The Cult of Osiris nwaec-5

by Andy McDermott

  ‘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 harbour,?’

  ‘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 was 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 his 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.’

  15

  For all the resort’s glamorous reputation, the majority of Monaco’s casinos are surprisingly mundane. While the image from many a movie - and the one the Tourist Office wants to present - is of tuxedos, diamonds and fortunes won on the turn of a card or the spin of a wheel, for the most part the reality is rank after rank of computerised slot machines. Like Las Vegas, Monaco has found that while high-rollers look attractive on the big screen, much more profit can 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 hearken back to the idealised 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 and not an everyday drudge of tiny meals and confiscated nail clippers. The slot machines were still present, but relatively discreetly, putting the more traditional gambling pursuits front and centre.

  Nina looked round 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 recognising him and waving them through.

  The doors led to a courtyard, one roped-off end opening on to Casino Square and the racing circuit. With qualifying over, the track had been re-opened to the public; part of the crash barrier had been removed to allow access to the casino. Nina glanced at the passing people 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 chiselled 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 went 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 guests 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 towards Casino Square. Still no Eddie. She turned to Osir again - and found that Diamondback had materialised in front of her, leering. ‘Lookin’ for someone, li’l lady?’ he asked.

  ‘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 re-joined 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.’

  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 tailed 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 is closely governed; legally, the native Monegasques are forbidden to enter the institutions from which their government derives 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, colour-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 wi
th 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 too late to stop him seeing her full name.

  ‘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 gatecrash 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 round an open area of floor before 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.’ Osir was seated at a blackjack table - and Nina was beside him, dressed to the nines.

  He 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 recognise him. Keeping partygoers between himself and Shaban, Eddie headed for the table.

  Nina had three cards in her hand, totalling 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 favour,’ 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’s 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 he 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 on to the table. ‘Can anyone play?’

  Nina looked round. ‘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 crystallised. ‘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, honour, 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 hard
ly 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.

  ‘That was just my warm-up round.’ Another hand began, Eddie again going bust on his third card. ‘Bollocks!’

  Osir laughed. ‘Not so much James Bond as Austin Powers, hmm?’

  ‘Third time lucky.’ Another hand. ‘In the name of arse!’

  ‘I really think you should quit,’ Nina said through her teeth, having the awful feeling that a chunk of their rent money was disappearing with each round.

  ‘I’m just getting started.’

  ‘Yeah, at losing!’

  Eddie’s next two cards were an ace and a queen: blackjack. He grinned. ‘I don’t think you can lose with twenty-one.’

  The dealer also scored a natural blackjack. ‘Oi, wait, what?’ Eddie objected as his chips were whisked away to one side. ‘That was a draw!’

  ‘You should have made an insurance bet,’ said Osir, unconcerned about losing the round. ‘Now you have a push - your bet carries over to the next hand.’

  ‘I knew that,’ Eddie said after an awkward pause. The next round began, only for him to bust again. ‘Buggeration and fuckery!’ He looked at the empty space where his small pile of chips had been, then at Osir’s multiple stacks. ‘You couldn’t do me a favour, could you?’

  ‘I already have,’ Osir said, with meaning. He looked round as the string quartet started a new tune. ‘Ah! A tango!’ He stood, holding out a hand to Nina. ‘Would you join me?’

  She froze; not because of Osir’s offer itself, but at the memories of social embarrassment it brought back. ‘I, ah, I can’t dance the tango. I can’t dance the anything.’