Death of a Pharaoh (13 page)

The recovery of
the document crudely alluded to by Cardinal Borja in the conclaves of 1621 and
1623 in an attempt to win election as Pope by blackmailing the Sacred College
of Cardinals, represented the first significant success of Sanctus Verum. Over
the centuries, agents of the secret office systematically hunted down suspected
members of the Servants of Ma’at and submitted them to time-honored methods of
torture to wring out confessions, even after the Inquisition itself had long
ended. Despite their best efforts and the zeal at which they practiced their
hideous crafts of persuasion, the agents of Sanctus Verum were never able to
identify a reigning True Pharaoh.

Indeed, not a
single Servant of Ma’at ever died giving up another member. The satanic
organization with thousands of years of history had developed an indecipherable
system of communication and a sophisticated structure with a unique form of
compartmentalization that ensured that no member knew the identities of others
in the immediate region. They may very well have lived their entire lives
beside a neighbor who was also a Servant of Ma’at, yet they would never have
known. Even if induced to confess under torture, they had no names to betray.
It vexed Father Marco’s predecessors for centuries.

The identities of
the True Pharaohs remained hidden until a fortuitous event occurred just after
the turn of the 20
^th
century. At the time, Sanctus Verum suspected
that the current leader lived in the United States because of frequent visits
there by people identified as very senior members of the Servants of Ma’at.

On May 1, 1915,
the RMS Lusitania departed from Pier 54 in New York bound for Liverpool. Among
the passengers booked in First Class was one Elijah Carter, a prominent lawyer
from Philadelphia. A list published in the society pages of the New York Times
indicated he traveled alone. His driver accompanied him to New York with his
luggage earlier that morning.

Eyewitnesses at
the pier recalled that the Purser delayed Mr. Carter’s boarding for more than
an hour, after one of the female First Class passengers complained about the
propriety of a “negro” traveling in her section of the ship. In order to
placate the woman and due to the extreme urgency of his trip, Mr. Carter
politely agreed to a voluntary downgrade to second class with a full refund of
the difference in fare.

 Shortly
after 2.00 PM on May 7
^th
, on the final day of the voyage, a torpedo
fired from a German U-boat struck the liner some eleven miles off the coast of
Ireland. Passengers heard another more powerful explosion seconds later and the
ship sank in less than twenty minutes. The Captain of the U-20 always insisted
that he only fired once on the passenger ship. Rumors, vehemently denied by the
British Admiralty, suggested that the Lusitania carried contraband munitions
for the war effort; the probable cause of the second blast. Like the Titanic
three years earlier, most of the fatalities were a result of drowning and
hypothermia. One thousand one hundred and ninety-six souls perished.

Most were British
and Canadian but the total included 128 American citizens. A rescue trawler
recovered the body of Elijah Carter the next day and transported it to
Queenstown. Survivors reported seeing him alive giving his lifejacket to a
young girl who became separated from her parents. Her name was Janet Nelson and
she was Canadian. Her family sailed to Britain to help her grandfather who
owned a large dairy farm. All of his able-bodied workers had gone to fight in
France yet the production of milk was vital to the wartime economy, so his
daughter agreed to help.

A vessel named the
Stormcock, pulled Janet alive from the water and took her to Queenstown as
well. While she waited for news of her parents in the lobby of the Rob Roy
Hotel, a local parish priest, Father Liam O’Dwyer, tried to comfort her. As the
day progressed with no sign of her parents or siblings, he feared that the poor
girl might already be an orphan.

 She tearfully
explained to him how a nice black man named Elijah gave her his lifejacket, as
she had lost hers in the confusion. Father Liam first thought she referred to a
member of the crew. She then told him that the man had also tied something
around her neck. He called it an omelet and promised that it would keep her
safe. She showed it to the priest. It was an amulet in the shape of a cross but
with a loop over the transverse bar. He held it in his hand and judging by the
weight it was solid gold. He asked her if he might sketch it in case Elijah’s
next of kin were to look for it among his belongings. The priest would vouch
that the gentlemen had given it to young Janet.

Father Liam
instantly recognized the object as an ankh, the ancient Egyptian symbol of
life. It was one of several archeological shapes he remembered from a letter
sent years earlier from the Holy Office to every parish priest in Ireland. The
epistle ordered that whenever anyone sighted one of the items whether in
documents, as jewelry or even as a tattoo, the details must be reported
immediately. Father Liam left Janet in the capable hands of a nursing sister
and rushed out to send a telegram to the Bishop. The next day, two Dominican
priests arrived in Queenstown with a letter for Father Liam. He was to afford
them unlimited assistance in their search for information about the passenger
who saved the girl.

