The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

“Okay.”

“I’m coming for you. Stay—”

The picture turned black. “Mr. Fargo? Are you there?”

Her heart clenched. She was supposed to tell him about the farm and the men waiting there.

Worried, she pulled the burlap over her head, leaving a space big enough for her to see out the door. For the next hour she waited and watched, eventually realizing that these men were just like the Kalu brothers. Because they carried guns, they didn’t seem to care about their surroundings.

One of the bandits passed yet again just a few feet away from her. He had done it over and over. In a moment, he’d walk between the buildings to smoke and talk to another man coming from the opposite direction. They wouldn’t move until they finished smoking. And they’d leave in the same direction every time.

That was something she knew how to work with.

Mr. Fargo had told her to stay put, but she didn’t think she should wait. She looked at the phone screen to make sure that his face was no longer there, worried that he’d try to stop her.

The screen was still black—even when she tried to push the buttons—and she shoved the phone into her pack, then looked out the door, waiting until the man with the gun met up with his friend. As soon as their cigarette smoke drifted into the courtyard, she crept out.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The length of the rope determines the movement of the goat.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

Makao sat on the edge of the desk, scrutinizing the two women and four girls who were seated on the floor against the wall beneath the window. He lit a cigarette, then tucked the lighter into his pocket, as he focused on the red-headed woman. “You must know the combination to the safe.”

Her gaze flicked to the storage closet behind him on the other side of the desk. Next to it, against the wall, was a tall safe, too heavy to move. A small bathroom was located next to that, the window open to let in fresh air.

“I don’t know it,” she said. “I’ve been here only a few days.”

“New? You seem to be the one in charge. The school is named after you,” he said, walking toward the open doorway, looking out. The sun had dipped behind the trees, the long shadows across the grounds disappearing as darkness descended. Two of his men were standing beside one of the trucks in the drive, one lighting a cigarette. Makao started to turn away, when his eye caught on something moving low across the ground behind them. He could’ve sworn he saw a very small girl out there. About to call out to his men to take a better look, he paused when a chicken strutted from beneath the pickup. Shadows playing tricks, he decided. Watching a moment longer, he turned back toward the Fargo woman. “I asked around in the village. There was a man who bought every last box of nails, apparently for the Fargos’ school for girls. I’d think that if a school is named after you, you’d have the combination to the safe.”

“You’d think wrong.”

“Is there money in there?”

“If there is, there can’t be much. Everything is paid for by credit card.”

“Even in the village? I find that hard to believe.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, watching her as he blew out the smoke. Her green eyes held his, but she didn’t rise to the bait. She held no fear, he noticed. In fact, everything with her seemed calculated. He glanced at the other woman and the girls, all who refused to look at him.

“Where are you taking us?” she demanded.

“Somewhere safer. As I said, you’ll be held for ransom.” He walked to the door, again looking out. The two men had returned to their patrol and he scanned the grounds, once again seeing something or someone moving around their cars. Whatever it was, it was far too big to be a chicken. “Jimi.”

The young man who’d been stationed at the open gate looked back at him.

“Stand here at the door. No one in, no one out.”

Makao strode across the graveled drive toward their parked trucks, circling each one, ducking to look underneath. Chickens. He kicked some gravel at them, sending the birds running, and looked over at the large truck he’d tried to ambush several days back, noting the canvas covering the cargo bed seemed to be moving. He walked up, pulled the canvas up, and looked inside, unable to see anything in the dark interior.

Deciding it was empty, he dropped the flap and turned as two of his men emerged from the courtyard to investigate the noise. “Did you see anyone out here?” he asked.

The men glanced toward the office, where Jimi stood outside the door, then at the now unguarded gate. “No,” one said as they heard loud bleating in the courtyard.

A moment later, three goats came trotting out between the buildings and toward them. “What the …” He glared at his men. “Where’d they come from?”

“There’s a pen behind the buildings, on the other side.”

“Go close it up.”