The Navigator

Chapter 46

AUSTIN WOKE UP FEELING as if he’d been mugged. He had foolishly expected to be fully conscious until the time he met with Baltazar. Instead, he’d let himself be sucker-punched.

A man’s face came into focus less than a yard away. The face was heavily bandaged on the right side.

“Feeling better?” the man said in a disinterested tone that suggested he didn’t care one way or the other.

Austin’s head ached, his tongue was fuzzy, and his vision was blurred.

“Compared to roadkill, not bad,” Austin replied. “Who are you?”

“You can call me Squire. I work for Baltazar.” He offered Austin a glass of clear liquid. Seeing Austin’s hesitation, he spread his lips in a crooked grin that showed missing teeth. “Don’t worry. If Baltazar wanted you dead, you’d be pushing up daisies. It will counteract the effect of the chemical they used on you.”

Austin took a sip. The liquid was cold and had an artificial sweetness. The pounding in his head lessened, and his eyes regained their focus. He was lying on an army cot. His newfound friend sat on a folding chair. They were in a large rectangular tent. Sunlight filtered through the translucent red-and-white stripes.

“I’ve been unconscious all night,” Austin said.

“You must make them nervous. They gave you enough happy juice to knock out a steer.”

Austin drained the glass and handed it back. The man had the husky build of a professional wrestler and wore blue denim coveralls. A pair of aluminum crutches leaned against his chair.

“What happened to your face?” Austin said.

The left-hand side of the man’s mouth jerked downward in a half frown. “Stuff happened to it,” he said. “Get up.”

Squire used his crutches to push himself to a standing position. He leaned on the crutches and watched as Austin slowly swung his legs over the side of the cot and got to his feet. Austin was slightly dizzy, but he felt his strength rapidly returning. He clenched and un-clenched his fingers into fists.

Squire caught the subtle motion. “In case you’re thinking about trying something funny, there are two guards outside the tent, and they’re not friendly guys like me. Mr. Baltazar gave me the authority to have them work you over. Understand?”

Austin nodded.

Squire gestured toward the door. Austin stepped outside and blinked in the bright sunlight. The guards were posted on either side of the door. The medieval tunics they wore didn’t match the automatic weapons pointed at Austin. The men had a deceptive lazy look in their eyes, as if they would be glad if Austin gave them a chance to relieve their boredom.

The tent was one of a dozen drawn up in two rows on a large open field bordered by woods. At the center of the opposite row was a raised reviewing stand. The structure was roofed, and closed in on the sides. The corners were built in the shape of towers. Pennants bearing a bull’s-head emblem snapped in the wind.

An open space around fifty feet wide separated the lines of tents. A low wooden rail divided the space in half for most of its length. At each end, separated by the rail, two men in full armor were mounted on gigantic horses. They held wooden lances that had blunt metal points. The huge animals were equally covered with armor, which reflected the morning sunlight.

Someone in the stand waved what looked like a green handkerchief. The armored men spurred their mounts and charged toward each other with lowered lances. The earth shook from the impact of the hooves. The riders met at midpoint with a mighty crash of spears against shields. The wooden lances shattered. The horsemen rode to the end of the rail, spun their horses around, and charged each other with upraised swords. Austin didn’t see the second phase of the fight because his guards herded him between two tents.

He glanced around and saw fields and woods. A flicker of red materialized at the edge of the trees. It was a car moving at a high rate of speed. At the last minute, the driver hit his brakes and the Bentley skidded to a halt, with the heavy bumper inches from Austin’s knee.

The door flew open, and Baltazar got out from behind the steering wheel. The sunlight gleamed dully off the coat of mail he wore under a tunic emblazoned with a bull’s head. He had a wide grin on his broad face. “Nerves of steel as usual, Austin.”

“I’m just moving slowly after the cocktail your men gave me, Baltazar.”

Baltazar clapped his hands. The Squire brought over two leather-covered chairs, which he placed so they were facing each other. Baltazar sat in one and offered the other to Austin.

“What do you think of our little joust?” he said.

Austin gave Baltazar’s armor and tunic the once-over. “I thought I was on the set of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.”

“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.

Next he handed up the shield and the lance and instructed Austin how to hold them.

“Watch the pennant near the lance head,” Squire said. “It will tell you where the point is.”

“Any other words of advice?” Austin’s voice echoed inside the helmet.

“Yeah,” Squire said. “Let your horse do his work, remember the third tilt, and pray for a miracle.”

He gave the horse a light slap on its flank and the giant animal lurched forward. Austin tried walking the horse in a circle. Val responded well to knee nudges. The weight and fighting equipment were awkward, but the saddle was high in the back and offered some support.

The brief rehearsal was about to come to an end.

A man dressed in the Lincoln green costume of a herald at arms blew a blast on his trumpet. The signal to get ready. Austin brought his horse around to face Baltazar. The second trumpet blast was the alert to lower lances. The third blast followed a second later.

Baltazar dug his spurs in ahead of the signal.

Austin was only a second behind.

The horses accelerated to a rolling gallop that sent clods of earth flying into the air like startled birds. The ground shook as the massive animals and the metal-skinned creatures on their backs flew toward each other in a thundering charge.