The Oracle

by Clive Cussler

  “I made a promise. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate that.”

  “Zara?” Pete asked. “Will she still be attending?”

  “I think you need to ask Zara that question,” Okoro said, watching the men unload the truck. He looked at Pete, his dark eyes unreadable. “Her mother gave up everything to marry me and live out here in the middle of nowhere. But it was a choice she willingly made. She would want her daughter to have that same choice.”

  “And what about you?” Pete asked. “What do you want?”

  “I want my daughter to be safe.” He was quiet a moment, smiling to himself. “My wife used to tell me there’d be no sons of Nigeria if there are no daughters of Nigeria.”

  “Wise woman,” Pete said.

  “Very.” Okoro nodded at the truck. “She’d also say that we should help those who are helping us.”

  Pete looked relieved. “Definitely.”

  The three men walked over to the truck, helping to unload the shingles. On their way back, Sam saw Lazlo watching Nasha jumping rope, chanting “Sator, arepo—daughters of the sun. Tenet, opera, rotas—convey me to the light …”

  One of the girls quit turning her side of the rope. “That’s not a jump rope song.”

  “It’s the only one I know,” Nasha said, crossing her arms. “I learned it from Amal.”

  “Start over. We’ll sing one for you.” Soon, Nasha was happily jumping to a song about a teddy bear turning around.

  Curious about Lazlo’s interest, Sam asked, “Since when have you found jump rope so intriguing?”

  “Not even in my youth, Mr. Fargo. But the song strikes a chord …”

  “Teddy bears?”

  “The Latin ditty she was singing before that.”

  “Will it make the work go faster?” He nodded toward the trucks being unloaded.

  “On my way,” he said, his gaze still on the girls.

  As Sam left the courtyard, he glanced toward the office, where Remi and the lieutenant stood, Remi holding a tablet, nodding as she pointed to something on the screen. A few minutes later, she was on her phone. She looked up, and waved him over.

  “Renee,” Remi whispered, then listened intently to whatever her friend was saying. “Of course. We won’t say anything to Amal until I hear back from you. We can head out first thing.”

  “For what?” Sam asked as she disconnected.

  “That break-in at their dig site. It was definitely Warren.”

  “Why are we going there? The police should be handling that.”

  “He’s dead, Sam. They found him at the bottom of the villa.”

  “Did he fall?”

  “That’s what Renee thought. But the police don’t seem to be treating it like an accident. The only thing that leaves is suicide. She doesn’t want Amal to know until she’s sure about what happened. We have to go back.”

  She gave him her this is nonnegotiable look just as someone started laughing from the roof of the dorm. He glanced that direction, seeing a couple of soldiers laying flats of shingles across the decking. Between Pete, Wendy, and their new guardian angels, there was really very little he, Remi, or Lazlo could do here. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll call the flight crew and let them know. Next stop, Tunisia.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  What you help a child to love

  can be more important than what you help him to learn.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  Early the next morning, Remi stood next to Amal and Lazlo as Wendy and Monifa brought the children out to the front of the school to say good-bye. Before Remi or Amal could even think what to say, the girls ran forward, each working her way in for a hug. Jol, Zara, Tambara, and Maryam waited until the other girls cleared, then wrapped their arms around both women.

  Remi stood back, smiling at them. “We had quite an adventure. You were all marvelous.”

  “Yes, you were,” Amal said. “But let’s not do it again anytime soon.”

  The four laughed and backed away as Wendy stepped in, saying, “Okay. Let’s give them some space. They have a long trip ahead.”

  A moment later, Pete and Yaro stepped out of the office, both with small duffels slung over their shoulders. With Makao and his gang still on the loose, the Fargos weren’t taking any chances. They decided to caravan to Jalingo, Pete and Yaro in the truck, Sam, Remi, Amal, and Lazlo in the Land Rover. With the school well guarded, Pete and Yaro planned on spending the night in Jalingo and picking up the beds they’d ordered for the new dorm the following morning.

