Page 75 of The Medici Return

CHAPTER 50

COTTON SPURREDLEONE FORWARD AS THEY PASSED THE STARTINGpoint and began lap two. He noticed the horse’s ears were swept back, ready to listen to what he might have to say, so he obliged.

“Keep going,” he called out in Italian, over the thunder of hoofbeats.

He had to trust Leone, since the horse knew this racetrack better than he did. His two antagonists stayed with him. He dug his knees into Leone, keeping his body moving in rhythm with the horse. The Tortoise and Panther jockeys worked in unison to impede his progress, bumping into him at regular intervals, swiping him with their crops. Suddenly, one of the jockeys ahead of him flew off his mount, landing atop the crowd in the center of the campo, disappearing into the bodies. The riderless horse broke into a long, loping gait and continued with the pack, momentarily accelerating without the weight of the jockey.

The Panther horse smacked into Leone’s left side.

Enough. He slammed back. The jockey reacted and crashed down his right arm onto Cotton’s shoulders.

“No jockey can interfere with the reins of another,” Camilla said. “But if that happens, the one interfered with can defend himself. Without penalty.”

He released his left hand from the reins and elbowed the jockey. The man seemed unfazed and returned blows with his crop. Cotton brought his left arm up, hand tight-fisted, pivoted upward and over, cold-cocking the Panther jockey with a solid cross, knocking the man from the horse.

One down.

THOMAS READIED HIS SHOT.

He’d followed Malone through the telescopic scope, from the starting point to the second turn, then around the third and fourth turns, back to a straightaway for the starting line. But the jostling and maneuvering of the horses was making things difficult. Ascolani had told him that the race happened at a frantic pace, and the man had been correct. He gently gripped the rifle that lay atop the table on its bipod. He liked how the weight had been shifted to the rear, creating a central balancing point. He’d already adjusted the cheek rest and raised the pads to more securely nestle the weapon into his shoulder. He had five rounds in the magazine, the threaded muzzle fitted with the high-pressure suppressor.

Plenty of ammunition.

The pack passed the starting point and made the first turn, now right below him, headed for the more treacherous second.

Back in his sights.

Close.

Perfect targets.

COTTON NOTICED THAT LEONE’S EARS WERE PRICKED FORWARD, THEhorse now focused on the other animals. The pack had thinned, with several riders falling behind along with the riderless horse. He was surrounded by four other riders, the Porcupine just ahead of him.

They were in the second lap.

A lot was happening. Fast.

The second turn was again approaching. The Tortoise horse ran parallel on his left, toward the outside. Another horse and jockey to his right, near the inner rail. The Porcupine was still in front. He caught a sadistic smile on the Tortoise jockey’s face right before the two horses collided. The other jockey reared up atop the horse and smashed his left boot into Cotton. Apparently, the Tortoises were unconcerned with disqualification, as that kick certainly qualified as “interference with the reins.”

But he appreciated the aggressiveness.

Now he could defend himself.

“Keep us straight,” he said to Leone.

He knew horses realized trouble long before their rider. So he was counting on the animal’s intuition. He swung one leg up and readied for a kick. The Tortoise saw it coming and slowed his horse, bolting upright and readying his own kick.

Then the Tortoise jockey jerked back still gripping the reins. An almost unnatural move. Even for the Palio. The spine curved inward and Cotton heard a grunt of pain. There was a moment when the body froze in its pose, then the Tortoise’s jockey let go of the reins and collapsed off the horse, smacking the track hard, before being trampled by another horse, which lost its footing and tumbled to the ground, hard, with its rider.

They entered the turn and Leone took them smoothly around, slowing slightly as they swung right.

THOMAS REALIZED INSTANTLY THAT HE’D MISSED.

The jockey of the horse beside Malone had unexpectedly come upright and blocked the bullet. He quickly readjusted his aim and brought Malone back centered in the scope’s crosshairs. The horses were now past the third turn on the far side of the campo, a ton of people between him and them, only the jockeys’ bobbing headsvisible. He was three stories up, the angles were all wrong, and the small targets were moving fast.

He removed his eye from the scope and stared out the window.

He watched as the four remaining horses passed in front of the Palazzo Pubblico, disappearing below the crowd as they negotiated a dip in the track. Back up they headed for the final turn toward the starting gate. The jockey he’d shot had been removed from the track by men who rushed out to get him. It would not take long for them to discover the bullet hole.

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