The Oracle (Fargo Adventures #11) - Clive Cussler Page 0,113
Osmond sat at the table. “Had I not gotten sick at the school, I could’ve come back here with her. She wouldn’t have been alone when she found Warren. They would’ve believed her and gone after the real killer.”
“It’ll work out,” Sam said.
Hank brought a coffeepot and three mugs to the table, then went back to the stove and dumped a plate of chopped potatoes into the frying pan. They sizzled as soon as they hit the surface, the scent of onion and bacon filling the air. “We’re having a bit of a late start, but you’re welcome to join us for breakfast.”
“No, thank you,” Remi said. “We’ve eaten.”
“I haven’t,” Lazlo said. “I’d love a plate.”
Hank used a spatula to stir the potatoes. “Off to the airport this morning?” he asked, looking back at them.
“Sam and I are picking up Nasha’s uncle,” Remi said.
“Ah. Not you, professor?”
“No,” Lazlo said as someone knocked at the back door. “Thought I’d stick around here. Mr. Fargo mentioned that you might need some help clearing some of the rubble.”
“I’ll take any help I can get.” Hank tipped his head at Amal and Nasha as they walked in. “Breakfast?”
“Yes,” Nasha said.
Amal laughed. “You just ate.”
“I’m still hungry.”
Hank looked at the coffeepot, then at Amal. “Stir the potatoes. I’ll put another pot of coffee on.”
Amal took the spatula from him. “Any word yet on Dr. LaBelle?” she asked, adjusting the flame.
“No,” he said. “I don’t know how long these sorts of things take. Do you, Mr. Fargo?”
“I wish I did. I’ll try to call the embassy and see if we can get an update after we get back from the airport.”
The pan flared. Amal stepped back as smoke filled the stovetop.
Hank rushed over, turned off the burner, and covered the frying pan with the lid, smothering the fire. “Are you okay?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he waved his hand in front of her face. “Amal . . . ?”
Nasha stepped closer to Remi. “It’s happening again.”
Amal stared, unseeing, out the window toward the olive grove, then in a soft, monotone voice said, “Beyond the pagan tombs . . . Before Saturn’s temple, he points to the water. Beware . . . Death to he who is not worthy.”
“Amal?” Hank said again. He took her by her hand, leading her to the empty chair next to Lazlo.
Remi glanced at Sam and then Amal, unsure what to think.
A few seconds later, Amal blinked and looked down at the spatula in her hand. “What’s going on? Why do I have this?”
Hank took the spatula from her, setting it on the table. “I think you had one of your seizures.”
Lazlo, watching the entire episode with interest, said, “Actually, I think you were giving us a location of some sort.”
“I don’t remember . . .”
“You were saying something about the temple ruins.”
Hank went back to making the coffee. “We’ve been out there a million times.”
“Exactly where are these ruins?” Lazlo asked.
José pointed out the window in the direction Amal had been looking. “Down the hill, past the olive grove. But unless someone thinks they can move a few tons of marble, there’s nothing to be found out there.”
“Exactly what were you looking for?” Sam asked.
José shrugged. “I’m not sure anyone really knows. Os, weren’t you talking about it?”
Osmond, busy texting on his phone, glanced up in surprise. “What? No. I just remember everyone talking about a map, not what it led to.”
Once the coffeepot started up, Hank joined them at the table. “I’m not sure anyone really knows. It’s . . .” He looked at Sam. “You don’t think it has anything to do with what’s going on with LaBelle, do you?”
“It’s worth mentioning to the police,” Sam said. He checked the time on his watch. “We better hit the road if we want to get to the airport in time.” He and Remi rose. “You’re sure you want to stay, Lazlo?”
“Quite.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
Do not look where you fell but where you slipped.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
I’ll pick you up in five minutes,” Tarek said, then pocketed his phone.
Hamida, groggy from the pain pills, stirred on the sofa. “Who called?”
“No one,” he replied, doubting Hamida would remember they’d had a conversation at all. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
As he walked out the door, the sight of Hamida’s thick cast reminded him how dangerous Fargo was. The only thing that was going to stop that man was a barrage of bullets—and Tarek looked forward to making it happen.