The Oracle

by Clive Cussler

  Hearing the worry in her voice, Remi decided to hold off asking any more questions about the books or about Warren. “Forget everything else. Tell me about the villa.” For the next hour, they let their imaginations run wild about what they might find beneath all the rubble once it was cleared. Hearing her friend so animated over the project reaffirmed Remi’s belief that she’d taken the right course of action. Plenty of time to address the embezzled funds later.

  When the waiter appeared, they ordered refills of their drinks. Remi watched him walk across the grounds toward the gate, stopping to talk to two men, one wearing a white shirt and black slacks, the other in khaki pants and a green shirt. She wouldn’t have given them more than a look in passing except that the hotel employee suddenly looked in their direction, giving Remi the distinct feeling that she and Renee were the topic of conversation. “Do you know either of those men?” Remi asked.

  Renee shaded her eyes and shook her head. “No clue.”

  Curious, Remi watched as the two strangers walked through the gate. They seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place them.

  The two men smiled as they neared, yet their implied friendliness failed to reach their eyes. Remi looked around for something she could use as a weapon. The only thing remotely adequate were Renee’s crutches—unfortunately, on the other side of the lounge chair out of reach.

  It wouldn’t have mattered. The men quickly closed in, one grabbing an abandoned towel from the back of a poolside chair as he walked past. He used it to cover the gun he pulled from beneath his shirt.

  “Come with us,” the man said, the barrel of his gun level with Remi’s head. “And don’t make a sound.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Noise and hunting don’t go together.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  Nothing on Makao?” Sam asked, looking down at his phone, which was propped against the lamp on the desk for his video call. Pete shook his head. “Not yet. But they’re following up a few leads on some of his known friends. I did get some good news, though. Yaro was telling Okoro about Nasha’s uncle. When Okoro heard how Boko Haram invaded the village and burned down his farm, he suggested leasing a part of his tea fields to him. That way, Nasha can still attend the school, and he’ll be a lot closer. He’s agreed to come look at Okoro’s land to discuss a possible lease, then take a tour of the school.”

  Lazlo, seated on the couch behind Sam, absorbed in something on the screen of the computer tablet he was holding, looked up at the news. “Good show,” he called out.

  “Remi will be glad to hear that,” Sam said, glancing out the fourth-floor window. The hotel room overlooked the pool where Remi and Renee had taken up residence beneath an umbrella under one of the tall palms. What he didn’t expect to see was two men standing over the women, one with a towel draped over his hand. Had the man been a waiter, Sam might not have been so concerned. But the hotel staff wore uniforms, and neither man looked as though he was dressed for lounging around the pool.

  “Once things settle down,” Pete said, “Yaro and I plan to head out and—”

  Sam drew his gun and rushed to the balcony.

  “Mr. Fargo?” Pete called out. “What’s going on?”

  “Remi’s in trouble. Lazlo, call the police.” Through the palm fronds, he saw both women rise from their chairs, the two men taking up a position on either side. He heard Lazlo on the phone, but he knew the police would never get there in time. Nor would he, for that matter.

  Those men would have his wife and Renee out the gate to the parking lot before he ever made it downstairs.

  He aimed at the man closest to Remi, the one holding the towel, but the breeze gusted. The row of palm trees swayed, obscuring his vision. If he waited until they cleared the trees, his trusty .38 wasn’t going to cut it. There were too many guests scattered about on lounge chairs. And he didn’t dare leave the balcony to retrieve his wife’s Sig.

  “Remi,” he shouted.

  The man next to Remi looked up. She rammed her elbow into his side and swept upward, knocking his gun from his hand. He pushed Remi and dove for the weapon. Sam fired at the ground.

  The gunman jerked to a stop. A few guests looked around, unsure what the sharp noise was. Sam fired about a foot behind the second kidnapper. The shot ricocheted, hitting the planter behind him. Guests screamed. Remi pivoted, grabbing one of Renee’s crutches, swinging it against the other man’s knees. As he stumbled forward, the first gunman lunged at the two women. Remi swung the crutch again, knocking him into the stone planter. He scrambled to his feet and dashed after his partner.

  Several hotel employees ran out, surrounding the women, helping Renee to a chair. Lazlo was still on the phone as Sam raced to the stairs, taking them down two at a time. He burst through the door to the pool. “Remi.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, looking at him. “We’re both fine.”

  She looked at Renee, then walked over to Sam, speaking quietly. “Just a run-of-the-mill kidnapping attempt.”

  “That part seemed obvious. I’m just trying to figure out—” He stopped when one of the hotel managers came running toward them.

  The man looked as though he might faint. “Is anyone hurt?”

  “No,” Remi said.

  “They came in asking if there was a Western woman at the hotel pool. They said they’d hit her car and wanted to talk to her.”

  Sam exchanged a look with Remi, before asking, “At the pool?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Their exact words?” Sam asked. “It’s important.”

  He indicated the gate where the conversation had taken place. “They said they’d hit a car parked out front and asked if the two women at the poolside belonged to it. I told them I couldn’t give out that information. I assure you, had I suspected anything was amiss, I would never have returned inside.” He looked at Remi and her friend. “I am very, very sorry.”

  Remi smiled at the man. “We’re both fine, I promise. Perhaps, though, you could call the police?”

  “Of course.” He bowed several times, backing away, and stopped in surprise at the sight of the police walking through the gate.

  “Lazlo,” Sam explained.

  “A shame they didn’t get here about two minutes sooner. The kidnappers might’ve run right into them.”

  After the report was taken, with assurances from both the police and the hotel staff that the area was normally very safe, the three retreated to the Fargos’ suite, where Renee called Hank to let him know what had happened.

  “Hold on,” Hank said. “I think we have a bad connection. Can’t hear a word you’re saying. Let me move to higher ground and call you back.”

  Renee’s phone rang just a few minutes later, this time a video call. Hank’s face filled her screen, the ruins of Bulla Regia behind him. “Tell me I heard wrong, LaBelle. I thought you said someone tried to kidnap you.”

  “They did,” she said.

  “But you’re okay? Where were you? I thought you were at the hotel.”

  “We were. At the pool. But we got away.”

  “Thank heavens. How’d you manage that?”

  “Remi grabbed one of my crutches and whacked the guy. And then Sam shot at them from the balcony. They both took off.”

  His mouth dropped open. “From the balcony? Thank goodness he was even there.” He cleared his throat. “How are you otherwise?”

  “I’m fine …”

  Sam drew Remi to the side, out of their hearing. “There’s no way this is some random kidnapping. I think Makao’s got tentacles all the way to Tunisia.”

  “That may be the case,” Remi replied, “but I’m not sure this has anything to do with Makao.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I remembered where I saw those two men before. In the restaurant the afternoon of Renee’s accident. I think this is the second time they’ve tried to kidnap us.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  One who has been bitten by a snake lives in fe
ar of worms.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  You’re sure those are the same two men?” Sam asked.

  Remi, not wanting to alarm Renee, who was sitting just a few feet away, kept her smile intact. “Almost positive.”

  “That changes about everything. It definitely makes you wonder what Warren was really involved in.”

  The officers took statements from the Fargos and Renee, talked to a couple of poolside witnesses, and asked for any surveillance videos management might have. After they left, Sam, Remi, and Renee retreated to the restaurant for lunch.

  Renee, Remi noticed, kept shifting around in her seat anytime anyone walked in or out of the restaurant. “You’re safe now,” Remi said.

  “How do you know anyone here isn’t one of them?” she asked, then nodded out the window toward the pool. “Or anyone out there?”

  Remi again smiled. “Sam has his back to the wall. No one’s getting in or out without him seeing.”

  When their food was served, Renee picked at the meal, unable to eat. Finally, she pushed her plate away. “I’ll call Hank to pick me up. I can’t stay here after this.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Remi said, wishing she could reassure her friend that this was an isolated incident, not likely to repeat itself. “But we can take you back, can’t we, Sam?”

  He drew his attention from the door, looking over at them, along with their unfinished plates. His plate was empty. “Might be for the best. Why don’t you two go up to the room, get her things, and meet me out front.”

  They were on the road within fifteen minutes.

  Renee, quiet during the drive, perked up as they neared the archeological park. “Since my ankle keeps me out of the field, I can definitely get some paperwork done. I don’t suppose you want to sit down with those books now, do you?”

  Sam looked back at her in the rearview mirror. “If you think you’re up for it. It’s not like Remi and I have anything better to do.”

  “Good. That’ll be a weight off my shoulders once we get everything reconciled.”

  Sam pulled up in front of the small house at the bottom of the olive grove. The three walked up the graveled drive to the door, where Renee inserted a key in the lock. “You’ll have to forgive the mess,” she said, standing aside to let them in. “They sort of tossed the place during the burglary.”

  “Anything stolen from the house?” Remi asked.

  “Not that we can tell, thank goodness.”

  Once inside, she leaned her crutches against the wall, switched on the portable air conditioner, and sat at the desk. “Pull up a chair,” she said.

  Sam and Remi took the seats opposite her, while she swiveled around to look at the bookshelf on the wall behind her. “Okay, where is it?” She leaned forward, scrutinizing the shelves, pulling out several green ledgers, turning around and placing them on the desk in front of her. She opened each one, scanned the first page, then shoved it aside. “That’s odd. I don’t see it. The ledger with the discrepancies in it.”

  Sam and Remi exchanged glances.

  Renee looked up, her expression worn, tense. “I’m just so sorry to have roped you into this.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Remi said, kicking the side of Sam’s shoe, “is it, Sam?”

  “Of course not.” He turned to the window. “You know, while you two look for the missing book, I think I’ll head down to the site, see what Hank’s up to. I haven’t really had a chance to talk to him since we’ve been back.”

  Remi watched him walk out the door, wondering what he was really looking for.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE

  If you observe attentively, you will even find wisdom in shadows.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  Sam strolled down the rocky path and through the open gate, where Amal, Osmond, and José were kneeling at a shallow excavation. Nasha sat next to Amal, watching as the team gently brushed the dust of centuries away from small protrusions in the dirt. At one point, Amal handed her brush to the girl, showing her how to work it without displacing the shards.

  Nasha looked up, saw Sam, and held up the brush. “Look. I’m being an archeologist.”

  He crouched down beside them to see what they were working on. “Find anything yet?”

  “Miss Amal says they’re broken pieces of pottery. They look like rocks to me.”

  “Keep working,” Sam said. “You never know what you’ll find … Is Hank around?”

  Nasha rolled her eyes, her tone one of frustration as she said, “Yes. And he won’t let me go down there to see the mosaic.”

  Amal angled her head back toward the gated-off excavation. “Finishing up the repairs to the scaffolding. Unless he somehow tiptoed past us, he’s still down there. I can run over and get him, if you like.”

  “I can use the walk. Happy hunting.”

  The damaged decking had been removed from the entrance and was piled in a stack near the gate. Sam passed it by, then backtracked, picking up one of the broken deck boards, which still had a nail sticking out of it.

  He tossed it aside and picked up another. And another. After finding two broken boards that appeared to have been partially sawed through, he walked to the entrance, where a ladder poked up. “Hank?”

  “Down here.”

  Sam peered in. “I take it the police finished their investigation?”

  “So it seems.” Hank stood in the light of a lamp clamped to a sawhorse. He lifted the light’s extension cord, stepping beneath it, to look up at Sam. “Come on down. The deck’s been repaired. It’s safe.”

  “Did you happen to see the cut boards?”

  “Cut?”

  “As in partly sawed through.”

  “No … You’re sure it’s not something that happened when the crew came and tore it out?”

  “Doubt it.” Sam climbed down the ladder onto the now solid scaffolding. “This is where they found Warren?”

  Hank nodded. “I was at the airport, waiting for LaBelle to pick me up, when she found him.” He pointed to the pile of rubble. “That’s where he fell. I’ve dumped water over the bloodstains, but the masonry is rather porous, so I figured I’d remove the, uh, more obvious pieces. I’d hate for LaBelle to have to see it when she’s able to come down. Slowly clearing this out.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Thought it was the right thing to do. Couldn’t really ask José or Osmond. Warren was like a father to them.” He leaned down, picking up a large chunk, placing it in a wooden box.

  “I’d be glad to help.”

  “I’d be glad to accept. If you’re sure you’re up to it. I can’t imagine wanting to do much of anything but drink after the morning you and your wife had.”

  “All’s well,” Sam said. “We can’t ask for more than that.”

  The two worked side by side, clearing out some of the rubble to get to the bloodstain on the mosaic beneath.

  Eventually, the conversation died as they concentrated on the labor. Sam placed a heavy remnant into the now nearly full box and brushed the dust from his hands. “That must have been some earthquake, to wipe out an entire city like this.”

  “I expect it was.” Hank picked up several small pieces, placing them gently on top of the other remnants they’d collected, then scrutinized the area. “I think it looks safe enough, should any of them wander down. This is about as far as we can go with this load. That bucket and pulley were what we were using to clear it out. But they haven’t been repaired yet.”

  “Who built it? The decking?”

  “Local contractors.”

  “Good thing Dr. LaBelle is so petite,” Sam said. “Can you imagine if you’d been hauling up all this rock when that accident occurred?”

  Hank eyeballed the wooden box. “That could’ve been deadly for anyone standing beneath it …” He looked over at Sam. “I could see Warren stealing something, but revenge? I would never have thought that of him.”

  A shadow darkened the entry above them.

  They
looked up to see Amal and Nasha looking down.

  “Everything okay?” Hank called out.

  “Fine,” Amal said. “My mother wants to know if you, the Fargos, and Lazlo would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. If so, I need to leave a bit early today to catch a bus to the market.”

  Hank grinned. “I can’t speak for the Fargos, but I’d be delighted.”

  “So would we,” Sam said. “Remi’s at the house with Renee. I’m sure she’d be glad to drive you in. It’ll give her something to do.”

  “Thank you. I’ll go ask.”

  “Her mother’s an amazing cook,” Hank said to Sam after she left. “Poor thing, usually has to take the bus. Can’t drive due to her seizures.” He pulled off his gloves, tossing them onto the rock pile. “Well, not much more we can do down here today. Eventually, I’ll get the pulley system fixed and I can actually start moving this out. At least it no longer looks like a crime scene.” He started for the ladder, adding, “I expect now is as good a time as any to go over the books.”

  “Dr. LaBelle couldn’t find them.”

  “I know right where they are. I’ll show you.”

  They climbed out and walked to the house. When they entered the front door, Hank made for the bookshelf where Renee had been searching less than an hour before. “It was here, I’m sure of it.”

  “When’s the last time you saw it?”

  “LaBelle and I were sitting in here talking about it the morning of her accident. I suppose it’s highly possible Warren came in and took it while we were at the hospital.” They found the women sitting at the kitchen table. Hank pulled out the chair next to Renee and sat. “How are you? You’re not hurt from—”

  “No,” Renee said. “Just stressed. Remi made me chamomile tea. It’s helping.” She gave him a tired smile. “What’d you need?”

  “I was trying to remember the last time we saw the ledger. The morning of your accident, wasn’t it?”