“What can I say?” He raised his hands in mock apology. “Yes, I wanted to be worshipped. So I quit acting and founded the Osirian Temple—and, more quietly, also founded the company that would become OIG.”
“Another gamble,” said Nina.
“The biggest of my life. I am a Muslim, after all”—Nina noted that he used the present tense—“and to Islam’s more fundamentalist followers, who are unfortunately growing in strength in Egypt, apostasy is a crime that deserves death. I received my share of threats. Which was why I put Sebak in charge of protecting me, and the Osirian Temple as a whole. He is very good at his job.”
“Maybe too good,” Nina said. Shaban was now talking to Diamondback on the upper deck, a hand on his shoulder.
“Again, I apologize. Events got out of control.” Something on the screen caught Osir’s eye, and he jabbed at the button to unmute it. “Second fastest! We are on the front row!” He looked back at Nina. “Yet more apologies, but this is extremely good news.”
“That’s okay,” she said, putting down the glass. “I need to take a quick break anyway.” She headed into the ship to find another bathroom.
“Where are you?” Eddie said, answering the phone.
“In Monaco” came Nina’s whispered reply. “I’m on his boat. Ship. Whatever the dividing line is. Where are you?”
“On an autostrada in Italy.” He was speeding, doing 30 over the 130-kilometer-per-hour limit, but this being Italy impatient locals were flashing past him.
“Italy? What the hell are you doing there?”
“It’s the fastest route to Monaco. I always wanted to go to the Grand Prix there, but this wasn’t how I planned … What about you? Have you seen the zodiac?”
“Not yet. Osir’s people are still reassembling it; they won’t be done until tonight.”
“Arse,” he muttered. “I’d sort of hoped you’d got everything sussed by now.” A thought struck him. “This boat, is it in the harbor?”
“No, it’s off the coast.”
“Buggeration and fuckery! How’re you going to get off?”
“Yeah, I was wondering that myself. But listen, Osir said he’s going to a party at a casino this evening. I think he wants to take me along.”
“A party? Do you know which casino?”
“No, but it’s connected with his racing team, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. Maybe you could hire a boat and follow us back to his ship. It’s called the Solar Barque—oh crap, someone’s coming. Bye!”
“Bye,” said Eddie, but again not quickly enough to beat the click of disconnection.
“Is she okay?” Macy asked.
“Yeah, but she’s on his bloody yacht, and somehow I don’t think there’ll be much chance of us finding a boat for hire the night before the biggest event of the year.”
“What was that about a party?”
Eddie chuckled sarcastically. “You sound a bit keen. Why, you wanting to go?”
“No. Well, I don’t know. What sort of party?”
“For Osir’s Grand Prix team.”
Her face brightened. “Oh! Racing drivers? We should definitely go.”
“It’s not going to be a social visit,” he reminded her. “Besides, we’re hardly dressed for a flash do at some fancy casino.” He nodded at his jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket, and her travel-crumpled shirt and khaki combat trousers.
She smiled and took out her credit card. “Dressing for a night in Monte Carlo? Priceless.”
FIFTEEN
For all the resort’s glamorous reputation, the majority of Monaco’s casinos were surprisingly mundane. While the image from many a movie—and the one the tourist office wanted to present—was of tuxedos, diamonds, and fortunes won on the turn of a card or the spin of a wheel, for the most part the reality was rank after rank of computerized slot machines. Like Las Vegas, Monaco had found that while high-rollers look attractive on the big screen, much more profit could be made from a steady flow of ordinary tourists with no clue about the intricacies of gambling and a hunger and thirst ready to be sated in the casinos’ own pricey restaurants and bars.
The principality’s newest establishment, however, had opted to hark back to the idealized fantasy of the Riviera. The Casino d’Azur was a deliberate throwback to the days when being a member of the jet set was an exotic aspiration. The slot machines were still present, but relatively discreetly, putting the more traditional gambling pursuits front and center.
Nina looked around as she and Osir entered one of the casino’s main lounges. Though she had little interest in gambling beyond the occasional lotto ticket, she couldn’t help but be impressed by the architects’ efforts. The d’Azur was a rococo homage to the era when Monaco first became a draw for the rich and risk-inclined, and no expense had been spared in making it as authentic as possible, from the low-hanging crystal chandeliers to the darkly lacquered hardwood of the gaming tables. “Wow. This place looks amazing.”
“As do you, Nina,” said Osir. Despite herself, she felt her cheeks flush. On the one hand she felt silly and self-conscious, dressed in a blue silk evening gown with her hair styled in an elegant twist. On the other, she was being taken for a night out in Monaco, which was undeniably exciting … even if the company wasn’t to her taste. As well as several burly bodyguards, Osir’s entourage included Shaban and Diamondback, the latter having reluctantly donned a tie with his snakeskin jacket to meet the evening’s dress code.
“Thank you,” she said. Osir himself made a striking figure in a white tuxedo, the confident way he carried himself ensuring there would be absolutely no chance of his being mistaken for a waiter. He led her through the games to a side exit, a member of the casino staff recognizing him and waving them through.
The doors led to a courtyard, one roped-off end opening onto Casino Square and the racing circuit. With qualifying over, the track had been reopened to the public; part of the crash barrier had been removed to allow access to the casino. Nina glanced at the people passing on the street in the hope of seeing Eddie, but there was no sign of him or Macy.
An earsplitting noise caught everyone’s attention. A sleek racing car in the green-and-gold livery of Team Osiris had just had its engine started, the chiseled young blond man in the cockpit grinning up at Osir as he blipped the throttle.
“Ladies and gentlemen! It seems one of the drivers is impatient to get to the race!” boomed Osir, to laughter from the partygoers. Cameras flashed as he walked to the car and shook the driver’s hand. “Mikko Virtanen, everyone—who I am sure will be not only the winner of tomorrow’s Grand Prix, but soon the world champion!”
The crowd cheered; the engine note fell to an idling crackle as Osir began a speech in his role as the team’s major sponsor. Nina looked back toward Casino Square. Still no Eddie. She turned to Osir again—and found that Diamondback had materialized in front of her. “Lookin’ for someone, li’l lady?” he leered.
“Anyone but you.”
“Aw, now that’s unfortunate. ’Cause you’re gonna keep on seeing me, since Mr. Shaban asked me to stay close to Mr. Osir’s special guest and make sure she don’t get into any … mischief.”
“I assure you, I have no intention of getting into any mischief,” she said, voice acidic. “Certainly not with Mr. Osir.”
“He’ll be real disappointed to hear that.” Diamondback laughed, then rejoined Shaban, who was watching Nina with evident suspicion.
Osir concluded his speech, and after exchanging pleasantries with some of the guests returned to Nina. “It’s a little loud out here,” he said, gesturing at another door. “The ballroom will be quieter, I think.” She was slightly surprised when he took her hand to escort her across the courtyard, but didn’t object. Shaban, Diamondback, and the bodyguards followed as they walked away, the car revving behind them.
Even through the noise of a busy evening in Casino Square, Eddie heard the distinctive V8 roar from the Casino d’Azur. “Sounds like the right place.”
&
nbsp; Macy regarded the building nervously as they crossed the road. “I hope she’s still okay.”
“She should be—for now. Osir wouldn’t have brought her if she hadn’t convinced him she can figure out the zodiac. Problem’s going to be getting her out once she does it.”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Find her. Then after that … I’ll tell you as I make it up.”
“That doesn’t fill me with confidence.”
Eddie grinned. “Trust me. I’ve done this sort of thing before.”
“And how did it turn out?”
“Usually with exploding helicopters.”
Macy giggled, then trailed off. “That wasn’t a joke, was it?”
“Just remember to dive if I tell you.” They reached the casino entrance. “Okay, got your passport?”
