Death of a Pharaoh (14 page)

“I hear you’ve
been doing some moonlighting with a Mr. Lewis,” Ryan commented.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“That’s the second
time you’ve called me that,” he reminded the guard. “Can you tell me what’s
going on Ethan?”

“Mr. Lewis is my
real boss. This is just a cover. We both worked for your grandmother, the late
ph…” his voice trailed off.

“The late what?”

“Ryan, it is best
if you hear everything from Mr. Lewis when we get you out of here,” he
responded. “Read my thoughts, they will tell you to trust me. Please.”

“I trust you but
how are you going to get me out of a medium security prison without getting us
both killed?”

“Everything is in
place and we are very good at executing a plan.”

“Well, I hope
you’re just as good at making last minute changes.”

Ethan waited for
an explanation.

“I’m not going
without Zach.”

“It is too
dangerous,” he insisted. “I know he is your best friend but the plan is to get
you out alone. We can’t risk it.”

“It’s the two of
us or I don’t go.”

Ryan
expected him to argue but instead he merely turned
and stated, “As you wish my Lord. I’ll make the necessary changes. Be ready
tomorrow just before dinner.”

Ethan walked away
to watch a group of inmates shooting hoops.

Zach idled over to
Ryan with his hands in his pockets.

“Anything you want
to tell me?”

“Nah, but I think
you were right about Ethan. The dude seems to worship me. We’re thinking of
running away together.”

Herbert glanced at the large clock over the bank of video screens in
the secure communications center ten stories under the Falcon Foundation
headquarters in downtown Philadelphia. It was now t-minus 9 hours and 32
minutes.

The days since the
acceptance of the plan flew by in a veritable cyclone of activity but
everything was now in place. Even the direction of the wind at ground zero was
favorable to their cause. Herbert took it as a sign that the Gods approved of
their actions.

It was also
helpful that so many of the Servants of Ma’at were current or former military
with a staggering arsenal of skills and talents. He wasn’t surprised that they
included the Captain and crew of a UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter stationed at the
Army Aviation Support Facility #3 of the Army National Guard in Latham, New
York; less than 100 miles from the Sullivan Correctional Facility. The unit
frequently provided support for forest fire suppression to civilian authorities
throughout the state. It was perfect! Finding the crew was the easy part,
rigging the duty roster proved more complicated and required hacking into the
computers of the National Guard’s Joint Operations Headquarters at the same
base. Once his experts accomplished that task, all they needed was a forest fire.

The footprint of
the Sullivan Correctional Facility was a large circle on a hill almost
completely surrounded by mature deciduous forest. There was only one farmhouse
in the immediate area and as a precaution, they evacuated the family the day
before to a hotel in South Fallsburg, after two of his men masquerading as
employees of the local gas utility reported a serious gas leak in the vicinity.

Starting at three
in the morning, teams of operatives hid incendiary devices in selected areas of
the woods adjacent to the prison. Still under cover of darkness, they strapped
explosive charges on the facility’s gas and water supply that passed in a
series of raised pipes over Frank Brown Road. Just a few hundred yards to the
north as the first rays of the new day illuminated their objective, they rigged
packs of Semtex to the struts of the large blue municipal water tower to bring
it down as the first action in the offensive. This would deprive first
responders of the closest source of water and render the hydrants in and around
the prison inoperative due to a lack of pressure. The earnest but waterless
Fallsburg Volunteer Fire Department would have no choice but to request
assistance from the National Guard, and if for whatever reason they didn’t,
Herbert Lewis would make the call himself.

In the Command
Center, twenty computer specialists and radio operators gathered at their
posts. In the sphere of operation, he counted on 56 operatives including the
helicopter crew on standby in Latham, the twelve member explosives team in the
woods near the prison and four three-man mobile artillery units armed with
white phosphorus mortar shells and rapid fire incendiary rounds. He also
dispatched two fake construction crews to close off local roads to civilian
traffic. In addition, there was an amphibious recovery team at the Neversink
Reservoir, the crew of the private jet waiting at Sullivan County International
Airport to transport Nkosana to Philadelphia along with an elite security team
to protect him from the moment they sprang him.

