The Cult of Osiris

experience.’

‘They were on the shortlist, if you must know,’ said Rothschild coldly. ‘But Logan was my personal choice. His presentation impressed me the most.’

You mean he kissed your ass the most, thought Nina, but she kept it to herself. ‘And was Logan okay with totally perverting the principles of archaeology? Was that part of his presentation?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean rushing everything and throwing out any notion of diligent scientific practice so the network can get big ratings during sweeps week.’

‘You are the last person to lecture anyone about “diligent scientific practice”, Nina,’ snapped Rothschild. ‘Your utter disregard for anything even approaching proper procedure is one of the main reasons why you were fired, if you remember!’

‘This isn’t about me,’ said Nina, the simmering rising towards a boil. She waved the brochure. ‘It’s about the IHA selling out. It was established to protect these kinds of finds, not exploit them!’

‘Ah, now I see why you’re here,’ Rothschild said, a sneering smile spreading on her thin lips. ‘Some last desperate attempt at self-justification, is that it? You want to beat your fists against the temple walls of your oppressors so you can convince yourself that you’re right and everyone else is wrong?’ She stood, hands spread on the desk as she leaned forward. ‘Get over yourself! Contrary to what you may think, you were not the indispensable heart of the IHA - the organisation runs perfectly well without you. In fact, it’s better without you. Do you know how many employees have died since you left? None!’

Nina drew in a sharp breath. ‘That was low, Maureen,’ she said, tight-mouthed.

For a moment, Rothschild’s expression suggested that even she thought she had gone too far. But the moment quickly passed. ‘You’ve said what you came here to say, Nina. I think it would be best for everyone if you left now. And it would probably also be for the best if you didn’t come back.’

Nina rose, clenching her fists to stop Rothschild from seeing that her hands were trembling with anger. ‘What you’re doing in Egypt is an embarrassment to the archaeological profession, and you know it.’

‘We both know who the real embarrassment to the profession is,’ Rothschild countered. Nina gave her a hateful look, threw open the door and left the office.

There was a park north of the United Nations; Nina strode round it, her anger barely lessened even twenty minutes later. In some perverse way, part of her actually wanted to keep stoking it - once it was gone, all she would be left with was misery, deeper than ever.

But she knew she couldn’t keep it burning indefinitely.

Taking a long, slow breath, she took out her phone and called Eddie. To her surprise, his cell was switched off, rather than on voicemail. Odd. Eddie never switched off his phone.

Even that brief distraction took the edge off her anger, depression roiling back in like a wall of fog. Not in the mood to do anything but go home, she headed west along 42nd Street to the subway station at Grand Central. About halfway there, her phone rang. Thinking it was Eddie, she snapped it up, only to see an unfamiliar local number on the screen. She composed herself, then answered.

‘Is that Nina?’ said a Jersey-accented voice.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s Charlie, Charlie Brooks.’ Eddie’s boss.

‘Oh, hi,’ she said. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, thanks. Listen, I’ve been trying to get a hold of Eddie, but his phone’s off. Is he with you? I need to talk to him about a new client.’

‘No. I’ve been trying to call him myself.’

‘Really? Huh. Not like him to be out of contact when he’s not working.’

‘Isn’t he with Grant Thorn?’

‘Nah, not till later. Well, if you talk to him in the next hour or so tell him I called, else I’ll pass it on to one of my other guys.’

‘I’ll tell him.’ She disconnected. If Eddie wasn’t working, then what was he doing, and why was his phone switched off?

More to the point . . . why had he told her he would be with Grant Thorn all day?

In her current frame of mind, she couldn’t help constructing scenarios. None of them were good. Was he doing something he didn’t want her to know about? The past months had not been ideal for their relationship. What if he was seeing someone else?

She shook her head, refusing to countenance it. Eddie wouldn’t do that to her.

Would he?

She reached Grand Central and rode the subway back to Queens, taking the gloomy walk south to Blissville. Along the way, her phone chimed - not a call, but a text message. Eddie. Terse as ever.

Sorry I missed call, in middle of something. Talk later. How did UN go? Eddie x

‘Super fine,’ Nina sighed.

The black Cadillac limousine cruised through midtown Manhattan. ‘Almost there, Mr Thorn,’ said the driver.

‘Good, cool,’ said Grant. He was wearing the formal suit he had bought the day before. He was also on edge, a far cry from his usual cocky self as he fingered his collar.

‘You okay?’ Eddie asked.

‘Yeah, yeah, fine. Just, you know, this is a big thing. Even bigger than winning the People’s Choice award.’

Eddie kept his opinions on that to himself as they arrived at their destination. The Osirian Temple’s New York ‘church’ was actually an unimposing East Midtown building with a neon sign over its entrance, an Egyptian-style eye superimposed over a triangle, which he assumed was meant to be a pyramid. But while the building was nothing noteworthy, the crowd outside resembled the crush surrounding the red carpet on Oscar night.

‘Lot of people,’ he said. Several men in tailored dark green blazers cleared a space so the Cadillac could pull over.

‘Fast-growing religion, man. I mean, who doesn’t want to live for ever?’

‘Depends who you’re living with.’ The limo stopped. ‘You want me to wait with the car?’

‘No, come in with me, check it out. Maybe you’ll even want to join up.’

To his credit, Eddie just about managed to hold in a sarcastic comment as he got out of the limo and opened the door for Grant. The crowd responded enthusiastically as the star emerged.

‘Hi, everyone, hi! Great to see you,’ said Grant, turning on the megawatt smile that had helped take him to ten million dollars a movie. The men in green acted as a human cordon as he headed for the entrance, shaking hands and posing for photos. As the limo pulled away, Eddie’s experienced eyes swept the crowd for any hint of threat, but everyone seemed to be behaving. All the same, he subtly increased his pace, shepherding Grant towards the door.

It soon turned out, though, that the movie star wasn’t the afternoon’s top attraction. More men emerged from the building, a green-blazered phalanx driving through the crowd like a plough to clear a path across the sidewalk. Someone cried ‘It’s Osir!’ - and as one, the throng turned to watch a longer limo arrive.

If Grant had been greeted with enthusiasm, this was nearer to hysteria. To Eddie’s amusement, a hand that had been outstretched to Grant was snatched away just as he reached for it, leaving the actor with a brief expression of startled hurt. The minders flanked the limo’s door.

Khalid Osir climbed out.

Even at first glance, Eddie could tell Osir had that special quality possessed only by a lucky few - a natural, powerful charisma, evident in the easy confidence with which he moved and the irrepressible sparkle in his eyes. Eddie guessed him to be in his mid-forties, though he somehow got the feeling that Osir was older than he