Death of a Pharaoh (24 page)

Jim Stevenson’s residence,
Battery Park, Manhattan: 07:48 EDT October 23, 2016

The Consortium´s lawyer was at his desk earlier than usual.
Unless Vinnie screwed up, something not very likely, Professor Sonkin was no
longer among the living. He expected the usual monosyllabic call to confirm his
passing at any moment. He possessed a signed Power of Attorney and would
transfer the $180 million to the Consortium’s account in the Isle of Wight
right away. That would keep them happy for a day or two but he needed more. He
was certain Zach’s brother still offered a way through the foundation’s
ironclad security.

The
boy disappeared the day of the fiasco at Yankee Stadium and no one had seen a
hair of his little blond head since then. He needed a ploy to flush him out.
After the failed attack, the FBI questioned the mother for a few hours then
released her. She returned home straight away but without her child. It was
obvious the Foundation had him hidden away. His contact in the FBI discovered
the cell number Ricky had dialed from a payphone near his home to speak with
his older brother.

The
last recorded call was forwarded to a number in Senegal. All Stevenson needed
was something to force Ricky to contact his brother and talk long enough to
allow them to trace the address. They’d probably agreed to keep communication
at an absolute minimum. Making the kid an orphan should do the trick. He’d
risked everything positioning the mercenary strike force closer to Dakar. Once
he had the coordinates where they were hiding, he could order the attack and he
would be back in the Consortium’s good graces.

The night before
Vinnie tailed Sonkin and his Russian bitch to the apartment in
downtown Pittsburgh he rented for her. They’d been at the sleazy strip club
where she worked until three in the morning. It was an old building and the
fire escape led to a spare bedroom where he’d jimmied the window. The flimsy
walls allowed him to hear all the action. He wondered if she’d moan as much
giving him a blowjob. The fear that they were about to die always made them
more eager to please. He waited for the noise to stop but lost patience after
two hours. Sonkin was using the blue pill for sure. Vinnie didn’t need it. He
only had sex when he was about to kill someone and that always made him rock
hard.

She
was on top of Sonkin when he marched into the bedroom and grabbed her by the
hair. She screamed as he threw her on the floor and kicked her in the chest
knocking the wind out of her. He tied her up and forced her to watch. Sonkin’s
eyes were as big with fear as her dark brown aureoles. Vinnie handcuffed him to
the bedpost then stuffed her panties into his mouth.

He
liked it when the client gave him enough warning so he could plan some fun.
He’d brought along a bag of tools to make Sonkin regret his last moments on
earth. He started by sodomizing him with one of those electric kitchen hand blenders.
Sonkin screamed but panicked even more when Vinnie plugged it in to a socket by
the bed. Vinnie almost laughed as the professor tried desperately to shit it
out. With the gag in place, he couldn’t understand his muffled pleas but he was
certain they included a multi-million dollar offer not to turn it on. He’d let
him think about what was coming for a moment. It had been tricky bringing along
a two-quart container of liquid nitrogen, he’d been extra careful not to spill
any.

Sonkin
still had an erection, which proved his hunch about chemical assistance. He
pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves then inserted Sonkin’s penis in the fog
covered metal receptacle. He figured about thirty seconds at minus 346 degrees
Fahrenheit would be about enough to freeze it solid. Sonkin shrieked at first
but soon fainted which was too bad because he missed how easy it was to snap it
off a few seconds later; like breaking an icicle in winter. When Sonkin came to
a moment later, he realized he’d been castrated and that was when Vinnie turned
on the hand mixer. He only survived for a minute on high.

The
woman was good, the best cocksucker he’d met in a long time. You never went
wrong with a professional. He could tell in her eyes that she thought a great
orgasm would save her life. She went at it with gusto. He slit her throat just
as he came. Vinnie left Sonkin with the mixer up his ass and his penis up hers.
One of his better efforts! It was dawn when he strolled out the front door of
the building. He’d get one of those all you can eat breakfasts at a local diner
then call Stevenson.

