Death of a Pharaoh (26 page)

The same people
who had been rattled out of their beds several hours earlier, now watched as
the transport soared overhead. Ethan, Tony and Zach raced to the roof of the
beach house just in time to see it fly past at an altitude that spoke volumes
of the skill of the pilot. More than one of them were tempted to aim a few
rounds at the fuselage out of revenge but they were all dedicated Servants of
Ma’at. Those who turned away snapped their heads back in disbelief when a
bright orange fireball enveloped the fuselage. The violent explosion tore the
plane apart and sent tons of flaming debris cascading to the blue waters below.
A fishing boat quickly sank after a chunk of the landing gear tore a
catastrophic hole in the wooden keel. It appeared the Consortium now had a
policy of zero tolerance with failure.

A coded message arrived at the secret base of the mercenary forces in
the Sudan. The man, who only moments earlier sent the signal to detonate the
hidden explosives on the ill-fated transport plane, learned of his appointment
as the new commander of the expeditionary forces. He had expected the news. His
very presence betrayed the Consortium’s lack of confidence in his predecessor,
a victim of inbred Soviet arrogance.

Johannes Botha
should have led the operation from the very beginning. After all, with two
decades commanding Special Forces in apartheid South Africa, he had an
impressive resume of successful covert operations and multiple slayings;
including several members of the armed wing of the African National Congress
who because of him would never embarrass the nation serving as State Ministers
or Ambassadors. Killing uppity kaffirs was his specialty. He’d worked on the
planned assassination of Nelson Mandela in 1992 before the commie loving
American president sent a team of Secret Service agents to beef up his security
and ruined everything. Those Kennedys were to blame, even if Bush made the
decision. It was little wonder that God-fearing patriots in that country had
taken aim at so many of that negro-loving family. Born in Rhodesia, he moved to
South Africa at an early age and had never once uttered the name Zimbabwe. He
had a pathological hatred of black leaders, who he considered several links
short on the evolutionary scale.

While the Georgian
mentally masturbated over rocket launchers and helicopters, he had quietly
built a network of contacts at the highest levels in the police, military,
government and high-tech industries throughout the continent. Johannes
understood how the monkey mind functioned. If the ex-prison faggots were still
in Africa, he’d find them. The badly planned operation in Dakar killed everyone
and destroyed any evidence in the compound. There was no one left to
interrogate. He would have tortured a few of them before wasting any bullets.
The incompetence of the recently deceased Colonel was a setback; but he was
certain it was only temporary in nature.

Twenty-four
hours after the disastrous attack on the compound, Ethan chaired a meeting of
the survivors at the beach house. The Pharaoh’s condition was still critical
and doctors advised against moving him until they could study the data from a
portable neurosensing device scheduled to arrive later that day.

Tony, Zach and Mariam
accompanied Ethan around the modest kitchen table. Herbert Lewis joined them by
video conferencing on a secure satellite feed along with the Foundation’s
medical team. For added security, Ethan’s men draped and sanitized the
background to ensure nothing gave away their location. The mood was sombre but
determined.

Since earlier that morning,
doctors monitored the Pharaoh’s vital signs through remote software. The high-tech
headset implanted with electrodes to collect data on brain activity passed
through customs in Dakar that morning around the neck of an American tourist
who informed the officer that he was listening to Didier Awadi and looking
forward to his visit to Senegal to discover his roots.

Ethan began with a moment of
silence for the victims then continued with a report on the attack. He tried to
remain impassive. Everyone had lost a friend or relative and there was no room
for emotion. There were thirty-seven fatalities in total, including nine
children and fourteen women. Three families lost every living member. Chief
Mbaye was among the losses. Only eight of the dead were armed. Senegalese
authorities handled the autopsies and they would not announce the results for
several days but anecdotal evidence suggested that almost all the victims
expired from a single gunshot to the head. Ethan’s security team lost a dozen
members and apart from Tony and Zach, only ten remained. Fortunately, the safe
house counted on a well-stocked armoury and ammunition was not an issue.