Ethan Walters, the
lead agent inside the prison was responsible for getting Nkosana and Zach to
the evacuation point. Of course, there had been no time for a rehearsal and the
risk of mechanical failure, uncontrolled spread of the fire, discovery by other
inmates or even armed intervention by prison guards was a strong possibility.
Herbert Lewis authorized the distribution of live ammunition to the team
members but with the restriction that they could only fire their weapons if the
life of the Heir was in danger, and every attempt should be made to wound
rather than to kill.

Only the waiting
remained and Herbert found himself struggling with the moral implications of
burning several acres of forest, destroying pubic property and committing a
litany of illegal acts. Not the least being the hijacking of a National Guard
helicopter, and all in the noble cause of freeing a teenage felon who had no
idea why the oldest organization in the world was willing to spend hundreds of
thousands and risk so many lives to get him out of prison.

Herbert Lewis had
dedicated his life to the defense of Ma’at just as his father before him and
his father’s father, as the men in his family had done for over seven
generations and none had ever taken a human life. Yet despite the many
skirmishes and battles won over the centuries, good was losing the war. The
hopelessly naive Crusaders of long ago, the sanctimonious zealots of the
Inquisition and the dangerously self-deluded terrorists of the modern era all
shared a defining strength. They were willing to kill in the pursuit of their
goals. In contrast, the armies of good have always fought under an
insurmountable handicap. Perhaps the time had come to consider a new strategy.

Nkosana, the young
man now destined to be Pharaoh and supreme defender of Ma’at was in prison
because his impulse to save the life of an innocent boy caused the death of a
depraved man. Arguably, it was a morally justifiable act! Still, at what point
does the unbridled defense of good, in itself become evil? Had the precocious
nature of his powers coupled with the unimaginable horrors forced on his
impressionable young mind, changed his very concept of justice and morality?
Herbert did not know the answer. The transfer of powers had been confirmed and
Nkosana would be Pharaoh if he so desired. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if
on the day Nkosana broke the bully’s jaw at middle school, he had discovered
his own defining strength. Perhaps the election of this troubled but gifted
young man presaged an irrevocable change of tactics in the ancient battle of
good over evil. Only the Gods knew the answer. Herbert Lewis sat back to wait
not certain if he was about to free a king or a warrior. Perhaps both! But first,
he had to be freed.

Sullivan State Correctional Facility,
Fallsburg, N.Y.: 15:46 EDT September 16, 2016

Ethan came to see Ryan during recreation. “Everything is set. Tell Zach
he has to be ready to go just before 19:00 hours. You have to leave everything
behind. No souvenirs,” he warned. “Now get out of here before someone sees us
talking.” Ethan turned and shouted at a group of cons taking too long to clear
the yard. Ryan returned to his cell and found Zach resting on his bunk.

“Hey Ace, why
don’t we hang a sheet?”

“Sweet Jesus, you
haven’t gone all homo on me have ya?”

“We need to talk,”
Ryan insisted as he tied one corner of the linen.

“You know this
will get the tongues wagging, we’ll have a dozen queens hanging around outside
just to sniff the air.”

“Zach, shut up for
a minute. This is important.”

His cellmate
zipped it.

“You know that
phone call two nights ago?”

“Yah, the one from
your uncle.”

“I don’t have an
uncle. I had a grandmother but someone shot her the other day. You know when my
headaches started.”

“So who was on the
phone?”

“Ethan’s boss.”

“The warden called
you on your cellphone?”

“No numb nuts, a
guy named Herbert Lewis. A brother I think. Ethan is just pretending to be a CO
and they both worked for my grandmother.”

“Wow. So Ethan
decides to play pretend CO and ends up in the same prison as you. What a
coincidence.”

“Zach, it wasn’t a
coincidence. They sent him here to watch over me.”

“Kinda like a
bodyguard?”

“Yeah. But more
important, my grandmother ran some big company or something and they need me to
take care of a few things.”

“Like money
things?”

“Don’t know but it
must be important because they want me to come to Philadelphia right away.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“How did they get
the warden to agree?” he asked. “I never heard of anyone getting an out of
state pass.”

“They didn’t.
They’re going to break me out.”

“Holy fuck! You’re
getting out of here?”

“No buddy. We both
are. I told them it was the two us or no deal.”

Zach screwed up
his face like he always did when he got emotional.

“We need to be
ready at 7:00. Something will go down and Ethan will come for us. We can’t take
anything. You’ll have to leave behind that pillow you’ve been trying to get
pregnant for the last year.”

