The Solomon Curse (Fargo Adventures 7) - Page 74

They ordered the seafood special again, and this time the fish was freshly caught, lightly seared yellowfin tuna with a black pepper crust. They took their time eating, enjoying the balmy wind off the ocean.

When they finished their feast, Sam paid the check and left a generous tip, and they made their way to the Toyota, the surrounding palm trees swaying in the breeze. When they reached the vehicle, Sam stopped, squinted at the SUV in the gloom, and cursed under his breath.

“What is it?” Remi asked.

“Flat tire.”

“Are you joking?”

“I wish.”

He moved to the rear cargo door and swung it open. Twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat, he finished with the jack and stowed the tire and gear. Remi stared up at the full moon before looking back at Sam. “Look at the bright side. At least this didn’t happen on the trail. Can you imagine trying to change a tire in that mud?” she said.

He nodded. “True. One of life’s small blessings I should be thankful for.” With a final glance at the new tire, he opened the driver’s-side door, beads of perspiration streaming down his face. “Hop in.”

She made a face. “I’m hoping there’s a shower in your future.”

“Safe bet.”

The security guards smiled as they pulled up to the hotel gate and one of them directed Sam to a spot near the front entrance like he was guiding an airplane into a Jetway. When he and Remi entered the hotel, the staff studied them warily, faces frozen in polite expressions but eyes wide at the apparition of Sam looking like he’d fallen into the sea. Remi nodded to the night clerk and the man smiled reluctantly as they passed the reception desk and made their way to the room down the gloomy hall.

“Light must have burned out,” Sam observed, looking up at the dark ceiling.

“Classy joints you take me to, Fargo.”

Remi stopped when they were only a few yards from the room and her hand flew to Sam’s arm and gripped it, halting him, too. She cocked her head, listening, and then leaned close to him and whispered, “Did you shut the door well when we left?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t say anything for a few long seconds. “Then we have a problem.” She pointed at the darkened doorway. “It’s open.”

CHAPTER 30

Sam edged toward the door. He was only steps away when a figure burst through it and tore at full speed down the hall.

Sam hissed, “Get help. Have the hotel call the police,” and took off after the thief. His shoulder slammed into the wall as he rounded the corner just in time to see the steel exit door at the far end of the corridor swing shut. He drove himself harder, only slowing when he reached the door. He stopped, listening, and then pushed through, out into the darkness.

Sam’s eyes swept the edge of the parking lot and locked on the man, running across the boulevard. Sam covered the distance to the street in a matter of seconds, but his quarry was fast and he disappeared into an alley on the other side. Sam bolted after him, laser-focused on the thief, and he barely registered a dark form hurtling at him from down the street before he was falling, his left side flaring with pain.

An islander on a decrepit bicycle tumbled next to him with a loud clatter. Sam had hit the ground hard. He lay on the pavement for a few seconds with the wind knocked out of him, trying to understand what had happened, and then realized that the bicyclist had been invisible in the darkness because he had no headlight or reflectors.

Sam pushed himself to his feet as the man on the bicycle swore at him from the asphalt in pidgin. Sam’s knee was throbbing, and he could feel scrapes where he’d landed, but he was in one piece, nothing broken.

And the thief was getting away.

He glanced at the fallen rider, a young man who appeared to be fine, if disgruntled, and took up his pursuit of the thief, sprinting for the dark gap that was the alley’s mouth. He paused when he reached it—there was no light, and he could barely make out the far end. Sam glanced to either side and, seeing no hiding places from which he could be ambushed, set out at a flat run. When he reached the other end of the alley, he was on a narrower street, with a handful of small shops on the near side and industrial buildings on the other.

His eyes roved over the buildings, searching for motion or anything out of place. From the far corner, the sound of metal scraping against cement reached his ears. Sam covered the distance in a blink.

And found himself looking at a black-and-white cat perched on a pile of refuse by a garbage can. The feline glared at him, annoyed at being interrupted on its nocturnal rounds, and hopped down, before scurrying off.

Sam froze, straining his ears for any sounds of running human feet. The buzz of a distant motor scooter echoed off the waterfront, but there was nothing else. The area was deserted. After several long moments, he took a final look down the street and sighed.

The thief had escaped.

He made his way back to the hotel, where two police cruisers were parked in front, their light bars flashing blue and red on the building façade. Sam made his way into the empty lobby and continued on up to the room.

When he arrived, Remi was standing outside the door, an annoyed expression on her face. She turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller
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