The Solomon Curse (4 page)

Leonid's pickup truck rolled into the lot several minutes later and pulled up next to the SUV. Leonid got out and waved to the driver, who gunned the engine and veered back onto the main road in a cloud of exhaust. The Russian approached Sam with a hangdog expression on his face.

“Did he make it?” he asked.

“Barely,” Sam said. “It'll be touch and go, that's for sure.”

“Poor guy. What a way to go.”

“I can't believe they didn't warn you about the crocodiles,” Remi said.

“They did. That's why they had the machetes and axes.”

Sam eyed Leonid. “Couple of AK-47s would have been a better idea.”

“Believe me, my friend, if there were any on the island, I would have had them.”

“Where's your crew?” Remi asked.

“Back at the bay. They're packing up and returning by sea with the boats and gear. Nobody wanted to ride with me. I have a feeling they blame me for their friend's misfortune for some reason.” He paused. “Did you see the size of that creature? It was longer than the truck.”

“And it may have family in the area,” Sam said.

Remi nodded. “Yes, and the relatives might hold a grudge. Take your butchering of their friend personally.”

Leonid looked alarmed. “I didn't do anything.”

Sam gave Remi a sad smile. “You don't need to explain it to us. Save it for the crocs.”

They trooped into the building, which was as primitive as the exterior promised. The emergency room lounge was a squalid rectangle with poor ventilation and a dozen sick or injured waiting on a row of shabby benches. Ricky had claimed an empty area on the far end and was staring off into space. They moved to the bench and sat beside him as the overhead fans orbited in a futile attempt to cool the stifling interior. After a few minutes of sweating, Remi stood again. “I'll wait outside.”

Sam rose and Leonid followed suit. “We'll keep you company.”

Remi turned to Ricky. “Will you come get us when you hear something?”

“Yes.” Ricky looked unfazed by the heat. “Dr. Vanya's the best we have, so he's in good hands.”

“That's a little bit of luck, at any rate,” Remi said, wiping her brow.

An old man sitting nearby coughed with a wet, thick sound, and Sam took Remi's hand and led her to the exit. Outside, the temperature was baking, but, even so, it felt refreshing after the hotbox that was the hospital's waiting room. They found a shaded area near the side of the building, and Sam inspected his shirt.

“Probably not a bad idea to get back to the hotel to change.” He looked at Remi, who also had dried blood on her. “Want to make a quick run?”

Remi glanced at the Land Rover. “If we pass a car wash, you've got my vote.”

Leonid nodded. “I'll give you a lift. No point standing here cooking.”

They piled into the SUV, and Leonid took the wheel. After the breakneck ride from the bay, the Russian's conservative driving felt like they were standing still. Leonid's face looked like he'd been drinking vinegar as he navigated the busy streets, surprisingly clogged with cars.

“We're pretty much shut down now,” he said. “There's no way that crew's going to want to return to the bay after this.”

“Have you talked to them?”

“Only two indicated any willingness to go back tomorrow.”

“What about boats?”

“None of the captains want anything to do with us now. Bad luck, that.”

“Especially for the uncle,” Remi said, eyeing her shirt. “I can't even imagine what he's going through.”

“He's lucky you two were there. If we'd had to wait for the others to do something, he'd be dead,” Leonid stated flatly.

“Ricky said that's cultural. Nothing moves fast on the island.”

“Except the crocodiles,” Leonid said.

They got to the hotel and, ignoring the horrified looks of staff and the few other guests, went directly to their room. After quick showers and a change of clothes, they were ready to return to the hospital. Leonid was waiting for them in the cool lobby, where he was studying the photographs he'd salvaged in the chaos. Sam and Remi took seats on either side of him, enjoying the slight chill of the air-conditioning.

“If you look at this one, you can see another structure in the background. The head of the dive team said he thought there were at least six of these, maybe more,” Leonid said, holding up a photo.

“If he's right, it's an incredible find. Not only an ancient ruin but one that's been lost for long enough that nobody remembers it. Never mind that its location presents an intriguing mystery,” Remi said.