  Sam loaded their bags in the back, closing the tailgate. “Are you ready, Remi?”

  “Wait,” she said. “Where’s our youngest Musketeer?”

  Wendy nodded toward the office. Nasha sat on the porch steps, a stick in her hand, tapping it on the ground. When she looked up and saw Remi watching her, she snapped the stick in two.

  “Give me a minute.” Remi walked over to the office, sitting down next to Nasha. “Why didn’t you want to come say good-bye?”

  Nasha shrugged but wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead watching Pete and Yaro, who were tying down the back of the canvas on the truck.

  Remi looked over at them, then back at Nasha. “I’m not sure when I’m going to see you again.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” She tossed half of the broken stick to the ground. “No one ever comes back.”

  As much as Remi wished she could promise to find Nasha’s uncle—or, at the very least, find who might be responsible for her in his absence—she wasn’t about to raise her hopes only to have them dashed again. Still, she had to say something. “You know, sometimes people want to come back, but things happen. It doesn’t mean they ever stopped loving you.”

  “What kinds of things happen?”

  “Maybe they got in an accident and they didn’t have a way to call you. Or they didn’t have enough money.” Remi laid her hand over Nasha’s. “But that’s not going to happen to me. I’m coming back. I just don’t know when.”

  “Never. Like everyone else.”

  “Someday,” Remi said. “I promise.”

  Nasha’s response was to whack the remaining half of her broken stick against the wooden step.

  “I have a friend who needs my help,” Remi continued. “Just like I needed yours when we were in trouble. I promised her. You wouldn’t want me to break that promise, would you?”

  “No …” She hit the step one more time and looked up at Remi, her eyes troubled. “But what if you were mad because your friend did something wrong? Could you break your promise then?”

  “I’d try to find a way to make it right. Because that’s what friends do.”

  She tossed the stick, her dark eyes shimmering. “Why can’t I go with you?” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ll try to be good.”

  Remi’s heart twisted as she put her arm around Nasha’s thin shoulders. It was a minute before she could even get past the lump in her throat. “I’m going to miss you most of all,”

  Nasha threw herself at Remi, pulling tight. “I’ll never forget you. Never.”

  “I know.” Remi held her for several seconds, then gently pried her loose. “Now, go say good-bye to Amal. She’s going to miss you, too.”

  Nasha wiped the tears from her cheeks and ran across the gravel, jumping into Amal’s outstretched arms. Where she disappeared to after that, Remi didn’t know. When they were in the car, pulling out of the gate, Sam looked over at Remi. “Something in your eye?”

  She glanced in the side mirror, watching all the girls racing past the army trucks toward the gate, waving good-bye. “A lot of somethings.”

  They were halfway to Jalingo when Remi’s phone rang. Expecting it to be Renee with news about what had happened to Warren, she was surprised to see Wendy’s number on the screen when she answered it. “Did we forget something?”

  “It’s Nasha. I haven’t been able to find her since you left. Did she say anything to you?”

&n
bsp; “She was upset we were leaving.”

  Sam looked at her. “What is it?”

  “Nasha. They can’t find her.” Remi turned on the speaker and shifted in her seat, looking back at Amal. “Did she say anything to you?”

  “Just that she’d miss me. What about up in her tree?”

  “We’ve searched everywhere,” Wendy said.

  Remi glanced out the rear window, seeing the supply truck behind them. “Oh no … Sam, stop the car.”

  Sam braked and again looked at Remi as Pete pulled to a stop behind them. “You don’t think …?”

  “Think what?” Wendy asked.

  “Hold on,” Remi said. They got out of the Land Rover and walked back toward the truck.

  Pete hopped out, following them around to the cargo bed. “Something wrong?”

  Sam unhooked the canvas covering, pulling it up. “Stowaway,” Sam said.

  Nasha braced herself in the corner, a look of determination on her face as she stared back at them. “Are you mad at me?”

  “She’s here, Wendy. We’ll call you back.” Remi dropped her phone into her pocket. “Nasha … I thought you liked it at the school.”