“Jealous,” Zach
snapped. “You’re not shitting me are you? We really are going to get out of
here?”

“Absolutely!”

“Jesus, when you
talked about putting up the sheet, I thought you were going to make a pass at
me and I was worried I’d have to lay a beating on you but if what you just told
me is true, I’d spit on your dick myself to make it slide in better.”

“I think we can
take it down now,” Ryan confirmed as he reached up to untie one corner.

“Try to act
normal,” he hissed.

Two queens
strutted in front of their cell like a pair of peacocks in heat.

Zach looked at
Ryan and they both burst out laughing.

“Sorry ladies, but
he’s a bit tired right now,” Zach teased. “Ya’ll come back later and we’ll make
it a foursome.”

The extra
attention lasted all the way to the common room and through half a game of chess
before the two lost hope and went to scope out some of the newer fish cowering
in a corner.

“This better go
down tonight or you and I will need to shower with our backs to the wall for
the rest of your bid.” Zach warned.

“You know Diego,
the old guy in laundry?”

“What about him?”

“He knows
something about this,” he whispered. “He told me this was going to happen last
week.”

“Thought he didn’t
speak English?”

“He doesn’t.”

At six o’clock, they strolled back to their cells with a forced
nonchalance neither possessed under the circumstances. Ryan lay on his bunk for
what he hoped was the last time ever. Zach kept silent. Both willed the
remaining sixty minutes to pass quickly.

At preciously
seven, Ryan heard two thumps in rapid succession. If he hadn’t been holding his
breath, he might not have noticed. What he couldn’t see was the eerie slow
motion effect as the weight of the water tower buckled the two remaining struts
and slowly toppled the metal structure to one side causing it to burst at the
seams. The impact smashed the numerous vials of liquid cesium attached to the
side of the tower causing a violent explosion when the volatile chemical
contacted the cool water. Bits of flaming debris started numerous grass fires
that the artillery teams encouraged with hundreds of incendiary rounds that
drew the fire toward the closest trees.

Five minutes
later, everyone in the prison heard the loud explosion that shredded the gas
and water mains over Frank Brown Road less than ten yards from the perimeter of
the prison. The resulting fire spread up the gas line igniting the pools of
fuel that seeped from numerous small punctures threatening the forest on both
sides. The general alarm sounded within seconds and Sullivan Correctional
facility went into lockdown. Ryan could smell the first whiff of smoke just as
he heard multiple sirens approaching from the East. At the same time, the
mobile artillery teams continued to fan the conflagration that was now active
on three fronts. On the heels of a dry summer, the forest was as explosive as a
porn magazine in the hands of a con.

The firemen in the
first two trucks from the Fallsburg Volunteer Fire Department discovered to
their dismay that there was no pressure in the hydrants along Frank Brown Road
and they called immediately for tanker support from South Fallsburg. They
watched in amazement as the fire seemed to spread like magic and many of the
older guys, veterans of the first Gulf War, thought they recognized the smell
of napalm. The Deputy Fire Chief was one of them and as soon as he assessed the
size of the fire, he placed an urgent call to the Army National Guard in
Albany. They agreed to dispatch two UH-60 helicopters with water buckets for
fire suppression. The first was already in the air.

As soon as Herbert
Lewis received the confirmation that the Blackhawk had taken off he ordered the
artillery teams to switch to white phosphorous shells to generate the smoke
that  he hoped would force the prison authorities to release the convict
population into the large football field to the north of the main building. A
thick cloud of acrid smoke began to drift into the cellblocks and Ryan heard
the first sounds of coughing soon followed by shouts for help.

The guards in the
tower watched incredulous as a column of fire leapt the perimeter fence and
raced through the grass toward the west blocks. They advised the warden who
issued the order to evacuate the inmates to the large outdoor recreation area.
As a precaution, he phoned the mayor of Fallsburg and asked him to deploy a
fleet of school buses in case the fire continued to spread.

Herbert was
monitoring the emergency frequencies when the call came from the helicopter.

“Sullivan
Correctional. This is Bronco 2 of the Army National Guard. We are currently
hovering over Neversink Reservoir and will be at your location for the first
dump in approximately three minutes. Do you copy?”

“Roger that Bronco
2. We are glad to have you here. We have evacuated the general population to
the recreation field to the north of the tower. There is a lot of smoke.
Visibility is almost zero. You’ll have to give us the situation from the air.
Over.”

