The Cult of Osiris

hormones—’

‘Which you sell to the Osirian Temple’s followers.’

‘Yes. Each branch of the Temple buys products from worldwide subsidiaries of OIG, which produce them under licence from the parent company. But,’ he went on, eyes twinkling, ‘the clever part is, the licence fees are more than the wholesale price at which they sell them to the Temples. So technically, all the subsidiary companies operate at a loss . . .’

‘. . . and if they’re running at a loss, they don’t pay any taxes.’

‘Exactly. Meanwhile, the Temples make a profit on what they sell, but because they are religious organisations, they pay no taxes either. It’s all far more complicated than that, of course - as I said, I have some very expensive accountants and lawyers keeping me one step ahead of the taxman! But it is all legal. Well, it’s within the letter of the law, at least.’

‘It’s an impressive setup,’ said Nina, thinking of other words to describe it: ‘crooked’ topping her list.

‘Thank you.’ Osir seemed genuinely pleased. ‘But eventually, I realised that such treatments can only go so far, because of a simple genetic fact. Telomeres are a part of the chromosomes in every cell of the body, a sort of cap. Every time the cell replicates, the telomeres become a little shorter. They are a control mechanism - they stop cells from replicating uncontrollably, like cancers, but they also have a fault.’

Nina saw what he meant. ‘If they get shorter each time they replicate, eventually they’ll be completely used up.’

‘That’s right. And when that happens, the cell ages . . . and dies. The process is constant, and unstoppable. No matter how healthily a person lives, there is a built-in expiration date on their body. But,’ he said, looking into the lab, ‘there is a way to change that.’

‘With yeast?’

‘With a very special kind of yeast. Did you know that only one per cent of all the different types of yeast have been classified? They are very simple micro-organisms, but also very varied. Some can be used to produce biofuel, others to break down dangerous chemicals, or deliver targeted doses of drugs inside the body - and, of course,’ he added with a smile, ‘some simply help make bread. It is one of these that I’m looking for.’

Nina regarded him dubiously. ‘You want to find the Pyramid of Osiris . . . so you can make bread?’

‘Ah! You think I am . . . what is the American expression? “Wacko”, that’s it!’ He laughed again. ‘Not just any bread, Nina,’ he said, becoming more serious, more intense. ‘A special bread, a bread reserved for ancient Egyptian kings . . . and gods. The bread of Osiris.’

His words sparked a memory. ‘Wait a minute,’ said Nina. ‘Macy said there was something about the bread of life on the scroll you kept from the IHA.’

He nodded. ‘The one that told me about the Pyramid of Osiris - and what it holds. There are treasures, yes, there is the sarcophagus of Osiris himself . . . but the most valuable thing in his tomb is also the simplest. Bread. Yeast. The yeast that turned an ordinary man into an immortal legend.’

‘You’re saying this yeast made him immortal?’

Osir shook his head. ‘Not in the way we would use the word. Life expectancy in ancient Egypt was, what, forty years? Forty-five at most? Someone who lived to be seventy would be thought of as impossibly old - and if that person was a king, they would be considered immortal.’

‘I can accept that,’ Nina said, somewhat grudgingly, ‘but how would yeast help him live that long?’

‘As I said, there are many different kinds of yeast.’ He pointed at a bearded scientist working on a computer. ‘Dr Kralj and his team are sequencing the genetic code of certain types, looking for what they believe is the ideal sequence. They might find it tomorrow - in which case, I will soon be the richest man in the world. On the other hand, the search may take a hundred years, and by then I’ll be dead, no matter how closely I follow my own teachings. So I would rather find the original strain, which is in the Pyramid of Osiris.’

‘So you think the yeast used to bake Osiris’s own personal Wonder Bread is some kind of . . . I don’t know, life-extending mutant strain?’

‘Not all yeasts are good. Some are pathogenic organisms whose spores can infect the human body, or are carriers for viruses. But the yeast used to make the bread of Osiris was different. It is a carrier - but not of a virus. It carries an enzyme called telomerase that repairs and replenishes telomeres.’

All the disparate pieces fell into place. ‘It tops them up,’ Nina said, ‘stops them from getting shorter when the cells replicate.’ Her eyes widened as she realised the full implications. ‘The cells would live for ever. They’d never die.’

‘And so would those who ate it.’ Osir smiled triumphantly. ‘The yeast provided the enzyme that replenished Osiris’s cells, and slowed or even stopped his ageing. To his people, he became immortal.’

‘And if the rulers knew that eating this bread helped you live longer, they’d keep it to themselves, of course.’ A small frown crossed her brow. ‘But wouldn’t the yeast die during the baking process?’

‘My brother and I do know a little about baking,’ said Shaban with sarcastic disdain.

‘The temperatures in the mud brick ovens used in ancient Egypt were unpredictable,’ Osir explained. ‘Sometimes the yeast would survive in some form. And if the bakers knew the yeast was the key to long life, they would make sure as much survived as possible.’ A crooked grin. ‘It would not be the best- tasting bread, but that’s a small price to pay for eternal life.’

‘Hardly eternal,’ Nina pointed out. ‘You could still die from disease, or being run over by a camel. Ancient Egypt was a dangerous place.’

‘But a wise king keeps himself away from danger,’ said Osir. ‘And Osiris was the wisest king of all. He would not have been elevated to godhood otherwise.’

‘So you find his tomb, then cultivate a new strain of the yeast?’

‘Yes. Yeast spores can survive indefinitely. Even if the priests left no bread in the tomb to sustain Osiris in the afterlife, there should still be remnants in the canopic jars containing his organs. One way or another, I’m certain we will find samples.’ He looked into the lab. ‘The original strain has been lost in time like so much else, but here we can make it live again. And with a little genetic modification, it will make me as revered as Osiris.’

Nina regarded him suspiciously. ‘Genetic modification?’

Shaban’s mouth was a hard line. ‘I think you have told her enough, brother.’

Osir gave him an irritated glance, but this time acquiesced. ‘Sebak has a point,’ he said to Nina, his smug affability returning. ‘Our little trade secrets aren’t really relevant. It’s enough to say that there will be great rewards for bringing immortality to the world.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure you’ll be very rich, and very powerful. Only . . .’ She gave him a sly smile, hiding her contempt. ‘You can’t do anything until you find the Pyramid of Osiris. Which brings us back to business. Like I said, I want my cut. Considering what you stand to make, I’m thinking an amount in the millions would be fair. Dollars, that is. Not Egyptian pounds.’

Shaban let out an outraged snort, but Osir nodded. ‘If you help me get what I want, you too will be very well rewarded.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ said Nina. She held out her hand. ‘What do you say?’

‘Khalid, you can not be serious!’ protested Shaban. ‘She is trying to trick you! Why won’t you believe me?’

Osir stared hard at his brother. ‘Because I’m willing to take a chance that she is telling the truth. That’s your problem, Sebak - you’ve never been a gambler. You only dare act when you are certain of success. But I take risks - sometimes I lose, but when they pay off . . .’ He gestured at the pyramid around them. ‘This, this is the reward! You never accomplish anything without taking chances.’

‘It is a big chance to take,’ Shaban hissed.

‘But I will take it.’ Osir faced Nina. ‘I’m willing to take you at your word, Nina. Find me the Pyramid of Osiris, and you will get everything you desire.’ He extended his hand; Nina was about to take it when he suddenly brought it up, index finger pointing at her heart. ‘But try to deceive me . . .’ He looked meaningfully towards Shaban.

‘I’ll find it,’ she said, still holding out her hand.

After a moment, he smiled and shook it. ‘Then we have a deal. Excellent.’ Shaban turned away in disgust.