Admission to casinos in Monaco was closely governed; legally, the native Monegasques were forbidden to enter the institutions from which their government derived a large part of its revenue. There was also the dress code to consider, but Eddie and Macy now looked the part. He wore a black tux; she, a low-cut minidress in a clinging, color-shifting metallic fabric. Eddie had wanted her to pick something less conspicuous, but her argument had simply been that she was paying for it and wasn’t going to be seen in anything “sucky.”
She handed him her passport. “Here. Can you keep hold of it? It barely fits in my purse.”
“Never understood that about women,” Eddie said. “You cart all this crap around with you, but only have a bag the size of a hamster’s scrotum to put it all in.” He idly flipped open the passport to look at her picture—then noticed something else on the page and burst out laughing.
“No, no, don’t read that!” Macy shrieked, but it was too late.
“Macarena?” he cackled. “That’s your real name, Macarena? As in …” He hummed a few tuneless notes, then did a quick dance move. “Ay, Macarena!”
“Shut. Up!” Macy snapped. “I hate that song. It came out when I was a kid and made my life absolute hell. So I’m just Macy, okay? Don’t call me that other thing or I’ll kick your ass.” She considered whom she was threatening. “Okay, not going to happen, but I’ll still be pissed at you. And don’t tell Dr. Wilde either.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Eddie, already trying to think up the funniest way to do exactly that.
He showed their passports to the doormen, then had an idea and asked how to find the Team Osiris party, receiving directions in return. Following them, he and Macy reached the gaming room. He could hear the idling racing car outside even through the closed and curtained high windows; casinos invariably kept gamblers shielded from the cycles of night and day, preferring them to lose track of time while playing.
Two more doormen guarded the courtyard door, politely but firmly turning them away when they were unable to produce an invitation. Eddie peered past them, seeing no sign of Nina or Osir—though he did notice people going through a doorway into another part of the casino.
Looking past the banks of slot machines along the room’s side, he saw another exit, a second pair of casino employees in attendance. From their position, he guessed that the doors led into the room people were entering from the courtyard. Music came from the other side as he and Macy passed them.
“Party’s probably in there,” he said as they headed for the far end of the gaming room. There was a door in the corner, through which he saw a member of the casino staff enter. No keypad or card lock, just an ordinary Yale, so it didn’t lead to any of the secure money-handling areas. “I’m going to gate-crash it.”
“Oh, I’m an expert at that,” Macy said. “Right behind you.”
“No, you’re not. Osir’ll probably have his own security in there,” he explained, seeing that she was about to object, “and I don’t want to give ’em the chance to grab you. If you’re in here and anything happens, at least you can kick up a stink. They won’t do anything in public.”
“But what if they grab you?”
“They’ll be sorry. Wait here and keep an eye out for me.”
She was annoyed, but remained where she was as Eddie moved away, pretending to take an interest in a nearby game of blackjack while watching the door in the corner.
It wasn’t long before it opened to admit another casino worker. Eddie waited for her to pass, then quickly slipped behind her into the corridor beyond. In one direction lay the casino’s kitchens; in the other, a similar service door led into the function room.
He opened it and glanced through the crack, seeing at least a hundred people, some playing at more gaming tables, others engaged in conversation. A few couples waltzed around an open area of floor in front of a string quartet.
He tensed as he spotted Diamondback, his snakeskin jacket unmistakable. If he was there, Shaban probably was too, which also meant …
“There you are, you bugger,” Eddie muttered. Osir was seated at a blackjack table—and Nina was beside him, dressed to the nines.
He entered the room and made his way past the dancers. Diamondback—and Shaban, he saw—stood several yards from the cult leader, in discussion with another group. There were some suited hulks closer to Osir, bodyguards, but they wouldn’t recognize him. Keeping partygoers between himself and Shaban, Eddie headed for the table.
Nina had three cards in her hand, totaling eighteen points; Osir, beside her, was standing on nineteen, while the dealer’s visible card was a king. The two other players had bust. She pursed her lips. “Hmm. Tough choice.”
“The odds are not in your favor,” Osir told her.
“I dunno. I feel lucky tonight.” She tapped the table. “Hit me.”
The dealer put down another card. A three.