  She bit at her bottom lip, then in a rush said, “I have to go back to Jalingo.”

  “Why?”

  “I promised. My friend’s there all by himself.”

  “Chuk?” Sam asked, surprising Remi he even knew who Nasha was talking about.

  Nasha nodded.

  “We can’t leave him there,” Remi said.

  “No,” Sam replied. “I’m just trying to figure out the logistics. I don’t think Kambili’s going to willingly give him up. If we’re lucky, we’ll find him out on the street.”

  But once they reached Jalingo, the street where they’d first been accosted by the boys was surprisingly empty of pickpockets. Sam took a quick look around. “Pete, we’ll need you to stand guard while Remi and I go in. The rest of you wait here.”

  As they walked off, Remi heard Lazlo saying to Amal, “I’ve been meaning to ask you about this jump rope rhyme you taught to Nasha. A bit of Latin, I believe.”

  “Latin? I don’t recall teaching her any.”

  “Pity, that. It reminded me of something. Nasha, what was that rhyme …?”

  Remi, figuring Lazlo was reflecting on his lost youth, hurried after Sam and Pete. A few minutes later, they descended on the Kalu shop, only to discover that Kambili wasn’t there.

  But neither was Chuk.

  “He’s with Kambili,” one of the boys said.

  “And Scarface,” another added. “They’re taking him home.”

  “Home?” Sam looked over at Remi.

  “Lucky for us, we’ve brought the cavalry.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  A snake can shed its skin but it still remains a snake.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  The village was much smaller than Makao had anticipated, but he hoped they’d be able to use that to their advantage and quickly find the girl’s uncle. The sooner they found him, the sooner they’d be able to lure the Fargos into his scheme.

  “How do you know the man?” Makao asked, looking in the rearview mirror at the young boy sleeping in the backseat.

  “Never met him,” Kambili said. “Word got out that I took in homeless boys.”

  “Out of the goodness of your heart. They forget to mention the way you help them is by turning them into street thieves?”

  “They’d starve to death if not for me.”

  More like Kambili would starve to death if not for the kids, Makao thought, ignoring the stares of the people as he drove past. One problem with a village this small was that everyone knew everyone. He and Kambili would definitely stand out. “We need to think of a good reason why we’re searching for this guy.”

  “Trying to bring Jonathon Atiku’s nephew home.”

  “Niece.”

  Kambili shifted in his seat, looking back at the sleeping boy. “What about him?”

  “What do I care? Take him back with you when we’re done. We need to find Atiku’s farm. Once we have Atiku, we can contact the Fargos and give them our ultimatum. When they bite, we move in.”

  It didn’t take long to drive the length of the village. There was one dirt road through the center, and there were a number of burned huts in the south part of the village. Most of those that still stood were made of mud, some with corrugated tin roofs, others with thatched. “Wake him,” Makao said.

  Kambili reached back, slapping Chuk’s knee. “We’re here.”

  The boy stirred, sitting up. He looked around, confused. “Where are we?”

  “This is your village, isn’t it?” Makao asked. “Where does Nash’s uncle live?”

  Chuk shrugged. “I don’t know. This doesn’t look right.”

  Makao, seeing a woman carrying a jug on her way toward the well, rolled down his window. “We’re looking for Jonathon Atiku.”

  She shook her head and quickened her pace. After several more attempts to ask other locals, Makao and Kambili got out, Kambili pulling Chuk from the cab, holding his hand tight as they walked along the street. Chuk seemed baffled, unable to determine where the Atiku farm was located. “Everything looks different,” he said, staring at the burned-down huts.

  Makao tried offering money to some of the locals for information. Even then people backed away.

  “I don’t understand,” Kambili said. “Why won’t they tell us what we want to know?”

  Makao stepped in front of a young man, holding several bills out to him. “Where do we find Jonathon Atiku’s house?”

  The young man gave Makao an odd look. “It’s your money,” he said, grabbing the bills. “This way.” He led them past a few huts and pointed to the east. “That’s his farm. A year ago, Boko Haram burned it because he hid the boys working his fields.”

