Pirate (Fargo Adventures 8)

“This,” António said, “is my uncle, Henrique Salazar.”

Sam shook hands with the man. “We can’t thank you enough.”

Henrique reached over and gave António a playful push, saying something in Portuguese.

António grinned as he gave Remi and Sam blankets. “My uncle, he says that if he did not come out here, I would lose my first big fare. And then he would have to support me. His son already eats too much!”

Remi was about to hug António until she realized she was still dripping wet. “We owe you our lives.”

“How’d you know to come looking for us?” Sam asked. “And so close to the island? We weren’t due back until tomorrow.”

“The men I saw leave on the Golfinho with you this morning, I do not know them. I do not see Captain Delgado. So I tell my uncle, who tells me that the captain would never have taken you out with a storm coming in. He suspects—is that how you say it?—something is wrong. As for finding you out here, he fishes these waters. The current, he tells me, the word is shifts? When we reach Snake Island, he knows this. And here we are.”

They reached port early the next morning, both Sam and Remi sleeping soundly in their bunks on the ship. They waited for the police at Henrique’s home, a two-bedroom bungalow overlooking the Atlantic. What remained of their gear and their personal items were found by the police on board the abandoned Golfinho and returned to them later that afternoon. Even though it was quite late in the evening when they were finished, António insisted on driving them back to the hotel in São Paolo.

“You and your uncle saved our lives,” Sam said. “It’s something we won’t ever be able to repay. But we know where your uncle lives, and we’ll be sending something to the both of you for your kindness.”

They’d discussed what to do the night before. A scholarship would be set up for António to cover his university costs as well as his medical school. And his uncle would have a new boat, along with tuition for his cousin.

Remi hugged him. “You’ll be hearing from us. We won’t forget you, António.”

Sam and Remi sat at the table in their hotel room in companionable silence. He knew they needed to discuss what had happened—especially the possibility of a leak in their camp—but for the moment Sam was content to ignore the subject.

Remi glanced up, saw him looking at her, and gave him a smile tinged with grief. “It’s Bree, isn’t it?” she said.

“I can’t imagine how else anyone knew where we were. Unless Avery’s men suddenly came to the same conclusion as we did, coincidentally knew which boat we’d hired, kidnapped the crew, let us find the shipwreck for them, then tried to kill us.”

“I still have a hard time believing she’d do this. I trusted her. I—” She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh of frustration. “I suppose we should check in with Selma and plan our next course of action.”

Sam looked at his watch. Selma was probably up and about by now. “Definitely.”

“What should we tell her?”

He took out his phone and opened the text messaging. “To call when she has the utmost privacy. She’s smart. She’s going to know what this is about.”

Remi leaned her head back against her seat, closing her eyes. “Oh, Sam . . .”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I suppose we’ll have to go to the police.”

“Not without conclusive proof.” He sent the text.

Selma called about five minutes later.

“We have you on speakerphone,” Sam told her. “Remi’s here with me.”

“Good morning,” Selma said. “I assume you’re calling about what happened yesterday.”

“You’re alone?”

“Secured in my office. Bree and Lazlo are having breakfast upstairs as we speak.”

“Good,” Sam said. “Then you’re aware of our concerns.”

“Very much so. I’m mystified, Mr. Fargo. I haven’t seen her talking to anyone. And she seems genuinely concerned.”

Sam felt Remi’s gaze on him. There was no other way their whereabouts could have been known unless Selma or Lazlo had let the information out—something both he and Remi knew was not a possibility. And unless someone had bugged their newly renovated, high-security, near-impregnable, hack-proof house, it had to be Bree. “One possible way,” he said, “some disinformation that will prove where the leak is coming from.” He dared a glance at Remi to see how she was taking this.