“Twenty-one,” Nina crowed. “Whaddya know?” The dealer turned over his hole card; a jack. More chips were slid across to Nina’s pile.
Osir laughed. “You are very lucky tonight.”
“Ah, not so much. My mom taught me how to play when I was a kid—all the stuff about when to hit and when to stand is coming back. Plus, I’m good at math.”
He gave her a sly smile. “Are you admitting to card counting, Nina? The casino won’t like that.”
She had been—even with four decks in the shoe, enough cards had been played for her to calculate that the number of remaining low-value cards was relatively high and adjust her strategy accordingly—but decided Osir didn’t need to know about her skill at mental arithmetic. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said instead. “Besides, it’s your party—and your money. So you get to make the rules.”
“Some things are true in life as well as in cards.” He gestured to the dealer to set up the next game.
“Ay up,” said a gruff Yorkshire voice behind her. Several fifty-euro notes were tossed onto the table. “Can anyone play?”
Nina looked around. “Eddie!” she cried, delighted—before remembering that she ought to be anything but. Hoping her outburst had been taken as surprise, she put on a strident, angry tone. “What the hell are you doing here, you son of a bitch?”
He blinked, bewildered. “Eh?”
“After what you said to me in Paris?” She stood, getting in his face. “You can go to hell, you sanctimonious bastard.”
A look of deep hurt replaced confusion … before he finally remembered that Nina’s plan required her to play a role, which meant he had to do the same. “There’s, er, there’s no way I’m going to let you go. Nobody walks out on me. Nobody!”
A tip of Osir’s head told his bodyguards to close in. He stared at Eddie with a look of vague recognition. “Who is this … gentleman, Nina?”
“My husband,” Nina growled. “My ex-husband, before too long.”
“Eddie Chase,” Eddie said to Osir. “I already know who you are.”
The look crystallized. “From the Osirian Temple in Paris. Of course.”
Shaban and Diamondback hurried over. “Khalid!” Shaban hissed, leaning close to his brother. “I told you we couldn’
t trust her!”
“I don’t want him here any more than you do,” said Nina.
Diamondback advanced. “Then maybe we should see him offa the premises.”
Osir smiled as he raised a hand. “No, no. Mr. Chase wanted to play blackjack, and I would never deny any man that pleasure.” He gestured to the chair on Nina’s other side. The man sitting there quickly stood and moved away. “Please, take a seat.”
“Khalid, can’t you just get rid of him?” Nina complained.
“It would be rude to throw him out after he’s come all this way.” As Eddie took the offered seat, Osir watched him closely. “Besides, I’m very interested in finding out what kind of man can claim your heart.”
“Try anything with her and you’ll find out,” said Eddie.
Nina sighed theatrically. “Eddie, you’re just embarrassing yourself. I said I don’t want to see you, so why can’t you just leave it at that?”
“ ’Cause you’re my wife, and you’re supposed to do what I tell you. Love, honor, obey, remember?” She jabbed his ankle with the pointed toe of her shoe; he nudged her to remind her to play along. “So,” he said as he received his chips, “we going to play some pontoon, or what?”
“The bet is fifty euros, minimum.” Osir nodded to the dealer, who began passing out cards.
“Actually,” said Eddie, “this is all a bit James Bondy, innit? Having a game of cards with the mastermind.” He looked up at Shaban and Diamondback. “Henchmen hanging around …”
“My brother is hardly a henchman,” Osir replied amiably, checking his cards. A king and a four; fourteen points. The dealer’s visible card was a ten. “Hit me.” A six. “Stand.”
Nina had a three and a five. “Hit me,” she said, repeating the command after getting another five. The fourth card was a seven. “Stand.”
Now it was Eddie’s turn, starting with a jack and a six. “Hit me.” Another six. “Oh, cock.”
The remaining player also bust. The dealer turned up his hole card: a seven. Blackjack rules forced him to stand on seventeen, meaning Nina and Osir both won their bets. “Perhaps blackjack isn’t your game, Mr. Chase,” Osir said smugly.
The Pyramid of Doom_A Novel Page 20
