Death of a Pharaoh (10 page)

Federal Courthouse, Philadelphia: 08:28 EDT
September 13, 2016

As a Senior Partner at the prestigious Philadelphia law firm of Rosenberg,
Spelman & Associates, twenty years had passed since David Spelman crawled
out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Monday morning to hold the first spot in
line before the doors opened at the Federal Courthouse on Market Street. He was
fortunate to get such an early appointment and only because he and the Chief
Magistrate Judge were brothers at the same Masonic Lodge. Still it wasn't a
guarantee of success. Judge Henderson would hear his arguments and he was
notoriously reluctant to issue such orders. To complicate matters he would only
have fifteen minutes to make his case before His Honor was due in court.

The call from the
Falcon Foundation came as no surprise considering the matter at hand. David
knew no other lawyer in Pennsylvania who could match his experience in cases of
religious freedom. In 1997, he formed part of the high-powered legal team that
represented the Archbishop of San Antonio, Patrick Flores in the landmark
Supreme Court case City of Boerne v. Flores. Although the Archbishop lost the
case when the court, in an opinion by Justice Anthony Kennedy, declared the
Religious Freedom Protection Act unconstitutional, David knew he had found his
life's calling.

Two years later,
they invited him as a witness to address the Senate Committee on the Judiciary
during hearings on religious liberty protection. He helped draft Pennsylvania's
subsequent Religious Freedom Protection Act that had withstood all
constitutional challenges and in 2004, he won the first injunction in the state
prohibiting an autopsy on religious grounds. Almost all of his cases have been
on behalf of Jewish families, although suits brought by Evangelical Christians
determined to home school their children were becoming a significant part of
his practice.

Despite all his
success, the prospect of arguing for the religious rights of the High Priestess
of an ancient Egyptian cult that few people even knew existed daunted him. A
Google search by one of his assistants could only find cryptic references on a
few oddball websites that also sold rock crystals that allegedly generated
cosmic power. Still he was the eternal optimist and asked his driver to remain
near the front entrance with the engine running, no matter how many parking
tickets he might receive.

The doors opened
promptly at 8:30 am and David Spelman soon cursed himself for not remembering
to remove his watch, belt, keys and the gold Star of David he wore on a chain
around his neck before trying to pass through the sensitive metal detector that
was a fixture in every courthouse since 9-11. Silence greeted the third attempt
but the others robbed him of two precious minutes of time. He raced to the
elevator bank and pressed the button for the 12
^th
floor.

He was still
catching his breath when Judge Henderson finished reading the request and threw
it down in a manner that did not auger well for the possibility it might
prosper.

"Counselor,"
the judge began, "I am well aware of your reputation in these matters but
do you really expect me to issue a temporary restraining order to prevent the
autopsy of a murder victim due to her religious beliefs when I have never even
heard of these so-called Servants of the Door Mat."

"Servants of
Ma'at, your Honor," David corrected him politely.

"Whatever.
You know full well, that no one has ever won a suit against a public agency in
the case of a homicide. Maybe if she was Jewish and there was a petition from
the family but it says here that she only has a grandson, who isn't even
represented as a movant. The only name I see is one Herbert Lewis of the Falcon
Foundation. You're going to have to be a hell of a lot more convincing than
that Mr. Spelman," he insisted as he glanced at his watch, "and
you’ve got five minutes left."

"Your honor,
Mrs. Carter was the CEO of the Falcon Foundation and Mr. Lewis has a signed
power of attorney. The foundation is one of the largest charitable
organizations in the world with combined assets of more than $80 billion."

"Granted,” he
conceded, “she may well control more money than the Vatican but unlike the
Catholics she doesn't have a billion followers."

"I have sworn
affidavits from several members, Your Honor," he admitted as he reached
into his briefcase.

"Save
yourself the trouble Counselor. If you are about to show me that there are a
dozen followers in Oregon living in a commune, wearing long skirts and
Birkenstocks, it will not suffice to convince me that these Servants of Ma'at
are a minority religion for constitutional purposes."

David had not
wanted to play his last card but the judge gave him no choice. He placed the
thick manila file on the desk.

"Your Honor,
these are more than a hundred notarized affidavits signed by, among others, two
members of the Federal cabinet, several eminent jurists, four Ambassadors,
prominent business leaders and one famous actor. They all swear that they are
long-time members of the Servants of Ma'at and that Fannie Carter was their
spiritual leader."

Judge Sullivan
picked up the file and began to read the names on the affidavits. He whistled
in amazement before he had flipped through the first dozen.

"For
everyone's sake, you better hope that the MEO doesn't challenge because if this
information becomes public knowledge then most of these upstanding citizens
will be looking at a sudden career change."

"Your Honor,
that is precisely the point. I doubt that a sitting member of the Supreme
Court, as in the case of Justice Myers whose affidavit is included, would risk
everything for a religion that wasn't worth defending."

"Justice
Myers?"

The judge shuffled
through the pile looking for the name.

Spelman remained
silent, knowing that he was suddenly much closer to winning.