  There was nothing left but a blackened shell of crumbling walls.

  “Where is he?” Makao asked.

  “Dead, I guess.” He backed away, then ran off.

  “Hey.” Kambili started to follow.

  “Let him go.” Makao looked down at the boy, noting the fear in his eyes. “Where would Nash’s uncle go?”

  “I don’t know. I’m hungry.”

  “Me, too,” Kambili said.

  They walked to the market, ate, and asked a few more people, finding them all unhelpful. The terrorists had instilled in them a distrust of strangers.

  “Wasted trip,” Kambili said as they returned to Makao’s truck.

  He was about to agree when he glanced down the street and noticed a familiar-looking vehicle at the far end of the road. Not wasted at all.

  The Fargos were there.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Only a wise person can solve a difficult problem.

  – AKAN PROVERB –

  After Sam pulled into the village, he parked alongside a bungalow, where a too-thin dog lying beside it in the shade watched them with wary interest. The dog wasn’t the only one watching. Even if Pete had not rolled in behind them with the supply truck, they might as well have installed a neon sign on the top of their vehicle announcing Virtual Strangers. The rented Land Rover was decades newer than any of the vehicles owned or driven by the local residents. The same held true for Makao’s white Toyota pickup, which Sam had noticed the second he’d driven onto the lone, dusty road.

  Remi fished the binoculars from Sam’s pack, peering through them. “Makao, Kambili, and—”

  “Chuk,” Nasha said from the back, leaning forward. “You were right, Mr. Fargo. Kambili brought him home.”

  Not quite how Sam would’ve phrased it, but he wasn’t about to mention that to Nasha, who had yet to realize the significance of Kambili’s and Makao’s presence in her uncle’s village.

  No doubt in Sam’s and Remi’s minds, though. Those men were after her uncle to get to the Fargos.

  Remi passed the binoculars to Sam.

  He focused on the two men who were standing
in front of the Toyota. The boy, Chuk, started backing away. Kambili grabbed him by the shoulder, then dragged the kid to the truck, opened the back door and shoved him in.

  “Lazlo,” he said, keeping his focus on Kambili and Makao. “Do you remember that story I told you about the time Remi and I were in Juárez with a couple of our friends?”

  “Yes … Wait. Surely you don’t mean …?”

  Remi, her Sig Sauer already drawn, looked back at him. “You’re welcome to take my spot?”

  “Dear heavens, no.” Lazlo gave a tepid smile and opened the Rover’s door. “Come along,” he said to Amal and Nasha. “I have yet to see a Fargo car make it through unscathed.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Sam slapped the dash. “Not a mark on this thing.”

  Lazlo turned a dubious expression Sam’s way as he held the door for Nasha and Amal. “I’ll call Mrs. Fargo’s phone when I’m there.”

  As the professor hurried the two away, Nasha asked him, “What does unscathed mean?”

  “It means you don’t want to be anywhere near their car when the fighting starts.”

  Sam kept his attention on Makao as he and Kambili stood in front of their truck. “Ready?”

  “Ready,” Remi said.

  He called Pete, giving him a quick rundown, then let the car idle forward until they were about fifty yards away from Makao’s pickup. Not unexpectedly, Sam’s phone rang. He answered. “Can’t say I was expecting to hear from you again, Makao.”

  “You have something I want. Money. I have something you want.”

  “Which would be …?” Sam asked.

  “We were hoping for the girl’s uncle but feel certain you’ll settle for the boy.”

  “What makes you think we want him?”

  “You came this far, didn’t you?”

  Sam sensed Remi bristling. He checked her phone, sitting in the cupholder, waiting for Lazlo’s call. “How much?” he asked Makao.

  “The same as before. One hundred thousand dollars. When you wire it to my account, I’ll give you the boy.”

  Finally, Remi’s phone lit up. Lazlo was in place. “No need,” Sam said. “I’ve got the money here.”