It was not
difficult for two men of the cloth to insert themselves in the rescue and
recovery operations. They soon discovered a body in the makeshift morgue
identified as one Elijah Carter. The manifest provided by the Cunard Line
confirmed that there was no other passenger named Elijah. The American Counsel
sent from Dublin had already identified many of his compatriots among the dead
and was busy contacting relatives to arrange for repatriation of the remains.
In almost all cases, he delivered the sad news by telegram except in the case
of Mr. Carter since a representative of the family appeared that very morning
and was already organizing the transfer of the body to Liverpool on the first
available ship.

The two Dominicans
arranged passage on the same vessel and sent a telegram just before boarding.
When they disembarked in Liverpool, they kept a close watch on the unloading of
the cargo holds and especially for the casket that held the corpse. They were
able to follow the hearse and confirm that the remains were on the first train
to London. They again telegraphed their findings. A new team met the arrival at
Euston Train Station and discretely followed in a taxi until the hired hearse
delivered its cargo to a private hospital in St. John’s Wood. They remained
close by and that evening three seminarians arrived to relieve them. They were
the first of a larger team brought in to stake out the building around the
clock.

After a week, the
same casket departed the hospital. The agents of Sanctus Verum tailed the body
to Southampton and aboard a cargo vessel about to set sail for Tangiers. Father
Marco wondered whether the Servants of Ma’at had used powerful contacts in the
German Imperial Navy to ensure the safe passage of the ship through the zone of
engagement around the British Isles. Upon arrival in Morocco, the casket never
passed through customs but their agents observed the transfer of the body to a
different ship bound for Alexandria.

Father Marco had
no idea what went wrong with the mission at that point but something or someone
raised suspicions. Once in Cairo an elaborate rouse mounted by the Servants of
Ma’at succeeded in shaking off the pursuers and the final destination of the
casket was never determined. Despite that setback, Sanctus Verum still gained
invaluable intelligence. The coincidence of the golden ankh, the immediate and
costly transport of the body to Egypt as well as the fact that Elijah’s eldest
son made several trips to Egypt in the decades between the two wars convinced
Father Marco’s predecessors that they had finally found the True Pharaoh. A
team of agents in Philadelphia soon determined the principle residence of the
family and mounted an elaborate surveillance operation that lasted almost a
hundred years and generated reams of files that now surrounded him in his
cramped Vatican office.

 Monsignor Alberto
made the decision to assassinate the daughter and her bastard son in 1998 when
it became apparent that a traitor, a double agent, had compromised their
clandestine efforts. Father Marco, young and ambitious, accepted the task with
emotion. It was a sign from heaven that he succeeded. Supported by the obscene
profits of the Falcon Foundation, established by Elijah’s son in 1948, the
Servants of Ma’at counted on a security branch that rivaled the CIA in scope.

W
ith the death of Fannie, the granddaughter of the
heretic sent to hell in the cold waters off the coast of Catholic Ireland, he
could concentrate his time and resources on finding the location of the Holy
Relic. In recent years, he had received tantalizing clues. Rumors reached him
of a large secret cache of royal mummies guarded by a clan of Bedouin warriors
sworn to defend it with their very lives. The tribe never converted to Islam
leading Father Marco to assume that they were Servants of Ma’at. His agents ascertained
that not a single male member of the tribe ever completed Egypt’s obligatory
military service. They never travelled alone, always accompanied by a relative.
Their territory spanned hundreds of kilometers of barren land. Four years ago,
Father Marco established a small NGO with the ostensible purpose of improving
irrigation techniques in the area. He staffed it entirely with former members
of the Swiss Guard, recruited for their unwavering devotion to him.

Should the Lord
bless his Holy quest to find the cache, all the pieces were already in place to
mount a spectacular raid to bring the relic to Rome. With the blessing of the
penultimate Pope, he had supervised the construction of a secret tomb under
Saint Peter’s Basilica in a previously undiscovered crypt near the Vatican
Necropolis. Once recovered, the mummified remains of Christ would be interred
there and the tomb sealed for eternity.

A group of Polish
nuns committed to the strictest vows of silence were already living in the
Vatican; waiting for that day. When the glorious moment arrived, the sole
purpose of the congregation would be to mount a permanent vigil in the crypt to
prayer for their Savior for the rest of time. They would only accept novitiates
to replace any deaths affecting the minimum number of sisters required. None of
them would ever leave the Vatican alive. As for the members of the extraction
team in Egypt, they would all be martyred and each of them awarded a special
posthumous Papal honor.

