The Oracle

by Clive Cussler

  Sam waited for Remi’s signal. The moment she fired, he raced out, then dove next to Hank. He braced his Smith & Wesson on the ground and fired twice.

  Several shots followed, dirt flying up in his face.

  Far too close for his comfort. “Let’s go.”

  “Save yourself.” Hank gripped his thigh, blood seeping from his fingers. “They won’t kill me.”

  “If you don’t get that bleeding stopped, they won’t have to.” He looked across the barren dirt toward the orchard where Remi and Lazlo hid, Remi firing the occasional shot to keep the gunmen in check. “Put your arm around me,” he said.

  Crack! Crack! Crack!

  Remi’s shots echoed across the hillside. She paused, then fired again as Sam dragged Hank to his feet, bracing him while they ran toward the nearest tree.

  Once behind it, Sam lowered Hank to the ground. “Give me your belt,” he said as a barrage of shots hit the massive trunk.

  Hank fumbled at the buckle. Sam pushed his hand aside, tugged the belt from the loops and wrapped the leather strap around Hank’s thigh above the wound. “Don’t move,” he said and edged out.

  Crack!

  The shot hit the tree, bark flying, as Sam ducked back.

  “Maybe if I give myself up,” Hank said, “they’ll stop shooting. They only want the map.”

  “Any chance they realize the map is in the mosaic at the bottom of that villa?”

  “No.”

  “Too bad. They’re likely thinking they’ll pluck it from your dead hands.”

  “I … I … hadn’t considered … that …”

  His face looked a lot grayer, his wound still bleeding. Sadly, Hank might have been better off had Sam left him in the field rather than racing for cover, causing his heart to pump faster.

  The only way to save him was to take out the gunmen. Even if the police arrived in time, they’d never know to come around the back and hike in from the road the same way Tarek had. They’d sweep in from the front. Assuming they didn’t mistake Remi for a shooter, they’d probably be picked off by the gunmen the moment they emerged from the trees.

  He studied the hillside where they were holed up. Remi was the better shot, but it’d be impossible for her to get closer. If he could get up high enough and come at them from the right side, he might have a chance.

  But how?

  To his left, the row of trees led back up to the olive grove. To his right, they led to the ivy-covered ruins. Two more trees flanked either side of the temple. If he could get to that farthest tree, he could work his way past the ruins, then up the hill.

  It’d have to be a perfect setup and execution or it was likely to be his last move.

  Neither he nor Remi had an unlimited supply of ammo, which meant she was going to have to figure out a way to draw their fire without taking unnecessary shots. He looked at her, hoping that she’d figure everything out when she saw him moving.

  If not, it was going to get interesting.

  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

  You must act as if it is impossible to fail.

  – ASHANTI PROVERB –

  A barrage of gunfire from the crest filled the small valley as Sam raced up the hillside toward the last tree—which had seemed a lot closer when he was on the other side of the ruins. It wasn’t until he was safely behind its thick trunk that he looked toward the olive grove to confirm that Remi had indeed managed to draw their fire away from him and toward her.

  With little time to admire his wife’s handiwork, he focused on the gunmen.

  “Give up, Fargo,” Tarek shouted. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”

  “How’s Hamida?” Sam called out. “He didn’t look so good last time I saw him.”

  “Your mistake, letting us go.”

  “Priorities. I was in a hurry.”

  Crack!

  Dirt blasted up about two feet to the right of his tree. Provoking Tarek seemed to be working. “You know what I think? You had better aim that night you were drunk.”

  Crack! Crack!

  Tree bark splintered across his face.

  Tarek laughed. “That’d be the sharpshooter who took Hamida’s place.”

  Sam fired and ducked back. Tarek stopped laughing.

  Sam checked the cylinder of his gun, saw the expended rounds, then looked out across the field toward Remi. If there was ever a time he needed her to read his mind, this was it. But just in case, he shouted in her direction to make sure she heard. “Hey, Tarek. You ever play poker?”

  “Shouldn’t you be praying? Step out. I promise to make it quick.”

  “Number one rule,” Sam shouted. “Never let them know when you’ve got an ace in the hole.” He glanced across the field at his wife.

  C’mon, Remi …

&nbs
p; And there it was. Movement from the orchard drawing their attention.

  Tarek and his partner fired at Lazlo’s shirt, the rat-a-tat-tat sounding like a war zone.

  Sam sidestepped the tree, squeezed the trigger, killing the sharpshooter.

  “Drop the gun, Tarek.”

  Tarek froze. He started to lower his weapon, then suddenly stopped. “Poker …” A sly smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, raising his gun. “You’re out of ammo.”

  Crack!

  The man faltered, crumpling to his knees. “I … thought …”

  He fell to the ground.

  “Thought wrong,” Sam said as he walked up. He had put a bullet in the man’s head. He leaned down and took the gun from his lifeless hand.

  Sam picked up the other shooter’s gun, making sure he was dead, and walked down the hill. Remi raced out of the orchard toward Hank, Lazlo close behind as he tugged on his bullet-riddled shirt.

  “Hank,” she said, kneeling beside him. “Are you okay?”

  He looked up at her, his face ashen. “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to raise his hand but lacking the strength. “Tell LaBelle … I’m sorry …”

  Within moments, he was dead.

  “We better wait at the house,” Sam said.

  Amal saw them as they emerged from the orchard and ran out. It was clear she’d been crying. “How could he do this?” she asked. “Pretending to like Dr. LaBelle. It’ll break her heart.”

  “We may never know,” Remi said.

  “What if you hadn’t come along, Mrs. Fargo? What if … Maybe some of this is my fault for not realizing—”

  “He conned all of us,” Remi said, putting her arm around Amal’s shoulders. “Who knows how long he was setting this up?”

  “Remi’s right,” Sam said. “It’s only a matter of time connecting the irregularities in the books to his actions.”

  Amal gave a slight nod as a faint siren sounded in the air. “I think I’ll wait inside until the police come.”

  She walked off, leaving Sam, Remi, and Lazlo standing alone in the field.

  “I feel bad for her,” Remi said. “First the kidnapping at the school, then this. Still, she reminds me of Nasha in a way.”

  “How?” Sam asked.

  “Extremely resilient in the face of insurmountable odds. I’m not sure the average graduate student could’ve handled everything the way she has.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Lazlo said as the shrill sirens nearly drowned out his voice. In a moment, they were surrounded by the police.

  CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

  One who causes others misfortune also teaches them wisdom.

  – AFRICAN PROVERB –

  THREE DAYS LATER …

  You must be glad that they found Makao,” Renee said as she sat with the Fargos and Lazlo at the kitchen table. The police investigation into the shooting had consumed much of their time with endless rounds of questioning, phone calls, and visits to the Fargos’ hotel, and they were told to expect still more interviews in the coming days as the detectives pieced together everything Hank had done. Renee, at least, was finally home. “He’s dead?”

  “Very,” Remi added.

  Lazlo gave a small smile as he rose and moved toward the window. “Apparently, Mrs. Fargo’s shot caused a serious infection. Had he sought proper medical care, he’d be rotting in prison instead of a grave.”

  “I’m sure that was foremost in his mind,” Sam said.

  “Regardless,” Remi continued. “It’s making life for Pete and Wendy a lot easier. Wendy’s hoping that with the military clearing out, the school can get back to a normal routine. More importantly, Nasha and her uncle can go home.”

  José walked into the kitchen, a tilt of the head to them as he made for the coffeepot. “Did Dr. LaBelle tell you that we found a wire yesterday?”

  “Where?” Sam asked.

  Renee brought up a photo of the battery-operated listening device on her phone, showing it to Sam. “Taped right here underneath this table. We turned it over to the police.”

  “What I don’t get,” José said as he poured coffee into a mug, “is why Hank would plant a wire when he was here the whole time?”

  Sam examined the photo, then passed the phone to Remi. “It gave him a way to let Tarek know what was going on without it being obvious he was the one passing on the info.”

  “I feel terrible,” Renee replied. “How did I ever believe Warren was guilty? How did I never realize how deep in debt Hank was?”

  “Because Hank went to extreme pains to cover it all up.”

  Lazlo drew himself from the window, looking back at them. “Now that it’s all proverbial water under the bridge, is it too soon to see if there’s any truth to this vision of Amal’s?”

  “You’re serious?” Sam asked. “You realize she only came up with that vision to help us find the mole.”

  “Whether the vision’s real or not,” Lazlo said, “there’s a valuable scroll out there. And Narcissus is definitely pointing to an oddity in the reflecting pool in the mosaic. That deserves looking into.”

  “I’m with Lazlo,” Renee said. “It’s just the thing our crew needs to get past all of this.” She picked up her phone. “I’ll text Osmond and Amal to see if they want to head down with us to the ruins. If it’s not there, we cross it off as a possible location for the scroll and move on to the next.”

  “What do you say, Fargo?” Remi smiled at her husband. “Shall we make a last stab effort? Who knows what we might find.”

  “Why not?”

  An hour later, after they visited the villa to take a closer look at the mosaic—just in case it really was a map—the entire group, including Nasha and her uncle, traipsed through the olive grove toward the ruins. As they emerged from the trees, the blue sky above them, Remi was glad that there was little evidence of the shoot-out that had gone on just a couple days before, since it would only add to Renee’s stress.

  “Doesn’t look like anything much, Dr. LaBelle,” Nasha said, stopping.

  “A mudslide covered part of the ruins,” Renee told her. “The rest is covered by ivy. But once you know what to look for, it changes everything. That row of trees, for example,” she said, pointing to the ancient olives that Sam had hidden behind with Hank, “actually follows the road that leads to the ruins. You’ll see some of the pavers as we get closer. And those two olive trees growing at the base of the hill flanked the front of the temple. If you look carefully behind the tree on the left, you can see part of the steps leading up to it. And the area in front of both trees,” she added, “where nothing’s growing, would’ve been the reflecting pool. On a moonlit night, the entire temple would’ve been mirrored upon the surface.”

  Nasha looked over at her. “How can you tell all that from what looks like nothing but dirt, rock, and bunch of old ivy?”

  Renee laughed. “Part imagination and part because that happens to be what’s depicted in the mosaic down in the villa we’re restoring.”

  A light breeze rippled through the grove. Remi brushed back her hair as she moved beside Renee. “Now that you mention it, I can picture the resemblance to the mosaic. The right tree is the one Echo was hiding behind. And to the left of it, Narcissus was lying on the bottom step, pointing into the water …” She turned to Lazlo. “But a hidden staircase in the reflecting pool? Beneath the water? I doubt any scroll would survive. Unless, of course, we’re looking for something chiseled on a tablet.”

  “Not necessarily,” Lazlo said. “I doubt that reflecting pool has seen water in centuries. Dr. LaBelle would know better, but I suspect the temple was in ruins before either Hilderic or Gelimer reigned.”

  Renee studied the hillside as they walked that direction. “Sadly, I have to agree with Remi. There’s not much hope if it was indeed buried.”

  “The Dead Sea Scrolls survived in clay pots,” Lazlo said.

  “Which were in open caves,” Renee replied. “But buried beneath the reflecting pool?
I’ll be happy if we find a few fragments in a pot.”

  Mr. Atiku looked down at Nasha as they walked. “You actually have roots here in Tunisia.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re Nigerian on your father’s side, but your ancestors on your mother’s side were Numidian.”

  “What’s Numidian?” she asked.

  “Parts of ancient Tunisia and Algeria.”

  Nasha stole a glance at Amal. “Maybe we’re long-lost cousins.”

  “Maybe.”

  When they reached the temple, Renee stopped everyone in front of the stairs, then looked out over the vast space they’d just crossed. “If this is the spot Narcissus is pointing to, I’m not sure how anything would’ve survived. Amal, are you sure this is what you saw in your vision?”

  She took a slow look around the area and gave a sigh. “I don’t even remember speaking. But I’ll take a walk around and see if something comes up.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Osmond said.

  Amal waited for him, and the two walked down the steps, Osmond saying, “Maybe we need to start another stove fire. You seem to be triggered by the smoke.”

  She burst out laughing.

  Renee joined Remi, who was standing beneath the shade of an ancient olive. “I so hope we find something before you and Sam have to leave.”

  “Well, even with Rube’s help, I think we’ll be here for several days. The police still haven’t signed off on the shootings.” Remi nodded at Amal as she and Osmond wandered off. “One good thing came out of all this. Looks like she finally noticed him.”

  “Let’s hope so. It’ll be nice to see her like her old self.”

  Two hours later, they hadn’t found anything near the stairs that appeared to house a hidden staircase. Renee looked out over the ruins. “José, bring up the photo of the mosaic. There’s got to be something we’re missing.”

  CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

  Looking for something can get in the way of finding it.