“Keep what safe?” said Lena.
Logan sipped his coffee but didn’t respond.
Cap looked at him and said, “Maybe you should tell Lena about your visit.”
“What visit?” she asked, looking back and forth between the two young men.
Logan leaned back in his chair and looked at Lena. “An SPD officer stopped by a couple of nights ago.”
“The SPD? What did he want?” she asked.
“He was interested in my grandfather and whether we had talked. He wanted to know if he had given me anything or if we had spoken near the time of his death.”
“What did you say?” asked Lena.
“I told them about the graduation card with the riddles he had sent me, but not about the other note.”
“Or the medallion,” said Cap as he sipped his coffee.
“What medallion?” asked Lena.
Logan shot Cap an angry look, but then he took the medallion out of his pants pocket and handed it to her. She looked at it for a few moments, carefully tracing her index finger along the image of Apollo in his chariot and the horses that pulled it. She turned it over and examined the intricate design of swirling grooves on the back.
“It’s beautiful,” she said as she handed it back to him. “But you can’t tell the SPD about the medallion or the bust.”
Logan looked at her, surprised that she didn’t recommend total disclosure. “Why not?”
“Despite your grandfather’s warning to keep it safe, I don’t think the medallion or the bust is of interest to the SPD. But now that you’ve started down this road, it’s best to keep quiet,” she said. “You’ll never explain to the SPD’s satisfaction why you didn’t tell them about everything right away. You’ll always be under a cloud of suspicion.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” said Cap as he placed his coffee mug on the table. “Just tell them you found the second note and the medallion when you were packing for AD. They might ask you a few more questions, but nothing has happened that you can’t explain away. In fact, they might thank you for figuring out the riddles and getting the bust.”
Logan looked at the coffee shop door as two men entered. They sat at a table near the window. One of them flashed a quick look at Logan as the waiter handed each of them a menu.
Cap leaned forward and got Logan’s attention. “Logan. You’ve got a great career ahead of you. You’ll do five years active duty, then you’ll get a nice research job at one of the ministries or an academy, maybe even Malcom Weller.” He pointed a finger at the bust. “Don’t blow it over a couple riddles and a cheap hunk of plaster.”
Logan didn’t respond. He looked again at the two men at the table. Then he relaxed when two women entered and joined them. The men stood and welcomed them with a kiss on the cheek. They laughed at some joke one of the men said and sat down.
“Why is this decision hard for you to make?” asked Cap, exasperated.
Logan looked at Cap. “You know why,” he said in a low voice.
Cap shook his head and sat back. “Just last night you agreed that you shouldn’t dwell on the past. That you should look to the future and not squander your opportunities.”
“Maybe I changed my mind,” said Logan. “Maybe I wasn’t being honest with myself when I said that.”
Lena looked at Logan. She studied his face but asked nothing. They finished their coffee in silence and left the café.
Chapter 19
When they reached the bus stop they saw that the schedule had been suspended until after the banner race. “They’ve shut down all traffic around the course, so they must be getting ready to start,” said Cap as he smiled at a group of young women passing by.
Noting the direction of Cap’s gaze, Lena folded her arms and shot him a disapproving look. “You really are full of yourself,” she said. “Do you come on to every woman you see?”
“Just about. And why shouldn’t I?” he replied unapologetically. “There’s nothing wrong in acknowledging a woman’s beauty. Although you might be the exception to the rule, women like it when I compliment them. And they come on to me, too.”
Lena chuckled. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You? What woman in her right mind would come on to you?”
Cap looked over his left shoulder. “What about those two?” he said. “They were staring at me the whole time we were at the café and here they are again.”
Logan looked in the direction Cap indicated. He saw two young women, one with short brown hair and the other with straight blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. They were smiling and talking with each other, but when ponytail shot him a quick glance he saw something in her eye that seemed harsh and calculating.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Cap looked at him and laughed. “The visit from the SPD has made you paranoid. Those two are not spying on us.”
“You think the SPD only employs thugs in jackboots and uniforms?” asked Logan.
“No,” said Cap. “I’m just saying those two beautiful young women are not SPD operatives. I’ll prove it. I’ll go talk to them.”
“That’s a brilliant plan,” said Lena sarcastically.
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Logan. “Let’s walk around a little and see if they’re still following us. And this way Cap gets to see the banner race. Everybody’s happy.”
“It’s better watching it on a view screen,” Cap mumbled. “But I won’t say no.”
They walked toward the crowd control barrier on the raceway, then turned left and continued along the edge of the quickly growing crowd of men, women, and children of all ages. Many carried pennants with their favorite rider’s name and number. A few held up homemade signs with the names of the most famous banner thieves.
