The Cult of Osiris

‘You’re drinking too much,’ he chided as he hung up his jacket. ‘Why’s the telly on so loud?’

‘Because it’s better than listening to crying babies or the Lockhorns next door arguing again or that monkey- faced asshole downstairs playing music at full blast. I hate this apartment.’ She curled up, pressing her chin between her knees. ‘I hate this building. I hate this neighbourhood. I hate this whole goddamn borough!’ Blissville, Queens, was wedged between the Long Island Expressway, a cemetery and a miserable grey river lined with rundown industrial buildings, and could hardly have been more inappropriately named if it had tried.

Eddie found the remote and lowered the volume. ‘Ah, come on, Queens isn’t that bad. Maybe it’s not Manhattan, but at least it’s still New York.’ He tried for some levity. ‘Could have been worse; we might have had to move to New Jersey.’

It didn’t work. ‘It’s not funny, Eddie,’ Nina growled. ‘My life completely, utterly sucks.’ She looked over to the letter on the counter. ‘I got another rejection this morning. To add to the five hundred and seventeen I already had. My career’s over; Dalton and those other bastards took care of that. They turned me into a joke, Eddie, a fucking joke! Whenever I go out it’s like people are looking at me and thinking, “Hey, it’s that crazy bitch who thinks she found the Garden of Eden.” Nobody takes me seriously.’

‘Who gives a fuck what other people think?’ Eddie hooted. ‘You don’t know ’em, you’re never going to see them again, why should you care? Some wanker on Fifth Avenue gave Grant lip today, but he didn’t let it ruin his day. Or his life.’

‘There’s a slight difference between him and me, Eddie,’ said Nina. ‘He’s a millionaire movie star. I’m . . . I’m nothing.’

‘Don’t,’ said Eddie firmly. ‘Do not start all that again. You are not nothing, and you bloody well know it. And we took care of President Dalton. He’s the fucking joke now. He had to resign, he can’t do anything else to us.’

‘He did enough.’ A long sigh, the wet cloak of ennui settling over her once more. ‘I’m never going to work in archaeology again.’

‘Yeah, you will.’

‘I won’t, Eddie.’

‘Jesus Christ, it’s me who’s supposed to be the bloody pessimist.’ He opened the fridge, finding an empty space where he’d hoped to see a carton. ‘Did you get any milk?’

‘No, I forgot.’

‘What?’ He banged the door shut. ‘How could you forget? I left you a note.’

‘I didn’t go out.’

‘You didn’t—’ He threw up his hands. ‘There’s a shop round the corner, but you couldn’t even be arsed to go that far because you were moping about all day watching TV?’

‘I wasn’t moping,’ said Nina, a spike of anger poking through the cloak. ‘You think I enjoy all this?’

‘I know I sure as hell don’t.’

She didn’t like his tone. ‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning I don’t like seeing my wife being depressed!’

‘What am I supposed to do about it?’ she demanded, standing. ‘Everything I do’s been taken away from me!’ She jabbed a hand at the TV as the face of the Great Sphinx appeared: yet another promo for the live opening. ‘And then there’s sensationalist bullshit like this rubbing my nose in it. It’s not proper archaeology, it’s a stunt! And I’m not the only person who thinks that - Roger Hogarth phoned. He was going to go to the UN to give Maureen Rothschild a piece of his mind, but couldn’t make it, so he asked me to go instead.’

‘So what did you say?’

‘I said no, obviously.’

‘What?’ It was far from the first time Eddie had heard her grievances about the Egyptian dig, and he’d had enough of them. ‘For fuck’s sake, Nina! If it pisses you off so much, why don’t you do something about it?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like telling Maureen Rothschild that she’s full of shit! Don’t just sit around feeling sorry for yourself and complaining to me every time that bloody advert comes on. Complain to her! You’ve got the chance, so go to the UN and tell that old bag exactly what you think of the whole bloody thing!’

‘All right,’ Nina snapped, wanting him to shut up and get off her back, ‘I will! I’ll call Roger and tell him I’ve changed my mind.’

‘Good! Finally!’ He dropped on to the couch, the springs creaking. After several seconds of silence, he looked up at her. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to get mad. I just hate seeing you like this.’

‘I hate being like this,’ she replied, sitting beside him. ‘It’s just . . .’

‘I know.’ He put an arm round her. ‘But you know what? We’re a pretty good team. We’ll sort this out together. Somehow.’

‘It’d be easier if you were here more. As if things aren’t bad enough, I hardly ever get to spend an evening with my husband! It’s just me and re-runs of CSI: Miami.’ She gestured at the supersaturated scene on the TV screen. ‘I see so little of you, I’m starting to feel, ah . . . stirrings for David Caruso.’

‘What? Okay, I really do need to spend more time at home!’ He huffed and stroked her neck. ‘Look, I’ll talk to Charlie. Maybe he’s got some clients who like quiet nights in.’

‘They won’t have much use for a bodyguard, will they? And we need the money.’

‘Bollocks to the money,’ Eddie said firmly. ‘You’re more important. I’ve got another full day with Grant Thorn tomorrow, but I’ll figure something out.’

‘So it’s just gonna be me and Caruso again? I’ll need to buy some more batteries.’

Eddie’s face twisted in mock disgust. ‘Christ, your jokes are getting as gross as mine.’

‘Well, they say married couples start to act more like each other, don’t they?’ She managed a sort-of smile, then glanced towards the bedroom door. ‘Y’know, there’s something else married couples are supposed to do. It’s been a few days . . .’

‘I’d love to,’ he said, rubbing his eyes, ‘but I’m really, really knackered. And if I’ve got to keep an eye on Grant until Christ knows when tomorrow, I’ll need a decent night’s sleep.’

‘Oh.’ She tried to conceal her disappointment. ‘Well, maybe in the morning, hmm? Rev me up before I go to the UN.’

‘I’ve . . . got to work.’ He made a show of yawning to cover up his evasiveness. ‘Grant wants to buy a suit for some religious thing tomorrow.’

‘Considering how much he parties, I wouldn’t have taken him for the religious type.’

‘It’s not a real religion, it’s some daft cult thing. The Osirian Temple, it’s called.’

Nina was surprised by the coincidence. ‘Yeah? Huh. They’re co-funding the dig at the Sphinx.’

‘Must be doing all right for themselves, then. No shortage of idiots with money.’

‘Some things never change.’

Eddie smiled, then got up. ‘I want a shower before we go to bed. Are you okay?’

She slumped back on the couch. ‘For now? Yeah. Long term? Not so sure.’

‘Something’ll come up,’ he assured her. ‘I’m sure of it.’

‘How are you sure?’

He had no answer to that.

2

Nina gazed up at the dark glass slab of the United Nations’ Secretariat Building with a glum sense of trepidation. It was over seven months since she had last set foot in the UN; seven months since she had been acrimoniously ‘suspended’ - more accurately, ‘fired’ - by the new director of the International Heritage Agency, and in truth a large part of her didn’t want to return to the scene of her humiliation.

She touched the pendant hanging from her neck for luck, then, steeling herself, headed inside.

The elevator ride seemed to take longer than she remembered, the elevator itself somehow more confined,