The Solomon Curse, page 19
When they reached the hotel, Sam called Selma on the sat phone from the room’s terrace. After several seconds of popping and clicking, Selma answered on the first ring in her customary cheerful voice.
“Hello, there,” she said. “How’s island life?”
“Hi, Selma. Never better. How’s it going back home?”
“Nothing unusual. We’re still digging through any records that would shed some light on the phantom destroyer, but so far it’s a dead end.”
“That’s frustrating. It sounds like if it weren’t for the survivors, nobody would know the ship ever existed.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before. Then again, there’s no way of knowing how much of that period’s history is anywhere near complete, because if the Japanese did this with other boats, they’d already be lost forever, as far as we’re concerned.”
“Well, if you have the time, I have another project for you.”
“I live for new projects,” she said, only half joking.
“This one involves giants and the Japanese.”
“I can’t wait to hear the punch line.”
Sam smiled to himself. “I think we touched on it before, but now I’m serious. There are persistent legends on the island about giants that live in the mountain caves, showing themselves only when raiding remote villages or abducting people.”
“I see,” she said, her tone flat.
“I know it’s far-fetched, but the part of the legend that interests me is the constant reference to a network of caves that supposedly runs the length of Guadalcanal and is used by the giants to traverse the island.”
Selma took a deep breath. “What, exactly, do you want me to research?”
“See if you can find the earliest references to giants in accounts of the Solomons and then work forward. And I’m also very interested in any map or description of the cave system. I know that’s a long shot, which is why I think you may have better luck leading with the giant legend rather than the caves. My bet is that nobody’s ever done much exploration, if any.”
“Right. Giants and caves. You also mentioned the Japanese?”
“Yes. I want everything you can find relating to the last days of the occupation.”
“Didn’t we already cover that with the evacuation?”
“No. I’m most interested in the time frame from October to February, before the evacuation began.”
“Care to narrow the search for me? Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
Sam told her about Nauru’s account. “I want to see if there’s any mention of slave labor or secret experiments. Even unsubstantiated accounts or rumors. I’m hoping you can come up with something because our link to the past is on his deathbed and I don’t think there’s going to be anything more forthcoming from him.”
Selma was quiet for a few moments. “What did you say the name of this commander was?”
“I didn’t. Why?”
“It may be nothing. But a colonel on Guadalcanal . . .”
“Selma, what is it?”
“I was just thinking that there couldn’t have been dozens of them. I mean, we’re talking about a total force of only a few thousand men at the end.”
“Right. But how does that help us?”
“When I researched the survivors of the destroyer that sank, I remember one of them was a high-ranking officer. Army. I’ll have to go back, but I think it was a colonel. Hang on just a second and let me pull up the file.”
Sam could hear the sound of keys clicking in the background in a flurry of activity and then Selma came back on the line.
“I knew it. Here it is. A Colonel Kumasaka was rescued, along with four seamen.”
“On a ship bound straight for Tokyo, best as we can figure.”
“Right. It could just be a coincidence . . .”
“Or it could be he was the reason for the detour.”
More typing and then Selma sighed in exasperation. “Oh. Well, that’s not so positive.”
“What, Selma?”
“According to the search I ran when you asked me to investigate survivors, he died in a POW camp in New Zealand before the end of the war.”
Selma was silent as Sam digested the news. “Get me everything you can find on him,” he said. “If there’s a record of his internment, a file on him, I want to see it. Anything at all no matter how seemingly insignificant. Service records, decorations, family, education, the works.”
“Will do. But as I’ve already discovered banging my head against the destroyer wall, the documentation for that period is lacking, to say the least.”
“Do the best you can.”
“You got it.” Selma paused. “Do you have anything new we can use Lazlo for? He’s driving me crazy. Stops in every few days like a lost puppy. I think he’s bored out of his mind.”
“If you think he can help with Kumasaka, sure, put him to work.”
“I’m not sure that would be his strong suit. There’s nothing more . . . intricate? Some puzzle he can solve?”
“Not so far. But I’ll keep it in mind. He’s not in poor spirits because of Laos?”
“A little down, but he’s already evaluating a new project, or so he says.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“Pirate treasure.”
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“Do I sound particularly playful?”
Sam considered possible responses, then opted for a safe one. “I’ll give him a call when we come up for air. Let me know as soon as you have something on the colonel.”
“I will.”
Sam hung up and gazed at the fishing boats moored off Honiara, their hulls a rainbow of blues and greens and oranges. Remi slid the glass door open and joined him. “Selma or Leonid?” she asked.
“Selma. But it doesn’t look good.” He told her about Kumasaka.
“If there’s anyone who can track down information on him, it’s Selma. Let’s hope she gets lucky.”
Sam turned and kissed her. “Those are the magic words.”
