The Solomon Curse

“You found a piece of wood? What am I missing?”

Sam gave him a disapproving look. “For a scientist, it amazes me that you haven’t asked the key question.”

“What’s that?” Leonid said with a scowl.

Remi cut in. “Why would Sam bring a piece of junk to the surface and call a meeting?”

Sam gri

Leonid scowled. “What’s the answer? Or do we have to guess that, too?”

Sam sighed and glanced at the seemingly insignificant piece of flotsam. “The only reason I brought this back up is because the rest of it dissolved to nothing when I tried to retrieve it.” He placed the wooden scrap with metal attached to it on the counter. “Looked to me like a broken bayonet. Broken, I suspect, when whoever looted the chamber was digging gold out of the wall with it.”

“How can you be sure, if it disintegrated?” Des asked.

“Because if you look closely at that piece of wood, you’ll see it’s the handle of a bayonet.”

Remi stepped forward. “And if I had to guess, we’ll find that it matches the kind used by the forces that occupied the island during the Second World War.”

“The treasure was discovered during the war?” Des asked slowly.

Remi nodded. “The only uncertainty is whether it was the Allies or the Japanese. I don’t know because I’m not an expert on antique bayonets. But I’m going to take a picture of it and send it to someone who is or who can find an expert in a hurry. Then we’ll know who made off with the treasure—which, if the amount of gold it would have taken to fill the carvings is any hint, was probably substantial.”

CHAPTER 23

Selma called them back within two hours of receiving the photographs. Sam and Remi were watching on the bridge as the surface-breathing divers worked their way into the first chamber. The progress was slow due to the lack of circulation—the debris they blasted loose just hung suspended in the water until gravity slowly pulled it to the bottom. After half an hour of frustration, Des had improvised a pump-driven suction system to use in conjunction with the blasting hose, which sucked most of the loosened debris to the surface where it was dispersed at the ship’s stern. Even with this improvement, it was obvious that this phase would take just short of forever.

“You’re in luck,” Selma said without preamble. “Milton Gregory is one of the foremost experts on World War Two arms. It didn’t take him long to identify that handle.”

“What’s the verdict?” Sam asked.

“Japanese army Type 30 bayonet, without a doubt. Probably mounted on an Arisaka rifle—the most commonly issued rifle for Japanese forces during the war.”

“He’s sure?”

“Absolutely. The bayonets used by the Allies had a completely different handle. He’s positive. And there’s something else: on one end of the handle you can see faint markings. They’re the Japanese symbols for Aoba.”

“What?”

“One of the Japanese regiments that was stationed on Guadalcanal was the 3rd Battalion, 4th Infantry Regiment.” She paused. “The Aoba Regiment.”

“When did it land?”

“September eleventh, 1942.”

Sam was silent for a few moments. He nodded to himself and turned from the monitor.

“I have a project for you, Selma.”

“I suspected you might.”

“Your ESP is working. I want you to research the Japanese occupation of Guadalcanal. Who commanded it, how many soldiers were stationed here, when they left, how they were evacuated, the whole works.”

“How detailed do you want?”

“Give me everything you can find. All sources, along with a summary.”

“Will do.”

“How long?”

“I’ll put Pete and Wendy to work as well, so if we’re lucky . . . How soon do you need it?”

“As usual, Selma.”

“So, yesterday?”

He smiled. “That might be a little late.”

“All right. I’ll get on it immediately.”

When he hung up, Remi was watching him expectantly. “Japanese, I presume?” she said.

He nodded. “Good guess. But it also makes tracking down any information harder.”

“History is written by the victors.”

“Correct. And that assumes that any record of a Japanese operation to recover sunken treasure is not going to be in the encyclopedias.”

“True. But if we’re lucky, we’ll pick up the scent.”

Sam looked at the sun glittering on the surface of the sea. “Imagine what that had to have been like. Diving, day after day, off an island during wartime, enemy attacks taking place constantly. With technology that predates scuba. The old copper diving helmets . . . like something out of Jules Verne.”

“They were obviously successful. One look at the walls proves that,” Remi said.

Sam looked back at the monitor with a thoughtful expression. “No question.”

The rest of the day went by slowly even with the improvised suction pump. Leonid’s impatience created a palpable tension. When the dive teams finally called it a night, everyone gathered in the galley for di

Des tuned in to the local radio news for updates on the unrest, which appeared to have calmed somewhat over the course of the afternoon. According to the somber a

The following morning, Sam used the satellite Internet to check his e-mail. There was a message from Selma with a file attached. He downloaded it and studied the pages as Remi lingered over another cup of coffee. By the time she was done, he’d skimmed the summary and zeroed in on a few promising threads.

“The Japanese had a hell of a time supplying their troops here. That was the main reason they ultimately evacuated. When the surviving soldiers made it to the ships, they were suffering from starvation. Some of the reports are grim. Dysentery, malnutrition, you name it.”

“How long did the Japanese have control of the island?”

“Only about seven months. From June 1942 until February 1943. And it was some of the bitterest fighting of the war.”

“Then there’s not a long time period for us to cover.”

“No, but there’s also very few records from the Japanese side.”

“Right, but since we know they found whatever treasure was here, the question is what happened to it? Why hasn’t it surfaced since the war?”

“You beat me to the punch. If you’d discovered gold, and who knows what else, what would you do? Remember, you’re in the middle of a battle zone with fighting going on every day, your side losing the battle, starvation setting in, heavy casualties, an uncertain future.”

“I’d want to get it off the island.”

“Right, but that’s easier said than done, with the Allies throwing everything they had at you.” Sam’s brow furrowed in thought. “And there’s another wrinkle. To dive that site, there had to have been a ship anchored over it for weeks. That would have naturally attracted unwanted Allied forces attention.”

“Then I think we can safely assume that the mother ship wasn’t an official Japanese vessel.”

Sam nodded. “It was probably a converted long-range fishing vessel or an i

Remi frowned. “And there’s no wreckage.” She sighed. “Are you saying that once the Japanese were done bringing the treasure to the surface, it just steamed out of here?”

Sam shook his head. “Highly unlikely. Especially as the Allied campaign intensified. They obviously couldn’t afford the sinking or search and seizure of whatever craft they used. The Allies had created a tough enough barrier that the Japanese couldn’t even supply their troops. I can’t see anyone risking high stakes on the open seas.”