‘Another correct deduction,’ said Osir. He looked at Shaban, shaking his head. ‘You were in the army. Weren’t you paying attention in map-reading class?’
‘Our maps were not on the ceiling,’ Shaban replied, the scar tissue round his mouth creasing as he fought to control his anger. ‘And besides, you were always supposed to be the clever one, brother.’
‘I suppose I was.’ He turned his head at a knock on the door. ‘Enter. Ah, Fiona!’
A pretty and curvaceous blonde in her mid-twenties came in, bearing a small cup of steaming, strong-smelling coffee. She gave Nina a suspicious look before presenting the drink to Osir with a smile.
He returned it, gently stroking her forearm before taking the cup. ‘Perfect as always, my dear. Thank you.’ Fiona smiled again, then left, Osir unashamedly checking out her butt as she went. He leaned back, smelling the coffee before taking a sip. ‘It’s strange. I can have any luxury from anywhere in the world . . . but for some reason, to me there is no better coffee than a cup of Egyptian saada.’
Shaban made a dismissive sound. ‘Of all the things to be nostalgic about, you choose that slop?’
‘What can I say? You can’t choose the things you enjoy - they choose you. So you may as well enjoy them without guilt.’ He sipped it again with a contented expression.
‘That doesn’t sound like something Osiris would say,’ Nina commented.
‘The beauty of Osiris is that there are many ways to interpret his story. As you pointed out in Paris.’
‘Are you saying you just make things up to suit your needs?’
A sardonic laugh. ‘You are as blunt as my brother, Nina! But you may think that; I couldn’t possibly comment.’
Shaban didn’t share his levity. ‘Khalid! She has been working against us from the start, but now she suddenly turns round and abandons her own husband to come here? Do you really think she wants to help us? It’s a trick.’
‘I’d be pretty damn stupid to come here on my own if I wasn’t being genuine,’ Nina countered. ‘Considering that you and your snakeskinned buddy want to kill me.’
‘I’m afraid Sebak and his men can be a little . . . over-zealous in protecting the Temple’s interests,’ said Osir. ‘I hope you will accept my apologies. I never wanted anyone to get hurt. All I wanted was to get the zodiac out of the Hall of Records before the IHA opened it, so I could find the Pyramid of Osiris without interference.’
‘Why are you trying to find the pyramid?’ she asked. ‘What’s in it that’s so important to you?’
He finished his coffee and stood, holding out a hand to Nina. She hesitated, then took it. ‘I will show you.’
‘Khalid!’ Shaban hissed, a clear warning.
Osir glared at him. ‘You may be my brother, but I am in charge of the Osirian Temple, Sebak. Remember that!’ Shaban’s fury was now so great that he was visibly shaking with rage, but he forced himself to remain silent as Osir turned back to Nina. ‘Again, I apologise. Do you have a younger brother? Or sister?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘But Eddie - my husband - he’s a younger brother.’
‘Then you know something about sibling rivalry.’
‘You could say that.’ She had only met Eddie’s sister a few times, but even though the two formerly antagonistic Chases had gone through something of a reconciliation, their relationship still had a spiky edge.
Osir grinned. ‘It is the eldest son’s job to take charge of his brother, to look after him when he needs support. And sometimes, to fix his mistakes when his temper overcomes him.’ This last was pointedly directed at Shaban, whose face again contorted in silent anger. ‘But come,’ he said, directing Nina to the door. ‘See for yourself why I am searching for the Pyramid of Osiris.’
13
With Shaban following, Osir led Nina through the keep to the courtyard. She had passed the black glass pyramid and nearby helipad on the way in, but only now was she able to give the structure her full attention. From its base, its blank, sloping face and converging sides threw off her sense of perspective, making it hard to judge its true size. But it was taller than any of the castle’s towers, around eighty feet high.
‘A pyramid in Switzerland?’ she said as they approached. ‘A bit out of place.’ To say the least; unlike the glass pyramid at the Louvre, Osir’s edifice was grossly out of proportion with its surroundings, dominating the castle.
‘I think it fits well with the scenery,’ Osir replied. ‘One of the many fine things about Switzerland. Though I admit the one which brought me here was the tax system.’
‘I thought religions were tax exempt?’ She almost said ‘cults’, but opted not to antagonise him.
‘They are, in most places - once they have been accepted as legitimate, which takes a lot of time and effort. I founded the Osirian Temple fifteen years ago, but it’s only in the past five that it has truly begun to grow around the world. But I have other interests, which unfortunately are not tax exempt . . . not without a headquarters in Switzerland and some very clever and expensive accountants.’
The open area of courtyard before the pyramid, empty when she arrived, was now occupied by some thirty men in black shorts and T-shirts performing callisthenics. Diamondback, for once without his snakeskin jacket, issued commands like a drill instructor. Shaban diverted to exchange brief words with the American, who glowered at Nina; while Shaban spoke, the men all stood to attention.
‘Looks like you’ve got your own little private army,’ said Nina.
‘Sebak’s idea,’ Osir replied as his brother re-joined them. ‘For protection. The Temple sometimes attracts trouble - as you may have noticed.’ He smiled.
They reached the pyramid, glass doors in its face sliding open to reveal a stylish lobby area within. The people inside bowed their heads respectfully as Osir directed Nina to an elevator. Disconcertingly, the front and rear glass walls sloped to match the pyramid’s face, the elevator’s cross-section a parallelogram with its shaft ascending at the same angle. It was a very inefficient use of space, the cabin able to hold far fewer people than a conventional design, but Nina suspected her host was more interested in form than function.
Shaban followed them into the elevator, watching Nina coldly as they ascended. The glass walls gave her a view of parts of the pyramid’s interior as they rose, the most impressive being a huge chamber: a temple. Unlike the room she had seen in Paris, though, the decorative hieroglyphics here were laser-etched on glass panels, the tall statues of Egyptian gods glinting in chrome.
‘This is the headquarters of the Osirian Temple,’ Osir announced proudly. ‘It is also the headquarters of Osiris Investment Group, SA. There are more ordinary offices in Geneva and elsewhere, but they are all run from here.’
‘You run a religion and a business from the same building?’
‘The two are more alike than you might think,’ he said, smiling. ‘Customer loyalty, market share, return on investment . . . all crucial.’ The high hall dropped out of sight, two floors of offices passing before the elevator stopped.
Nina caught a strong and distinctive scent in the air: yeast. ‘Smells like you run a bakery as well.’
Osir laughed. ‘Not quite. But bread has been an important part of my life - my father was a baker, you know. I grew up making bread.’ He seemed momentarily wistful as they stepped from the elevator. ‘He thought I would carry on his business.’
‘Yes,’ said Shaban sarcastically, his anger having subsided, ‘I’m sure you would much rather be kneading dough than living in a Swiss castle.’