“Eddie, honey,” said Nina through a strained grin, “can you please stop provoking the man?”
“I know you, of course, Dr. Wilde,” said Shaban. “In fact, after your little stunt at the Sphinx, I think a good part of the world knows you.” The official blinked, recognizing her. “And Miss Sharif too,” the Egyptian added as Macy peered out of the antechamber. “All of you here together. How convenient.”
“Why are we still here?” Macy asked Nina in a fearful whisper.
Shaban’s eyes narrowed intently. “Why are you here, Dr. Wilde?”
“The same reason as you, I’m guessing.” Her gaze flicked down; under one arm, he carried a leather-bound folder that she imagined contained photos of the reassembled zodiac. “A keen interest in ancient astrology.”
His eyes tightened still further. “Very keen.”
“I’m sure. But we really should be going. See you—well, not soon at all, I hope.”
“Tell you what,” said Diamondback, his hand once again edging into his jacket, “how ’bout I show you the way out?”
“Tell you what,” Eddie replied, doing the same and hoping Diamondback couldn’t tell that he wasn’t armed, “how about you don’t?”
“It’s all right, Bobby,” said Shaban, touching his arm. “Stay with me. I’m sure we’ll meet them again. Hopefully”—a small smile, genuine but nasty—“in less formal surroundings.”
“Can’t wait,” said Eddie, still holding his hand near his nonexistent gun. He and Nina backed away, Macy scurrying into cover behind them. Shaban and Diamondback stood like statues, watching as they reached a short flight of stairs leading down to the next room. “Okay, leg it!”
They ran through the underground room—somewhat ironically, a display of items relating to Osiris—then clattered back up more stairs into a chamber full of mummies, attracting surprised looks from the other visitors. Eddie looked back. “He’s not following, but I bet he’s already calling for a goon squad.” He flapped open the tourist map. “Where’s the nearest bloody exit?”
They found the way out, emerging on the Place du Louvre to the museum’s east. “Christ, I really need to buy a new gun,” Eddie complained.
Nina, meanwhile, was more interested in a car parked in a restricted zone nearby—a large black Mercedes SUV with tinted windows. “Think that’s Shaban’s car?”
“Maybe,” Eddie said as he led the two women across the street. “Why? Want to key it?”
“No, but I was thinking we should follow it.”
“We just got away from the guy, and now you want to meet him again?” Macy asked.
“We can’t find the Pyramid of Osiris without seeing the complete zodiac,” said Nina. “And Shaban’s got it.”
They took cover around a corner. Nina looked back. No sign of anyone coming after them.
“It might not even be his car,” Eddie pointed out.
“Well, then we’re screwed. But parking on the lines is kind of a VIP-ish thing to do, so let’s wait and see.”
As it turned out, it was Shaban’s car. About ten minutes later, the scar-faced Egyptian emerged from the Louvre. He and Diamondback entered the Mercedes.
“You think he figured out how to find the pyramid?” Macy wondered.
“Only one way to find out,” Nina said. The SUV pulled away. She hurried to the curb and raised a hand. “Taxi!”
“Bloody hell,” said Eddie, peering along the narrow street. “Didn’t realize this thing was big in France as well.”
Nina, Eddie, and Macy had followed Shaban’s SUV across Paris in a taxi—after first convincing its driver that their request to “Suivez cette voiture!” wasn’t une blague. The Mercedes pulled up outside a building bearing the logo of the Osirian Temple—which, like its counterpart in New York when Eddie had visited it with Grant Thorn, had a sizable and excited crowd outside.
“All these people are here just to see this guy Osir?” Macy asked in disbelief. “I know he used to be a movie star, but come on!”
Nina told the taxi driver to pull over. “Maybe you should make up your own religion too and see what happens.”
Macy considered it. “Could all my followers be, like, buff shirtless firefighters? Young ones, obviously.”
“Y’know, I think that’s a religion I’d like to start.”
“Oi,” Eddie growled.
They got out and watched as Shaban and Diamondback left their vehicle, green-blazered men clearing a path to the building’s entrance. Once they were inside, Nina led the way to the fringe of the crowd.
