The Solomon Curse

“Can you summarize?”

“Rather a lot of blather about a village, a waterfall, that sort of thing. Seems like directions, but I’d think longitude and latitude would have been more useful.”

“It’s possible he didn’t have access to his notes or a GPS when he wrote it,” Sam joked.

“That’s certainly one explanation. The other is that he was wary that someone would crack the code. I should say that’s unlikely, given the technology in use during the war, but it’s a possibility. Nowadays, of course, a car has more computing power than the entire Allied cryptology effort, so for a seasoned pro like me it’s child’s play.”

“Which is why we’re glad you’re on our team, Lazlo,” Sam assured him.

“Take a gander at it and call Selma or me if you have any questions. Meanwhile, I’ll stay on it.”

“Thank you, Lazlo. Nice work.”

“I hope it helps. Selma is as tight-lipped as the Sphinx when it comes to what you two are up to over there. It’s all I could do to drag a few tidbits out of her.”

“We’ve located a sunken city, and it looks like there was a treasure of some sort the Japanese located and hid before they evacuated the island. Your contribution may be the key to finding it.” Sam smiled at Remi. “Lazlo, are you busy with anything at the moment?”

“I’m debating writing the great American novel. But then I remember I’m British and watch the telly instead.”

“Think you could stomach a flight to the lovely Solomon Islands to help us on our treasure hunt?”

Remi gave Sam a sidelong glance and sighed. There was no hesitation when Lazlo answered. “I’ll be on the next plane out.”

“That would put you here in a couple of days.”

“Don’t go and find the treasure without me.”

“Might want to have Selma get you a can of crocodile repellent and some giant spray. Oh, and a Kevlar vest in case there’s more rioting or assassinations.”

“What’s that you say?”

“Never mind. Dress for the tropics. Let us know when your flight arrives so we can roll out the welcome committee.”

“Will do.”

Remi signaled to the waiter for a refill of coffee as Sam hung up and she fixed him with a skeptical eye. “We really need Lazlo here?”

“He’s bouncing off the walls with nothing to do. And he did decode the diary.” He told her about the cypher and the e-mail.

“So our suspicions were correct. Kumasaka hid the treasure, pla

“Or once the Allies were driven back by the might of the Axis powers.”

“That didn’t quite work out as pla

“I think it would lift his spirits to be in on the hunt.”

She gazed at a gull, riding an updraft over the water. “I don’t know, Sam. With the rebels knocking people off left and right . . .”

“He can always hop on a plane out just as easily as we can. Or join us on the boat.”

“Speaking of which, are we heading out there today?”

“I think it would be good to show our faces. Moral support for Leonid and all.”

Back in their room, Remi pulled up the e-mail and they read Lazlo’s attachment. When they were done, Remi shook her head. “Just once, I’d like to have a clear set of directions. Just once. Is that too much to ask?”

“It would take all the fun out of it.”

“Maybe, but come on. This could be anywhere. He doesn’t even identify which village he used as his starting point.”

“Lazlo did say he might have missed something. Could be a starting point yet to surface. Even so, we’re way ahead of where we were just a few days ago. He places the cave near a waterfall.”

“There’s some ambiguity there, I think. Lazlo makes a point of indicating that it could be plural, as in caves.”

“Cave, caves, at least we have something to follow now.”

“I know.” She checked her watch. “How hard do you think it will be to round up some decent spelunking gear on the island?”

“Basics? Shouldn’t be too bad. I’ll make out a list and send it to Selma, just in case. Lazlo can bring anything we can’t locate.”

There was only one police checkpoint just outside of town and little traffic as they followed the winding road to the turnoff that led to the bay. They were again the only vehicle parked by the shore and there were no fresh tire tracks, their old ones long since washed away by the regular cloudbursts. Des arrived in the skiff five minutes after they arrived and gave them a progress report as they bounced over the mild waves toward the Darwin.

Once on board, Des led them to the bridge, where Leonid was in his customary position in front of the monitor display, watching the divers go about their work. He glanced up when Sam and Remi entered and then went back to staring at the screens.

“Morning, sunshine,” Sam said as he neared.

“More like afternoon now, isn’t it?” Leonid said.

“When you’re in the islands, time slows down. Don’t you know that?” Remi said with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Agonizing. It’ll be years, at this rate,” Leonid said.

“I have good news for you, my aquatic friend,” Sam a

“Won’t be a minute too soon,” Leonid said.

“But, in the meantime, we have a related project to which we need you to bring your considerable skills.” Sam described the encrypted clues Lazlo had discovered. “We were hoping you might want to get off the boat for a little while and help us find King Loc’s treasure. Unless you’ve got your hands full here,” Sam said, eyeing the cloudy images on the monitors.

“Back on solid ground? When do we leave?”

“Shortly. We have an associate coming from San Diego with some supplies we’ll need. Figure in two days, tops.” Sam smiled. “In the meantime, we can do a little diving together. Remi’s been bugging me about seeing you in action. I hate to deprive her of anything.”

Remi nodded enthusiastically. “That’s right. We’ll stay overnight so we can get in some morning dives, too. You ready to suit up and put those newfound skills of yours to work?”

Leonid closed his eyes and shook his head. “I hope you’re joking.”

Remi waited until his eyes flittered open and gave him a wicked grin. “I never joke about diving.”

Sam shrugged. “She’s the boss. Come on, Aquaman. Time to get wet.”

CHAPTER 38

The next morning, after breakfast with the crew, Sam and Remi returned to shore accompanied by Leonid, whose relief to be off the Darwin was obvious. He trudged up the sand toward the Nissan with the enthusiasm of a prisoner released from death row, and Sam exchanged a smile with Remi.

“Be sure to make plenty of noise, Leonid. Remember the crocodiles,” Sam warned.

Leonid slowed and glanced around. “Are you making jokes again?”

“No, he’s serious. It’s a well-established fact that crocodiles are sensitive to sound. I usually sing and flap my arms. Better than being eaten alive,” Remi assured him.

“That’s right. Remember Benji. He was quiet and paid for it with his leg,” said Sam.

Leonid stopped. “I think you’re pulling on mine. My leg, I mean.”

“Did you know a male crocodile can run faster than a racehorse?” Remi shared. “I don’t know where I read that, but they’re called land barracudas by the natives.”

Once at the SUV, Sam did his usual inspection of the exterior as Leonid and Remi climbed in. After confirming that there were no new tire tracks or footprints around the vehicle, he slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled onto the rutted track and made for the main road.