The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

“Apparently, they were squabbling over my supply truck. The second one, since your brothers stole the first.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“That your brothers stole my truck?”

“No. That Makao would. He wouldn’t waste his time. My brothers would know not to mess with him.”

“Not sure they got the memo. About this Makao—I killed two of his men. You think he’ll take that personally?”

Kambili gave a wary smile but the gleam in his eye was real. “I think he’ll kill you. Slowly.”

Sam drew his own gun and aimed at Kambili’s chest. He closed the distance between them. Sweat beaded on the man’s forehead. Sam lifted his foot onto the chair and shoved it back so hard, Kambili’s head slammed into the wall. Dust rained down from the ceiling. He sat there, too stunned to move.

Sam pushed open the door, then looked back at him. “By the way. If I ever hear that you hurt one of these boys, or any others, I’ll come back and smash every one of your fingers right before I kill you.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Renee asked after Sam returned to the car.

“I did,” he said, texting the information he’d learned to Selma. He checked the time. Lazlo was probably wondering where he was. “Let’s get you to the airport.” He pulled out into the street, noticing the kids were decidedly absent. Word traveled fast.

Renee leaned back in her seat, suddenly looking over at him. “Does this have to do with the people who tried to steal your truck?”

“Sort of.”

“Remi told me what happened. I’m surprised Hank wasn’t insistent on you taking him back right then. I swear, he’s afraid of his own shadow.”

“Considering one of the men put a gun to his head, he did surprisingly well.”

“They did what?”

He looked over at her and back at the road. “Remi didn’t mention that part?”

“Apparently not.” Quiet descended for several minutes and then she sighed. “Look, Sam—”

“We don’t have to talk about that now. It can wait. Really.”

“No, it can’t,” she said. “And maybe it’s better Remi’s not here. I know we should’ve said something earlier, but Hank was hopeful we’d figure out where the money went. He did. It turned out Warren had a gambling problem—and, well, it wasn’t like we could’ve returned the money.”

“No word to anyone?”

“A note. Apologizing and saying it was his fault.”

“To think I actually liked that guy.”

“Really?” Renee said. “He was so unassuming and quiet.”

“That’s what I liked about him.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, then at her, curious. “Excavations of that nature aren’t cheap. How’re you getting by?”

“Let half the crew go, utilize graduate students, like Amal, and tapped into my retirement. We’re not exactly in a position to complain. Nor were we about to ask for more money until we knew what happened to it.”

He slowed for a truck that turned in front of him. “I had Selma hire an investigator to find him,” he said as his phone rang. He picked it up from the console, not recognizing the number except that the area code was Tunisia. He angled the screen toward Renee. “Someone you know?”

“That’s Amal’s number.”

No doubt she was calling to see what he’d found on Nasha, he thought. “Hello.”

“I have your wife.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR