The Oracle (Fargo Adventures #11) - Clive Cussler Page 0,14
and knew everything bad that was coming down the chute, we’d all be paralyzed. Venture out, spread your wings.”
“But—”
“Have faith in yourself, Amal. You might be surprised. Besides, the Fargos will take good care of you.”
“But the girls,” Hank said. “They’re expecting you, LaBelle. Never mind that you can’t stay here alone.”
“I’ll be fine. I checked with the hotel. They’re actually happy to have me stay.” Renee gave a tired sigh. “I’m sorry, Remi. Maybe I’ll recover in a day or two . . .”
Remi looked at Sam as though he had some power over the situation.
“Her health is more important,” Sam said. “If she gets better, we’ll swing by and get her after we pick up Lazlo from the airport. Until then, the girls are going to have to make do with a site manager and graduate student.”
CHAPTER NINE
A difficult journey will make you daring and harden your will.
– AFRICAN PROVERB –
Makao clutched the steering wheel of his white extended-cab Toyota Tundra pickup as it bounced from one pothole to another on the long stretch of washed-out road a couple of hours outside of Jalingo. A thin film of red dust covered everything inside the cab, including the black dash bearing the smudged fingerprints from his passenger Jimi, who braced his left hand against it while gripping his right around the barrel of his assault rifle.
Makao glanced in the rearview mirror to the backseat where two more men rode, both cradling their rifles in their laps. All three passengers were agberos, criminals he’d trained from a young age after picking them up over a decade ago on the streets of Lagos.
Men who would do his absolute bidding, no questions asked.
Every one of them had started off as Area Boys, the name given to the mostly harmless pickpockets and thieves that infiltrated every busy street in the populous city. Most worked in loosely based gangs run by low-level crooks. That was how Makao got his start, rising through the ranks, making enough money to buy some form of respectability, even a position in the local government. And, it was where he learned that law enforcement tended to look the other way unless their hands were forced, usually due to the actions of those boys with a predilection for violence.
That was why he and his crew had to flee Lagos. To avoid being arrested for murder after a series of robberies gone wrong. A helpful tip from one of his police friends on the take had allowed them to escape, until such a time when all the witnesses could be eliminated.
His reputation, thankfully, preceded him, and it didn’t take long before he dominated the larger criminal enterprises in Taraba State. And though he was trying to maintain a low profile, when Tarek called him about the job, it was one he simply couldn’t pass up. The potential payoff was too great, with his share making the predawn departure into the middle of nowhere very much worth it.
“There.” Jimi pointed out the dusty windshield toward a stand of trees to their left at the base of the rolling hills that led up to the forest in Gashaka Gumti.
Makao slowed the pickup and rolled to a stop. “This should work. There’s nothing but grass for miles. We’ll see them the moment they try to run—if they try.”
He set the parking brake, left the engine running, then waited for the dust to settle before opening his door. To the north, the direction they’d come from, a few trees dotted the savanna that stretched out on either side of the road beneath a cloudless blue sky. They were headed southeast, and he turned that direction, eyeing the road where the pavement—or what remained of it—started again just before the bend. A half mile past, a thick stand of trees created some natural cover.
He slapped the side of the truck. “You two gather leaves and grass. Jimi, get the bag. We’ll set up here.”
The men left their guns behind, hopped out of the truck.
Jimi walked around to the back, lowering the tailgate, grabbing a large black vinyl satchel by its strap. The contents jangled as he dragged it from the bed of the pickup. “Where do you want me to drop them?”
Makao pointed to the narrowest stretch of road. “There.”
Jimi trudged over, shaking the contents of the bag into the road, the dark gray tire spikes scattering across the ground. Once the bag was empty, he kicked dirt across the spikes until they were nearly as