The Navigator

Austin parked in front of the house. Still no opposition. He and Flagg got out of the car and made their way through a courtyard to a tall double door of dark-paneled wood. Austin opened the doors. No one blew his head off, so he stepped into the spacious entry hall.

He and Flagg took turns covering each other as they went through the lower level room by room. Next they searched the second story. They found the room with the balcony. It was a study, with a large desk and leather chairs. Austin went out on the balcony. He had a view of the surrounding lawns and fields. Nothing moved within his field of vision except for a few crows.

“Hey, Austin,” Flagg called. “Your pal left you a note.”

Flagg was pointing to a sheet of Baltazar’s stationery taped to a remote control on a side table. Below the bull’s-head logo were the words: Dear Austin, Please watch the video. VB

“Too polite. Might be a booby trap,” Flagg said.

“I don’t think so. Baltazar likes to torture before he kills.”

Flagg’s expression mirrored his doubts, but he picked up the remote and pressed the ON button.

A section of wall disappeared to reveal a wide television screen. Baltazar’s smiling face appeared on the screen. The video had evidently been shot in the study, because behind Baltazar was the door leading to the balcony.

“Greetings, Austin,” Baltazar said. “I apologize for this hasty message, but I had family business to attend to. Miss Mechadi is with me. You didn’t know that she is the direct descendant of Solomon and Sheba. I must carry out my family mission and offer her to Ba’al. I had plans to spare her, but Ba’al sent you as a scourge who would remind me to return to my family roots. Adriano will be disappointed, but he has become quite obsessed with you. I suggest that you keep looking over your shoulder. Thank you, Austin. It was a pleasure jousting.” He smiled. “You can keep my car. I have others.”

The picture faded.

Flagg frowned. “Guy’s a real nutcase.”

“Unfortunately, he’s a lethal nutcase. And he’s got Carina. You found this place. Any luck locating other holes where he might go to ground?”

“It was hard enough to locate this shack,” Flagg said with a shake of his head. “We’re still working on it, but with all the dummy corporations he’s got set up it’s tough. Who’s this Adriano?”

“The stuff of nightmares.” Austin stuck his hand out. “I need to borrow your phone.”

ZAVALA WAS CLIMBING into the helicopter cockpit when he heard “La Cucaracha” jangling in the pocket where he kept his phone. He put the phone to his ear and heard a familiar voice:

“You’re still answering calls, so I guess you didn’t run off to Mexico with Solomon’s gold,” Austin said.

Zavala grinned broadly.

“And Baltazar must have gotten sick of your wisecracks because you’re still making them.”

“Something like that,” Austin said. “Did you find the mine?”

“Yup. No gold, Kurt, but we found another treasure hidden in the mine. The other piece of the vellum map in a box apparently owned by Thomas Jefferson.”

“Jefferson again. I’m going to let you and the Trouts work on that one. Baltazar’s still got Carina. I need to talk to Saxon.”

Zavala passed the phone to Saxon, who said, “Kurt, can you believe it?”

Austin cut him short. “I’m interested, but not now. Baltazar left me a message. I’m going to let you hear his exact words. If there is any hint of his plans, no matter how slight, I want you to tell me.”

Austin clicked the television remote and held the phone up so Saxon could hear Baltazar’s chilling good- bye.

There was a stunned silence at Saxon’s end, then he said, “He believes Carina is descended from Solomon?”

“Apparently so. What’s the reference to Ba’al mean?”

He quickly regained his composure.

“He said he’s going to offer Carina to Ba’al. It can only mean one thing. He’s going to sacrifice her to the god Ba’al. The bastard! We’ve got to find her before it’s too late.”

“You’ve known the man longer than I have. Any ideas where could he have taken her?”

“Not specifically.”

“His company owns a mercenary ship. Is that where he’s taken her?”

“I don’t think so. He mentions his family roots. That implies dry ground. He could be talking about Spain, where the Baltazars moved after the Crusades. Although their ancestral home was on Cyprus. That’s where they prospered for many years. It’s either Spain or Cyprus. I’d stake my life on it.”

“Make up your mind, Saxon. It’s not your life I’m worried about.”

“Sorry. Um—wait. After my boat was torched, I learned what I could about the Baltazars. A shadowy bunch. But I found references to them in the history of the Knights Templar. The Baltazars were connected to the Templars but apparently broke off or they would have been wiped out with the rest of the Knights. The order’s symbol was the bull’s head, which can also represent one of the incarnations of Ba’al.”

The bull’s head.

Austin let his mind drift back to the helicopter flight he and Joe had taken after the containership hijacking. The chopper had come in low over a mineral ship and he had seen the bull’s-head symbol for the first time. Below the ship’s name was its port of registration.

Nicosia. Cyprus.

“Thanks, Saxon. You’ve been a great help. Tell Joe I’ll keep in touch.”

Austin clicked off and relayed the substance of his conversation to Flagg.

“Cyprus,” Flagg said. “That’s the other side of the world.”

“Close to the Turkish coast. If I had known Baltazar might be headed that way, I would have stayed in Istanbul. Do you have anyone there?”

“We’ve got a guy in place who grew up on the island. We’ve got additional assets in that region. I could spring a few guys to give the gentleman a big surprise.”

“Baltazar’s dangerous. He’s not going to let anyone get in the way of his family destiny. He’ll kill Carina before anyone can get to him. Have your guys track him down and move in only if they have to. I’ll see if I can commandeer a NUMA plane in the meantime. I’ll only be a few hours behind him.” Austin shook his head. “Unfortunately, he can cause a lot of trouble in that time.”

“That’s why I was thinking you might get there ahead of him.”

Austin was in no mood for jokes. “I didn’t know the CIA had mastered teleportation.”

“Nothing that sophisticated. I was thinking of the Blackbird.”

Austin was well acquainted from his CIA days with the avian nickname for the SR-71, a high-speed, high- altitude aircraft that had flown secret reconnaissance missions for the CIA before it was succeeded by drone aircraft and satellites in the late 1990s. The legendary plane could make a transatlantic crossing in two hours.

“I thought they retired the whole flock of Blackbirds,” he said.

“That’s the cover story,” Flagg said. “We kept one to transport personnel in emergencies.”

“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.