The Oracle (Fargo Adventures #11) - Clive Cussler Page 0,120
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.”