Death of a Pharaoh

  “Hello Mr. Lewis, the last time we met you saved my life.”

  “It was my duty, my Lord. Besides, if I hadn’t then the last few days would have been far less exciting.”

  Ryan grinned and turned to introduce Zach.

  “Zach, this is my uncle, Herbert Lewis.”

  They both smiled at their inside joke and Herbert Lewis noted the easy complicity between the two of them. He had been wary at first of Nkosana bringing his cellmate along. After all, he tried to kill his stepfather twice. Still, after spending almost a year together in prison, Nkosana would already know all his secrets and if he trusted him then so would the foundation. He would be under tremendous pressure in the coming days and having a good friend at his side might be beneficial.

  “My Lord, it is late and there is still work to do,” he motioned to the car.

  “I took the liberty of arranging a television so that you could see the results of the escape. It is breaking news on CNN.”

  Ryan and Zach sat side-by-side facing front while Mr. Lewis grabbed the remote and turned on the set. The motorcade pulled ahead but none of them noticed; mesmerized by the images on the screen. The film crew must have shot the video about an hour after the operation started, since it was still light.

  The extent of the destruction amazed Ryan. The camera panned from the crumpled skeleton of the water tower to the ruptured gas line that still burned in multiple spots. A huge swath of blackened, smoldering forest extended from both sides. Further to the south, the viewers could appreciate just how close the flames came to the eastern cellblocks while crews struggled to extinguish a large fire still raging on the other side of Frank Brown Road; although it didn’t seem to threaten the prison. A black helicopter, identical to the one that sprung them, swooped into view and dumped a load of water on the far edge of the active burn.

  Suddenly, the producer switched back to the studio and Ryan gawked at the mug shots of the two of them over the right shoulder of the blonde announcer.

  “Jesus Christ!” Zach exclaimed.

  “Can you turn it up, please?” Ryan asked Mr. Lewis.

  “Authorities are now certain that what first appeared to be an explosion caused by a suspected gas leak was actually a sophisticated paramilitary operation to free two inmates from the nearby Sullivan Correctional Facility. A head count taken less than thirty minutes ago revealed the two convicted felons, Ryan James Murphy and Zachary Adams, somehow escaped in the confusion of the fire. One of the prison’s Correctional Officers, with less than a year’s service, is also missing and authorities are not yet certain whether the guard is a hostage or an accomplice. The name of the guard has not been released by prison officials.”

  “First responders recovered a large number of mortar shells in the woods surrounding the forest and the preliminary investigation suggests that both the municipal water tower and the main gas line to the prison were sabotaged with high explosives. The rapid spread of the conflagration led to speculation that the perpetrators employed incendiary rounds to fuel the fire and create the thick smoke that aided in the escape of the two inmates.”

  “Todd Smith is an ex-marine who served in Afghanistan and a member of the Fallsburg Volunteer Fire Department; he had this to say about what he witnessed on the ground.”

  The camera switched to a fireman in full gear, his face covered in soot. “I haven’t seen this much ordinance since my last tour in Kandahar,” he told the reporter. “I don’t know who those two cons are but they had major muscle behind them. This was a high-tech operation,” he commented. “Wouldn’t want either of them showing up in my backyard.”

  The lady in the studio returned.

  “FBI and ATF agents are on the scene and an all-points bulletin has been issued to police departments across the country. Captain Paula Granger, the spokesperson for the New York State Trooper department, tells CNN that roadblocks have been set up throughout Sullivan and adjoining counties and they are confident that the fugitives still remain within the security cordon.”

  “Although FBI officials are not yet ready to make a full statement to the press, sources close to the investigation report that the agents on the ground are mystified by the breadth and expense of the operation, worthy of a Hollywood blockbuster. And all to free two young violent offenders, the oldest only eighteen, with no known links to the mafia or terrorist organizations and without obvious financial means to mount an operation that by all accounts would have cost hundreds of thousands.”

  “The FBI warns that both men are considered armed and dangerous and should anyone see either of the fugitives please call the number on your screen. The FBI earlier announced a reward of one million dollars for information leading to the apprehension of these individuals.”

  “Wow, a million bucks,” Zach exclaimed, “that’s a lot of dead presidents!”

  “I guess this means we can’t hit a McDonalds on the way into town?” Ryan asked.

  “No problem, we’ll use drive through,” Herbert Lewis suggested. “What would you like?”

  Ryan blushed, “I don’t have any money.”

  “I think the Foundation can afford it.”

  “Can you make sure Ethan gets something as well?” Ryan requested. “He must be hungry too!”

  “Of course, my Lord.”

  After months of prison food, the French fries rocked and Ryan watched in disbelief as Zach devoured two cheeseburgers without stopping to take a breath.

  When Zach noticed Mr. Lewis and Ryan staring at him with looks of bemusement, he commented, “What? I was too nervous to eat lunch today!”

  After they finished their food, Ryan turned to Herbert, “What happens now? We obviously can’t be seen in public until this all dies down.”