The lawyer wasn’t interested in the gory details only the
result. Although, he had to admit that the liquid nitrogen was an inspired
touch. He gave Vinnie the address for Zach’s mother and told him to kill the
husband as well if he was with her. No one liked a wife beater. Nothing too
gruesome, just make them dead! The ex-cop he had watching the place would help
distract the State Troopers still hanging around. Vinnie assured him he would be
there just after noon. Stevenson was certain Ricky would call his brother as
soon as he learned the terrible news. After all, he would be an orphan and Zach
would be the only family he had left in the world. He warned Frank at the FBI
to be ready for a trace. They would only have one chance.

Sergei Grigorievich Chibirov sat buckled into one of the few passenger
seats near the front of the brand new Russian built 11-476 heavy transport
aircraft cruising somewhere over the Republic of Niger. His employers had
managed to snatch the first four planes off the assembly line in the Urals
right out from under the nose of the Russian Air Force who paid for their
design. He couldn’t help but smile, even if the effort caused pain in the large
scar on his left cheek. It was a souvenir of his first tour in Afghanistan.

At the time, he
had been a young idealistic captain in the Soviet Army working in intelligence.
He hated the very people they were sent to liberate. They spent the first half
of their lives buggering each other and the second half screwing the rest of
the world in the name of Allah. He became an expert in torture and usually he
got whatever he wanted. Men, women and even children; it didn’t matter to him.
Any self-loathing that his actions produced, was like spent nuclear fuel, as
long as it was well contained it couldn’t hurt him. He was certain that he had
a lead-lined heart. Nothing got in and nothing leaked out.

At thirty-two
years of age and with the rank of Colonel, they discharged him with a kiss on
both cheeks, a service medal and a pension that couldn’t even pay the rent on
his miserable flat near Moscow. He moved to his native Georgia and through a
former colleague landed a job as a bodyguard for the new President. When
Shevardnadze retired, Sergei returned to his birthplace in South Ossetia, where
he became involved in arms smuggling for the nascent separatist movement. His
contacts in Russia proved invaluable and within twelve months, he was on the
payroll of the Georgian mafia with a luxurious office in Belarus.

Two year ago, a
representative of the Consortium, a lawyer from New Jersey, approached him.
They needed someone to organize and train a small mercenary army to provide
some muscle for their future plans. They offered an almost unlimited budget and
with those kinds of funds, he surrounded himself with the best officers, battle
tested troops and enough state of the art equipment to give GI Joe an erection.

Up to now they had
been limited to covert operations; a few assassinations to coerce reluctant
politicians and promoting a coup or two to install pliant puppets. That was
until this morning when he received orders to mobilize from the base in the
Sudan that they had rented from al-Qaeda. The target was a secret organization called
the Servants of Ma’at led by a young American thought to be hiding in Dakar.
They wanted both the teenager and his army of do-gooders obliterated.

Stevenson’s
exact words had been, “Wipe them off the
face of the earth!”

He was looking
forward to a return to action. It was unhealthy not to have killed in months.
He didn’t count the Chinese whore he caught snooping through his computer files
in Istanbul. She died without revealing who had contracted her. He blamed
himself. He was out of practice. It wouldn’t happen again.
The co-pilot came out of the cockpit to inform him that they were now
in Malian airspace and would be landing in thirty minutes. The temporary base
in Mali’s northern desert was less than a two-hour flight from Dakar. Africa
was so convenient in that sense. There were large swaths of airspace and
territory that governments could barely patrol let alone control and there was
always a rebel leader looking for cash or equipment. After getting the green
light from Stevenson that morning, he’d dispatched an advance team to an
abandoned airfield on the outskirts of the Senegalese capital. He expected the
target coordinates before midnight.

Beach house, Atlantic Coast northwestern
Dakar, 18:12 GMT October 21, 2016

Mariam caught three fish before Ryan even had a nibble. Turns out, she
had been fishing most of her life. She patiently showed him how to jig the line
and in no time he had his first bite. She wore jeans and a cotton blouse that
clung to her breasts with the spray from the waves. He found himself getting an
erection even as he smacked his latest catch over the head with a wooden
mallet. In preparation for the evening, he decided to call his aroused state,
Oscar, in an attempt to keep more embarrassing words out of his dream file.

“Who are you
thinking about?” Mariam asked suddenly.

“Oscar,” he
blurted accidently.

“Did you two fish
together in America?”

“Just playmates,”
he fibbed. “Maybe we should head in soon,” he suggested.

