Death of a Pharaoh

by Death of a Pharaoh (mobi)

  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.

  Chapter Fourteen

  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 la
st 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.

  Ryan turned to watch Ethan scramble up the steep shore then felt Zach tugging on the sleeve of his dripping DOC overalls. When he looked to see what he wanted all of the men were down on one knee with their heads bowed.

  “I think they must be praying,” Zach observed.

  “They are not praying, my Lord,” Ethan clarified, “they bow to their future King.” He too dropped to one knee and lowered his head.

  Zach whistled in amazement followed by an eloquent, “Holy Shit!”

  Ryan knew his life was about to change dramatically.

  “My Lord Pharaoh, quickly get into these dry clothes. We must not delay,” the leader of the team announced, “a jet is waiting for you at Sullivan County Airport. It will take us thirty minutes to get there.”

  “We have to be in the air before the fire is extinguished and the prison does a count,” Ethan explained.

  It took them less than a minute to change. Once in the vehicle, Ryan almost melted into the soft luxurious leather of the upholstery. His head still ached but he wasn’t certain whether it was the migraine or the excitement of the escape.

  Zach offered him two pills and a bottle of water. “These will help.”

  “Thanks,” he said then added, “for everything.”

  Ethan smiled and turned to talk to the agent in the passenger seat in front.

  Ryan closed his eyes. The pain diminished a bit as the medicine slowly entered his bloodstream. As the adrenaline subsided, he fell asleep and for the first time in weeks, he didn’t have a nightmare.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The flight to Philadelphia International Airport took exactly one hour. The pilot taxied the Lear jet directly into the Atlantic Aviation hangar and parked beside three vehicles surrounded by half a dozen security agents who looked like they shopped at the same clothing store as the team that escorted them to Sullivan County Airport. They all wore radio earpieces and talked into their sleeves just like on TV. When Ryan deplaned, the deference was more discreet since there were employees of the handling agent working in the hangar. A black man stood ramrod straight in front of the limousine. He wore a tan leather jacket, brown pants and looked to be in his early fifties. Ryan recognized his face.