The Oracle (Fargo Adventures #11) - Clive Cussler Page 0,44
to believe the entire school is gone?”
“Believe what you will. They’re not here.”
He called one of his men over. “Ask Dayo if any cars came down from the school.”
The man nodded as he pulled out his cell phone and moved off to make a call.
If Makao had someone watching the road, it had to be at the tea farm at the bottom of the hill. Hoping she was wrong, she glanced over at Zara, glad to see the child hadn’t realized the danger to her father.
With only one road in and out, they’d never get past the farm without being seen—assuming they could even escape.
A moment later, the man returned. “No cars since the Land Rover left this morning.”
Makao glared at her. “You lie.”
“Think whatever you want,” Remi said. “They’re gone. We’re all that’s left.”
He stared at her a moment, then stalked up to the girls. “Where are they?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Zara said, bursting into tears. “When I woke up, everyone was gone.”
The raw and painful truthfulness convinced him in a way nothing else could. He turned back to Remi.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I think that’d be obvious. I hope you know someone with enough money to buy your freedom.”
“If you think my husband will turn over one cent without proof of life for each one of us, you’re making a grave mistake.”
He laughed. “We just need to keep you alive long enough to collect the ransom. After that, I don’t care much about what my men do to you.”
“You harm one child and—”
He stalked over, grabbing her by her collar, pulling her until she was inches from his face. “If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut your mouth and cooperate. Am I clear?”
He twisted her collar so hard, she felt a prickling sensation across her face from the loss of circulation. “Very.”
Finally, he loosened his grip on her shirt, his face filled with disgust as he shoved her back against the building. “Tie them up. I don’t want anyone getting away. Then search the buildings again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Sticks in a bundle are unbreakable.
– KENYAN PROVERB –
Nasha lifted the burlap sacks she’d hidden beneath and crept from the corner, listening to the men walking around in the courtyard outside the supply shed. She glanced at the trapdoor, saw it was securely closed, wondering if Mr. Pete and Miss Wendy would even notice she was gone. Probably not, she decided. She wasn’t like the other girls.
People tended not to notice her.
It was, after all, what made her a successful thief.
Then again, Mr. Hank had noticed her. But only because she’d stolen his keys. She didn’t feel the least bit of guilt over seeing him leave, though she was sad to see Mr. Fargo go. He also tended to watch her closely, yet she sensed that he was different. He watched his wife closely, too.
She liked that.
It reminded her a bit of her uncle, how he had watched her aunt when Nasha first came to live with him. That was before Boko Haram had killed everyone who tried to stop them as they invaded the school, taking the girls hostage. So many of her friends were gone. By the grace of God, she’d escaped to her uncle’s home, even though he lived in the shadow of a Boko Haram stronghold. He’d had the foresight to shave her head and dress her in boy’s clothes. “No more Nasha. Nash is now your name,” he’d said, putting her to work in the field with the other male children, who were, for a while, too young to catch the eye of the terrorists in their hunt for new fighters. A self-educated man, her uncle had a saying for every situation. When she’d complained after the first day about a blister on her hand, he’d told her, “A blister will heal, yet—”
“When can I go to school?” she asked, not wanting to hear yet another of his old proverbs.
Her statement had angered him and he slammed his fist on the table, scaring her. “Everything you learned in school, you forget. You are no longer a girl. Even to the boys you work with—especially Chuk,” he said, naming her one friend in the village. “He’s too young to keep that a secret. Tell them nothing. Do you understand?”
“No,” she replied, tears springing to her eyes.
“A whisper released is like feathers soaring in the wind. You cannot catch them to take back. And you never know where they might land.”