holmes movie, she sat alone at a nearby table, sipping tea with a relaxed air. Kris recognized her immediately, though he made no move to approach. He had no intention of getting involved in her personal affairs—especially not the complicated history between her and one of the rookies in Zheng's group.
Evelyn followed his gaze, her brow furrowing slightly. "Do you know her?"
"She looks familiar, I just can't put my finger on it. Well, never mind, dearest. Shall we order?" Kris replied, masking his recognition with faux confusion and turning his attention back to their table.
After breakfast, Kris and Evelyn returned to the deck, where yet another familiar face caught Kris's attention. Tengyi stood near the railing, a notebook in hand, scribbling away with an air of quiet concentration. His thoughtful demeanor and unassuming appearance made him easy to overlook, but Kris knew better. Tengyi was as sharp as they came.
"Almost all the pieces are on the board," Kris murmured under his breath.
Evelyn looked at him quizzically. "What was that, dear?" She searched his eyes for an answer but ultimately gave up after she found none. "You're acting mighty odd since boarding the ship. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"I'm fine, Evie. Let's just say this boat is full of interesting characters, and it's triggered my imagination, that's all." Kris replied, a small smile playing on his lips.