The Solomon Curse

That elicited a reaction. Watanabe nodded. “Three sailors. One soldier,” he said, his voice soft.

“Right. But five of you, correct?”

“Yes. Out of hundreds.”

“It sounds like quite a story. Can you tell me what happened?”

Watanabe shrugged and shifted in his chair. “Our ship sank in the storm.” The Japanese’s English was good, if tinged with an Australian accent.

“Yes, we know that. A destroyer, right?”

He nodded. “Only a year old but already damaged several times.”

“What happened?”

“The repair didn’t hold. Water poured in. No way to fix. Big seas sank her.”

“So it was an old repair that let go. I see,” Remi said. “Why were you ru

“We picked up soldiers on Guadalcanal. Our orders were to return to Tokyo. So a long trip ahead of us. The storm was a surprise.” The ancient Japanese sailor stared at the floor. “The last surprise, for most of us.”

“Tell me about that night,” Remi coaxed, sitting forward on the sofa, her tone quiet. “You’re the last person alive who was there. It must have been agonizing.”

The old man closed his eyes with a flutter, and when he opened them, he was staring at a point a thousand miles away. He cleared his throat, and when he began to speak, his voice quavered.

“We did the trip from our base in the afternoon, knowing the Allied planes wouldn’t get within a hundred miles of Bougainville because of their range. We ran at thirty knots. The seas were confused, and a squall was coming from the west, but nobody knew how bad it would turn out. We were at the rendezvous point off Guadalcanal by ten-thirty and picked up the men we’d been assigned to evacuate in about an hour before steaming away.”

Remi nodded encouragingly.

“The seas began to build a couple of hours later, but it was only clear how rough it would get in the end. Breaking waves the size of cliffs. Wind and rain blowing sideways.” He paused, the memory clearly vivid. “But we’d been through worse. We were fine until the repair gave out. From there, it was a losing battle. We never had a chance. We got lifeboats floated, but there weren’t nearly enough because of all the soldiers we’d evacuated. And, in that weather, most didn’t last long. We did . . . we did what we could, but it was no good.” Watanabe drew a long breath. “Many of the soldiers couldn’t swim. Those that could . . . There were too many in the water. The waves were thirty, forty, fifty feet. It was . . . it was a miracle anyone survived. The lifeboats were overloaded, torn to pieces.” He closed his eyes. “And then the sharks came.”

“And you were heading back to Japan?” Sam asked.

“Yes. Our captain had his orders.”

“Why?”

Watanabe shook his head. “I don’t know. When you’re a sailor, you do as you’re told.”

Remi offered another smile. “You only picked up men on Guadalcanal?”

Watanabe’s brow furrowed. “Yes. It was an evacuation. Our men were at the end of their rope.”

“Is it possible any cargo was brought aboard?”

Watanabe looked puzzled by the question. “What would have been worth bringing? The solders’ clothes were rags. They were starving. They were days away from dying.”

“But was there time to load anything?”

He appeared to consider the question and shook his head. “We barely had time to get the men on board.”

The card room door burst open and an Asian woman in her sixties barged in, a furious expression on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, staring at Sam and Remi like they’d been beating the elderly Watanabe.

“We’re just talking. He agreed to it,” Remi started, but the woman stepped between her and the old man.

“Talking? About what? What could you have to discuss with my father?”

Watanabe looked at the newcomer, his gaze growing dull. “The war. We were talking about the war.”

The daughter glared at Remi and shook her head. “You’ve talked enough. Leave him alone. He’s not well, and he doesn’t need to have strangers making him relive that nightmare.”

Sam rose. “We’re sorry, it’s just that—”

The woman cut him off. “Go on. Leave. He’s tired. Look at him. What’s wrong with you—don’t you have any compassion? He’s been to hell and back. Just leave him in peace.”

Chastened, Sam and Remi moved to the door. “We meant no harm,” Remi said in a quiet voice.

“I grew up seeing what that war did to him. He moved away from Japan after ten years there—the war broke him, as well as the country he loved, and he never went back. What do you know about anything? Just . . . go. He’s been through enough.”

Sam led Remi outside, his expression grim. When they reached the car, he hesitated before opening his door.

“Maybe she was right. That didn’t really tell us much, did it?”

“Sam, we’ve done this often enough. We had to talk to him. He was our only lead.”

“I know. But she was furious. I hope we didn’t upset the old man.”

“She was the one who seemed bent out of shape. He didn’t. Maybe she’s just being protective.”

He shook his head and popped the locks using the remote. “I can see her point.”

“Sam, we didn’t do anything wrong.”

He slid behind the wheel and slid the key into the ignition. “I know. So why does it feel like we did?”

CHAPTER 26

The streets of Honiara were slick from a recent cloudburst when Sam and Remi arrived the next afternoon. They dropped their bags at the room and Sam eyed Remi, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” she asked.

“I was just thinking it is a nice day for a drive.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, really. Where did you have in mind?”

“We might want to go back and talk to Rubo. He was around during the Japanese occupation. He may know something.”

“Unless it’s how to find a ship that’s a mile and a half below the surface and raise it off the bottom, I doubt it.”

“Perhaps,” Sam said. “But we don’t have much else to do. We can hang out on the boat and watch the divers blow sediment all over, but that doesn’t feel particularly useful, does it?”

Remi shuddered involuntarily, the cold air-conditioning prickling her skin. “As I recall, the last time we did that trip, we came back without a car.”

“I promise not to get run off the road.”

“Or shot at?” She sighed. “I suppose there’s no point in trying to talk you out of it.”

“We’ll be fine. What could . . .” Sam paused with a slight wink of his eye before continuing in a firm, deliberately bright voice. “What could be nicer than a drive along the coast?”

“Close, Fargo, close.”

He looked at her i

There was one roadblock on the road out of town, but the police waved them through without interest. Apparently, the state of emergency was over and things were back to as routine as they ever were. When they ran out of pavement, the van bumped down the dirt track that ran along the river and Sam had to slow to a crawl.

After a particularly memorable bump, Remi glanced sideways at Sam. “Whatever you do, Sam Fargo, promise me we won’t get stuck.”

“I’m doing my best not to.”

“Not to promise or not to get stuck?”

“Neither, hopefully.”

“You aren’t convincing me on either count.”

When the hut finally came into view, Rubo was lounging in the shade, watching the river rush by. He looked up at them when the van pulled to a stop. They got out and Remi waved.

“Rubo. Are we disturbing you?”

Rubo cackled and shook his head. “Every day the same as the last out here. You want to hear more stories?”

“We do.”

Watching as they approached, the old man motioned to a spot on his log bench. Remi sat next to him and Sam took a stump opposite. The heat was sweltering even in the shade. The old man waved a fly away and raised an eyebrow. Remi leaned nearer and waited for Sam to speak.