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.”