‘More than that,’ Macy told him. ‘Osiris is who all the other pharaohs aspired to be - the greatest Egyptian king ever. Even though they thought they were going to become gods themselves when they died, none of them would ever have dared try to outbling him, because he’s the guy who actually judges if they deserve to go into the next life or not.’
‘So all the pharaohs’ treasures that have ever been found,’ said Nina thoughtfully, ‘would still be less valuable than whatever’s in Osiris’s tomb. And considering how incredible some of the finds from other tombs have been . . .’
Eddie stood back. ‘There’s your motive, then. Money. Lots and lots of money.’ He indicated the screen. ‘Go on the Internet - I think we should have a gander at this Osirian Temple thing.’
Macy opened the browser, typing in the address of the Qexia search engine. ‘Not using Google?’ Eddie asked.
‘This is cooler,’ she said, entering a search string for the Osirian Temple. A ‘cloud’ of results appeared, the largest at the centre. She clicked it, taking them to the cult’s home page. A heavily airbrushed portrait of Khalid Osir, standing before what appeared to be a large pyramid of black glass, smiled at them.
‘That’s the guy I saw the other day,’ said Eddie. ‘Used to be a big movie star in Egypt.’
Nina read his potted biography. ‘And then he got religion. Though I guess his ego was too big for him to just join someone else’s - he had to start his own.’ According to the bio, Osir had founded the Osirian Temple fifteen years previously, the organisation now headquartered in Switzerland and established in over fifty countries.
‘Looks like it’s a nice little earner,’ Eddie said as Macy clicked through to other pages. As much of the site seemed to be devoted to selling merchandise as to explaining the cult’s beliefs.
Macy snorted sarcastically at one section of the latter. ‘What? That’s not even right! Osiris wasn’t immortal while he was still alive - that didn’t happen until he entered the Underworld.’
Nina scanned the rest of the text. ‘Huh. For a cult that’s based round the myths of Osiris, it doesn’t seem too interested in the accepted versions of those myths. It’s like this guy Osir’s deliberately ignoring anything that conflicts with what he’s trying to say.’
‘Trying to sell, you mean,’ Eddie corrected as another page opened, more catalogue than catechism. ‘Look at all this stuff. Diets, exercise plans, vitamins . . . it’ll all help you live longer, yeah, but he slaps a picture of a pyramid on it and charges five times more than you’d pay at the supermarket, and makes you listen to a load of religious twaddle while you’re doing it.’
‘It’s not just “twaddle”, Eddie,’ Nina chided. ‘People might not believe in it now, but it was the basis of a civilisation that lasted for almost three thousand years.’
‘Maybe, but this Osir bloke’s making it up as he goes. So, typical cult, really.’
Macy had meanwhile found another page: the Osirian Temple’s leaders. Osir took pride of place at the top, but below his entry was a smaller, black and white picture of another man with similar features.
‘Sebak Shaban,’ Nina read. ‘They look a lot alike - maybe they’re brothers.’
‘Yeah, I thought that,’ Eddie said, remembering seeing them together two days earlier. ‘How come they’ve got different surnames?’
‘Duh,’ Macy said off-handedly. ‘Osiris, Osir? It’s like a stage name.’ Eddie glared at her, but she didn’t notice. ‘And yeah, total Photoshop.’ The picture of Shaban very much favoured the left side of his face, but the part of his upper lip that in real life was scarred here appeared completely normal.
Nina leaned back. ‘And you’re absolutely sure he was in charge of whatever was going on at the Sphinx?’
‘Totally. It was him.’
‘And the guy from last night works for him?’ Macy nodded. ‘Okay, so they really, really want to make sure you don’t tell anyone about it.’
‘So what do we do?’ Macy asked.
‘We tell someone about it,’ said Eddie. ‘Duh.’
She pouted. ‘I tried. Nobody in Egypt would listen to me. When I phoned Dr Berkeley, he just told me to turn myself in to the police.’
‘How did you get out of Egypt if the police were looking for you?’ asked Nina.
‘Through Jordan. I heard him,’ she indicated Shaban, ‘say to watch the airports, so I couldn’t get out that way. But I had my passport and some money with me, so once I got back into Cairo I took a bus to this little town out on the east coast, and persuaded some guy to take me across to Jordan in his boat. Then I got another bus to Amman, flew back to America, and here I am!’
Macy was more resourceful than she seemed, Nina decided. Even Eddie appeared mildly impressed that she had evaded the authorities. ‘And then, out of everybody you could have turned to, you came to me.’
‘Because I knew you could help. And you did. If you hadn’t saved me, that guy would have killed me. So, thanks!’
‘Not a problem,’ Nina replied. Eddie grunted sarcastically. ‘But now you’re safe—’
‘I hope,’ Macy cut in, glancing warily at the door.
‘I think that after last night’s little debacle, the bad guys will be trying to get as far away from New York as possible. But since you’re hopefully safe, and we’ve got the pictures, we can tell the IHA what’s happened.’ She gave Eddie an uncertain look. ‘That’s assuming Maureen Rothschild will even speak to me.’
Persuading Lola to ask Rothschild if she would take a call from Nina was easy. Actually getting Rothschild to answer proved harder. It took three attempts, Nina telling Lola to relay increasingly hyperbolic pleas before the older woman finally, and resentfully, picked up.
‘Well, this should be interesting, Nina,’ she snapped. ‘After last night, I’m surprised you’re not calling me from prison. From what I saw on the news, there were two dead, several injured, a colossal amount of property damage and half the city thrown into chaos. Just another day for you, isn’t it?’
Nina held back an acidic reply, forcing herself to remain diplomatic. ‘Maureen, this is very important. It’s about the dig at the Sphinx.’
‘What about it?’
‘Someone’s trying to rob the Hall of Records before Logan can open it.’
There was a brief silence before Rothschild’s disbelieving, explosive, ‘What?’
‘The Osirian Temple - they’re behind it. They used a fourth page of the Gaza scrolls that they didn’t give to the IHA to locate a second entrance. They’re digging into it right now.’
Another pause. Then, to Nina’s anger, a mocking laugh. ‘Thank you, Nina, for confirming my theory - you have gone completely insane. I thought claiming to discover the Garden of Eden was outrageous enough, but this? Why would the Osirian Temple carry out a second dig when they’re already helping pay for the first one?’
‘Maybe you should ask them,’ Nina growled. ‘But I’ve got a picture right here of the fourth scroll, as well as a plan of the tunnel.’
‘And where did you get these pictures? One of those websites that claims there are flying saucers recorded in Egyptian hieroglyphics?’
‘No, from Macy Sharif.’
‘Macy Sharif? You mean the intern?’
‘That’s right.’
‘The intern who’s wanted by the Egyptian police for assault and antiquities theft?’
Nina glanced at Macy, who was watching anxiously. ‘I think she was framed. Everything that happened last night was because they were trying to kill her, so she couldn’t tell anyone what she’d discovered.’