The Navigator (44 page)

“Consider this as time travel,” Baltazar said. “I’ve re-created every detail here as it would have been at a fifteenth-century French tournament.”

Austin glanced at the car. “The Bentley too?”

Baltazar greeted Austin’s jibe with a frown. “In the days of chivalry, the tournament served to train men for war and separated the bold from the not-so-bold. I use it here for a similar purpose with my mercenaries. I take it very seriously.”

“I’m happy you have a hobby, Baltazar, but we both know why I accepted your invitation. Where’s Carina Mechadi?”

“Safe for now, as I said on the telephone.” He stared at Austin as if he were a lab specimen. “You must think a great deal of the young woman to allow yourself to be taken prisoner.”

Austin smiled. “I missed your face, Baltazar. This way I got a free ride to see you.”

Baltazar thrust his oversized jaw forward. “Then
talk,
Mr. Austin. I’m eager to learn if you have anything worthwhile to say.”

“To begin with, I know what it will take for you to let Carina go.”

“Ah, a
proposition.
What do you have to offer?”

“The location of King Solomon’s mine.”

“You’re bluffing, Austin.” Baltazar said with a sneer. “Besides, I have the original
Navigator,
with its map. Why would I need to bargain with you?”

“Because if you knew the mine’s location, there would have been no need to kidnap Carina and use her as bait to catch me.”

“Maybe I did it to swat an annoying fly, Austin. But I’ll indulge you. Tell me about the mine. Perhaps you can use the information as a bargaining chip.”

Austin grimaced as if he were making a painful choice. “The patterns on the bronze cat were a map. Computer enhancements showed the location of a Phoenician shipwreck. An amphora salvaged from the wreck contained a papyrus with details of the mine.”

“And do you know the author of this fabulous papyrus?” Baltazar said.

“His name was Menelik, son of Solomon.”

“Menelik?”
It came out as a hiss.

“That’s right. He transported a sacred relic to North America.”

Baltazar’s reaction was more subdued than Austin expected.

“Your attempt to shock me with your knowledge only displays your lack of understanding of the situation. Do you have any idea what this sacred relic is?”

“Maybe you can fill me in.”

Baltazar smiled. “It’s the original Ten Commandments, inscribed on tablets of solid gold.”

“I’m not buying, Baltazar. The original Commandments were
clay.
”

“Your words betray your ignorance. There were supposedly three versions of the Decalogue, all made of clay. But there were actually
four.
The first one predated the others. That version was based upon the pagan beliefs of my ancestors but was deemed too controversial. Supposedly, the tablets were destroyed. The truth is, they were hidden, and passed down to Solomon, who decided to transport them to the farthest reaches of his empire.”

“You’re richer than Croesus,” Austin said. “What’s a few more pounds of gold to you?”

“Those tablets rightfully belong to my family.”

“You don’t seem like the family type, Baltazar.”

“On the contrary, Austin, this is very
much
a family matter. You look around and see the ritualized violence and think that’s all there is to the Baltazar family. We’re no worse that the world’s governments. Why do you suppose we have just as many conflicts as before the end of the Cold War? The vast military infrastructure not only survived, it prospered after the Cold War ended.”

“Which is good for so called peace-and-stability companies like yours,” Austin said.

“Fear and tension are in our business interests.”

“And when there is no fear or tension, you
create
it.”

“We have no need to stir human passions,” Baltazar said. “People would kill each other whether we existed or not. There is a great deal more at stake here than meets the eye. The discovery of the tablets will sew doubts about the underpinnings of the world’s governments and religions. There will be unrest everywhere.”

“Starting in the Middle East.”

“Starting, but not ending, there.”

“Bringing you great riches and power. What next, Baltazar, the world?”

“I have no intention of taking over the world like some James Bond villain,” Baltazar said. “It would be far too difficult to govern.”

“What do you want then?”

“A monopoly on the world’s security business.”

“You’ve got a lot of competition. There are dozens of companies in the so-called peace line, to say nothing of the world’s armies.”

“We will push aside or absorb them until there is only one of any consequence. PeaceCo. Our security arms and mineral companies will feed each other. The industrial nations can keep their precious armies and navies. Our private forces will be hired to provide security in exchange for the natural wealth of poor nations in Africa, South America, and Asia. I will build an economic-military empire without equal.”