Boardroom of the Falcon Foundation,
Philadelphia: 14:07 EDT September 13, 2016

“My Lords, I hereby convene this emergency meeting of the Regency
Council and I pray that Osiris will enlighten our deliberations,” Chief Mbaye
began. “Ladies and Gentlemen, there is only one item on the agenda for today
but I dare say it is the most important that we have ever considered in our
many years together. As you know from your briefing notes, our agent confirmed
the transfer of powers beyond any doubt and Nkosana is the legitimate heir to
the throne as we all suspected and hoped. Normally, this would be joyous news
after the darkness that descended upon the universe following the death of Her
Majesty, Fannie II. However, what should have been a relatively straightforward
succession is now unduly complicated by two simple, yet unavoidable facts.
Nkosana, unlike most of his predecessors, has no knowledge of the tremendous
responsibilities we will soon ask him to assume. We all agreed with the Pharaoh
seventeen years ago that his identity and even his existence had to be kept
secret until he was old enough to understand his destiny. The plan was to
reunite him with his grandmother shortly before his eighteenth birthday to
begin his training. Sadly, that will never happen. Consequently, his
willingness to accept the position is unknown to us. Second, and perhaps the
most intransigent, is the fact that the young man destined to become our
Pharaoh is currently locked up in a medium security prison in the state of New
York serving time for manslaughter.”

Nkosana’s
circumstances were no secret to the members of the council and their silence
confirmed the concern they shared.

“I call on our
Head of Security to provide you all with an update on the current situation of
the Heir as well as the plans that were under development prior to the
assassination. Mr. Lewis, please.”

“My Lords, at
present the Heir is safe or as much as he can be in an often violent and
unpredictable environment,” Herbert assured them. “We have four men on the
inside of the prison, two guards and two inmates, who provide around the clock
security for Nkosana. We are confident that we can guarantee his physical
integrity for the time being.”

“The moment he was
sentenced we put into motion a secret plan to have him freed in January of
2017, less than four months from now. One of our illustrious members agreed to
run for Governor of New York. Due to his high profile as a successful
businessman and an extremely well-financed campaign, he clinched the Democratic
nomination with ease and is on track to win the election. Polls all show him
leading and even Nate Silver at the New York Times predicts his election by a
landslide in November. Immediately after taking the oath on January 1
^st
,
2017, he would have issued an Executive Pardon for Nkosana allowing for his
immediate release. It was a good plan but, unfortunately, it has been
superseded by events. We can no longer wait.”

“Thank you Mr.
Lewis,” the Lord Vizier said then continued, “and I now call on Dr. Wilkens of
Oxford University and the Chair of the Medical Committee to explain why we
cannot defer any longer.”

“Thank you my
Lord, Ladies and Gentlemen as you have been informed the transfer of powers to
Nkosana was confirmed only moments after the Pharaoh’s murder. By all accounts,
it was a dramatic and undoubtedly painful event for the Prince. In accordance
with previous cases, he will experience strange dreams, a loud buzzing in his
ears and severe migraine attacks that will gradually become more debilitating
with every passing day. Since he has always shown powers beyond all our
imaginations, it is my considered opinion that the illness he currently suffers
will continue to worsen to almost unprecedented levels. The pain will become
unbearable. It is my fear that should he remain in prison unable to accept his
destiny and to swear the oath, that the neurological impact might be beyond
repair,” he warned.

“Ladies and
Gentlemen, a delay could well threaten not only the health but also the sanity
of our Heir. I remind you that Nkosana is the last living member of a dynasty
that has protected humanity from evil for more than four centuries. If he
becomes incapacitated, there will be no one to replace him and all humanity
will suffer. The consequences are unimaginable.”

A stunned silence
hung over the table while everyone contemplated a future that they all knew was
unthinkable.

“My Lords, there
is no time to waste,” Chief Mbaye affirmed, “I propose that Mr. Lewis gathers
his team to craft a plan to free Nkosana from prison within the next 48 hours
and transport him safely here to Philadelphia where he can take his oath.”

“All in favor”

Twelve hands rose
around the table making it unanimous.

“Mr. Lewis you
have until midnight to submit your proposal, cost is no consideration, and may
the Gods enlighten you!”