“So now what?” Eddie asked. “Wait for them to come out again?”
“I don’t know,” Nina admitted. “I think we should stick close to them, though.” She regarded the crowd. “And I have to admit, I’m kinda curious about this whole Osirian Temple thing—and why Osir’s going to such lengths to find the Pyramid of Osiris. We should try to get inside.”
“You do remember that they know what we look like?”
“So we’ll sit at the back. There must be three hundred people here—if we keep our heads down, Shaban and his pal won’t see us. And nobody else knows who we are.”
“Er, Dr. Wilde,” Macy pointed out, “you were just on TV in front of millions of people. And you were already kinda famous before that.”
Nina looked at the nearby shops. “Okay, maybe if we had disguises …”
“These are crap disguises,” whispered Eddie as he and Nina found seats on the very back row of the Egyptian-styled hall, watched over by two large statues of Osiris flanking the entrance.
“Well, I’m sorry that we weren’t in Paris’s fancy dress quarter,” Nina hissed back. All they had been able to find to hide their faces were baseball caps with J’AIME PARIS written above the bill.
The buzz of excitement around them rose to a roar. The crowd stood and applauded as Khalid Osir strode onto the stage at the far end of the hall, basking in the adulation of his followers. Behind him, other senior members of the Osirian Temple lined up, Shaban and Diamondback among them. Eddie tugged his hat lower. “Macy had the right idea staying outside …”
“Merci, merci,” Osir said at last. “Bonjour, et bienvenue! Malheureusement, mon français est terrible,”—his deliberately stilted pronunciation raised a laugh from the crowd—“so I will have to speak through an interpreter!” He nodded to a man on the stage, who stepped forward and repeated his words in French, to more laughter.
He gestured, and the audience sat. The others on the stage, with the exception of the interpreter, did the same. “Thank you all for coming,” said Osir. “May the light of the sun-god Ra bless you all!”
“May the spirit of Osiris protect and strengthen you!” the crowd replied, some in English, others in French.
“It is truly a great pleasure to see so many people here today. Our church gains strength with each new follower—and the world will be made a better place by the wisdom of Osiris!”
The audience kept cheering as he continued his oratory. Nina had to admit that while she thought his “church” was utter nonsense, Osir himself was a magnetic performer—had he chosen to remain an actor, she didn’t doubt that he could easily have made a big name for himself in Hollywood.
On the other hand, she thought, by having the Osirian Temple officially recognized as a religion, he had achieved something that even Hollywood’s A-list could not—tax exemption. Maybe there was method to his madness after all.
“We praise you, O Osiris!” cried Osir, raising his hands. The congregation startled Nina by unexpectedly also chanting “Osiris!” “Osiris, the lord of eternity, the judge of all souls, the great one who awaits us in the land of the dead beyond Abydos! O Osiris!”
“Osiris!” the crowd chanted again. This time, Nina and Eddie got the idea and halfheartedly joined in.
“The gods of the sky sing your praises, and the gods of the Underworld bow down before you. You are the provider of the divine bread that will grant immortality to all your followers in th
is life and the next. You are the protector against the evil of Set, the destroyer. O Osiris!”
“Osiris!”
“Greatest of all men and all gods, show us the path to life everlasting! Guide us safely through the perils of the Underworld to your judgment! We praise you, O Osiris!”
The crowd chanted the god’s name, each repetition growing in volume and passion. On the stage, Osir’s eyes were closed; whether or not he really believed in what he was saying Nina couldn’t tell, but he had the look of a theater actor receiving the greatest ovation of his life.
The same couldn’t be said of his brother, though. Shaban’s face was cold, tight, clenched with suppressed anger. Eddie had noticed too. “What’s his problem?”
“Dunno,” Nina replied, “but there’s definitely a problem with that prayer.”
“How come?”
“It’s like a simplified—really simplified—version of a real Egyptian prayer, dumbed down. And the mythology’s wrong too. Set wasn’t a nice guy, but he wasn’t the ancient Egyptian equivalent of Satan either.”
