The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

Makao pointed with his flashlight. “Wasn’t the Fargo woman wearing hiking boots?”

“Definitely.” He squatted, taking a better look. “You think she let the girls out here, then drew us farther down the hill, pretending to take that lower trail?” Jimi laughed as he stood. “Smart woman.”

Makao hated to admit it but Jimi was right. Remi Fargo had outwitted them. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much she’d actually manipulated their movements from the time they were kidnapped until the moment he had found the sign in the back of the Fargo truck. He was not going to underestimate her again. “That trail those girls took has to be around here somewhere.”

Eventually, they found the entrance by tripping over the stump once belonging with the sign. Had his truck not been parked practically on top of it, they might have noticed it sooner. The Fargo woman was tenacious, following him back up the hill—he’d give her that. What he wouldn’t do is point out that they’d been bested by a woman. That was bound to stoke their anger and turn them trigger-happy.

Not a good combination when his hostages were

worth more alive than dead.

He shined his light on one of the waffle boot prints. “That belongs to Remi Fargo. I have a feeling she’s experienced. Be careful. If she moves those girls off the trail, you could pass them right by and not even know it.”

Pili glanced at the three men beside him. “Maybe we should wait at the school until morning. There’s beds and food.”

“And if they called the police, that’s the first place they’ll come looking,” Makao said. “For the missing girls and for you. If you have to rest, find a place nearby out of sight. But know that the longer you wait, the farther they’ll get.”

“You’re not going with us?”

“Jimi and I are going down to the farm to find out what happened there.” He looked at each of them in turn. “Do not let anything happen to those hostages. They’re worth nothing if they’re dead.”

The four men climbed up the hillside. Jimi followed Makao to his pickup, taking the passenger’s seat as Makao got behind the wheel, while the other two jumped in the back. Makao’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, looked at the screen, recognized the Tunisian number. He dropped the phone in the cupholder, ignoring the call. The phone buzzed again and Jimi reached for it.

“Don’t answer. It’s Tarek,” he said. “I don’t want him to know what’s going on.”

“He’s not going to like it if he finds out.”

“Who says he’s going to find out?” he said as he maneuvered the truck back and forth on the narrow road until he was facing downhill.

Once they reached the lower trail where the Fargos’ truck was abandoned, he turned off the headlights and continued on at a much slower pace.

“Why’d you turn off the headlights?”

“Making sure we get down this hill alive and past that farm. It’ll be hard to collect a ransom if we’re dead.”

“You’re driving a white pickup. They’re bound to see it once you’re on the main road. It’ll be safer with the lights on.”

Makao ignored him, driving as fast as he dared on the straightaway, then slowing to a snail’s pace at the next curve, his eyes straining to make out any details in the road.

“Pothole,” Jimi said.

Makao cursed when the front end dipped down, slamming into the dirt road. At this rate, they were never making it down the hill. He finally turned on the headlights, hoping whoever was at that farm wasn’t watching.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

However long the night, the dawn will break.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

Myriad emotions flashed across Okoro’s face as he listened to what Sam was telling him. “You say my daughter is one of the hostages at the school?”

“With my wife,” Sam said. “Had we known anything like this would happen, we never would’ve—”

“No.” He stood, fists clenched, directing his rage at Sam. “I was told she’d be safe up there.”

“You have every right to be angry,” Sam said.

“One thing I know about Zara. She would never blame the people who helped her live her dream. She would blame the people who stole it.” His jaw muscles ticked as he held Sam’s gaze. “Who are they? Boko Haram? Fulani terrorists?”