The Solomon Curse

“How many of the islanders have vehicles?” Remi asked.

“I can’t say. The total population of the island is less than a hundred thousand, depending on which numbers you believe, and the vast majority live here in Honiara. My guess is there might be five thousand cars, if that,” she said doubtfully.

“Then finding the truck that did this shouldn’t be too complicated.”

“In theory, no. But if many of the trucks are in rural areas where the roads are basically goat tracks, you’re asking whether the police will spend weeks trying to track down every one in the middle of nowhere. I suppose anything’s possible, but did you get the impression they were champing at the bit?”

Sam laughed drily. “Not exactly.”

“Then there’s your answer. I’m sorry, but living here you quickly learn to have no expectations. Works better that way.”

Remi joined Sam at the door. “Thanks for seeing me,” she said, and Dr. Vanya smiled.

“I’d hoped it would be under better circumstances.” She scribbled a note on a chart and put it under her arm. “You’ve both been through considerable trauma. I’d take it easy for a few days. What do you have pla

“Other than explaining to the rental car place that one of their vehicles is now a piece of modern art? Not much,” Sam said.

“Well, try to relax. That’s the allure of the Solomons, isn’t it? Lounging on a beautiful beach, not a care in the world?”

“Other than the crocodiles.”

“Hardly, in town. I’d have a cocktail on the veranda and watch the sunset. Leave the strenuous activity for someone else.”

—

The walk to the rental car lot was grueling in the humid heat and by the time they got there they were soaked through. The owner’s eyes widened to the size of moons when Sam explained what had happened and he looked like he was ready to cry at the loss of his Nissan. Neither Sam nor Remi wanted to push their luck and ask about renting another vehicle, and after giving the dejected man all the police information as well as a copy of the report, they made their way back to their hotel.

As they rounded a corner onto the main road two blocks from the waterfront, Sam leaned in to Remi and murmured to her, “Don’t look back, but I think we’re being followed.”

“I don’t think I can look back with my neck like this. Who is it?”

“Unknown. One man in a sedan. I noticed it because it’s crawling along.”

“Why is it that every damned time we go anywhere we wind up attracting the wrong kind of attention? Are you sure about this?”

“We’ll know in a minute.”

They walked along at a leisurely pace, waiting for the sedan to materialize, but it never did. At the end of the long block Sam shrugged. “Maybe I’m a little paranoid.”

“A little?”

“Comes from being shot at and run off the road.”

“No question. Thankfully, this time you’re wrong.”

They stopped at the intersection and Sam looked back. Only a few slow-moving pedestrians were shuffling down the sidewalk, moving from shady spot to shady spot in an effort to stave off the worst of the sun’s effects. No questionable sedans were prowling the street, no furtive figures with earbuds were spi

When they returned to the hotel, Leonid met them in the lobby and they went to the pool bar overlooking the ocean. He walked like an old man and grumbled the entire way about the scuba school killing him slowly with their demands.

“They had me swimming laps—twenty of them, with no break—as my endurance testing. I was winded after two and thought I was hemorrhaging after ten,” he griped.

“But you made it,” Remi said brightly.

“What happened to your face?” Leonid asked, finally noticing something other than his own misery. “It’s swollen.”

“Oh, didn’t we mention it? Someone pushed our car off a cliff and shot at us,” Sam said with a nonchalant wave of the hand. “Remi bumped her head when we were swimming the rapids, trying to escape.”

Leonid regarded them as if they were mad. “No, really. What happened?”

Remi smiled. “I mouthed off and Sam let me have it.”

The Russian shook his head. “I don’t know what to make of you two.”

Sam leaned forward. “We really did get run off the road, Leonid. We don’t know by whom, or why, but it’s what happened. This morning.”

Leonid held his gaze, eyes searching for some sign of mockery, and, when he saw none, his face grew even more somber than usual. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know. We just finished up at the hospital and the police. To say it’s worrisome is the understatement of the year,” Sam admitted. “But we have some good news, too. Or, at least, some interesting news. There may be a treasure somewhere in the ruins.”

“What are you talking about? How do you know?”

Sam gave him the rundown. When he finished, Leonid looked even more upset than before. “Wait. So this is the king’s compound and, in addition to a curse, there’s a buried treasure?”

“You’re acting like that’s bad news.”

“It complicates matters. And it makes me wonder if that’s why you were attacked. Maybe the medicine man wasn’t the only one who knew about the treasure. It’s possible that word’s spread and someone else wants a chance at it. The divers could have talked, or the captains, and anyone who knew the legend would have gone into high gear.”

Remi glanced at Sam. “He’s right. Most people here are barely surviving. The prospect of unimagined wealth can do strange things.”

“Right. But we don’t actually know whether there’s even a treasure, much less where it might be. And let’s not forget it’s in eighty feet of water. In a cursed bay teeming with sharks and crocodiles. Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until we located it before trying to knock us out of the picture?” Sam said.

Remi shook her head. “You’re assuming whoever did it is rational and logical. And we’re also assuming this has to do with treasure. It could be that we intruded on something we weren’t meant to see, even if we have no idea what it was, and they took action. It could be smuggling, drugs, anything. We shouldn’t assume we have all the puzzle pieces because after only a few days here the odds say we don’t.”

Sam nodded. “She’s right, as usual.”

Leonid grunted. “So where does that leave us? What should we do now?”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure we do anything different except keep our eyes open. We can’t really dive the ruins properly until the boat arrives anyway, so it’s a moot point.”

“I don’t like unknowns. Particularly when they shoot at you,” Leonid said.

“Agreed, my friend. But that’s all we have. I think a better question than trying to figure out the unknowable is how we treat our new knowledge of a possible treasure,” Sam said. “If we’re going to do anything more than catalog the site, we may want to consider bringing in some specialized talent. Because if we’re going to conduct a more thorough search, the ship’s divers aren’t going to do the trick—we’ll want a large pro team with related experience.”

Leonid nodded. “I gather you have someone in mind?”

Sam gri

Remi took Sam’s hand. “He may look like just another pretty face, but every now and then he comes up with a good idea. I agree. Let’s get some serious talent here as soon as possible.”

“When is the boat supposed to be here?” Leonid asked.

“Tomorrow evening.”

The Russian rubbed his face and studied Sam and Remi. The dark circles and bags under his eyes lent him the appearance of an unhappy raccoon. “Then all you need to do is keep from getting killed for twenty-four hours or so while I endure the final tortures of the damned scuba instruction.”