The Romanov Ransom (Fargo Adventures 9)

“Hard to say, right now. But if I had to lay odds, it’s a safe bet.”

“What about Zakaria?” Brand asked. “He wasn’t involved, was he?”

Remi and Sam exchanged glances, Remi saying, “He seemed genuinely worried about you.”

“I agree,” Sam said, pulling out his phone. He tried calling. When Zakaria’s phone went to voice mail, Sam texted Where are you? He waited a few seconds for a response. When there was none, he tucked the phone in his pocket. “Let’s finish loading the gear, then take a look around.”

As he suspected, Zakaria’s footprints veered through the mud away from the gorge and toward two other sets of footprints, and tire tracks that didn’t match the Toyota’s.

“He definitely went off with someone,” Sam told them as a return text finally came in.

Almost there. Do you have the courier bag?

“Not the response I was expecting.” He showed them the text, asking, “Anyone ever mention anything about a courier bag to either of you?”

Karl shook his head.

“What courier bag?” Brand asked.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Sam said as Remi pointed to something in the distance.

“That’s got to be Zakaria,” she said, handing him her binoculars.

He focused in, seeing Durin Kahrs’s silver Nissan racing toward them. Someone stood, popping their head and shoulders out of the vehicle’s sunroof, then lifting up an automatic rifle.

Sam grabbed Remi’s arm, pulling her behind the Toyota. “Get down!” he yelled to Karl and Brand. A bullet whistled past them, striking the ground nearby.

Two more shots hit the side of the Toyota.

Sam and Remi crouched behind one wheel, Karl and Brand the other. Sam drew his Smith & Wesson.

Remi unholstered her Sig. “Makes me w

onder what’s in that courier bag we supposedly found.”

“I’m more interested in a plan to get out of here.”

Another shot was followed by the hiss of air from the front tire. So much for driving away, Sam thought. He looked back toward the trees. Their only route of escape was into the gorge. If they could reach the outcropping of rocks below, they had a chance to find cover. “Hope you’re ready for another hike?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“After you.”

Remi crawled toward the ravine, careful to keep the Toyota between her and the approaching vehicle.

“Brand, Karl,” Sam called out. “Follow Remi.” They scrambled after her. He followed. Seconds later, he heard the sound of the Nissan rumbling across the rough, muddy ground. Sam quickly surveyed the outcropping, spying a couple of boulders jutting up through the wet brush that seemed large enough to provide cover. He pointed. Remi nodded, drawing the boys behind the larger of the rocks, ducking down beside them. He dove behind the other.

“Where are they?” a man at the top of the ridge asked.

“They had to have gone back down.”

Sam braced his gun against the right side of the boulder, leaning over just far enough to see through the brush around it. Two men, both with scarves over their noses and mouths, stood at the crest, rifles at the ready.

They wore traditional djellabas, and he recalled Durin’s warning about local bandits in the area. If one of the men was Durin, he’d changed clothes.

“Come on out!” the taller of the two called. “We won’t hurt you!” For local bandits, their grasp of English was very good.

“Footprints,” the other said, his eye on his scope, following Remi’s tracks through the mud with the barrel of his long gun. He lifted his rifle, aiming toward the rock where Remi and the boys were hiding.