Osir lowered his hands. The tumult died down. “Who’s Set?” Eddie asked.
“Osiris’s brother—and murderer. He was jealous of him, and wanted to take his kingdom. But he was also the champion of Ra, the sun-god, just as important a part of the Egyptian pantheon as Osiris—and in some parts of the country he was actually worshipped over Osiris.” The middle-aged woman to Eddie’s other side irritably shushed her.
Osir spoke again, no longer with the voice of a preacher, but more like a salesman. “My friends, following the guidance of Osiris will bring you life everlasting. And I am here today to tell you that as the voice of the spirit of Osiris, I have channeled his wisdom once more. His words are my words, and now they shall be your words too. The twelfth volume of the Book of Osiris is now finished, and all his followers must now take it to their homes, and to their hearts.”
“Is this a sermon or an informercial?” Nina asked quietly as Osir continued what was rapidly turning into a sales pitch. But the audience was lapping it up, all but holding out their credit cards. She wasn’t sure what she found more appalling—Osir’s almost transparent hucksterism, or that everyone seemed to be falling for it.
“All the books, and more, will be available to you before you leave the temple today,” said Osir. He smiled. “And now it is time for something I know you have been waiting for—the chance to ask me personally any questions you have about the teachings of Osiris!” A good proportion of the congregation responded by thrusting their hands into the air. Osir laughed. “I wish I had the time to answer each and every one of you,” he said. “But unfortunately, I soon have to return to the Osirian Temple’s headquarters to take care of matters there, then after that I will be traveling on to Monaco to spread the word at the Grand Prix—and I hope you will all be cheering Team Osiris to a win!”
Those cultists who were apparently also motor racing fans cheered. Shaban looked irritated, but he remained silent as Osir waved them down. “Thank you, thank you. So now, I will send Gerard among you”—he nodded to the translator—“for your questions.”
Gerard moved down the central aisle, scanning the field of waving hands before extending a microphone to a young and pretty dark-haired woman. She seemed almost overcome, stuttering out a question in French. The translator delivered it to Osir: “The thought of the journey through the Underworld frightens me. What happens if I fall to the guardians before I reach Osiris?”
Osir gave her a reassuring smile. “There is nothing to fear in the Underworld for those who truly follow the words of Osiris. The guardians can only harm the unprepared or the unworthy.” The smile widened, his dark eyes gleaming. “If you come to Switzerland for my personal teachings, I will show you everything you need to reach Osiris, and more besides.”
“Did he just try to chat her up?” Eddie whispered as the young woman gave her heartfelt thanks.
“I think he did,” said Nina. “ ‘Personal teachings,’ my ass.”
“Shhhh!” the woman next to Eddie hissed.
The translator picked the next questioner, another young, attractive woman, though this time a blonde. The next was also a blonde, followed by a brunette. “I think I’m seeing a pattern,” Nina said.
Eddie shook his head in a mixture of disbelief and admiration. “Jesus. He’s figured out the ultimate bloke fantasy—how to get rich and have hot women worship you like a god.” His grin froze as Nina raised her hand. “What’re you doing?”
“I’ve got a question.” Osir’s mangling of Egyptian mythology for personal gain had made her increasingly annoyed on a professional level—but she was also curious about how seriously his followers took their religion. Was it just some transitory New Age nonsense to fill a void in their lives for a time before they moved on to the next new thing … or did they genuinely, deeply believe it?
The translator had almost reached the back of the room, still focused on finding one particular kind of questioner—and Nina fit the bill. He held out the microphone to her.
“We’re supposed to be inconspic—oh, for Christ’s sake,” Eddie muttered, hiding his face beneath his baseball cap.
“I, ah, I have a question?” Nina said, raising the pitch of her voice to bimbo level. She regarded Osir on the stage—but also watched Shaban and Diamondback for any signs of recognition. “I was wondering how we can have eternal life in both this world and the next, when to get into the next life we kinda have to die in this one?” Faces turned to her, the crowd’s disdain almost physical.
