Free The Tombs (A Fargo Adventure) by Clive Cussler, Thomas Perry Page B

“Do you hate him enough to take a risk to deny him something he wants? Maybe to punish him?”
    “I? Tibor? I would jump at the chance.”
    “A good friend of ours, a German archaeologist, was kidnapped yesterday in Berlin. He’d made a discovery near here and gone to Berlin to study what he’d found because he was afraid. He’d seen those four men in the black car following him.”
    “I understand,” Tibor said. “Bako is one of those people who claim they’re direct descendants of Attila the Hun. A few years ago, a bunch of them petitioned the government to have themselves declared an official minority group. It’s just greed.”
    “Greed? I don’t follow,” said Remi.
    “It’s the tomb. He wants to find the tomb and claim it as his own.”
    “The tomb of Attila the Hun?” she said. “He won’t have much luck. It’s one of the great known tombs that have never been found. Does he claim to be a relative of Genghis Khan too?”
    “Not yet.”
    She turned to Sam. “What do you think we should do?”
    “What can anyone do?” Tibor said. “Bako doesn’t just have money. He has his own little army of security people to guard him, his houses, his factories. There’s no question he would kill to keep someone else from finding Attila’s tomb or kidnap them if he thought they knew something he could use.”
    Sam said quietly, “We’re not just going to stand by and do nothing.”
    “What will you do?”
    “Find our friend and take him back,” said Remi.
    Tibor was silent for a moment. “Really?”
    “Yes,” said Sam. “He called us because he thought he might need help. He was right.”
    “Sam,” Remi said. “Maybe you shouldn’t—”
    “No, I think Tibor’s our guy, Remi. Tibor, I believe we can do this, but we need a man who’s Hungarian, who’s brave, and who hates Arpad Bako. We’ll pay you well for your trouble and your time. If you’re arrested, we’ll get you the best lawyer. It won’t be any extra trouble because he’ll have to defend us too.”
    “Maybe I’d better show you who this man is before anybody does anything. I’m driving you to my garage to get a different car first.”
    “Wait,” said Sam. “I’d like to get rid of those men who are following us. Let me drive. If I damage your car, I’ll pay for the repairs and your loss of the use of it.”
    Tibor looked skeptical, but he pulled over and let Sam get behind the wheel. He sat in the passenger seat. Sam made a quick U-turn and then a left to pass behind the big black car. Tibor gripped the dashboard and stomped the nonexistent brake.
    “You’ll enjoy riding with Sam,” said Remi. “He’s barred from driving in four countries.”
    Sam accelerated up the road. When the black car followed and began to pull closer behind him, he let the left tires stray off the pavement onto the dusty shoulder and throw a big cloud of dust and bits of gravel into the air. The driver of the black car tried unsuccessfully to swerve to avoid it, almost lost control, and veered from side to side, overcompensating. Sam said, “He’s not too good. Is there a place near here with very narrow streets?”
    “There’s a very old village about two miles ahead. It’s too far from the river to have been destroyed by floods.”
    Sam accelerated more on the long, straight stretch across the plain, but roads like this were made for the big black car. It began to gain on Sam steadily. He delayed by weaving from side to side, then moving into the center of the road so they couldn’t pull up beside him. When he saw the village coming up, he swerved to the left lane abruptly. The black car moved to the right, Sam stomped on his brake, and the black car shot past them.
    Sam made a slow, safe turn onto the main street of the village, then went past a few stone buildings before he turned to the right into an alley so narrow that he could barely fit the taxi between the buildings. “Careful, careful,” Tibor muttered. At the far end of