  “We have booked you into the Presidential Suite of a luxury hotel downtown. We can access a private elevator from the underground parking lot. My staff has already taken steps so that the security cameras in the hotel won’t record either of you, but as an added precaution I’ve gotten these hoodies for both of you to wear.” He handed each of them one of the cotton garments.

  “Your grandmother had a condo in Cedar Park; the entire building is occupied by members of our organization. Our agents have ascertained that it is under surveillance, by who we do not yet know, but we suspect they are related to the people who ordered her murder. That is why you cannot stay there. It is a two bedroom suite at the hotel and you will both be comfortable there.”

  Ryan wasn’t thinking about the accommodation. He looked over at Herbert Lewis.

  “What was my grandmother like?”

  “She was a remarkable woman and I see much of her in you.”

  Herbert Lewis anticipated more questions and gently interrupted.

  “My Lord, I think it is best for her to speak for herself.”

  Ryan didn’t understand.

  “Before she died she left you a video that she gave to me and ordered that you should see it right away if anything happened to her.”

  “It is waiting for you at the hotel. I know you must be tired but this task cannot wait. It is important that you listen to her; it will make your decision easier.”

  Ryan nodded in agreement.

  “There is only one thing.”

  Ryan looked at him.

  “Your real name is Nkosana. It is what your father called you when he first presented you to the Gods.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Prince, in Zulu a language of South Africa. It was too risky to have people know you by your real name so Ryan seemed a good substitute. In Irish it means ‘little king’. They both foretell your destiny.”

  Ryan glanced at Zach who was sporting a smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face.

  It was just one more surprise that Ryan tried to assimilate. He rubbed his temples with his fingers but it didn’t help.

  “How is your head?” Herbert asked as he offered Ryan some of the same pills Ethan had given him over the past few days.

 
Ryan took two and opened a bottle of water. “Think I’ll ever get used to all this ‘my Lord’ shit?” he asked swallowing the pills. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” he promised, “I know everything is happening very fast. This morning you woke up in your cell in prison and now you are free and everyone is treating you like royalty; literally. You must remember that our organization is an absolute monarchy. We can never question the orders of the True Pharaoh. The only higher authority is the Council of the Gods and someday you will stand before them as an equal, a fellow God. Is it any wonder that men wish to bow before you?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Rittenhouse Hotel, West Rittenhouse Sq., Philadelphia: 22:07 EDT September 16, 2016

  The private lift at the hotel only had one button with the letters PH. Non-stop service; Ryan imagined this was how rock stars lived. The elevator opened directly into the suite. It was huge. He had never seen such luxury. Herbert patiently allowed both of them to soak it all in for a moment.

  “Mr. Adams, an agent will show you to your bedroom. I am certain you will want to take a shower. We have purchased some clothing and I hope you will find everything suitable. Ryan has some things to do but when he has finished you can have dinner together here in the suite.”

  Zach smiled at Ryan, “Later, my little king.”

  Herbert Lewis guided Ryan to a reading room off the master bedroom. There was a large chest on a table beside the desk. It looked very old. He offered Ryan a chair in front of a laptop.

  “I will leave you to watch the video. It will answer many of your questions. The contents of the box are part of your inheritance from your grandmother to do with as you wish. There are some ancient artifacts, however, and although technically yours they’re like the crown jewels for the Queen of England; nice to wear but she can’t sell them.”

  “I only steal taxis,” Ryan confessed with a smile.

  “I will be just outside if you need any assistance.”

  Herbert Lewis bowed his head respectfully then quietly closed the sliding French doors.

  Ryan looked at the computer screen in front of him. He reached for the mouse, clicked the play button on the video and sat back to meet his grandmother for the first time.

  She looked younger than he had imagined and had his nose. People would call her a handsome woman, very dignified in appearance. She braided her grey hair in one long plait that she wore wrapped around her head like Rosa Parks. The camera captured her in a blue print dress sitting behind a desk in an elegant office. Ryan presumed it to be at the Falcon Foundation. Framed photographs covered the wall behind her and depicted her posing with various personalities. In just a few square feet, he saw her standing beside Presidents Clinton and Obama, Nelson Mandela and the Dalai Lama. Before he could identify more of the famous people, the camera zoomed in on her face and she began to speak.

  “My darling Nkosana, if you are watching this video it is because I am no longer in this world to tell you the things that you must know. You should not grieve for me as there are many forms of life as well as death, and you will need all of your strength and concentration for the difficult task ahead. When your mother died, I decided to hide you from the world both for your safety but also to allow you a chance for a normal life until this momentous day arrived. Please forgive me for keeping so much from you. It was never my intention to deceive and certainly not to abandon you. Find it in your heart to understand and to forgive. Although you will not remember, I accompanied you during many important moments of your life. I was there when you competed in karate tournaments and when you graduated from middle school. I attended all of your debates, and even when I couldn’t be near you, my people were. Every night I read a detailed report about your day and at the end I would send you a kiss that I hoped you would feel on some level.”

  “Since the moment I died, you have suffered terrible headaches and voices inside your head. You may have also experienced strange dreams. The headache will go away as soon as you voluntarily accept your destiny and the din will be something that you will learn to control with time. Let me start from the beginning.”

