The Solomon Curse

“Look. It’s an ambulance, from town,” she said.

Sam stepped from behind the tree as the ambulance neared, waving his hands over his head. The ambulance slowed, its emergency lights flashing red and blue, the driver probably surprised to come across three foreigners in the middle of nowhere just after dawn. The vehicle rolled to a stop on the roadside ten yards from where they stood.

“It should have a radio. Finally, a lucky break—we can get help a lot faster,” Sam said, and then his voice trailed off when the doors at the rear of the ambulance swung open and a familiar figure stepped onto the pavement. The shape of the pistol in the man’s hand was unmistakable, in the unlikely event any of them had forgotten the lead gunman’s face.

“Oh no . . .” Remi said, preparing to bolt. A second gunman descended from the rear of the ambulance with an ancient rifle, an evil grin twisting his features, stopping her in her tracks. At that distance, a pistol shot might miss, but not a rifle.

“Well, well, well. Look what we found,” the gunman said, approaching them with his weapon held casually by his side. “Small world, no?” he asked as he neared, and slammed Sam in the side of the head with a brutal blow from the pistol’s stock before he could raise his hands to defend himself.

“No!” Remi screamed, lunging at the gunman, but it was too late.

The sky spun and the world faded from Sam as he crumpled to the road, unconscious.

CHAPTER 48

Sam shifted on the hard stone floor as awareness seeped back into his brutalized cranium. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused, and then the blur of indistinct objects resolved itself into the concerned face of Remi, staring down at him, Lazlo looking over her shoulder. Sam blinked, and his head felt like someone had broken a two-by-four over it. He raised a tentative hand to his temple and drew a sharp breath when pain radiated through his skull from the swollen bump, crusted over with blood where the pistol had broken skin.

Sam tried to sit up, but the room spun, and a sound like a freight train roaring through a tu

“We’re back in the caves. But this one’s different,” she said. He tried to make sense out of that. Last thing he remembered, he was on the road, waving down an ambulance . . .

His memory came rushing back in a jumble of images. The gunmen. A blow to the head. Darkness.

Sam struggled up, leaning on one elbow, and regarded Remi. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a croak.

“Yes. They roughed us up some, but you got the worst of it.”

“I feel like I wrestled a bear.” He blinked again. “The bear won.”

“Not far from the truth,” Lazlo said. “You look a trifle played.”

“That’s what happens when they use your head for a punching bag,” Sam said, and sat up. This time, the room didn’t spin—it tilted—and the nausea that accompanied that sensation surged before slowly receding. He looked back at Remi. “What do you mean, this cave’s different?”

“It’s not the same one we were in. It’s better lit, and has multiple chambers . . . one of which has some hospital beds in it, along with medical equipment.”

“Medical equipment?” Sam asked, trying to make sense out of hospital beds in caves. “What kind of medical equipment?”

A rusting iron slab at the far end of their empty chamber creaked open and Carol Vanya stepped in, a pleasant smile on her face like she’d dropped by to chat. Two gunmen followed her, brandishing their weapons with ugly expressions.

“Oh, mostly vital signs monitors, IVs, oxygen tanks, that sort of thing,” Vanya said. “We’ve got a solar array set up in a clearing with a considerable battery bank, and a wind generator, as well as a water-driven generator that’s surprisingly powerful.”

Remi glared at her in shock. “You! Why have you kidnapped us?”

Vanya shrugged. “I did try to warn you to leave the island. Several times. But you wouldn’t pay heed. This is what happens when you think you’re so superior that you don’t have to listen to the well-intentioned advice of those who care about you.”

“That’s not an answer,” Sam managed. Vanya shrugged again.

“You stuck your noses where they didn’t belong. That created a problem. Again, you were warned.”

“What are you talking about?” Remi demanded.

“Apparently, you believe I’m here to answer your questions. You’ve got that backwards. So let’s start with why you were rooting around in the caves. What were you looking for?”

“We weren’t looking for anything,” Lazlo lied unconvincingly. “Just exploring.”

Vanya sighed. “My associates here are waiting to take you apart, limb by limb. I’d hoped to have a civilized discussion, but if you want to progress to the ugliness, so be it . . .”

Remi shook her head. “We were looking for artifacts. Some of the evidence we found in the sunken city pointed to the caves,” she said, offering a partial truth.

“Ah, yes. The infamous sunken city.” She regarded them curiously. “What artifacts?”

“Items of potential archaeological significance,” Remi fired back.

“Well, I hope it was worth it to you because it cost you your lives.”

Sam fixed her with a hard stare. “You’ll never get away with this. Too many people know we’re here.”

Vanya laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, the island’s awash with rebels. Foreigners and politicians are falling like bowling pins. So a few misguided, pampered dilettantes disappear into the jungle in the midst of a civil war? I’m sure the memorial service will be touching. Perhaps I’ll deliver the eulogy—about troubled times, adventurous souls, generous spirits.”

“Why are you doing this?” Remi whispered.

“You’ve intruded into matters that are none of your concern. Unfortunately, once seen, your discoveries can never be unseen, so even if you swore to remain silent, there’s no way I could allow you to leave.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re involved in the skeletons? The children?”

“Regrettably, some of the more aggressive medical treatments result in terminal side effects. When dealing with incurable illnesses like malaria, it’s often necessary to try experimental approaches in order to advance the human condition. It’s a necessary by-product of discovery, of developing new cures.”

“You’d kill some of your patients,” Lazlo said, almost in awe. “The disappearing village children . . .”

“I’ve been fortunate enough to work in an unofficial capacity with some visionary pharmaceutical companies. But, as with most industries, they’re hamstrung by arcane rules and regulations that prevent them from creating cures that could save millions. So they seek out medical professionals who understand that the greater good sometimes requires regrettable sacrifices.” Vanya offered another smile, but instead of warming her face, the effect was chilling. “Don’t look at me like that. I assure you it’s nothing new. For decades, Africa has been a testing ground for new vaccines and treatments. Nobody cares what happens over there—or even knows anything is happening at all. A few villages nobody’s heard of suffer casualties, but disastrous human plagues are averted. It’s the way of the world.”

“It’s monstrous. A violation of international law,” Remi stated flatly.

“Spare me your high moral tone. Your country refuses to abide by international law and flouts it constantly. Why should I be any more bound by it than you?”

“You’re insane,” Sam said, his voice quiet.

“Oh, right. Of course I am. That’s always the reaction of the uninformed when you confront reality. You don’t want to know the truth, preferring to live in a dreamworld.” Her face darkened. “In Guinea and Liberia, there are ‘defensive’ bioweapons laboratories that are funded by your country. Why? Because those nations never signed the bioweapons proliferation treaties your government did, so your military-industrial complex can develop nightmares there without technically violating the treaties. It’s a shell game designed for one purpose—to carry out research the civilized world has agreed shouldn’t be continued. But how much outrage does that cause in you? None. What I’m doing is far more benign.”