It was a good plan in the end, despite the short gestation period.
Following the request of the Regency Council, Herbert Lewis pulled together a
team of analysts, planners and logistical experts from more than a dozen
countries, many collaborating via the internet, to pour over the blueprints of
the Sullivan Correctional Facility and maps of the surrounding area to develop
a strategy to free Nkosana. It took less than eight hours to present three
viable options. They discarded several excellent ideas along the way due to an
unacceptably high risk of death or injury to prison guards and inmates. In the
end, the team regrettably sacrificed several legitimate environmental concerns
in order to safeguard lives.

He presented all
three to the Regency Council a few minutes after 11.00 pm; less than an hour
before the deadline. The plan they selected, with ten votes in favor and two
against, was expensive, audacious and extremely risky in a post 9-11 America.
It was Herbert’s preferred plan. They baptized it Operation Sehkmet, after the
Egyptian goddess of fire. It was to prove a fitting name.

It turned out destiny had a ‘215’ area code. Ethan warned him during
recreation to be ready for a call at 9 pm but he didn’t say who it would be.
Ryan wondered how he could have known but soon forgot as another bolt of pain
shot through his head like someone had permanently wired a Taser to his brain.
He’d spent the last ten minutes on his mattress staring at the network
indicator as it fluctuated between two and three bars while the agony between
his ears soared off the charts.

“Stop staring at
it or it won’t ring,” Zach admonished from the lower bunk.

“Got lousy
coverage,” he shot back.

The telephone
began to vibrate.

“It’s ringing.”

“Fucking answer it
already, dork face!”

“Hello.”

“Mr. Murphy, my
name is Herbert Lewis. I am the Chief of Security of the Falcon
Foundation.  I worked for your grandmother. “

“Never knew I had
one,” he admitted truthfully.

“That’s why I am
calling Mr. Murphy. In reality, you did have a grandmother but I regret to
inform you that she passed away two days ago at exactly the same time your
headaches began. She was murdered, I’m afraid.”

Ryan was too
surprised to answer.

“Mr. Murphy, are
you there?”

“Yes sir, but I
think you might be calling the wrong person. My birth mother had no family and
if you’re talking about my father’s mother, I’m not sure if I care.”

“Actually, she was
your maternal grandmother and she loved you a great deal; enough to give up all
contact with her only grandchild to keep you safe.”

“Um, Mr. Lewis is
it?” he clarified. “Do you know where I am right now?”

“Yes I do.”

“Well then I don’t
think her plan worked. “

“Mr. Murphy, may I
call you Ryan?

“Knock yourself
out,” he replied a little too flippant.

“Are the
nightmares getting worse?” he inquired then added, “Still afraid of the water?”

“You’ve read my
psych reports, so what!”

“Ryan, I know
about them because I was the man who pulled you out of the lake.”

“That can’t be
true,” he stammered. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Ryan, remember
the stones? I told you that it wasn’t good to test the Gods.”

Only the man who
pulled him out of the lake could know that conversation.

“OK I believe you.
So I had a grandmother!” he acquiesced. “Let me guess, she left me a fortune.”

“You are her heir,
and more than money see left you great responsibilities and there are urgent
matters that require you attention,” he advised. “Ryan, I know this is
confusing. There is so much to tell you but I am afraid that we have little
time. Your grandmother left you with a great destiny. Your headaches are
connected to her death and they will only get worse if we can’t get you to
Philadelphia.”

“Mr. Lewis, I
would do anything to get rid of this pain but I can’t just get up and come see
you. My prison file says my maternal grandmother died before I was born and
they are not going to give me a pass, out of state to boot, to come and settle
the affairs of a person they think has been in her grave for over twenty
years.”

“Precisely, and
that is why we are going to break you out of prison in two days.”

“Say what?”

“It is too
dangerous for me to give you all the details over the telephone. Ethan works
for me…”

“Ethan the CO?” he
interrupted.

“Yes, we put him
there to protect you as we have done all of your life. You may think you have
been alone but we have always been there to watch over you.”

As soon as he
spoke the words, Ryan knew it was true.

“Alright, Mr.
Lewis. I’ll come to hear you out. It was my birthday wish anyway. What do you
want me to do?”

“Ethan will tell
you everything you must know. The rest I will explain when you get here,” he
assured him then finished. “Trust Ethan. May the Gods protect you! Goodnight.”

Ryan listened to
the silence for almost a minute before he took the phone from his ear. He was
still in shock when Zach kicked the bottom of his bunk.

“So who was it?”

Ryan didn’t see Ethan until recreation the next afternoon. He was
standing alone at the far end of the basketball courts. Ryan walked over but as
always didn’t face him to speak.