The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

He wanted to tell her it would be fine, but Selma answered and he briefed her on what he knew. “No one’s called you?” he asked, thinking that surely if Pete or Wendy were safe they would have phoned him or Selma immediately.

“No one,” Selma said. “What would you like me to do, Mr. Fargo?”

“Two things. First, go through the school contacts. Is there anyone there we can trust who might be able to get us intel?”

“Zara’s father’s the closest. I’ll see what I can find. What else?”

“I need a million dollars ready to go.” He’d do everything he could to save his wife and the girls with her. As much as he wanted to head straight to the school, taking the extra time to get Lazlo first was a wiser course of action. “I’m on my way to the airport now.”

“I’ll text Lazlo to let him know. The police—?”

“Can pick up the pieces when I’m done.”

“Understood. I’ll get on it right away, Mr. Fargo.”

Sam dropped the phone into the cupholder on the console, forgetting for a moment that Renee had been there listening the whole time. He looked at her. “We better get going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to cancel my flight?”

“Positive,” he said. “Lazlo’s already

here. And you have your own emergency to handle.”

“Is that a polite way of saying I’ll only get in the way?”

He attempted a smile. “Sorry, but yes.”

“Don’t apologize for the truth.”

The rest of the trip was made in silence, Sam replaying the phone conversation in his mind, trying to determine if there was anything he’d missed, some bit of information that he could use.

Nothing came to mind.

When they reached the airport, Sam texted Lazlo to meet him out front. When he walked out the doors, his duffel slung over his back, Sam idled forward, parked at the curb, and pressed the hatchback release.

He got out, retrieved Renee’s crutches as Lazlo walked over, offering to carry her bag into the airport for her.

“It’s not heavy,” she said. “You need to get going.”

Sam gave her a quick hug. “Take care, okay?”

She clasped his arm. “I don’t want to call and tie up your line or Remi’s while you’re in the middle of all this. Let me know as soon as you find them. Please.”

“I will. Hope you get everything straightened out yourself.”

Lazlo dropped his duffel into the cargo area, slammed the tailgate shut, then got in the passenger’s seat. “Selma told me. Have you heard anything?”

“Not yet. We’re heading to the hangar to pick up my gear bag from the jet. If we’re going after these guys, you need a gun.” Sam started to pull out, looking in his rearview mirror, surprised to see a stranger running after them, shouting. He hit the brake, looked again in the rearview, and saw Renee waving one of her crutches at him.

He backed toward her and lowered Lazlo’s window. “What’s wrong?”

She leaned inside the car. “I just received the strangest text from Remi. Hep.”

“Hep?”

“There’s a photo.” She held the phone out showing him an underexposed image on the right-hand side of what he assumed was the inside of the supply shed, with a view out the door to an overexposed image of the courtyard and several people seated on the ground in front of the dorm.

At first glance, it appeared that someone had taken the photo by mistake—and he would have thought exactly that were it not for the ransom demand he’d just received. He enlarged the picture. Though blurry, there was no doubt he was looking at Remi, Amal, and four girls seated next to them.