The Cult of Osiris

airless. Things were no better when she emerged and was buzzed through the security door. Even though she told herself that the reception area couldn’t possibly have changed in seven months, there were enough subtle differences to render it disconcertingly unfamiliar.

One thing had not changed, though - the figure behind the reception desk. ‘Dr Wilde!’ cried Lola Gianetti, jumping up to greet her. ‘Or is it Dr Chase now?’

‘It’s still Wilde,’ Nina told the big-haired blonde as they embraced. ‘I wanted to keep my professional name. Although it might have made it easier for me to find a new job if I’d changed it.’

‘So how’s Eddie?’ Lola gestured at the ring on Nina’s left hand. ‘How was the wedding?’

‘Spur of the moment. Which Eddie’s grandmother still hasn’t forgiven us for. She wanted a trip to New York.’ Nina smiled, then her expression became more serious. ‘How are you?’

‘Recovered. More or less.’ Lola glanced down at her abdomen, where she had been stabbed - in the very room where they were standing - seven months before.

‘It must have been hard coming back to work.’

‘It was . . . weird. For a while.’ Lola shrugged, a little too casually. ‘But I love the job, so . . .’ She hesitated, glancing towards the offices, and lowered her voice. ‘To be honest, I don’t love it so much any more.’

‘Rothschild?’ Nina asked.

Lola nodded. ‘You were a much better boss. Now it’s all about who can suck up to her the most. And money.’

‘That’s part of why I’m here. Roger Hogarth couldn’t make it, so he asked me to come in his place. And Eddie nagged me into it as well.’

‘I see.’ Lola returned to her computer. ‘Professor Rothschild’s in a videoconference with Dr Berkeley, but they don’t usually take more than fifteen minutes. Her meeting with Professor Hogarth was scheduled for afterwards, so when she comes out I’ll see if she’ll talk to you.’

‘Or even if she’ll give me the time of day,’ said Nina. The thought of Rothschild was causing her long- simmering anger to rise again. She fought it back. The chances of her actually changing anything were slim to none, but now she was here she was determined to say her piece, and needed a clear mind to do so.

‘I’ll do what I can to convince her.’ Lola glanced at a tray beside the monitor. ‘Oh, that reminds me - there’s a message for you.’

‘For me?’

‘Yes, from one of the interns . . .’ She flicked through a small pile of papers. ‘Here - Macy Sharif. She phoned yesterday, asking for your number. I didn’t give it to her, of course, but I said I’d pass on the message. I tried calling your home number, actually, but it’d been disconnected.’

‘We moved,’ Nina said stiffly as Lola handed her the paper. ‘What did she want?’

‘She didn’t say. It’s funny, actually - people here have been wanting to talk to her. She was on Dr Berkeley’s dig, but she left suddenly. Nobody’s told me why, but I think she might have gotten into trouble with the Egyptian police. Hard to imagine - she seemed nice, but who knows?’

‘I guess the IHA’s hiring policies have gone downhill since I left,’ said Nina with dark humour. She gave the paper a cursory glance - a brief transcript of the message in Lola’s florid handwriting, and a phone number - then folded it.

‘So where are you living now?’ asked Lola.

Nina’s expression soured. ‘Blissville. It was about the only place we could afford that was still in the city and wasn’t an actual war zone.’

‘Oh,’ said Lola sympathetically. ‘Well, it’s, er . . . convenient for the expressway, I guess.’

‘Yeah. And the cemetery.’

They shared a smile, then Lola’s look became slightly hesitant. ‘Dr Wilde?’

‘Nina, please. What is it?’

‘I hope you don’t think this is kinda presumptuous, but . . . I’m getting the feeling you’re not having a great time right now.’

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ They both smiled again.

‘The thing is,’ said Lola, ‘I booked tomorrow afternoon off because I was supposed to be seeing an art gallery with a friend, and then we were going to have dinner. Only now he can’t make it, so . . . I wondered if you might want to come?’

Nina almost turned down the offer out of hand before the part of her that had been stirred back into action by Eddie’s prodding reminded her that all she had on the agenda otherwise was another evening with David Caruso. ‘Where’s the gallery?’ she asked instead.

‘Soho. And the restaurant’s in Little Italy. It’s a nice place, a friend of my cousin runs it.’

‘I didn’t know you were into art.’

Lola blushed faintly. ‘Sculpture. It’s a hobby; I make little birds and flowers and things out of metal and wire. I’m not very good at it, but I thought the gallery might give me some ideas.’

Nina considered the offer, then decided: what the hell. It might take her mind off her gloom, if only for a few hours. ‘Okay. Yeah, why not?’

‘Great! Let me give you the addresses.’

She looked for a notepad, but Nina handed her the sheet of paper with Macy’s message. ‘Here. Save a tree.’

‘Thanks.’ Lola wrote down the details, then returned the page. ‘Three o’clock?’

‘Two, if you want. The less time I spend in the apartment the better!’

A door up the corridor opened. Nina turned to see Maureen Rothschild emerge, and freeze as she saw Nina in the reception area. After a moment the professor walked towards her with a pinched, utterly insincere smile. ‘Nina.’

Nina gave the older woman a response in kind. ‘Maureen.’

‘I didn’t expect to see you here again. What do you want?’

‘To talk to you, actually.’

Rothschild’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. ‘I have a very busy schedule, Nina. In fact, I’m about to meet Roger Hogarth. I’m sure you remember him.’

‘Oh, I do. As a matter of fact, he asked me to represent him. He’s indisposed.’

‘Oh.’ Rothschild’s face revealed no sympathy. ‘Nothing serious, I hope.’

‘No, but he’ll be off his feet for a few days. Which is why he asked me to speak with you in his place.’

Nina could tell that Rothschild wanted nothing more than to give a flat refusal, but Hogarth was well regarded - and connected - in the academic community. Turning away his locum out of hand might be considered an insult . . . or a sign that she was afraid to defend her position.

‘I suppose,’ she said finally, with deep reluctance, ‘I could spare a few minutes. As a favour to Roger.’ She started back up the corridor, Nina giving Lola a brief smile before following her to her office.

Which had once been Nina’s office. The view across Manhattan was instantly familiar, but everything else had changed. Nina’s feeling of alienation returned full force.

Rothschild took a seat behind the large desk, gesturing impatiently for Nina to sit facing her. ‘Well? What did Roger want to talk to me about?’

‘About this, actually.’ On the desk was a glossy brochure, promoting what it proclaimed as The Live Television Event of the Decade! The image on the cover was the Great Sphinx of Giza. Nina picked it up. ‘It seems like every time I turn on the TV, I see a commercial for this. I’m just curious about when the IHA turned into a shill for prime-time television and wack-job cults.’

‘The IHA is not a shill for anyone, Nina,’ Rothschild said, voice oozing with condescension. ‘Getting co-funding from organisations like the Osirian Temple reduces our operating costs, and our share of the advertising revenue will help fund numerous other projects, as well as boosting the IHA’s profile worldwide. It’s a win-win situation, and good business, pure and simple.’

‘Funny, I didn’t realise the IHA was a business.’ She opened the brochure, seeing a picture of Logan Berkeley posing in a heroic stance with the pyramids behind him. ‘And you put Logan in charge?’

‘Logan was the best candidate for the job.’

‘Logan’s a self-promoting egotist. What about Kal Ahmet, or William Schofield? They’ve both got far more