As they wove their way through the crowd, Logan resisted the urge to look back, focusing instead on the spectators’ growing excitement and looking for an open spot to slip in and watch the elaborately designed motorcycles race by. To their right, Logan saw a number of tall strangely shaped towers in the middle of the raceway. Originally designed to throw various obstacles, ramps, or other challenges in the way of the racers, the towers had become favorite places for so-called banner thieves to hide behind so they could leap out at the racers as they roared by. The practice had started about twelve years earlier when three people jumped over the crowd barrier and dared drivers to run them down. One was severely injured but only after she had snatched the rider’s fluttering banner from the back of his bike. In the years that followed, the spectators had grown to love the unexpected and deadly thrill these banner thieves added to the race and cheered loudly whenever someone dodged a racer. They cheered even louder when a racer hit a thief.
Within a few years following the advent of the first banner thieves, certain informal rules had developed. The thieves’ goal was to dodge racers, and, if possible, steal the racers’ numbered flags affixed to the backs of their motorcycles. For their part, the racers were allowed to hit the runners, but they risked losing control of their machines if they did so. Therefore, to keep the thieves at bay, they threw blunt darts at them, using small atlatls to propel them at blinding speeds. Though they weren’t sharp, the darts could cause considerable pain, even crack bones.
Most racers enjoyed the competition with the banner thieves and painted their motorcycles with elaborate animal-inspired designs celebrating the deadly contest. The most famous of these was the image of a fierce bull’s head, complete with slightly protruding horns, which adorned the front fairing of the very successful and dangerous racer, Nicolaus Vorsek. Other racers’ designs included shark heads, birds of prey, charging horses, and venomous serpents.
None of this was officially condoned by the government, and race officials warned against the practice every year, but no serious effort was made to stop it. At most, authorities simply kept it from becoming unmanageable. For example, no more than twenty banner thieves were ever allowed to jump the barrier in one race.
Logan pointed at an
opening in the crowd near a large oak tree. “There,” he said. “Move quickly. We’ll mix in with the crowd and hide behind the tree.”
They trotted down a grassy hill and got behind the trunk of a tree near the raceway. Logan looked around the tree trunk to see if the two women had followed them. He didn’t see them after carefully searching the sea of faces. A few moments later, he looked at Cap and Lena and said, “I guess I am a little paranoid.”
Just then they heard the sound of a cannon going off. The crowd all around them and behind the barrier on the opposite side of the road cheered, waved flags, and raised cups of beer into the air. Then they heard the high-pitched whine of motorcycle engines in the distance. They grew louder and louder as the motorcycles rapidly approached.
As they waited for the racers to come around the bend, Cap caught Logan’s attention and nodded toward the top of a little hill behind them. Logan peaked around the tree and saw the two women from the café as well as a tan dark-haired man in a black leather jacket. Logan recognized him as the same man who had followed him from the library. They were slowly scanning the crowd. The man’s eyes stopped when he saw the oak tree. He spoke to the two women, who nodded and started walking toward the tree. The man stayed where he was and spoke into a small device he held in his hand. He nodded and then followed the women toward the tree.
Logan leaned his head toward Lena and Cap and said in a loud voice so he could be heard above the sound of the oncoming racers, “We need to get out of here. Now!”
They turned to their left but saw two uniformed SPD officers quickly making their way toward them. Looking to his right, he saw the two women were angling toward them in order to block any possible escape in that direction. Suddenly, a man dressed all in black pushed past the two SPD officers. They tried to grab hold of him but failed as he placed his hands on the top of the fence and deftly swung himself over. He dashed toward a tower in the middle of the raceway just as the first motorcycle came around the bend. The officers leaned against the fence and yelled for the man to return to the spectators’ side of the raceway, but he ignored their commands and quickly donned black gloves and a black knit cap.
Logan looked back toward the hill and saw that the two women and the man in the leather jacket were quickly moving toward the three cadets. Then, when they were about twenty meters away, Logan saw the man reach into his coat.
“I have to get out of here!” yelled Logan to the others above the sound of screaming engines as the motorcycles whizzed by. Looking at the other two he said, “We have to split up. Get away from here. They’re not interested in either of you.”
He quickly turned Lena around and pulled the backpack containing the bust off her shoulders and slipped it onto his back. He placed his hands on the top of the fence, hopped over, and ran for the protection of the tower in the middle of the raceway just as two straggling racers came around the bend. As they roared by, he felt the breeze of something fly near his left ear, then he heard the ringing clatter of metal darts as they struck the obstacle tower.
When he reached the tower, the man in black who had also jumped the fence was surprised to see him. “Most banner thieves don’t bring their lunch with them,” he said, pointing at Logan’s backpack.
“Believe me, I would rather not be here,” replied Logan. He looked back at the SPD officers, who appeared perplexed by the appearance of the second banner thief. Ten meters to their right were the two women and the man in the leather jacket. He could not see any sign of Cap or Lena and hoped they had slipped away unnoticed.
“I have to get to the other side,” said Logan. He looked for SPD officers on the other side, but all he saw were hundreds of screaming half-drunk faces. He was about to make his move when he saw an SPD crowd-control van pull into view behind the spectators with its blue lights flashing.
“Did you pay the SPD boltheads their fee to jump the fence?” asked the banner thief.
“What?” asked Logan. “No, I just jumped it.”
