Jimi made the call while Pili and Den continued down the serpentine trail carved into the thick forest.
It didn’t make sense that seven women and girls could disappear so quickly—which made him wonder how well his men had checked the bed of that truck.
He walked over, lifted the canvas, the beams from his headlights shooting in. At first, he saw nothing but his own shadow cast across the cargo area. As he started to turn away, he realized something was in the back of the truck. He reached in, pulled a thick post up and over the tailgate, cursing when he saw the large Forest Service sign bolted to its top reading Upper Trail.
“Pili, Den,” he shouted. “Change of plans. Get in the back of the truck with the others.”
“They’re not answering,” Jimi said as the two men jogged back up the trail.
Den glanced at the sign hanging out of the back of the Fargos’ truck. “Where are we going?”
“We’re getting our hostages back.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Ears that do not listen to advice
accompany the head when it is chopped off.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Sam stepped over the slain guard, planting the barrel of his gun in the back of his new hostage. “Anyone tell you that smoking’s hazardous to your health?”
Lazlo eyed the dead guard with distaste. “What happened to killing him quietly?”
“This seemed more expedient.” The guards had been surprisingly uninspired to carry out their duties, lighting up their third cigarettes instead of patrolling the grounds. Sam decided to hurry matters along. The disadvantage, unfortunately, was that with the gunshots they’d announced their presence. Sam forced his hostage toward the bungalow-style farmhouse, saying, “Let’s hope one of your friends comes out to see what happened.” He leaned in close, adding, “I need one of you alive. I don’t much care which of you it is.”
The man said nothing.
Lazlo glanced into the window. “What if they don’t come out?”
“I go in after them.”
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
“Good news is, you get to stay here.”
“What if something happens to you?”
“Find Remi and the girls, make sure they’re all safe.” Sam watched the front door of the house, wondering what was taking so long. Those gunshots should have brought them out by now. He gripped the guard’s collar. “What’s your name?”
“Deric.”
“Deric, tell them you need help.”
“They won’t come.”
“You better hope they do or it’ll be the last time you walk. Now call them out.” Sam jammed the barrel against his spine. “And make it convincing.”
“Urhie,” he shouted. “Joe. I need you both. Hurry.”
Sam glanced over at
Lazlo, who stood by the window, watching the room with the hostages. Lazlo gave the OK sign and pointed toward the door.
Good. They were coming.
Sam sidestepped, making sure Deric was between him and the door.