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.
With 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.
Chapter Thirteen
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 1st, 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.
“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.”
H
erbert 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.
Death of a Pharaoh Page 11