The Oracle (Fargo Adventures 11)

CHAPTER NINETY

Cleverness is better than strength.

– AFRICAN PROVERB –

About twenty-five yards of open space between the orchard and the ruins was all that separated Remi from her husband, who was crouched down behind an olive tree next to Hank.

“What’s the outlook?” Lazlo asked.

“Looking good,” Remi said. Panic bred unpredictability, and she needed Lazlo as calm as possible. As many shots as the gunmen had taken, she had to assume they had no shortage of ammunition. Hidden behind their boulders and bushes high on the hill, they definitely had the advantage.

Which meant either she or Sam had to move to a different position if they wanted to take them out.

Just as she was wondering if she could somehow get to the top of the orchard and come at them from a different angle, she saw Sam signaling her. He pointed to his eyes, then to the hill. If he could climb up the hill to the trees behind the ruins, he’d have a better angle and be closer.

At least she hoped that’s what he was planning. If she was wrong, she was going to waste the last of her ammunition.

She counted the number of trees he’d have to get past compared to the number of shots she had left.

If they didn’t waste any, they had a good chance to pull it off.

“He’s going the wrong way,” Lazlo said.

“Let’s hope not.” She fired and ducked back. While the bushes and boulders in front of the gunmen kept her from seeing their exact position, that didn’t prevent them from seeing her. Unless they suddenly decided to pop their heads above cover, the most she’d be able to do was keep them cornered for a short while.

That was going to present a slight problem.

Sam still needed to get past that temple and up the hill. “What we need,” she said more to herself, “is a highly efficient way to distract them.”

“What about Hank?” Lazlo asked. “Shouldn’t we try to get him out of there?”

Remi’s attention strayed toward the injured man, noticing that he was no longer moving. “I don’t think that’s going to make much difference at this point.”

“Victim to the curse, I daresay.”

Remi looked across the field toward Sam, who waited at the last tree. She needed to think of something. And fast. “Lazlo, any chance you can find a stick about two feet long without breaking cover?”

“There are some broken branches behind me.” Lazlo ducked down and grabbed one. “What are you going to do with it?”

“You’re going to hang your shirt on it and hold it out.”

“Me?”

“Or you could do the shooting.”

He slipped out of his shirt. “You realize that if this doesn’t work and I somehow survive, Selma will kill me if something happens to you.”

She had a feeling Selma would kill her if she let anything happen to Lazlo. The two seemed to be growing a strong attachment to each other. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

“My stick is dressed.”

“On my signal, wave it beside the tree. Preferably, shoulder height, and far enough out for them to think it’s a person.”

Sam was nearly to the end of the ruins.

“Now.”

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE