The Navigator (NUMA Files 7)

“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.”