The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

Remi looked at the truck keys just inches from her face, then slid her gaze past them out the door.

Right now, her priority was to keep Nasha from being discovered since she was the only one who had a chance of getting the keys without being seen. “Chickens … Pesky little things.”

Makao ignored her, his attention on the man who found the box. “See if there’s anyone else out there.” After he left, Makao returned his attention to Remi. “Where are the keys to that truck?”

“Our truck?”

He took a step forward, putting his hand on the butt of his holstered gun. “Play dumb and see what happens.”

“Hanging on the wall by the door,” she said.

He plucked the keys from the hook. “Jimi.”

The guard at the door stepped inside.

“Load them in the back,” Makao said, tossing him the keys. “We’re getting ready to move out.”

The man tucked the keys into his pocket and took Remi by the arm. “Let’s go.”

He shoved Remi toward the door, then ordered Amal to her feet. “Get up,” he demanded again when she failed to move.

Remi looked back, saw Amal’s vacant stare, worried, not only about her but the scissors. “She can’t hear you.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“It’s like a seizure,” Remi said. “You need to give her a few moments.” When the other four girls glanced toward Nasha’s hiding place, Remi cocked her head toward the door. “Everyone up,” she said. “Amal will be fine.”

As the girls stood, Nasha, gripping a road spike, burst from beneath the desk, screaming like a banshee. Makao tried to catch her. She jammed the spike into his hand. He jumped back, swearing. She charged full force into the other man, driving the spike into his arm. By the time he realized what was going on, she was through the door.

The guard spun around, trying to catch her, but Remi blocked his path. He shouldered her into the doorframe, knocking the breath out of her.

“After her,” Makao yelled.

Nasha leaped to the drive, darting around the goats as the guard lunged toward her. Within seconds, several other guards appeared and the chase was on. She escaped them all, sending the goats into a panic, running in every direction.

Makao, looking at the blood dripping down his hand, swore again, finally calling the guard back. “Jimi.”

When the guard returned, empty-handed, Makao nodded at the girls. “Load them up.”

“Her, too?” he said, jerking his head toward Amal, her expression still empty.

“Send one of the other men back for her.” As Jimi took Remi by the arm, forcing her out the door, Makao added, “If you find that other girl, kill her.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

When you see a turtle on top of a fence post, you know he had some help.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

Amal started to come to the moment the other guard arrived to help. Makao, blood dripping down his fingers, didn’t move from the door until Jimi led the hostages to the truck. The moment the Fargo woman was safely in the cargo bed, he returned to the office, looking for a first aid kit. He found one in the bathroom, and was applying a bandage to the gash, when he heard someone traipsing around on the gravel outside the office. Pressing the bandage tight, he walked to the door, saw Jimi searching for something on the ground.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m looking for the truck keys.”

“I gave them to you.”

“And I put them in my pocket. They must have fallen.”