The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

Remi crouched down for a better look at the intricately detailed sea creatures and twin cherubs astride dolphins, one carrying a casket of jewels, the other a mirror, gifts for a haloed Venus borne in triumph by two centaurs. “Amazing.”

“That’s what I think every time I come into work.” Renee sighed as she looked around, then started up the steps. “Who’d have thought all those years ago that we’d be living our dream?”

“We did,” Remi said.

Sam laughed, no doubt thinking about all the scrapes they’d gotten into and escaped from over the years. “Not quite how you’d planned, though. Eh, Mrs. Fargo?”

She looked over at him, laughing as she took his hand. “Not even close.”

Renee was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. “What you two consider fun the rest of us consider extreme.” She suddenly turned, her eyes going wide, as someone grabbed her shoulder bag, then pushed her down the stairs.

CHAPTER THREE

A tree does not move unless there is wind.

– NIGERIAN PROVERB –

Sam caught Renee as she tumbled down. Once he had her safely on her feet, he raced up the stairs. The man who had grabbed Renee’s bag was now rummaging through it by the time Sam emerged. He looked up, then took off. Sam chased him along the paths and out to where their cars were parked as a dark SUV pulled up, tires kicking up dust as it skidded to a stop. Sam breached the gap between them as the driver reached over and threw open the passenger’s door. The thief looked back, saw Sam, and threw the bag at him.

Sam flung it aside, lunged, grasping the man’s shirt but losing his grip as the man jumped in the SUV. The vehicle sped away. In the few seconds it took to see that there was no license plate on the back, the thief rolled down the window, tossing Renee’s wallet out.

Sam ran over, picked it up, and returned for the bag as Remi and Renee hurried toward him.

He handed both to Renee. “You’re not hurt, I hope?”

“No. More humiliated than anything,” she said, looking inside her wallet to see what was missing. “There’s been an uptick in thefts around here, especially around our site. Had I been smart, I would’ve left my bag in the car.”

“Did they take anything?” Remi asked.

“A couple dinar, but that’s it. If I had to guess, they thought I was some rich tourist, not a poor archeologist.” She dropped the wallet into her purse, then patted her pant pocket. “Keys right where they belong … I say we get out of here.”

“You don’t want to call the police?” Sam asked.

“Had they taken something important like my keys or ID, I would. This? Not worth the time.”

When they reached their cars, they followed Renee past the main archeological park toward the foothills, parking behind her when she finally stopped.

“That’s our site,” she said as they walked across the uneven ground down the hill to where Hank stood watching two younger men who were kneeling by a marked-off area, carefully brushing away dirt from the dig site. “Not much to look at from here, but extraordinary up close.”

Hank saw them and walked over. “Ah, the Fargos. A pleasure to meet you in person.”

“Likewise,” Sam said, shaking his hand.

“Has Warren come back?” Renee asked.

“Not that I’ve seen.” Hank’s brow furrowed. “You look a little green around the gills, LaBelle. Everything okay?”

“Purse snatch. Failed, I should add. Sam ran after the guy and got it back for me.”

He glanced at the bag on her shoulder. “After the rash of robberies in the area, you need to be careful.”

Sam nodded toward the two men working in the field. “What’s going on out there?”

“That,” Renee said, “is the new site that may or may not be another villa. Last year we made a topographical survey, did some coring, and dug several test pits. No serious excavation until that’s all done, but there’s plenty to be found on the surface.”

Hank twisted off the top of his stainless steel water bottle. “Though not nearly as exciting as the underground villa we’re already excavating. You should take them to see the rest of it in person. It’s spectacular. And now that we have electricity in there, we can actually work at night.”

“That can wait. I want to introduce the Fargos to my grad students,” she said, nodding out toward the field to the two young men. “José’s from Spain, Osmond’s from Egypt. I’ve told them all about your escapades. José’s a hobbyist treasure hunter. He’ll get a kick out of meeting the two of you.”