Herbert Lewis briefed the
group on the murder of Zach’s mother and stepfather. His investigators
determined that the FBI discovered the cell number used by Zach’s brother
several weeks ago but they needed a call of at least 90 seconds to get around
the firewalls of the foundation and perform a triangulation. It appeared
someone planned Mrs. Adams’ death solely to provoke the call. Herbert suspected
that a mole in the FBI passed the information to the Consortium.

Ethan watched Zach while the
Vizier spoke. His eyes grew misty when Herbert mentioned his mother’s death but
he was holding up well under the circumstances. Ethan had excused him from the
meeting that morning but he insisted on attending. It was a credit to his
dedication.

Herbert updated them on the
preparations for the coronation that now took on added urgency. Everyone agreed
that when the Pharaoh recovered from the shock of the attack, getting him
safely to his enthronement would present major obstacles. The least of them,
the presence of their archenemy, Sanctus Verum, in the vicinity of the old
Royal tomb. As long as they persisted in their desperate search for the remains
of the Pharaoh Jesus of Nazareth, they could not guarantee the security of the
Pharaoh in Egypt. Herbert had instructed the project leader to develop a plan
to neutralize the Vatican agency. The team in Dakar had enough on their plates
already dealing with the Pharaoh’s condition, the Consortium and their
mercenaries.

The only good news was that
Operation Baal had achieved spectacular results, as evidenced by the brutal
reaction of the Consortium. Dr. Golding’s team calculated that the economic
losses would set back their evil agenda by almost three years. An acute lack of
liquidity due to massive margin calls forced them to sell important assets at
far below acquisition costs. The wounds were not fatal but without major
injections of cash in the coming weeks, they would be unable to continue with
their nefarious plan.

It was the only ray of
sunshine in what was otherwise a dark day in the history of the Servants of
Ma’at. They adjourned while they waited for the arrival of the neurosensing
device. Ethan felt it was better not to mention to the others the greatest
concern as expressed by Dr. Wilkins in a private phone call that morning, the
possibility of brain damage due to the intensity of the sensory episode that
the Pharaoh experienced at the time of the attack. The pain he described during
the transfer of powers on the death of his grandmother might have crippled a
lesser mind and Ryan didn’t even lose consciousness at the time.

No one on the team of
neuropsychiatrists working with Dr. Wilkins dared to place a magnitude on the
intensity of the suffering required to send him into a coma.

Lord
Thoth was as alarmed as his colleagues were by the dramatic turn of events on
earth. Since the attack, the dream file of the Pharaoh had remained blank. It
showed no data whatsoever; not even a scribble. The circumstances suggested two
possibilities – a complete lack of brain activity or that the coma somehow
prevented the Pharaoh from entering into REM sleep. They had not designed the
system to record any other state. Either eventuality was worrisome but should
Nkosana not recover, the future of the world looked very bleak.

Private Study, Abdelaziz residence, Cairo, Egypt:
08.32 EET October 24, 2016

Mustafa read the top-secret message from Herbert Lewis with deep
concern. The attack in Dakar and the current condition of the Pharaoh had sent
shockwaves throughout the organization. The unspoken fear that the young
Pharaoh might never recover in order to be crowned was something he refused to
accept. He could not believe that the Gods would allow such a thing to happen.
Still, he found himself praying more than was normal for him these past few
days.

The Vizier
commanded him to develop a plan to take care of the Sanctus Verum problem. It
was not easy to come up with a solution. As part of the project to transfer the
mummies of the True Pharaohs to the new tomb, he had commissioned a study of
the state of each body using the very latest scientific tools, including
portable CAT scans. The condition of some of the older relics was a problem for
the transfer but one mummy in particular kept him awake at night. His experts
were especially concerned about the corpse of the Pharaoh Jesus of Nazareth.
The wooden coffin inside the stone sarcophagus had deteriorated and collapsed
onto the body. Several splinters the size of large stakes penetrated the
wrappings and threatened the integrity of the remains. The mummy itself was in
acceptable condition but required restoration and stabilization inside the
sarcophagus. There was a major risk of damage from any movement and his experts
warned of even transporting the sarcophagus by truck. It was out of the
question to attempt to remove the mummy from the sarcophagus in situ as it was
hermetically sealed and the exposure of the ancient body to air might have a
disastrous impact on the remains.