“As you wish, we
have more than enough fish for everyone.”

When they docked, the cook took the catch then shooed them away so he
could prepare dinner. The beach was almost deserted and Ethan’s team kept a
discreet distance. They sat together on a dune to watch the sun go down. Mariam
reached for his hand. The contact sent a shiver down his spine. It was the most
beautiful sunset he could remember.

 “Do you ever
wonder why the sun dips down so quickly right before it sets?” she asked.

“No. Tell me why.”

“Because the other
half of humanity longs more for a new day to begin then we do for this one to
linger.”

“I don’t want this
one to ever end,” he assured her.

They were silent
for a moment then Ryan leaned over and kissed her.

“Did you like
that?” he asked. “And remember, I can read your mind.”

“Go ahead.”

Ryan blushed.

In their absence, the team of waiters had transformed the beach in
front of the house into a fairy tale. Hundreds of candles flickered in the
languid breeze and the chords of a traditional kora called them to a marquee
tent surrounded by torches. A small fire burned cheerfully in a pit. They sat
on a mound of pillows as the first of a dozen platters arrived loaded with
traditional plates that Mariam patiently described.

The food was
delicious and the conversation, even more inviting. Ryan assumed love was
always like this and he soon lost track of time. Mariam laid her head on his
left shoulder while they contemplated the stars and Ryan realized it had been
an hour since any of the waiters had disturbed their privacy. He reminded
himself to congratulate Ethan on the professionalism of the team. He didn’t
think she would mind if he kissed her again. He was right. Twenty minutes
later, they were locked in a steamy embrace when he heard a cough behind them.
His first thought was that Chief Mbaye had a censor among the waiters.

“This isn’t a good
time,” he called out to the person about to lose his job.

“My Lord…”

He recognized
Ethan’s voice. He sat up and peered around the corner of the tent. Any
annoyance he felt over the interruption vanished as soon as he saw the anguish
on his face. Oscar disappeared as fast as he had when the light bulb exploded
at Maria’s.

“What happened?”

“Zach’s mother and
stepfather were shot to death two hours ago,” he announced. “We just found
out.”

Ryan’s face went
white. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed.

Mariam sat up and
placed a comforting arm on his shoulder. She knew how close Zach was to him.

“David called Zach
right away so he could talk to Ricky,” he reported. “Zach is devastated.”

Nkosana turned to Mariam,
“I better go see him.”

She nodded her
understanding as he gave her a kiss.

“That won’t be
necessary my Lord, Tony is bringing him here now. I thought it would be
better.”

“Good idea and it
will be easier for him with less people around.”

“I am expecting
them any moment.”

“Do we have a
secure line here?”

“I have a
satellite phone.”

“Can you get my
parents on the line?” he requested. “I want to find out how Ricky is doing.”

Zach looked like hell. His eyes were rimmed red from crying and he lost
it as soon as he saw the Pharaoh. Ryan embraced his best friend while he sobbed
on his shoulder. Mariam dabbed her eyes with a tissue.

“Please
don’t send me back,” he begged.

“I can
arrange for you and Ricky to be together some place safe, in a country with no
extradition treaty with the United States,” he offered.

“I
can’t leave you. Ricky is safe with Manuel and David,” he said, “No matter
where I go, I’ll always be looking over my shoulder. That isn’t a way to live
and especially not for Ricky.”

Ryan
knew he was right, “My Mom says he’s asleep now and resting peacefully. We’ve
doubled the security at the safe house and I asked David to stay with them
until this is all over. He’s going to give them private karate classes.”

“That’s
great!” Zach tried to smile. “Can you do me a favor?”

“Whatever
you need, buddy!”

“Can
you make sure there are people at my Mom’s funeral?” he requested. “I don’t
want her to get buried alone. She wasn’t a bad mother; she just loved the wrong
guys.”

“You
can count on it,” he promised then added, “She was actually a great Mom, after
all she made you.”

The
Pharaoh held his friend in his arms until he fell asleep on the sofa hugging a
pillow.

“You
better get Mariam back to the compound,” Ryan suggested to Ethan, “Tony can
stay here with part of the security team. We’ll be alright.”

For
the first time, Mariam broke protocol and gave him a hug in front of the
others.

“The
next date will end better,” he whispered in her ear.