The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

“Get in the car,” Sam told him. He looked over at Remi. “Drive everyone up to Amal’s. Get her mother, call the police, and get them out of here.”

“Be careful,” she said.

He was halfway across the field before Remi had even backed out of the drive. When he reached the dig site, he crept onto the deck, thankful when he heard voices. With the sun overhead, there was no way to approach unnoticed. Hank would see his shadow—unless he was too preoccupied.

“Fargo,” Hank called out. “Just in time.”

So much for luck. “Lazlo?” Sam shouted, wishing he had a better view inside.

“Hank has a gun.”

“Pointed at your friend, Fargo. Keep that in mind as you come down.”

Sam, relieved to hear Lazlo’s voice, moved to the edge. I

t wasn’t until he started climbing down that he could actually see Hank in the shadows at the end of the platform, holding Amal in front of him. She seemed to be staring at nothing, her lips moving as she mumbled softly to herself. Hank, on the other hand, aimed his gun into the depths of the villa at Lazlo, who sat next to José atop the pile of rubble, both men blinded by the light clamped to the railing.

Hank glanced at Sam. “Warning. I’m a good shot. First wrong move, I’ll kill your friend. Empty your gun. Nice and slow.”

Sam calculated and dismissed the possibility of taking Hank out first. He drew his weapon. Holding it barrel up, he opened the cylinder, dumping the rounds into his hand. “Harmless,” he said as he lowered the Smith & Wesson to the wooden planks.

“Behold,” Amal shouted, looking upward. “The Sign of Saturn.”

In the second of distraction, Sam pocketed the bullets, then held up his empty hands. “Just don’t hurt anyone.”

“Where’s your wife?”

“With Osmond. Taking Nasha and her uncle to Amal’s to get her mother out of here. I’m sure you must have heard the car drive off.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re right.” Keeping Amal close, Hank aimed his gun at Sam’s chest. “Down you go, Fargo. Next to the professor.”

As Sam walked to the ladder, Hank sidestepped, keeping a wide berth between them. Sam grabbed the first rung and lowered himself over. “Whatever trouble you’re in, it’s not too late.”

“If only that were true. No one was supposed to get hurt. But they killed Warren anyway.”

“Then let me help.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” he said, his voice taking on a panicky edge. “Tarek wants the map. I have to give it to him. You understand that, don’t you? He’ll kill me if I don’t.”

Sam reached the bottom, landing in at least an inch of water. “He’ll kill all of us.”

“Not if I give him what he wants.” He led Amal to the side, looped the rope over the railing, pulled it into a knot with his free hand. He looked down at Sam, motioning with his gun. “Over there. Hurry. I don’t have much time.”

Sam sloshed through the water and climbed up onto the rock pile next to Lazlo, hoping that Hank would simply leave. Sam tried to look past the glare of the lamp shining down on them, catching sight of the man’s silhouette as he started pacing above them.

Amal’s chanting grew louder. “Saturn holds the wheels … The balance between Rhea—wealth and abundance—and Lua—destruction and dissolution … Hear, O Usurper of the Vandal Treasure, Lua rains death upon you.”

“Quiet,” Hank shouted. “I can’t think.”

“Sator, arepo, tenet, opera, rotas …”

Hank pulled the lamp from the railing, smashing it against the side of the scaffolding. A flash of sparks reflected on the water as the bulb shattered. Then, surprising Sam, Hank started lowering it over the edge. “What’re you doing, Hank?”

“Making sure you don’t move. This shouldn’t take long. I’ll give them what they want.” The long orange extension cord slapped against the scaffolding as he inched the lamp toward the flooded floor. The reflector shade hit the tile and he carefully brought it to rest, the exposed socket just above—and precariously close to—the water’s surface. “I expect the slightest ripple might cause a shock.”

“Hank,” Sam called out as the man climbed up the ladder. “Let me help you.”

But all he heard in response was Amal’s chanting. “Sator, arepo, tenet, opera, rotas …”