The Solomon Curse

“Scientific curiosity,” Sam tried. “Friendship. The thrill of discovery. A zest for knowledge.”

“Boredom,” Leonid said, and everyone smiled.

“You know we’ll look like seals in our wet suits to any great whites,” Remi commented.

Sam gri

“You’re thinking of sea otters,” Remi corrected.

“Ah, I always mix those up. Well, try to act like an otter while we’re in the soup.”

“At least the crocodiles aren’t a problem in open water. They tend to be mostly dangerous on shore or at the mouths of rivers.”

“As Benji, unfortunately, discovered.”

When they arrived at the bay, a different truck was parked near the sand and only three men waited beneath one of the swaying palm trees, watching the SUV approach. A single boat was tethered to a tree trunk, floating lazily, in the strengthening sun.

After a scan of the shore to ensure no further crocodiles were lurking in the brush, Sam and Remi do

When they reached the coordinates, the captain kept the motor idling while Sam and Remi finished their preparations. Leonid regarded them in their masks, regulators in their mouths, and offered a halfhearted grin.

“Bottom’s at around eighty feet. Visibility should be pretty good, from what the divers said. The water’s usually exceptionally clear.”

Sam spat his regulator out. “Except for the storm runoff yesterday. Still, it is what it is. Should be interesting.”

Remi dropped backward off the side of the skiff while Sam lowered himself down a metal dive ladder that one of the men had attached to the stern. Once in the water, he was glad to discover that the temperature was almost bathlike. He slipped below the surface and spotted Remi ten feet away, waiting for him. He gave her a thumbs-up that she returned, and then they began their slow descent to the bottom, which was barely visible from their vantage point.

At the fifty-foot mark, the contours of the mounds drifted up to meet them from the reef. Sam tapped Remi on the shoulder and pointed to their right, where a large, hulking shape rose from the sea bottom. As they approached, it became obvious that they were looking at something man-made. The jutting rise was almost entirely encrusted with sea life, but the shape and symmetry were unmistakable—it was part of a building.

When they arrived within arm’s length, Sam felt for the handle of the dive knife he’d strapped to his leg and freed it. Remi watched as he scraped away at the barnacles. After a few moments, he stopped and pushed himself back so Remi could see.

It was a seam. A joint between two blocks. Any doubts about the origin of the protrusions were now put to rest. These were indeed ruins of buildings, albeit submerged ones.

A shadow drifted across the bottom and they froze. Sam turned and looked up to see the long shape of a shark. Not a great white, but, still, at least nine feet of marine predator.

The shark orbited their position and then seemed to lose interest in them as it continued on its way. Remi’s eyes had gone wide in her mask, and Sam kept control of his breathing as his heart rate settled back to normal. If they’d required any evidence of their completely exposed state, the close encounter had been sufficient, and, after a quick swim through the ruins, they ascended, pausing for a decompression stop, eyes roving the water for more uninvited guests.

Once back in the boat, they stripped off their buoyancy compensator vests and peeled off the wet suits. The tropical sun was blistering even near the cool surface of the water.

“Well?” Leonid asked expectantly.

“It’s definitely some kind of a compound. And old. That’s obvious.”

“How can you be so sure after only one look around?”

Remi explained about the block construction, and Leonid nodded. “Then you’re certain?”

“It’s exactly what we suspected—a sunken complex of buildings.”

“You don’t dive?” Sam asked Leonid.

The Russian shook his head. “Never learned.”

“You should take a crash course while we’re waiting for the dive boat to arrive. You can’t very well head up an aquatic expedition if you don’t go in the water.”

“I’m not sure at my age this old dog has many new tricks left in him,” Leonid said.

“Nonsense. We’ll find an instructor. What else do you have to do over the next few days?”

Leonid looked unconvinced. “Are you sure? I haven’t exactly kept this”—he gestured at his body—“in athletic shape.”

“It mainly involves floating around, Leonid. Jacques Cousteau was doing it at twice your age. Come on. Live a little,” Sam teased.

The captain returned the boat to the shore and they disembarked onto the hot sand. Remi gazed down the beach to the grove where the crocodile had attacked and she nudged Sam.

“What happened to our big friend?” she asked in a low voice.

“The locals probably overcame their fear of the area to drag it off. The hide’s worth a small fortune,” Leonid said. He turned to the islanders. “Can you make it tomorrow?”

The captain and his crew exchanged worried glances and then the old man shook his head. “No. This is a bad place,” he said, his accent so thick his words were almost unintelligible.

“Come on. Nothing happened. Easiest money you ever made.”

The islanders looked at one another again and the captain frowned. “Money won’t do you any good here. I should never have come—this bay is cursed. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave and never return. If not, there will be more misfortune, and may God help you.”

Leonid barked a harsh laugh. “Come on, old man. Cursed? You don’t strike me as someone who scares easily.”

The captain fixed him with a cold stare. “I did as you asked, but no more. Pay me so I can get out of here. Just because you’re willing to gamble with your lives doesn’t mean I am.”

“Little dramatic, don’t you think?” Leonid said. The captain waited in silence as Leonid peeled off several bills and handed them to him. “Remember our deal. You tell nobody about this.” He fingered another bill.

“I won’t tell a soul. And even if I did, nobody will want to tempt fate. I heard about what happened to Benji. He lost a leg to the curse.” The captain paused. “There will be more. That’s just the start.”

Leonid passed him the larger-denomination bill and the man trudged back to the boat. He used the outboard to back it off the sand, and then the remaining two crew members trundled to the truck and took off, leaving Sam, Remi, and Leonid standing alone on the beach.

Remi glanced at Sam. “Did you see the old man’s face? He was terrified.”

“Native superstition. Mumbo jumbo. Nonsense,” Leonid scoffed.

“He’s heard of this bay before, though. It might be interesting to find out what the rumors are,” she said.

“Doesn’t really matter, does it? There’s a lost city right offshore nobody knows about and we’ve discovered it. Who cares what some childish legends say about it?” Leonid spat.

“There’s usually an element of truth to folklore, Leonid,” Sam chided. “Can’t hurt to ask around.”

“Well, if you want to waste your time, suit yourself. Sounds like I have to learn how to scuba dive in the next three days.”

CHAPTER 8

La Jolla, California