The Solomon Curse

“Here’s a hatchet. Grab a light and let’s get out of here.”

“What about that bloke?” Lazlo asked, tilting his head at the downed guard.

“I’ll make short work of him,” Sam said. He scrounged among their discarded bindings and found a length of cord that looked promising. A minute later, he’d bound the man’s wrists and ankles and stuffed a rag in his mouth. “That should keep him out of trouble for a while.”

A faint clank sounded from the passage they’d come down. Sam’s head swiveled toward it and then he gestured to Remi and Lazlo. “Follow me, and don’t make a sound.”

“Sam. A machete’s no match for a gun,” Remi whispered.

“A gun’s only as good as the shooter,” he said, his face serious. “Come on.”

Sam crept to the far end of the cave, where a cavity led deeper into the mountain. He waited until it was too dark in the passage to see from the glow behind them and then switched on the flashlight he’d grabbed. To their right, the narrow cave forked in two directions, and he stopped, listening. He sniffed at the dank air and pointed to the right branch. “It smells fresher this way. More humid,” he said.

“What if it dead-ends?” Lazlo asked.

Sam shrugged. “That would be bad.”

They kept moving, the ground angling lower before leveling out. A faint hiss ahead of them grew louder as they crept forward, and, after another minute, they arrived at a rushing torrent of black water. They eyed the current and Sam directed his beam beyond it. “Looks like this continues on the other side. But the water’s moving pretty fast.”

“The good news is, it’s not that wide,” Remi said.

Lazlo frowned. “The bad news is, I haven’t swum since I was a teenager.”

Sam glanced at him. “It’s like riding a bike.”

“Haven’t done that in forever, either.”

“I don’t see any way around it,” Sam said. “Remi? Hand me the rope.”

Remi did as asked. “No telling how deep it is.”

“It’s only the last few inches that’ll kill you.”

“Very comforting, Fargo. Be careful.”

He uncoiled the rope. “You and Lazlo hold on to this end. Wish me luck.”

The sound of angry voices reverberated from the other end of the cave. Sam frowned and quickly tied one end of the line around his waist. “Here goes nothing.”

The water was surprisingly cold and stronger than he’d imagined. Almost immediately, it pulled at his ankles like an angry dog. The soles of his boots slipped along the smooth stone riverbed, polished by thousands of years of rushing torrent, and he fought to stay upright as he inched farther into the current. Spray splashed his thighs as he tested the bottom, moving cautiously, and then suddenly the current pulled him down and he was tumbling into the river, stu

Water rushed into his nose and mouth and he choked as he lost his bearings, the lack of light now deadly. He fought to reach the surface, thrashing with all his might—but in the dark there was no hint of which way the surface was.

The cord went taut, stopping him from being washed into oblivion. Remi and Lazlo had reacted quickly and were holding him—but even their combined strength wouldn’t be a match for the river for long.

Sam’s arm broke from the water and he pulled himself upward, battling the rushing froth as his head shot into the air. He gasped as he struggled to cross to the far side, the surge pulling him toward where the water disappeared beneath a limestone drop. He fought its powerful draw with steady strokes, as Remi and Lazlo fed out line, the river a roar in his ears, and then light played across the darkness—Remi was shining her flashlight on the far bank to guide him.

Sam’s knee bashed against rock and his leg went numb. Just then, his fingers felt cold stone—he’d made it to the other side. He scrabbled onto the bank, sensation returning to his leg, with a throbbing in his knee, and he lay on his back, catching his breath.

His relief was interrupted by an urgent tug on the rope. He looked across the water where Remi stood—he’d been washed ten yards downstream in the blink of an eye. She gestured to the area behind her and cut her light, plunging the cave into darkness. Sam understood. Their pursuers were coming and she didn’t want to offer any clues to which passage they’d taken.

Sam retrieved the plastic flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on and, thankfully, it illuminated. He made his way directly across from Remi and tugged back on the rope as he looked around for anything he could tie his end to. Failing to find anything obvious, he rose and anchored himself against the eroded remains of a boulder. Lazlo wrapped the cord around his waist and did the same. The line went taut a few feet above the rushing river’s surface, and Remi wasted no time. She stashed her light in her waistband, gripped the rope with both hands, and edged into the water, using the rope to guide her.

When the bottom went out from beneath Remi’s feet and she was in the full surge of the current, it was all Sam could do to maintain control over the rope. He was forced to wind in several feet of rope when Lazlo skidded on his side, losing ground. He felt the jolt of the line as Remi’s hands struggled and exhaled a loud sigh of relief when she regained her footing and moved to join him, dripping wet but unharmed.

“Lazlo. Tie the rope around your waist and swim over. We’ll pull you to this side,” Sam called out, his words amplified by the stone walls.

Lazlo did as instructed, and Sam whispered loudly to Remi, “You ready to do this?”

“Yes, but we don’t have much time. They sound close.”

Lazlo made his move, and Sam began reeling in the rope with Remi’s help, the uneven surface near the boulder providing the necessary traction for their boots. Lazlo splashed into the water like an ungainly stork picking its way through a marsh and then he was in the current, flailing and sputtering on the end of the line as Sam and Remi pulled with all their might.

He was halfway across when Remi’s grip slipped and a yard of rope burned through Sam’s hands as he fought for a hold. As Lazlo’s head went under, Sam’s fingers locked on the cord. He stopped the slippage, sweat beading on his forehead, as he wrapped the rope around his forearm. Remi regained her footing and resumed pulling, but Lazlo’s weight combined with the power of the current presented an almost impossible challenge.

After a few frantic moments, Lazlo broke the surface near them and coughed, his hacking like gunfire in the cave as he fought for breath. Sam and Remi heaved him the rest of the way out of the water and he stared up at them in the gloom like a wet dog. Water dripped from his hair and mustache, lending him the appearance of an emaciated walrus.

Boots clomped from in the passage, and Sam whispered to Lazlo, “Bring the rope and follow me.”

Lazlo pushed himself to his feet, trying to contain his coughing, as Sam tossed the rope aside. Lazlo gathered it quickly and darted after Sam and Remi as they disappeared into the recesses of the elongated cave, following the passage around a natural bend. Sam kept his light off as he felt along the wall, the way burned into his memory from the one quick glance he’d had in his flashlight’s beam.

They didn’t have to wait long. The glow from the islanders’ lights approached from the far reaches of the cave, and Sam signaled for them to stop, once around the bend, so he could peer back and see whether they were being pursued.

The islanders arrived at the riverbank—four or five, by the sound of it. Sam could hear their frustrated voices reverberating in the cave, the angry tone of the leader more animated than those of his men, who sounded subdued. Sam couldn’t understand what they were saying, but he didn’t need a translation as they neared the water—they were going to try to make it across the river.

One of the lights flashed along the bank and stopped at the wet footprints leading to the recess where the Fargos had taken cover. Sam swore under his breath and turned to Remi. “They spotted our trail,” he whispered.