From Osir’s condescending smile and the ease with which he replied, it was a question to which he had long since devised a stock answer. “Both lives are the same life,” he said. “As one ends, another begins, as long as Osiris has judged you worthy of life everlasting. The next life follows on from this one without interruption.” His salesman voice returned. “These things are taught in the first volume of the Book of Osiris. If you have not yet read it, then copies are available outside.” There was a ripple of mocking laughter—aimed not at the cult leader, but at Nina. The church clearly had little patience for those who weren’t up to speed on its scripture.
Gerard was about to back away when Nina spoke again. “And I have a question about mythology,” she said in her normal voice, edged with irritation at being patronized. “How do you reconcile your interpretation of the Osiris story with the accepted Egyptian myths? You know, the part where Osiris wasn’t actually granted immortality until after he died and was briefly resurrected by Isis, only for Set to cut him into fourteen pieces and feed his severed penis to a fish?”
Hostile murmurs ran through the crowd. On stage, Shaban’s eyes suddenly bugged as he realized who was speaking. “Time to go,” Eddie muttered.
Osir was ready to deliver another canned reply, but looked around as Shaban said something. He raised his eyebrows. “We have a surprise guest: Dr. Nina Wilde. I’m sure you all saw her unexpected television appearance a few nights ago.”
“Hello, hi,” said Nina with a sarcastic wave as she and Eddie pushed their way to the aisle. Behind Osir, Diamondback quickly made his way from the stage. “Okay, so if you don’t want to talk about the penis thing, how about the Osirian Temple’s connection with the theft of the zodiac from under the Sphinx, and why you’re looking for the Pyramid of Osiris?”
“I have no idea what you mean, Dr. Wilde,” said Osir, though his acting skills couldn’t conceal his surprise at her reference to the pyramid.
Behind him, Shaban stood, signaling to the green-blazered men at the rear of the room before calling out to the congregation. “Our temple has been defiled by unbelievers! Are you all going to take this insult?”
Some of the cultists began to boo, several standing with enraged faces. Osir looked concerned. “Wait, there is no need for anger,” he began, but the men ignored him, shoving toward the aisle in response to Shaban.
“Definitely time to go,” said Eddie. He turned to the exit,
seeing the greenjackets closing ranks. “Bollocks! You would have to get mouthy, wouldn’t you?”
“Okay, not my smartest idea ever,” Nina admitted. She now had the answer to her question of how seriously Osir’s followers took their religion—very.
Eddie looked toward the stage. Diamondback, marching down the aisle, was almost certainly armed—but there were now several people between him and them. If they could get outside before he had a clear aim …
One of the green-blazered men reached out to grab him—
“Go!” Eddie shouted, smashing a fist into his jaw.
Nina jumped over the falling man and ran for the door. Another man clawed at her—but caught only her hat, pulling it from her head. She lashed out, hitting him hard on one cheek, and kicked open the door. The room outside was set up with display tables, loaded with books and DVDs and pyramidal gewgaws. The people at the stalls jumped back in surprise as she burst in. “Eddie, come on!”
The man Nina had hit started after her—only to take a savage kick to the groin from Eddie’s booted foot. He collapsed with an animalistic squeal.
Someone clutched at Eddie’s leather jacket, pulling him back. He punched the man’s face, red blood squirting onto his green blazer. The man tumbled, hitting the statue of Osiris beside the door with a splintering crack, what looked like stone turning out to be nothing more than fiberglass and plaster. The nine-foot statue rocked.
Osir’s shouts for order went unheard as the cultists in the aisle reacted with fury to the desecration of the statue, running at Eddie. Diamondback charged after them.
Eddie jumped and grabbed the statue’s arm, kicking back off the door frame to pull it over. He threw himself through the open door as the sculpture crashed down behind him and exploded into sharp-edged fragments.
The shocked cult members stopped. Diamondback barged through them, drawing his revolvers.
Nina was at the exit to the street. Eddie slammed the temple door shut and tipped over a table, stacks of DVDs clattering across the floor. The next stall was still being set up, a cardboard box of books half unpacked upon it. The flat plastic tie that held it closed in transit had been cut; he grabbed it and sprinted after Nina.