It was obvious to
all that the best solution to the unwelcome presence of the Vatican forces was
the removal of the mummy of the Pharaoh Jesus to a secret location outside of
Egypt. Everyone agreed but up to now, no one had presented a viable plan for
getting the enormous sarcophagus out of the country without causing irreparable
harm to the mummy of a God.

Mustafa convened a
committee to look into the question of where to take the body. They recently
submitted four suggested final resting places, each offering adequate
accessibility and superb security. All of them outside of Egypt and three were
in Europe. Normally, the Pharaoh would make the final decision before his
coronation. Regardless of the location, it was imperative that they transport
the remains to a laboratory to unseal the sarcophagus in aseptic conditions
where experts could restore and fit it with a new high-tech coffin to protect
it during further transit. His technicians sourced a truck with a platform
equipped with highly sophisticated computerized shock absorbers for
transporting volatile explosives.

Unfortunately,
there was only one road leading past the secret entrance to the current tomb
and the Swiss employees of Sanctus Verum controlled it twenty-four hours a day.
They obtained government permission to search all vehicles passing their
headquarters due to a rash of pipe thefts in the area that threatened to leave
the region without a drop of water. If they attempted to bring the truck across
the rock-strewn terrain to avoid the Swiss, it would greatly challenge the
shock absorbing technology that was only designed for paved roads. They were
certain that Sanctus Verum would detect the movement of the truck in any case
and make the safe arrival at the laboratory in Cairo impossible.

The sarcophagus of
Jesus was solid granite and weighed an estimated three tons. Moving it from its
current resting place to the entrance of the tomb was not a concern since a
system of pulleys and ramps had existed for centuries to allow the incorporation
of new coffins as True Pharaohs died. The problem was how to transport it to
the nearest paved road, some 22 kilometers in distance, without any vibration
or jarring. A sleigh pulled by camels was out of the question due to the
roughness of the terrain.

Anthropologists on
his staff studied ancient civilization such as the Easter Islands in an attempt
to discover ways to transport large stones over long distances. They discarded
the idea of using rails made of wood to slide the sarcophagus because of the
risk of derailment and shock to the mummy. In one hour, Mustafa would chair the
eighth meeting of his technical committee in search of a solution and he
despaired that they might not find one in time.

“What we need is
for the Gods to send an army of angels to carry the sarcophagus to the paved
road,” he expressed to the group in frustration.

One of the
archeologists raised his hand. “Maybe not angels but perhaps
costaleros
would do,” suggested Pablo Fernandez in a heavy Spanish accent.

“What are costaleros?”

“I come from
Seville in the south of Spain,” he told them, “At Easter the men carry the
pasos
or floats with the statues of Jesus and Mary over long distances. The heaviest
float weighs three and a half tons. I believe we can bring a team of costaleros
here and they could carry the sarcophagus to the road in one night and without
damage.”

“How many would we
need?”

“I think we would
need about one hundred,” he indicated.

“Would it be
possible with such short notice?” Mustafa asked. “We have only a week.”

“They are not
required at this time of year but they are already yearning for the chance to
return to their sacred duty. It is like an addiction. We would be doing them a
favor.”

“It is an
interesting suggestion but how do we explain to them that we are bringing them
to Egypt, which is not exactly famous for its celebration of Easter.”

“A few years ago,
there was a documentary filmed in the Easter islands in an attempt to recreate
how the ancient settlers moved huge pieces of stone in order to make the famous
statues called Moai. You know the giant heads? They were transported great
distances from ancient stone quarries. We could tell them that we are doing an
experiment to determine how the ancient Egyptians moved some of the massive
stones for building the pyramids.”

“Do you still have
friends in Seville?”

“Of course, I try
to go back every Easter.”

“Makes some calls
to see if what you propose is possible then report back to me.”

Mustafa wondered
if fate played a part. Two of the four locations for a final resting spot were
in Spain. It would be a sign from the Gods if these costaleros came to Egypt to
carry their Christ to safety and he ended up secretly entombed in their
country. Mustafa learned long ago to never question the mysterious ways of the
Gods.