“Obviously, some sort of natural disaster,” Sam speculated. “This area has a history of earthquakes. That's got to be how it wound up underwater.”

“Yes, but more interesting to me is the construction. Stone. There's no history of stone building here. This is an important clue to a past we never imagined,” Leonid said.

“It is odd that there's no record of it, isn't it?” Remi asked softly.

Leonid put the photos down. “Not to me. This is a fragmented society that relies on oral tradition. There are over seventy languages in the islands. That speaks to separatism. It could be that everyone who knew about it was wiped out. Imagine how big an earthquake would have been required to sink the entire shore to that depth.”

An idea occurred to Sam. “Assuming it was built on the shore.”

Remi gave him a puzzled look. “Why would you think any differently?”

Sam sat forward. “Have you ever heard of Nan Madol?”

“No.”

“The ruling dynasty built islands out of big rocks on top of the coral reefs there—a similar approach to Venice—with a series of interconnected canals,” Sam explained. Leonid stared at him thoughtfully. “If it was built in a lagoon or on a reef, that would better explain why it's submerged. If the shelf collapsed in a big earthquake—”

“Exactly. Anyway, without diving the find, that would be my first guess. We'll know more once Selma finds us a research vessel.”

They rose and reluctantly traded the comfort of the hotel lobby for the muggy heat outside. The squall line that had been lingering on the horizon was approaching, pushing humid air ahead of it, and as they made their way back to the hospital, the sky was darkening.

Leonid had been on Guadalcanal for a week and was by now used to the schizophrenic weather. He glanced up at the clouds without interest. The interior of the SUV smelled like a slaughterhouse, and he pulled over at a car wash being operated out of an empty field next to a
grocery, its water supplied by runners with buckets, the workers shirtless and shoeless, laughing as they worked on a short line of vehicles.

The good humor abruptly died when the lead youth got a glimpse of the Land Rover's interior. Remi, Sam, and Leonid spent the next half hour beneath a banyan tree, watching the washers work in nervous silence. A police car appeared at the curb halfway through, and two officers approached them and questioned them briefly before radioing the hospital and getting confirmation of their account.

Leonid exhaled a sigh of relief once the police left. His gaze moved to the clouds when distant thunder boomed across the sea.

“Sounds like it's coming on fast,” he commented.

“That will stir up the water and decrease visibility if we try to dive tomorrow,” Sam said. “Presuming you're still game.”

“Did you not see the crocodile the size of a freight car back on the beach?” Remi asked.

“Right. So we know where he is.”

“You're serious, aren't you?” she said.

“What's life without a little stimulation?”

She frowned. “The word you're looking for is ‘safe.' Or maybe ‘long.'”

Sam waved a hand at the sky. “Bah. Let's head over to the hospital and check on the uncle and then see about reserving some gear. I want to get a close-up look, now that we're here. I don't do well sitting on the sidelines. Besides, the attack happened on the beach, so the safest place in that bay is anywhere but where we were.”

Leonid nodded. “The hard part will be getting boats. The ones I rented today won't be back.”

“Drop us off at the hospital while you nose around for some others. Leave a message for us at the hotel with the details if you're successful,” Sam said.

“And see if you can find someone with a nice, lightly used .50
caliber machine gun, while you're at it. In case our reptilian guest wasn't alone,” Remi said.

The thunder was nearing when Leonid left them at the hospital and they barely made it inside before the heavens opened and sheets of rain poured down. Drops the size of golf balls hammered a rapid-fire tattoo on the corrugated metal roof of the waiting area, where Ricky was sitting immobile as a statue, his eyes closed. The crowd had thinned and now only the old man with the cough, a laborer with an obviously broken arm, and a fisherman with a gash on his hand remained.

They took seats on the bench next to Ricky. He stirred and cracked an eye open. Remi smiled at him and he returned the favor with a tentative grin of his own.

“Any word?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. But it's only been a couple of hours. I don't expect anything yet.”

