The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

He drove to the street where Nasha had stolen the keys from Hank, parking the Land Rover in front of the warehouse store. He looked over at Renee. “You think you can drive the car?”

“My right foot is fine. Why?”

“Good.” He took her crutches from the back, bringing them around to her. Once she was behind the wheel, he said, “Sit here, doors locked, engine running. I don’t want you falling prey to the pickpockets.”

“What exactly are you doing here?”

“A little chat with the remaining Kalu brother. I need some background on that kid we found.”

“The pickpocket? Why?”

“Long story,” he said. “If I’m not back in half an hour, drive yourself to the airport and send Lazlo back for me.”

“Sam, what kind of chat are we talking about?”

“I guess that depends on how forthcoming the man is with his information.”

“Isn’t he part of the same group who stole your truck? Are you sure you should be doing this by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine.” He started to walk off, stopped, and rapped on the hood of the Land Rover. “Might want to roll up that window. Like I said, pickpockets.”

Within moments, the kids swarmed around Sam, at first begging, then quickly backing off as though suddenly recognizing him and recalling their last encounter. A few followed at a safe distance as he turned the corner and ducked into a doorway, waiting for them to catch up. He didn’t wait long. Two boys rounded the corner and he stepped out, blocking their path.

“Don’t run off,” he said as they started backing away. “I’ve got a deal for you.”

They stopped, eyeing him warily. One tilted his head back, trying to look defiant. “What sort of deal?”

“I need to talk to Kambili Kalu. Where can I find him?”

“You can’t. He finds you.”

The other boy added, “If he wants.”

“The thing is,” Sam said, “I’m a bit short on time.” He fanned out some bills in front of them. “Tell me where he is and I’ll make it worth yo

ur while.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

If you don’t stand for something, you will fall for something.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

The kidnappers lined up the women against the siding of the unfinished dorm, tied their hands behind their back and ordered them to sit. Remi, Amal, Zara, Jol, Maryam, and Tambara huddled together. Though tears slid down the girls’ cheeks, they remained stoic.

Makao ordered his men to search the buildings a third time. “There’s a ladder,” he said, nodding to the one Pete had used to get on the roof. “Maybe there’s an attic in one of these buildings. Search every corner, anywhere someone might hide.”

“This is my fault,” Amal said after the men moved off. “Had the girls not stopped to help me, they’d have been safely away.”

“No,” Zara said, near tears. “The only reason anyone was in there was because I was too tired to wake up. And then we heard the gunshot and—”

“It’s no one’s fault,” Remi said, looking over at them. “And we’re going to get out of this.”

“How?” Amal said.

“I’m not sure. Yet.”

One of the men looked at them. Amal waited until he turned away, then whispered, “Do you think they’re Boko Haram?”