“Track down information?” Remi asked innocently.
“Something like that.”
At dusk, Sam called Leonid on the Darwin for an update. When Des put the Russian on the line, he sounded typically morose.
“How’s the seafaring life, my friend?” Sam greeted him.
“I can’t wait to get off this scow. It never stops rocking. It’s like a kind of living hell, only worse.”
“Did you try diving like I suggested?”
“I won’t be toyed with for your amusement.”
“How’s the exploration going?”
“The divers are making progress, but it’s going to take years to clear the total complex. Just this main building will be weeks of work.”
“No crocodiles or sharks?”
Leonid ignored him. “Perhaps it’s worth getting a larger, better-equipped ship here now that we know there’s a genuine find?”
“I can look into it. But what’s wrong with the Darwin?”
“Nothing. Only, the more hands we have working, the faster this will go. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in this place.”
“Noted. I’ll see what we can do, although we’re in about the most remote point in the world. It could take weeks to get a big mother ship there.” Sam grinned. “You should savor the time, Leonid. You’re going to be a national hero for making this discovery. They’ll probably rename the bay in your honor and declare a holiday. So plan on being here for a while.”
“I really do get seasick.”
“Come on, Leonid. You’re Russian. From a long line of seafaring warriors.”
“My ancestors were farmers. They lived in the snow. The closest they got to water was when the ice melted.”
Sam finished the call and plugged the phone into the charger before going to where Remi was sitting up on the bed, accessing the Internet with her tablet. She glanced up at him and then continued what she was doing.
“So? How is he?”
“Claims to hate the boat and needs a bigger one.”
“In his usual good mood?”
“More cheerful than usual.”
Remi smiled. “It might not be such a terrible idea to look into a large vessel.”
“I know. Since you’re on the web, could you send Selma an e-mail so she can get the ball rolling?”
Remi tapped out a quick missive and then stretched. “Hungry yet?”
“I could force down some fish.”
“Hotel restaurant?”
“I was thinking about that place we ate at the first night.”
“Do you think it’s safe?”
“I see no reason why not. It’s only a few blocks from here. Why not live a little dangerously . . . ?”
She gave him a sidelong glance. “So help me, if you say what’s the worst that can happen, I’ll scream.”
“It never entered my mind.”
The streets were empty except for a pair of stray dogs, loping in the shadows. Sam pulled into the restaurant parking lot and looked around—there were only three cars.
Remi frowned. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“If I let that stop me, I’d never go anywhere.”
When they entered the dining room, the waiter looked at them like they’d descended from a spacecraft, but he quickly recovered and approached.
“Sit wherever you like,” he said with a thick island accent.
They ordered the seafood special again, and this time the fish was freshly caught, lightly seared yellowfin tuna with a black pepper crust. They took their time eating, enjoying the balmy wind off the ocean.
When they finished their feast, Sam paid the check and left a generous tip, and they made their way to the Toyota, the surrounding palm trees swaying in the breeze. When they reached the vehicle, Sam stopped, squinted at the SUV in the gloom, and cursed under his breath.
“What is it?” Remi asked.
“Flat tire.”
“Are you joking?”
“I wish.”
He moved to the rear cargo door and swung it open. Twenty minutes later, soaked with sweat, he finished with the jack and stowed the tire and gear. Remi stared up at the full moon before looking back at Sam. “Look at the bright side. At least this didn’t happen on the trail. Can you imagine trying to change a tire in that mud?” she said.
He nodded. “True. One of life’s small blessings I should be thankful for.” With a final glance at the new tire, he opened the driver’s-side door, beads of perspiration streaming down his face. “Hop in.”
She made a face. “I’m hoping there’s a shower in your future.”
“Safe bet.”
The security guards smiled as they pulled up to the hotel gate and one of them directed Sam to a spot near the front entrance like he was guiding an airplane into a Jetway. When he and Remi entered the hotel, the staff studied them warily, faces frozen in polite expressions but eyes wide at the apparition of Sam looking like he’d fallen into the sea. Remi nodded to the night clerk and the man smiled reluctantly as they passed the reception desk and made their way to the room down the gloomy hall.
“Light must have burned out,” Sam observed, looking up at the dark ceiling.
“Classy joints you take me to, Fargo.”
Remi stopped when they were only a few yards from the room and her hand flew to Sam’s arm and gripped it, halting him, too. She cocked her head, listening, and then leaned close to him and whispered, “Did you shut the door well when we left?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t say anything for a few long seconds. “Then we have a problem.” She pointed at the darkened doorway. “It’s open.”
CHAPTER 30
Sam edged toward the door. He was only steps away when a figure burst through it and tore at full speed down the hall.