Neither had to voice the probability that, at the very least, his uncle would lose the leg. That he was still alive after the savage attack was miracle enough. Hopefully, that questionable luck would hold.

Another hour went by and then Dr. Vanya pushed through the emergency room's double doors, still wearing surgical scrubs. Ricky stood, and Sam and Remi joined him as she approached.

“Well, the good news is, he's stable. We managed to get enough blood into him so his chances look reasonable. But the next twenty-four hours will tell. The biggest risk now is that he succumbs to shock or that infection sets in. He's in decent physical shape and fairly young, but there are no guarantees.”

“And the leg?” Ricky asked softly.

“The bones were splintered into a hundred slivers by the jaws, so even if I'd been right there, we'd still have had to amputate. I'm sorry,” she said.

“Can we see him?” Ricky asked.

Dr. Vanya shook her head. “Let's give him some time, shall we? Maybe this evening.” She turned her attention to Sam and Remi. “How did you happen to be so close when the attack happened? The crocodiles generally stay away from the tourist beaches. Hopefully, that hasn't changed.”

“We were on the other side of the island with him. Pretty remote,” Sam explained, keeping it vague. It wasn't his place to share the details of Leonid's expedition, even though by now word of the attack had probably spread like wildfire, along with gossip about the buildings beneath the sea.

“What on earth were you doing there?” she asked.

“Helping a friend with a project,” Sam said.

“A project?” Vanya pressed.

“Archaeology.”

“Ah,” Vanya said as though that explained everything. “You're American, aren't you?”

“Our accents give us away?” Remi asked.

“Well, yes. Most of our visitors are from Australia and New Zealand. We don't get nearly as many Americans as we did when I was growing up. Back then, there were still a lot of veterans who came to revisit the old battlegrounds and pay their respect. But no longer,” she explained.

“Oh, you're an islander?” Remi said, surprised. There was no trace of the local pidgin accent in her speech.

“Until I was ten. Then my family moved to Sydney, where I went to school. Somewhere in all that I lost my accent.” She smiled. “But you know what they say: you can take the islander off the island, but you can't take the island out of the islander. After I graduated and completed my residency, I wanted to give back to my people, so I returned nine years ago.”

“That's a wonderful thing to do,” Sam said.

“Well, it's where I was born. My current project is raising funds for several rural clinics around the island. It may seem like a small place, but when you cut yourself or have an accident, traversing the roads can take a lifetime. And also for vaccinations and the like. Unfortunately, the government's always been a disaster, so fate leaves it up to the private sector to do what it can.”

“That sounds like a noble calling,” Sam said. “Maybe you can give us some information about it?”

Vanya appraised him. “Why? Feel like donating?” she asked bluntly.

Remi stepped in. “We oversee a foundation that does charitable work all over the world.”

Vanya blinked twice and then smiled, the tiny stress lines around her eyes crinkling. “Well, in that case, you must have dinner with me. How long will you be on Guadalcanal?”

Remi shrugged. “We haven't decided.”

Sam chuckled. “Until they throw us off.”

Everyone laughed. Vanya nodded. “Given your recent act of heroism, that's unlikely. Seriously. If you're free this evening, I'd love to show you one of the local hideaways. I'm having dinner with a colleague and I'm sure he'd be interested in discussing your project. We don't get a lot of archaeologists nosing around. And of course I want to tell you all about my clinics.”

Remi exchanged a glance with Sam. “Are you sure it's not an imposition?”

“Absolutely,” Vanya said. “The truth is, I get bored out of my skull around here after a time. I could use some time with fresh faces, hear some new stories. I'm afraid after my time in Sydney, Honiara doesn't have quite the interest it did when I was ten. I assure you my invitation is purely driven by selfishness.”

“Well, then, it's a date,” Sam said. “Shall we meet you here?”

“If you like.” She paused, thinking. “Or I can swing by wherever
you're staying. That way, I can go home and freshen up, and, if it's still pouring, you won't have to brave the rain to get here. What hotel?”