“Empires come and go, Baltazar.”

“This one will endure for many years. Since I have no heirs, perhaps I will pass on my legacy to Adriano. He is like a son to me.”

“You’re an evil man, Baltazar.”

“Simply a businessman who looks forward to many small wars without end. A
Pax Baltazar.
But first things first, Austin. We need to find the tablets.”

“Then we may have a deal. The location of the mine in exchange for Ms. Mechadi.”

Baltazar raised his gloved hand. “Not quite yet. Tell me what you know. I’ll have someone check on it.”

Austin laughed. “I’m not a fool, Baltazar. You’ll kill me once you confirm the mine site.”

“Tut-tut. You have a suspicious mind. I’ll offer a compromise then. A chance to escape my fiendish clutches. You have taken up the cause of a lady. Under the laws of chivalry, you are her champion and must act as such.”

Austin considered the turn of phrase and decided that Baltazar was quite mad.

He forced a smile. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

Baltazar rose from his seat. “I’ll
show
you. Get in the car.”

Baltazar opened the passenger door of the Bentley for Austin and then slid behind the steering wheel. He started the powerful engine, and accelerated to nearly a hundred miles per hour along a straight road.

MOMENTS LATER BALTAZAR SLOWED, touched his brakes, and the car came to a stop a few yards from the edge of a deep gorge.

Spanning the gorge was a bridge of interlocking steel about forty feet long and twenty feet wide. There were no guardrails. A wooden fence ran up the center line. The wood was new, as if the fence had recently been erected.

They got out of the car and walked to the edge of the chasm. The steep sides dropped down for about three hundred feet to a rock-strewn stream.

“This is what the locals call Dead Man’s Ditch,” Baltazar said. “I had the bridge built to connect pieces of my property. I made some modifications in anticipation of your visit.”

“You didn’t have to go through all the trouble,” Austin said.

“Not at all. Here’s my proposition. I will place my car with Miss Mechadi in it on the other side of the ditch.” He pointed to the grassy field across the gorge. “I will be in the middle, playing the role of the mythical dragon. We will joust for the favor of the fair lady.”

Austin turned and looked at the pair of SUVs that had followed them. “What about your goons?”

“I will instruct my men to stay on this side.”

“You will allow us to escape?”

“I will give you a sporting chance, which is more than you have now.”

“And if I decline your invitation?”

“I’ll have you thrown into the gorge before your lady’s horrified eyes.”

“I don’t see how I can pass up a generous offer like that, Baltazar.”

Baltazar grinned unpleasantly and gestured for Austin to get back into the car. They drove at breakneck speed back to the main jousting area. He stopped to let Austin off in front of the tent. Squire was leaning on his crutches in front of the tent’s portal.

“Your man will see that you are properly outfitted,” Baltazar said. “We’ll be wearing only chain mail and a helmet. It wouldn’t be chivalrous to burden you with full armor. You will have a shield and a lance. The horses will be unarmored, which will make things go faster. See you at the tilt.” He gunned the engine and took off, with his tires spinning on grass.

Squire watched Baltazar drive away and told Austin to get in the tent. He helped him on with a coat of mail and handed him a tunic with no emblem on it. The chain mail hood had an opening for Austin’s face. Squire placed a knitted skullcap on Austin’s head and tried the helmet on for size. It was a little loose but would have to do, he said. He buckled a sword around Austin’s waist and fitted him with spurs. He handed him a kite-shaped shield.

Surveying Austin, he spread his lips in a jagged grin. “You’re no Sir Lancelot, but you’ll have to do. Sit down and I’ll give you some pointers.”

Austin removed the helmet and sat on his bunk.

“Listen carefully. Baltazar likes to do things in threes. He plays with you on the first pass. Misses you completely. On the second, he’ll deliver a glancing blow. Probably on the shield. The third time is the money shot. He’ll spit you on his lance like a pig. Any questions?”

“Tell me where I can pick up an AK-47.”

Squire snorted. “You won’t need one. Baltazar uses a lance with a metal core. He makes sure his opponents get the wooden lance, which will shatter on his armor and can be deflected by the shield.”

