The Solomon Curse

“I was browsing the web to see if there were any reports of rebel activity before the aid workers’ kidnapping. But, no, it’s a new development.”

“What can we conclude from that?”

“That it just started since we arrived. Timing’s everything.”

“Right. But wouldn’t you think if this was a popular uprising, someone would have said something? Sounds fishy to me.” Sam sat back and stared out at the water. “There’s a lot of money involved in the mineral rights. The gold is a big deal, sure. But the petroleum dwarfs that. We’re talking many billions, potentially.” Sam rose and turned to her. “Fortunately, it’s not our fight. We’ve got other fish to fry. Sunken cities. Hidden treasure.”

“Grilled mahi mahi with mango chutney,” she said, then tiptoed and kissed him. “Why are you always spoiling me?”

“All part of my evil plan to bend you to my will.”

Service was slow, and by the time they’d finished lunch it was two o’clock. After a brief chat with the manager, who cautioned them that although the morning’s unrest appeared to be over they should still be careful, they returned to the Toyota and made their way to Island Dreams.

The car rental agent was understanding about the damage to the vehicle, once a wad of hundreds materialized in Sam’s hand. The agent apologized for the unrest as though he’d personally been responsible for it and then escorted them to a dark blue Nissan Pathfinder that looked like it had circumnavigated the globe. They climbed aboard and strapped in.

“It sounds like the muffler’s shot,” Remi observed as Sam accelerated.

“An authentic island vehicle in every way,” Sam agreed with a grin.

The sat phone rang as they were parking and Sam answered it while they strolled to the lobby.

“Hello?”

Selma wasted no time with small talk. “We got a hit on Kumasaka. His daughter lives in Tokyo. Well, in Sawara, in Chiba prefecture. She’s in her seventies, retired, no children.”

“Have you made contact?”

“No. I thought you might want to do that.”

Sam considered the question. “How’s your Japanese?”

“About as good as my Bulgarian.”

“Do you have any friends that could help you with the daughter?”

“Of course. What do you want me to say?”

“That you’re working with historians documenting the stories of Japanese POWs imprisoned in Australia and New Zealand. That her father, being a high-ranking officer, is of interest and we want to speak to her.” Sam paused. “Remi and I can be in Japan at the drop of a hat if you can get us a meeting.”

“Okay, boss. But she must have been a child during the war. She might not know anything worth traveling for.”

“I know, but she’s our only lead so far and we’re ru

“Don’t turn the phone off,” Selma said, and hung up.

Once in their room at the hotel, Sam strolled out onto the terrace and called the Darwin.

Des answered, his voice typically chipper. “G’day, Sam. Heard on the radio there was a bit of excitement this morning.”

“Yes, we got caught up in a little of it, but it’s quiet now.”

“All’s well, I trust?”

“Never better. Listen, Des, I have to apologize. We were hoping to make it out today, but time got away from us. How’s everything going?”

“All good. Your man Leonid’s on the ball. Slow but steady wins the race.”

“Is he nearby?”

“Just a sec.” A few moments later, Leonid came on the line.

“Leonid. How’s the exploration going?” Sam asked.

“It’s going,” Leonid said, his tone sour. “Were you able to get a bigger boat?”

“Working on it, my friend. Any news on the ruins?”

“No. Just clearing barnacles and seaweed off the main temple. It’s going to be a long process, even with better equipment and more divers.” Leonid didn’t sound excited at the prospect.

“Well, good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue, right?”

A faint hum of static was the only reply. Leonid eventually sighed. “Are you coming to torment me in person?”

“No, my friend, not today. But soon.” Sam hesitated. “There was some more unpleasantness in town this morning. Does Des still have the men watching the shore?”

“Yes. There’s nothing to report. Just jungle and more jungle.”

“Consider yourself lucky.” Sam gave him an abridged account of the near miss at the hospital.

“Do you think we’re still safe out here?” Leonid asked when Sam finished.

“Yes, but it can’t hurt to keep an eye out for trouble. You’re in a desolate spot, so best not to let down your guard.”

“I’ll add the risk of being beheaded by madmen to my list of worries. After seasickness, it’s actually begi

“The secret is to dive, Leonid. You’ll see.”

“What I’m hoping to see is a much, much bigger boat.”

Sam couldn’t help smiling at the crusty Russian’s tone. He was nothing if not persistent. “I spoke with Selma earlier today. I hope to have news on the new boat soon,” Sam said, reminding himself to ask Selma about it when she called back. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Sam had just hung up when the phone rang.

“Selma! That was quick.”

“A friend of mine at Scripps is half Japanese. She made the call for us and said we needn’t have bothered—the daughter speaks good English. She agreed to meet you whenever you can get to Japan or you can call her. Your choice.”

“We’ll fly to Tokyo. Is she expecting our call?”

“Yes, we told her that someone would contact her. We left it open-ended. You want her number?”

“Shoot.”

Selma read off the information.

Sam repeated it, and then he remembered the boat. “Have you made any progress on finding us a larger research vessel? Leonid’s driving me a little crazy, asking about it.”

“That was the next item on my list. I’m in final negotiations to get a two-hundred-sixty-footer, fully equipped with the latest gear. It can be there within a week.” Selma mentioned a price. “Will that work?”

“They understand we want to rent it, not buy it, right?” Sam joked.

Selma paused, and when she spoke again Sam recognized the tone: she’d learned something and couldn’t wait to share with him. “Are you sitting down?”

“Yes, Selma. What’s up?”

“I did some more digging on your Japanese colonel’s history. Or, rather, on Japanese history that might be relevant to your man. I think I discovered the reason nobody wants to talk about the mysterious Meiji Corps. Have you ever heard of Unit 731?”

“No.”

“Unit 731 and several associated groups were units of the Japanese military that engaged in experimentation on prisoners and civilians. They tested every depravity you can think of—vivisection without anesthesia, freezing or burning victims to death to see how long it took for them to die, injecting them with poisons and chemicals for the same reason, you name it. They operated in China, mostly out of the Pingfang District, where they had a complex of one hundred fifty buildings just outside of Harbin, China. Unit 731 was run by a Japanese general named Shiro Ishii.”

“Shiro Ishii,” Sam repeated with a slight grin.

“The complex was disguised as a water purification facility. The atrocities went on for ten years. Besides the experimentation, they were also involved in germ warfare, where the Japanese dropped special bombs containing contaminated fleas into Chinese populations to spread the plague. To make a long story short, the Japanese made infamous Nazis like Josef Mengele look like Mother Teresa.”

“Why haven’t I heard of any of this? You’re describing war crimes that went on for a decade.”

“Well, that’s where it gets interesting. And, I mean, really interesting. After the Japanese were defeated, the Allies granted the Unit 731 scientists blanket immunity from prosecution. And apparently many of the worst offenders went on to become rich and powerful in postwar Japan.”