Sam hissed, “Get help. Have the hotel call the police,” and took off after the thief. His shoulder slammed into the wall as he rounded the corner just in time to see the steel exit door at the far end of the corridor swing shut. He drove himself harder, only slowing when he reached the door. He stopped, listening, and then pushed through, out into the darkness.
Sam’s eyes swept the edge of the parking lot and locked on the man, running across the boulevard. Sam covered the distance to the street in a matter of seconds, but his quarry was fast and he disappeared into an alley on the other side. Sam bolted after him, laser-focused on the thief, and he barely registered a dark form hurtling at him from down the street before he was falling, his left side flaring with pain.
An islander on a decrepit bicycle tumbled next to him with a loud clatter. Sam had hit the ground hard. He lay on the pavement for a few seconds with the wind knocked out of him, trying to understand what had happened, and then realized that the bicyclist had been invisible in the darkness because he had no headlight or reflectors.
Sam pushed himself to his feet as the man on the bicycle swore at him from the asphalt in pidgin. Sam’s knee was throbbing, and he could feel scrapes where he’d landed, but he was in one piece, nothing broken.
And the thief was getting away.
He glanced at the fallen rider, a young man who appeared to be fine, if disgruntled, and took up his pursuit of the thief, sprinting for the dark gap that was the alley’s mouth. He paused when he reached it—there was no light, and he could barely make out the far end. Sam glanced to either side and, seeing no hiding places from which he could be ambushed, set out at a flat run. When he reached the other end of the alley, he was on a narrower street, with a handful of small shops on the near side and industrial buildings on the other.
His eyes roved over the buildings, searching for motion or anything out of place. From the far corner, the sound of metal scraping against cement reached his ears. Sam covered the distance in a blink.
And found himself looking at a black-and-white cat perched on a pile of refuse by a garbage can. The feline glared at him, annoyed at being interrupted on its nocturnal rounds, and hopped down, before scurrying off.
Sam froze, straining his ears for any sounds of running human feet. The buzz of a distant motor scooter echoed off the waterfront, but there was nothing else. The area was deserted. After several long moments, he took a final look down the street and sighed.
The thief had escaped.
He made his way back to the hotel, where two police cruisers were parked in front, their light bars flashing blue and red on the building façade. Sam made his way into the empty lobby and continued on up to the room.
When he arrived, Remi was standing outside the door, an annoyed expression on her face. She turned to him with a raised eyebrow.
“Any luck?” she asked.
“No. He got away.”
She nodded and returned to watching two officers gingerly walking through the room, the smaller of the pair scribbling in a small notebook in between taking photographs with a digital camera. The bathroom door was open, as was the closet, and their clothes were scattered across the bed and floor. Sam frowned as he took in the ransacked area and then led Remi down the hall, where the desk clerk and the night manager were standing in the shadows.
The manager came forward, obviously distraught.
“I’m so sorry, sir. Please accept the hotel’s apologies. This has never happened before.”
“Just our luck, then,” Remi said. “It’s been that kind of a trip.”
Documenting the crime scene took half an hour, during which time the pair of officers established that the room’s safe had been broken into and Remi’s tablet stolen but the passports left behind. Once Sam and Remi were allowed in the room, Sam’s eyes strayed to the satellite phone still charging on the table. Remi’s gaze followed his to the phone, and then he turned to the officers.
“Does it strike you as strange that they didn’t take that?” Sam asked, his tone neutral.
The taller of the two shrugged. “Maybe they were afraid the telephone could be tracked. We do have TV here, you know.”
Sam kept his tone even. “And our passports?”
Same shrug. “Nothing they could do with them on the island.”
“They couldn’t sell them?”
The cop shook his head and looked at his partner. “Who’d want to buy your passports?”
Apparently, there wasn’t a thriving market for stolen documents on Guadalcanal because the officers looked honestly puzzled by Sam’s question. Sam didn’t push it and allowed them to finish their report before signing, as requested, at the bottom. Remi went to the door, peered into the hall, and then turned and addressed the taller of the two policemen.
“Maybe there’s a security camera that caught something?” she suggested. “I see a mirrored dome mounted to the ceiling. That’s probably what it is.”
They appeared surprised by the suggestion, but he nodded. “We’ll go check with the manager.” With a final look around, the taller officer shook his head. “It’s a shame this happened—we’ll do everything we can to recover your possessions. But with the town agitated like it’s been lately, people behave in strange ways. I’m sorry your trip to the Solomons was a bad one,” he said as though he personally was to blame for the robbery.
“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Sam said, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.
Sam and Remi followed the officers to the front desk. The night manager was standing behind the seated night clerk, fidgeting. When the police asked him about the security cameras, he studied his shoes with a sheepish expression before answering.
“System’s been down since last week.”
“What?” Remi blurted.