"I clerked
for Justice Myers years ago and you have just provided me with a reason to
recuse myself if this insanity ever goes to court. You win Mr. Spelman. I'll ask
my secretary to prepare the paperwork and I'll sign it at lunch."

"Your Honor.
My apologies but the autopsy is scheduled to begin as we speak. I believe the
situation would permit you to issue an oral injunction considering the
immediate risk of irreparable damage to the body of Mrs. Carter."

The judge
sentenced David with an exasperated look then pressed his intercom.
"Marsha, get me the Chief Medical Examiner on the line. Tell him that it
is urgent then ask the Clerk of Court to come to my chambers. Oh and you better
let the bailiff know that I'll be a few minutes late."

The judge turned
to his visitor, "Anything else Mr. Spelman?"

"No. Thank
you, your Honor. Quite enough for one day, I should think."

Dr. Thomas Scott finished the external examination of the 75-year-old
African American woman on the autopsy table and reached for a scalpel to start
the Y incision when the phone rang on the wall. He was tempted to ignore the
call and let it go to his voicemail but it presented him with an excuse to get
another cup of coffee.

"Tom? Jason
here. Are you on the Carter autopsy?"

"Yes sir. I
just finished the external."

"Have you
done the Y yet?"

"No, I was
just about to start. What's up boss, another petition for a private?

"Judge
Henderson has issued an injunction prohibiting us from performing the autopsy.
Of course we will challenge but in the meantime you are not to touch the body.
Understand?" he warned. "Her representative, Mr. Lewis is waiting in
my office right now and he will soon be there with a gurney and a hearse. The
judge has ordered us to release the body and any personal effects
immediately."

"Jesus
Christ, Jason. This is a homicide not a fall in the bathtub," he reminded
his supervisor. "Where is this going to end?"

"For Pete's
sake, Tom. Get off your high horse for once. You will obey the order or you’ll
be found in contempt of court and you'll also be looking for another job,"
the Chief Medical Examiner almost shouted over the phone. "Prepare the
body for transport; I'll accompany Mr. Lewis down."

The sleek Bombardier executive jet pulled up to the private hanger at
Northeast Philadelphia Airport just a few minutes before 11.00 am. Herbert
Lewis stood on the tarmac dressed in a black suit and tie. He waited patiently
while the two Rolls-Royce turbofan engines shut down and the cabin door cracked
open. One of the Vizier's security agents exited first followed by Chief Mbaye
looking tired after the long trip from Senegal via the Canary Islands.

"Herbert, it
pleases me to see you but not under such tragic circumstances," the chief
confessed.

"My Lord
Vizier, we are grateful to have your presence and your guidance in difficult
times."

"I have
arranged for tea while we wait for the hearse. We can expect it at any moment.
The Ambassador's driver just called to say that he will arrive on schedule. If
you please Lord Vizier, follow me, the workers must remove a piece of the
galley in order for the casket to clear the fuselage."

Once inside the
small but elegant waiting lounge the Chief asked, "Tell me about Nkosana,
how is he holding up?"

"He knows
nothing yet. The transfer of powers was successful but we decided not to
approach him until after the Regency Council meets."

"Most wise,
Herbert,” he allowed. "Have you any news about the investigation? Do we
know who committed this despicable crime?"

"Sadly, very
little," Herbert responded. "The police have reports of a strange car
in the neighborhood near the Pharaoh's residence but there were no eye
witnesses nor were any shell casings found near the body. It is without a doubt
the work of a professional. Lord Thoth saw the face of the assassin through the
Pharaoh’s last dream report and he has informed us that it was not the same
person who murdered Princess Eshe."

"Do you think
it had anything to do with the trading irregularities that your IT team has
detected in recent months?"

"It could
very well. The volume of the Foundation's trading activities has become so
important that it is increasingly more difficult to hide our moves."

They could see the
hearse as it slowly rounded the corner.

Herbert got up to
leave. The Chief grabbed his hand to stop him for a moment. "Is Nkosana
prepared for the task ahead?"

"I think so
my Lord."

Mbaye relaxed his
grip.

Herbert excused
himself to supervise the transfer of the hearse to the aircraft.

Moments later the
Ambassador of the Arab Republic of Egypt arrived in an unmarked limousine.
Chief Mbaye was at the door of the car to receive him.

"Excellency,
as always it is my honor to greet you both as a brother and as a fellow Servant
of Ma'at."

"My Lord
Vizier, it pains my heart to have to see you in our moment of grief."

"Is
everything prepared in Switzerland?"

"Yes, my
Lord. The cryogenics lab is on standby; the entire process will take less than
a month."

It was a vast
improvement, the chief thought. Fannie was the first pharaoh who would not be
mummified, as had all of her predecessors including her father. Scientific
advances in the past few years now allowed them to guarantee the preservation
of the body under optimum conditions for many generations with less invasive
methods. Since it was not their intention to ever try to reanimate the body, as
current experiments with cryogenics hoped, the still unproven technology was
perfect for their needs."