“That doesn’t seem chivalrous,” Austin said.

“It
isn’t.
This time,
you’ll
have the one with the metal core. I’ll give him a German-style lance made of heavier wood. Hopefully, he’ll be so anxious to kill you that he won’t notice the difference in weight.”

“Why are you doing this, Squire?”

The man brought his hand up to his bandaged face. “The bastard did this to me with his bogus lance. The doctors say I’ll look like Quasimodo. There’s not a pill in the world that will kill the pain from the damage to my legs.
Forget
me. Third pass is the money shot. He’ll go for your shield, thinking the lance will go through the leather and wood. Aim for his midsection. It’s the biggest target. Don’t miss.”

“What happens to you if I do?”

“It’s nothing to me. Either way, I’m outta here. Maybe I can get a job with a bank.”

A guard poked his head into the tent. “Time.”

AN SUV was parked outside the tent. Accompanied by another vehicle carrying guards, Squire drove Austin to the bridge crossing, where a carnival atmosphere prevailed. Bull’s-head pennants fluttered from temporary flagpoles. Word of the impending joust had spread among Baltazar’s mercenary corps. In addition to the ever-present guards, the edge of the gorge was lined with men in medieval costume who had gathered to see Austin speared or thrown to his doom.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to a party,” Austin said.

“Baltazar likes an audience.” Squire pointed to a couple of huge horses being led from their trailers. “Gray horse is Baltazar’s. The dappled one is yours. Name is Valiant. Baltazar wanted you on a nag, but I made sure you got a good mount. Val’s steady and sure. Won’t balk on a charge.”

Squire pulled up near the horse trailers. Austin got out of the SUV and went over to introduce himself to his mount. The animal seemed as big as an elephant up close. Austin patted the animal’s side and whispered in its ear. “Come through for me this one time, Val, and I’ll feed you all the sugar you can eat.”

The horse snorted and tossed its head, which Austin took for a yes. He went over to inspect the jousting bridge. Two horses passing each other on the narrow span would make for a tight squeeze. There would be no margin of error if he were knocked from his saddle.

Austin heard a cheer from the assembled crowd. The Bentley was speeding toward the gorge. It continued across the bridge, trailed by a black Escalade, and stopped around a hundred yards from the canyon. Baltazar got out of his car and opened the SUV door.

A figure wearing a white dress got out, accompanied by two guards. The figure got off a brief wave before being hustled to the passenger side of the Bentley. Baltazar and his guards drove back across the bridge.

Baltazar strode over to Austin. He pointed to the Bentley. “There’s your lady. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.”

Austin stuck his hand out. “The car key.”

Baltazar lifted the helmet tucked under his arm. A key ring dangled from one of the two metal horns that protruded from the crown.

“Yours for the taking, Austin. We don’t want to make this too easy.”

Austin said, “I’ll need a pen and paper.”

Baltazar snapped an order. One of his men ran to the nearest SUV and came back with a dashboard pad and attached ballpoint. Using the car’s hood as an improvised writing desk, Austin jotted down a series of directions and sketched out a map. He underlined the words Gold Mine.

Baltazar held his hand out. Austin stuffed the paper into his helmet.

“As you said, Baltazar, we don’t want to make this too easy.”

Austin knew Baltazar could order his men to rush him, grab the mine map, and toss him into the gorge. He gambled that Baltazar’s insane ego would not do anything to spoil the show he had arranged for his men.

“Time to prove your mettle, Austin.”

With a glower so hot it could have sparked a forest fire, Baltazar spun on his heel and marched over to his horse. He vaulted into the saddle with unbelievable ease. Baltazar’s squire was holding the reins. He was a big man, dressed in a scarlet hooded costume, with his back toward Austin. He turned and looked at Austin, who recognized Baltazar’s baby-faced killer. Adriano smiled and pointed to the Bentley.

The implication was clear. If Austin failed, Carina was Adriano’s for the taking.

Baltazar spurred his horse. He galloped across the bridge and wheeled his mount around to face Austin.

Austin went over to Val and pulled himself into the saddle. Austin was unaccustomed to the weight of the chain mail and was considerably less agile than Baltazar. Squire handed his helmet and told him to keep his head bent forward so he could see through the narrow eye slits.