  “Historians tell us that Cleopatra was the last Pharaoh of Egypt. In a sense they are right, for she was the last one known to the world. For millennia, the Pharaoh had been the only link between the Gods and humankind. Their most sacred role was to keep Ma’at, the balance between good and evil, and to defend humanity before the Council of the Gods when required. During the reign of Atenkamen, the heretic King, the Gods resolved that the Pharaohs, more human than divine, could no longer be trusted to put the importance of keeping Ma’at above personal ambitions, power and the thirst for wealth.”

  “They decided to separate the spiritual and temporal responsibilities of the Pharaohs leaving them with a throne but without the ability to deal directly with the Gods. They appointed a Regent to carry out the spiritual duties, someone they trusted and whom they knew would defend Ma’at with his very life. For almost a thousand years, the Regency operated in parallel with the Pharaohs, secretly extending a network of agents throughout the known world to labor in the defense of Ma’at.”

  “The system served the Gods well and they were pleased. When Cleopatra died, the deities met in council and decided to reunite the spiritual and temporal powers in one single person, who they called the True Pharaoh. By this time, the Servants of Ma’at had spread across the ancient world from Athens to China, to the Celtic lands in the north and even to South America long before the voyage of Columbus. The treasures of the dead Pharaohs financed the enormous expenses. For centuries, the Priests of Ma’at systematically looted the tombs of the earthly Pharaohs to provide funding for the Regency.”

  “Before long, the Gods elected someone who was not Egyptian as True Pharaoh. His name was Jesus of Nazareth and over the centuries, the identities of some of those who followed him in the position will be very familiar to you.”

  “In the early 19th century, the True Pharaoh was a beloved Chieftain, a member of the ancient Akan people, living in Gambia in Africa. He was the fifth generation of what had by then become a hereditary dynasty based on certain paranormal skills that the Gods discovered in the family two generations previously. Some of them possessed an extraordinary ability to communicate by telepathy and a remarkable barometer to sense good and evil in people. You share these same talents. The finding was an important advancement for our cause as it greatly enhanced the ability of the Pharaoh to defend the balance of Ma'at before the Council of the Gods.”

  “In 1848, a band of slave hunters captured the Pharaoh and brought him in chains to Cuba. As you can imagine, it was a period of great confusion and anxiety for the Servants of Ma’at. A Portuguese trader sold him to the owner of a tobacco plantation in Virginia, despite the fact that the importation of slaves to the United States was already illegal at that time. It took our agents almost two years to locate the Pharaoh and to offer to bring him to safety. He refused and decided that there had to be a reason that the Gods had brought him to America. He continued to live in Virginia and eventually purchased his freedom from his former owner.”

  “When the Civil War broke out, the Royal Council decided to relocate the Pharaoh and his family to the north. During the journey, bounty hunters raided their camp with the intention of returning them to slavery. A gunfight ensued. The Pharaoh died defending his family. His beloved wife and a daughter perished as well. One of the Pharaoh's security team saved his young son and fled to Canada through the Underground Railway. From there they boarded a ship to England and eventually on to Egypt where he was enthroned as Pharaoh when he turned eighteen, after a regency of ten years. He elected to return to America at the age of 22. He settled in Philadelphia and became a successful lawyer, one of the first to fight for the rights of all former slaves. That man, Joshua Carter, was your great, great, great grandfather.”

  “When my father died, I became Pharaoh and your mother would have succeeded me if she had lived but the Gods had other
plans for her. Nkosana, as the only remaining member of the dynasty, the Royal Council will offer you the throne and the sacred duties of the True Pharaoh. The task before you is fraught with peril, the balance of good and evil has become increasingly difficult to maintain despite all of our efforts. The Gods are losing their patience with humankind and the very future of the world, as we know it, is in your hands. No one can force you to accept this heavy responsibility, one that will change your life forever. Yet there is no one else who possesses the special skills needed. If you should refuse to assume your destiny, it could well mean the end of humanity on earth.”

  “My darling, the Servants of Ma’at have always been around you even if you did not realize it. There are evil forces out there looking to control our power and perhaps they are responsible for my own death. You may only trust the Servants of Ma’at. They have all sworn to obey and to protect you. Chief Mbaye is my Vizier and has counseled me for most of my rule. He will be responsible for your investiture and at the same time, he is a trustee of the investment fund that we use to finance our good works around the globe. He will be your teacher and will provide you with the training necessary to be able to meet with the Gods when the time comes; and I am afraid that it will not be long before they demand your presence.”

  “I know that this video has probably raised more questions than it answers. Mr. Lewis has been my Chief of Security and a good friend. He will provide you with a box containing part of your inheritance as well as other items that you will need. You must select a new Vizier, something like a Prime Minister, to assist you and I would suggest that you consult with Herbert before naming a candidate to replace Chief Mbaye who deserves a long relaxing retirement and more time to play with his many grandchildren. He is a good man but he thinks rap is something you do on a door. A person acquainted with your culture might be more appropriate.”