The Romanov Ransom (Fargo Adventures 9)

“I’ve heard he’s a pilot. Boats, we assume.”

At least they had a starting point, Sam thought. “Any chance you can print this out for us?”

“Not a problem.” He hit the button, and his printer whirred to life, dropping a sheet of paper into the tray. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I’d highly suggest hiring a guide. The jungle isn’t without its hazards. That area is rife with drug runners.”

68

The guide recommended to Sam and Remi by the property manager was a young man named Nando Sandoval. After hiring him, and acquiring supplies, they drove out the next morning to his address outside of town. The pavement stopped after a few miles, dust kicking up behind their four-wheel drive as they drove slowly down the dirt road, trying to read the addresses on the brightly colored, flat-roofed houses. As they neared, Nando, a wiry man in his early twenties, waved at them.

Sam pulled up in front of the house, rolling down the window. “Ready?”

He nodded. “Let me get my gear. I’ll be just a minute.”

Sam parked, got out, and opened the tailgate. Nando returned shortly with his gear. As Sam loaded it into the back, Nando waved to a woman on the porch. “My wife,” he said. “She has fresh coffee, if you’d like.”

“We’re good,” Sam said. “Had ours before we left.”

“One moment, then.” Nando returned to the porch, kissed his wife, took the stainless steel, insulated coffee cup she held, then walked back to the car, waving at her as they took off.

“Nando,” Sam said as he made a U-turn, heading back down the road. “I’ve heard that name before.”

“Nando Roberto Sandoval is my full name,” he said, his face lighting up with pride. “After the two rugby players whose plane went down in the Andes Mountains in the nineteen seventies.”

Sam recalled reading about the event. Two months after the crash, two of the rugby players made the many days’ trek through the snowy mountains to Chile, bringing back help for the remaining fourteen survivors. “Amazing story,” he said.

“My father thought so,” Nando replied. “I think I’ve always loved the outdoors because of it. The beauty and danger. It’s why I became a guide. Well, when I’m not working at my family’s tire shop.”

“We’re glad to have your help,” Remi said.

—

THE DRIVE TO the location where Nando had made arrangements for them to leave their car took several hours. According to Nando, they had at least a three-day walk through the jungle to the remote village where Dietrich was supposed to be living. When they had their gear, the three set off on foot, following a trail into the jungle, an ever-changing world of color amidst an orchestration of birds

ongs and the percussion of buzzing, clicking, biting insects. They made considerable progress on the first day through the stifling humidity and heat.

Progress slowed halfway through the second day when the trail narrowed. But then it suddenly widened into a well-marked path.

Nando seemed surprised. “This is new.”

Sam didn’t like the looks of it. “You two wait here,” he said. “I want to check this out before we go farther. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“No argument from me,” Remi said. “I can use a rest.”

Nando slid his pack from his shoulders. “I’ve heard about drug runners in the area, but they’ve usually been farther south.”

Sam unsnapped his sidearm. “Just in case, stay off the trail until I get back.”

After he left, Remi looked around for a dry place to set down her pack and rest where she and Nando wouldn’t be seen from the trail and where they wouldn’t be eaten by ants. “Maybe farther in,” she suggested to Nando.

“I’ll check this side, you check that side.”

Remi pushed through a wall of vines, stepping off the trail, seeing something that looked promising just a few feet in. The thick, raised roots of a tree would keep them off the rain-slicked ground, and there were no ants anywhere near it. About to call out to Nando that she’d found a decent spot, she stopped when she heard voices coming from the trail in the direction they’d just traveled.

She stilled, wondering for a moment if it was Sam. No. He’d gone off the opposite way. Setting her pack on the roots, she retraced her steps to the wall of vines, peering through just as three men, automatic rifles slung across their backs, walked up the trail.

Nando appeared on the other side, looking out at her. She held up her hand, warning him to stop, go back. He didn’t move, his expression telling her that he was confused about what she was trying to tell him.

Realizing he couldn’t see the men from where he stood, she pointed in their direction.