The Solomon Curse

“Perhaps a wounded bull,” Sam corrected with a chuckle.

“That’s not a terrible nickname,” Lazlo said. “Wounded Bull. It somehow fits.”

“I’m not so badly off I can’t overtake you, you colonial oppressor,” the Russian growled good-naturedly.

“Yes, well, save your enthusiasm for the hunt. I suspect you’ll need it.”

“You know,” Remi said, “I don’t mean to be negative, but I had a thought last night. What if the Japanese hid the cave entrance once the islanders had loaded in the crates? I mean, it’s not impossible. If they really wanted to conceal their stash, it would have been easy. A grenade, a mortar . . .”

“That’s a good point. But it would have left a trace, I’d think,” Lazlo said.

“Probably. All I’m saying is, we shouldn’t discount any irregularity in the terrain no matter how unlikely it may appear.”

The trudge along the base of the ridge was agonizingly slow in the blaze of late-morning sun, over the treacherous ground. They passed the two caves they’d already explored and continued east, eyeing the landscape. Near another small stream, Leonid pointed to the rise. “Do you see that?” he asked.

They followed his finger to a collection of boulders, trailing down the hill, evidence of a landslide.

Sam nodded as he regarded the ridge. “Could be. Let’s have a closer look.”

The group climbed across the loose shale, the stones getting larger as they neared. At the top of the irregularity, Sam and Lazlo scraped away at the rocks, prying with their machete blades, trying to loosen the rubble. Leonid and Remi stood back, letting them work. Ten minutes later, Sam looked over his shoulder at her. “There’s a space behind it. You’re a genius.”

“I just have a devious mind. It’s what I would have done. After all, they had no way of knowing whether the Allies would investigate every square inch of the island or not once they had full possession. Better safe than sorry . . .” Remi said.

“Let’s clear this and see what’s inside,” said Sam, now fueled to greater effort. Remi and Leonid joined them and in another few minutes a gap had been opened.

“Definitely a cave,” Lazlo murmured, gazing into the darkness. Motes of dust hovered in the still air.

“Want to do the honors, Lazlo?” Remi asked.

“You know, I just had a thought. What if they booby-trapped it?” Lazlo mused.

“I highly doubt that anything they could have rigged that long ago would still be operational,” Sam said.

“Fine. Follow me,” Lazlo said, his voice trying for a conviction he clearly didn’t feel.

They entered the cavern, trailing Lazlo, their lights illuminating the space, which was larger than the prior caves. The floor was uneven and stretched into the darkness, sloping lower as they moved deeper, with the surface slick in places from water dripping from the ceiling and leaching through the walls.

“At least it’s cool in here,” Sam said as they pressed forward.

“But no crates,” Remi said.

“Look at the bright side. No skeletons, either.”

Lazlo slowed as the passage turned to the right and he held his light up. Stalactites hung from above like giant fossilized icicles, dripping relentlessly, as they had since the cave’s birth. The team edged around piles of debris, where sections of the ceiling had collapsed over time, and soon found themselves in a larger natural chamber.

“But still no treasure,” Leonid reminded, his expression sour.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Sam said, turning slowly, his lamp raised in his hand.

“Look over here,” Lazlo called from their right. Their heads turned to where he was gazing into yet another cave through a smaller opening. “This appears to continue for some distance.”

“That would make sense. Remember that the legends of the giants claim there’s an entire system that stretches across the island. Those tales are likely based in some sort of fact,” Remi said.

“Then how do we find the right cave? This could take forever,” Leonid griped.

“What happened to Raging Bull?” Sam teased.

“Wounded Bull,” Lazlo corrected.

As they continued down through the caves, the temperature dropped steadily, and soon the oppressive heat at the cave mouth was a distant memory, replaced by a dank chill. Lazlo continued leading the way, Sam and Remi behind him, and Leonid bringing up the rear, as they edged along a narrow rise that stretched along the side of a tu

The crash of Leonid’s light hitting the stone cave floor shattered the stillness as he cried out. The group spun to where he’d slipped on a slick spot and gone over the edge, dropping down the steep slope into the chasm below.

“Leonid,” Sam cried out, dropping to his knees, careful to avoid the wet patch. Lichen clinging to the stone made it as slippery as ice.

“Can you see down there?” Lazlo asked, his light trained into the black depths.

“No. It looks like it twists around,” Sam said, transferring his lamp to his right hand. “Remi, hand me one of the rope bundles. I’ll tie it off and go after him.”

“Sam?” Remi said, her voice low.

“What? Didn’t you hear me? He’s probably hurt.”

“Sam . . .”

Sam exhaled loudly and twisted around and froze when he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol held by a tall islander a dozen yards away.

CHAPTER 46

Three men stood in the gloom beyond the gunman, machetes in hand. The islander with the pistol gri

“Well, took you long enough,” the gunman said, and pointed the weapon at where Lazlo was trying to inch away. “Don’t any of you move.”

“We don’t mean you any harm. Our friend slipped and fell,” Sam said. “We have to get him. He could be badly injured.”

“Saves me a bullet. Now, don’t you be trying anything or I’ll blow your fool heads off. Any of you give me trouble, the little lady gets it first. Boys? Search them.”

The thugs made short work of a cursory frisking, confiscating their machetes and kicking their bags aside. The gunman kept the pistol trained unwaveringly at Remi the entire time, watching as she glared at him. When the islanders were finished, they manhandled everyone, pushing them forward. The gunman backed up, a flashlight in his other hand, while his companions directed them toward a dim glow at the far end of the massive space.

“Who are you?” Sam demanded as he passed the gunman.

“Your worst nightmare,” the gunman snarled. “You been sticking your nose into business that don’t concern you. Causing a heap of worry. That all over now.”

“What are you talking about? What is this place?”

“Shut up. No more talk,” the thug nearest Sam ordered, and gave him a hard push between the shoulder blades, causing him to stumble. Sam barely maintained his balance, his equilibrium thrown by the lack of a reference point in the gloom, and he could hear Remi’s breathing quicken.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said. His captor clipped the back of his head with the handle of his machete, knocking him to his knees.

“I say shut up, I mean it,” the man snarled. “Up,” he growled, kicking Sam in the ribs.

Sam struggled to his feet and felt the back of his skull. His fingers came away with a smear of blood.

“Sam,” Remi whispered.

He shook his head, instantly regretting the abrupt gesture and wincing in pain. The thug stepped back and raised his machete, the muscles in his arm bulging. “Move or I chop you right here.”

Sam staggered forward in the faint light. The others trailed him, as their captors radiated menace, machete blades glinting, as they made their way to a gap in the cave wall. Another armed islander stood to one side of the opening, watching them.