“Roger Sullivan.
ETA of the second chopper is 15 minutes. Will advise on arrival. Over.”

Ryan could hear
the sound of the chopper long before the silhouette appeared to the north. It
was carried a large orange bag at the end of a rope that the pilot opened just
on the other side of the road. The 800 gallons created an impressive column of
white smoke. Ethan motioned for them to come closer. He was standing in the
middle of the field. He had a pack on his back and as soon as they arrived, he
led them further into the thick smoke.

They could hear
the chatter over Ethan’s radio.

“Sullivan this is
Bronco 2. There is a tongue of fire heading toward the recreation field. We are
on route to Neversink Reservoir to fill our bag again. In 7 to 8 minutes, we
will be back and request permission to drop a load on the far end of the
recreation field to keep the fire from spreading toward your population. Over.”

“Roger Bronco 2.
Permission granted. We have plenty of nervous cons right now. Over.”

“Sullivan. We’ll
throw out a flare just before we release to ensure that no one is going to get
swept away. Please advise your guards to move everyone as far east as possible.
Over.”

“Roger that Bronco
2.”

Ryan could barely
see Ethan and Zach beside him. Ethan reached into his pack and pulled out three
small gas masks that were standard issue for CO’s. The tower warned everyone to
congregate at the other side of the field. Someone said something about a water
drop.

“Look for the
flare. The helicopter will hover; release half the load then we climb into the
bag. Make sure you hold onto the top but keep your heads down until we’re above
the tower.”

Both Ryan and Zach
nodded that they understood.

After an agonizing
wait, they finally heard the sound of the helicopter approaching. The smoke
began to whirl around them; sucked into the draft of the rotors. Zach spotted
the flare first when it landed about twenty yards to their left. Ryan started
to race toward the bright glow but Ethan held him back just as a deluge of
water violently hit the ground extinguishing the flare. Ethan signaled for them
to run as the large orange bag started to drift toward the ground. Ethan
removed his mask. He spoke into a small radio, guiding the pilot until the lip
of the bag was within reach.

“Let’s go!” he
shouted. “Over the top!”

Ethan and Ryan
scrambled into the bag but Zach slipped on the wet ground and fell. At the last
second, he managed to grasp the edge with his right hand, just as the
helicopter started to ascend.

“Hang on!” Ethan
yelled to Zach who already dangled several feet above the field.

“Ryan, hold my
belt!” Ethan leaned far over the edge and grabbed Zach’s overalls. With a
mighty pull, he heaved him into the bag and tossed him into the water only
seconds before they cleared the smoke in full view of the watchtower.

When he didn’t
surface after ten seconds, Ethan turned to Ryan, “Can he swim?”

“Beats me.”

“Shit,” Ethan
swore before diving into the bag.

He surfaced a
moment later dragging a sputtering Zach to the edge.

Ethan held his
head above water with one hand while he radioed the pilot.

“Hapi Two. This is
Ethan. Falcon plus two in the bag,” he reported. “Your internal call sign is
now ‘Falcon One’. Praise be to the Gods.”

The echo of that
transmission elicited a loud cheer in the Command Center at the Falcon
Foundation.

The helicopter
rose high over the prison and banked sharply to the left before heading toward
Neversink Reservoir. Ethan pocketed his radio and looked at a dripping Zach.

“I can’t swim,” he
confessed sheepishly. “I’m from Iowa.”

The flight took
less than five minutes but the water slopped over them continuously as the wind
buffeted the bag. Luckily, it was only half-full.

Ethan gestured
with his thumb as the helicopter began to descend.

“When the bag hits
the water, wait until the edges slacken then flip yourself into the lake.”

Ryan nodded but
Zach seemed terrified.

“Don’t worry,” he
assured him. “Someone will be there to help you.”

He was right.
Ryan’s head barely broke surface when two divers grabbed him and started to
pull him toward a small inflatable raft. Zach arrived seconds later looking
very relieved. As soon as Ethan was on board, the men paddled toward the shore.
The helicopter ascended with a full bag and headed back toward the fire. The
divers quickly removed their snorkels and fins and helped Ryan and Zach over
the slippery rocks to a small clearing hidden by thick trees. Two black SUV’s
waited surrounded by six well-armed men who looked like Secret Service agents.