The Solomon Curse (Fargo Adventures 7) - Page 118

A faint clank sounded from the passage they’d come down. Sam’s head swiveled toward it and then he gestured to Remi and Lazlo. “Follow me, and don’t make a sound.”

“Sam. A machete’s no match for a gun,” Remi whispered.

“A gun’s only as good as the shooter,” he said, his face serious. “Come on.”

Sam crept to the far end of the cave, where a cavity led deeper into the mountain. He waited until it was too dark in the passage to see from the glow behind them and then switched on the flashlight he’d grabbed. To their right, the narrow cave forked in two directions, and he stopped, listening. He sniffed at the dank air and pointed to the right branch. “It smells fresher this way. More humid,” he said.

“What if it dead-ends?” Lazlo asked.

Sam shrugged. “That would be bad.”

They kept moving, the ground angling lower before leveling out. A faint hiss ahead of them grew louder as they crept forward, and, after another minute, they arrived at a rushing torrent of black water. They eyed the current and Sam directed his beam beyond it. “Looks like this continues on the other side. But the water’s moving pretty fast.”

“The good news is, it’s not that wide,” Remi said.

Lazlo frowned. “The bad news is, I haven’t swu

m since I was a teenager.”

Sam glanced at him. “It’s like riding a bike.”

“Haven’t done that in forever, either.”

“I don’t see any way around it,” Sam said. “Remi? Hand me the rope.”

Remi did as asked. “No telling how deep it is.”

“It’s only the last few inches that’ll kill you.”

“Very comforting, Fargo. Be careful.”

He uncoiled the rope. “You and Lazlo hold on to this end. Wish me luck.”

The sound of angry voices reverberated from the other end of the cave. Sam frowned and quickly tied one end of the line around his waist. “Here goes nothing.”

The water was surprisingly cold and stronger than he’d imagined. Almost immediately, it pulled at his ankles like an angry dog. The soles of his boots slipped along the smooth stone riverbed, polished by thousands of years of rushing torrent, and he fought to stay upright as he inched farther into the current. Spray splashed his thighs as he tested the bottom, moving cautiously, and then suddenly the current pulled him down and he was tumbling into the river, stunned by the force.

Water rushed into his nose and mouth and he choked as he lost his bearings, the lack of light now deadly. He fought to reach the surface, thrashing with all his might—but in the dark there was no hint of which way the surface was.

The cord went taut, stopping him from being washed into oblivion. Remi and Lazlo had reacted quickly and were holding him—but even their combined strength wouldn’t be a match for the river for long.

Sam’s arm broke from the water and he pulled himself upward, battling the rushing froth as his head shot into the air. He gasped as he struggled to cross to the far side, the surge pulling him toward where the water disappeared beneath a limestone drop. He fought its powerful draw with steady strokes, as Remi and Lazlo fed out line, the river a roar in his ears, and then light played across the darkness—Remi was shining her flashlight on the far bank to guide him.

Sam’s knee bashed against rock and his leg went numb. Just then, his fingers felt cold stone—he’d made it to the other side. He scrabbled onto the bank, sensation returning to his leg, with a throbbing in his knee, and he lay on his back, catching his breath.

His relief was interrupted by an urgent tug on the rope. He looked across the water where Remi stood—he’d been washed ten yards downstream in the blink of an eye. She gestured to the area behind her and cut her light, plunging the cave into darkness. Sam understood. Their pursuers were coming and she didn’t want to offer any clues to which passage they’d taken.

Sam retrieved the plastic flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on and, thankfully, it illuminated. He made his way directly across from Remi and tugged back on the rope as he looked around for anything he could tie his end to. Failing to find anything obvious, he rose and anchored himself against the eroded remains of a boulder. Lazlo wrapped the cord around his waist and did the same. The line went taut a few feet above the rushing river’s surface, and Remi wasted no time. She stashed her light in her waistband, gripped the rope with both hands, and edged into the water, using the rope to guide her.

When the bottom went out from beneath Remi’s feet and she was in the full surge of the current, it was all Sam could do to maintain control over the rope. He was forced to wind in several feet of rope when Lazlo skidded on his side, losing ground. He felt the jolt of the line as Remi’s hands struggled and exhaled a loud sigh of relief when she regained her footing and moved to join him, dripping wet but unharmed.

“Lazlo. Tie the rope around your waist and swim over. We’ll pull you to this side,” Sam called out, his words amplified by the stone walls.

Lazlo did as instructed, and Sam whispered loudly to Remi, “You ready to do this?”

“Yes, but we don’t have much time. They sound close.”

Lazlo made his move, and Sam began reeling in the rope with Remi’s help, the uneven surface near the boulder providing the necessary traction for their boots. Lazlo splashed into the water like an ungainly stork picking its way through a marsh and then he was in the current, flailing and sputtering on the end of the line as Sam and Remi pulled with all their might.

Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller
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