“I’d say this qualifies as an emergency,” Austin said.
“Great minds think alike,” Flagg said. He flipped open his cell phone. He worked his way through the bureaucracy, and was still talking when the whup-whup of helicopter rotors could be heard.
Austin went to the balcony and saw two helicopters flying in low circles over the mansion.
“The cavalry has arrived,” Austin said.
Flagg tucked the phone in his pocket. “I always cheered for the Indians, but I’ll make an exception because I’m in a good mood. Just spoke to a mucky-muck. It wasn’t easy, but you’ve got a first-class ticket on the Blackbird.”
Flagg’s news was good, but Austin was a realist. He was facing long odds.
His eyes hardened. If Carina were harmed, Austin would devote every sinew and synapse in his body to a single goal.
And that was to send Baltazar to hell.
Chapter 51
FRED TURNER WAS DOWN on his knees behind the bar, stacking beer mugs. He heard the door open and close. A frown came to his ruddy face. Probably a regular customer looking to start his happy hour early.
“We’re closed,” Turner growled.
N
o one answered. Turner stood up and saw a large man in the doorway. The stranger’s round features were soft and childlike. Turner was a retired policeman, and his cop’s instincts sensed an unspoken menace behind the unthreatening façade. He stepped closer to the shotgun he kept near the cash register.
The stranger simply looked around and said:
“Where did the name of this place come from?”
Bender chuckled at the unexpected question. “People think I named it after an Old West saloon. But when I bought the place, I remembered reading that there were gold mines around here in the old days.”
“What happened to the mines?”
“Closed them years ago. Didn’t find enough gold to keep them open.”
After a moment in thought, the man said, “Thank you,” and left without further comment. Turner went back to stacking glasses, muttering to himself about the odd people who come into bars.
Adriano sat in his car in the parking lot and reread the directions and map Austin had jotted down on the sheet of notepaper. He gazed up with a bland expression on his face at the neon sign on the flat roof of the low-slung building: GOLD MINE CAFÉ. Then he ripped the paper to shreds, started the car, and drove out of the parking lot onto the Maryland back road.
After leaving Baltazar’s jousting contest, Adriano had driven from Upstate New York to New Jersey and then to Maryland. Austin’s directions had directed him to a rural area not far from Chesapeake Bay and taken him down a series of back roads that had ended in the Gold Mine Café.
He picked up his telephone and called on the direct line that connected him to Baltazar.
“Well?” His employer’s voice came on the phone.
Adriano told Baltazar about the Gold Mine Café. “Too bad Austin is dead,” Adriano said. “I would have made him tell us what we want to know.”
“Too late,” Baltazar snapped. “He escaped. We had to leave the estate. Don’t go back there.”
“And the woman?”
“I have her. We’ll deal with Austin later. I want to see his face when I tell him what I did with his lovely friend.”
Adriano had hoped he would be the last to talk to the woman, but he kept the disappointment out of his voice.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll be back in a few days. Go to ground in the meantime. I’ll call you when I return. You’ll have much work to do. I want NUMA and anyone associated with it destroyed. You’ll have every resource you’ll need.”