“Me either,” said the thief. “It takes away from the virtue of the challenge, the authenticity of the ritual.” He eyed the two SPD officers he had eluded as they pushed their way through the crowd. One of them was talking into a small PDD. “They’re going to try and pull us in. We have to get to the next tower before the racers come by again.”
The banner thief turned and ran toward the next tower fifty meters farther up the course. Without thinking, Logan followed him as quickly as he could. By all accounts, Logan was strong and fast, but the thief moved with the grace, power, and speed of a tiger, and the distance between the two runners rapidly increased. When he reached the tower the thief was already there waiting. He pointed at the SPD crowd-control van trying to push its way through the mass of cheering spectators, but it was making slow progress.
“See that?” he said with a grin. “They won’t catch us.”
Logan searched for the SPD vehicle but was distracted when the crowd suddenly let out a wild cheer. Logan followed their gaze to see a large view screen on the wall of a nearby building. It was showing a slow-motion replay of two people at another location of the course attempting to steal a racer’s banner. A dart struck the first thief in the head as he tried to dodge a motorcycle, causing him to collapse to the ground where he lay motionless. But the second thief ran straight toward the front of the last racer and vaulted into the air at the last second. The racer threw his dart at the thief but missed just before she flew over his head and grabbed hold of his banner, pulling it from the back of the machine. She tucked herself into a ball and somersaulted in the air before landing on her feet and rolling to a stop. Triumphant, she jumped up and held the banner high for the cheering crowd to see.
Logan heard the high-pitched sound of motorcycle engines approaching and looked toward the curve from where the racers would soon appear. He looked at the banner thief and said, “You don’t understand. I really don’t want to be here. I need to get to the other side of the fence.”
The thief looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “I see,” he said. He pointed at the tree where Logan had jumped the barrier. “So there’s someone on that side that made you want to get to this side.” Then he spotted the man in the leather jacket push his way up to the fence and place his hands on top, preparing to jump.
“Who’s that?” asked the thief. “SPD?”
“I don’t know,” said Logan.
“All right,” said the thief. “Get behind the tower and make your run when I go for the banner. The tower is going to throw an obstacle into the race this lap, so be ready to adjust.”
Logan looked the banner thief in the eye. Then he asked, “Why are you helping me?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” replied the man.
Just then a group of motorcycles came around the bend with Vorsek’s painted bull leading the pack. As the racers approached the first tower two arms quickly swung down. When the arms were close to the pavement, interlocking plates shot out at a thirty-degree angle, forming small ramps. Vorsek and the others responded by rising somewhat in their seats just before their bikes launched into the air. But while the others slowed somewhat as they approached, Vorsek hit the ramp and landed his machine without breaking pace.
Then the pillar behind which Logan and the man were hiding made a clicking sound. An arm suddenly lowered to block the side of the race track to which Logan needed to run. The racers guided their motorcycles toward the left side of the pillar, causing the man in the leather jacket to think twice about getting onto the raceway.
Logan peered around the edge of the pillar to see Vorsek was in front but had three racers right behind him. The remaining six motorcycles were just approaching the first tower and its ramp. Looking back at Vorsek, Logan saw he was holding a thin metal rod in his hand, which he lowered to the side of his cycle. When he raised his hand, there was a dart attached to the end of the rod. Then one of the racers behind Vorsek launched his dart at Logan, barely missing his left eye.
As Logan pulled his
head back, he saw the banner thief was crouching low behind the tower. Then he launched himself across the path of the onrushing motorcycles. Logan watched, fascinated by the man’s seeming disregard for danger as he flew through the air with his body and arms outstretched. Two darts struck the thief, one in the shoulder and the other in the chest, just as Vorsek passed under him. Yet, despite being struck twice, the thief lowered his arm and reached for Vorsek’s banner, his fingertips touching the small mast to which the flag was attached. But the thief could not close his hand quickly enough, and the banner slipped through his fingers. The thief crashed to the ground and rolled awkwardly several times until he slammed against the crowd barrier.
SPD officers reached over the barrier and pulled the semi-conscious thief to his feet. One of the officers looked at Logan and pointed a finger at him. “You!” screamed the officer. “Come here! Now!”
Logan turned and ran toward the opposite side. As he dashed across the course, a racer launched a dart at him, hitting him in the back of his shoulder. He cried out in pain but kept running for the barrier. The cheering crowd parted for him as he clambered over the fence. He moved as quickly as he could through the mass of people, who occasionally patted him on the back but also chided him for not attempting to grab a banner.
“Get back out there, thief,” said one very drunk man with greasy hair and a three day old beard. “Don’t puss out on us.”
“Get out there yourself, you fat fuck,” yelled a nearby woman.
A scuffle broke out as more people got involved in the argument. Logan continued to push through the throng until he reached the back edge and slipped into a large group of beer drinking, singing revelers as they staggered through the street.
Chapter 20
Logan was in his bedroom packing his clothes as quickly as possible when he heard someone entering the code into the apartment door’s keypad. He walked to his bedroom door and opened it slightly, peering through the crack. He heard the door close shut and saw Cap step into the living room.
The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1) Page 9