The Solomon Curse

“I’d keep my mouth closed, if I were you,” Fleming said as he locked the cuffs in place on her wrists and turned her to face the doorway. She gasped, and her vision swam, at the sight of four officers, glowering in the corridor, waiting to take her into custody—and Sam and Remi standing behind them. Her mouth worked like a beached fish, producing nothing but a choking sound, as realization dawned on her.

The two nearest officers pulled her roughly into the hallway. Sam and Remi watched wordlessly, Lazlo by their side. Vanya finally found her voice as she neared them, managing only a single word.

“You . . .”

“Name’s Lazlo. I don’t think we were formally introduced when you were telling your pet killers to murder us,” Lazlo said, his British clipping of each syllable joyous in its precision.

“What’s that old expression about he who laughs last?” Remi asked Sam as the doctor was dragged away.

“Something about laughs best,” Sam replied, watching Vanya’s humiliating final exit from the hospital she’d ruled with absolute authority for years.

Fleming shook his head as he approached. “I have to apologize again. I’m sorry I was so rude in our meeting . . .”

Remi shrugged and took Sam’s hand. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress. Apology accepted.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Dr. Berry, waiting in the doorway of one of the exam rooms, and turned his attention back to the police chief. “How’s the crowd control going?”

“Better. The Prime Minister was on the radio a few minutes ago, exposing the bones of Carol’s scheme, alerting the islanders that they had been duped. He didn’t name names, but distress calls from my men have already slowed. I’d expect that our forces will make short work of any remaining looters, once word spreads.”

“And the exhumation of the skeletons?”

“I have two forensic teams at the caves as we speak, but, because of the scope, it will be a while before they’re done and we can begin removing the bones and identifying the remains.” He shook his head in disbelief at the memory from earlier that afternoon when he’d arrived at the scene with two dozen of his top officers, led to the caves by Sam and Remi after they’d barged into his office and confronted him with their evidence. “What kind of a monster could do that . . . ? I still don’t understand any of it.”

“She’s not like you or me,” Remi said. “She’s a sociopath. No sense of right or wrong, only an instinct for manipulation, and a ruthlessness unlike anything you’ve probably ever seen before.”

“Or ever again, if you’re lucky,” Sam said softly. “She’s a serial killer, plain and simple. Perhaps with a more structured mechanism for her killing, but, make no mistake, that’s what you’re dealing with. Someone who has zero compunction or remorse about taking lives.”

“I’m partly to blame,” Fleming growled, and his voice caught. “She’s obviously been getting away with it for years on my watch. I’ll never forgive myself—I didn’t pursue the disappearances with nearly the vigor I should have . . .”

Dr. Berry glanced at his watch and signaled to them. It was busy at the hospital and he had an unending stream of patients continuing to arrive with every variety of trauma from the rioting. They left Fleming to his recriminations and approached Berry, who needed to finish stitching up Sam’s head now that the results of the CT scan were in.

“I wish I was seeing you again under more pleasant circumstances,” Berry said, and then his demeanor changed to all business. “As I suspected, you’ve suffered a minor concussion from the blows, but nothing you won’t recover from. You may experience dizziness and weakness over the next few days, but it should pass.” He eyed Sam disapprovingly. “I wish you’d consent to staying overnight for observation like your Russian friend.”

“How is he?”

“He also has a concussion, more severe than yours, but nothing terminal. And, as you know, many cuts and bruises. I’ve given him painkillers and antibiotics and he’s resting comfortably.”

“After complaining every step of the way, I’ll bet,” Lazlo said. “What about the girl?”

Berry scowled. “She’s in pretty bad shape, but I think she’ll make it. We’ve got to figure out what poison they were pumping into her and take measures to counteract it, but right now we’re focusing on keeping her hydrated.” He studied Sam’s head with a disapproving expression. “Sit down here and I’ll finish cleaning this gash up and stitch it closed. It’s clotted, but it will need sutures.”

Remi offered Sam a smile and looked to the doctor. “While you’re busy with him, do you have a phone I can use for a long-distance call?”

Berry fished under his exam coat and handed her a cell phone. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes, then he’ll be right as rain again.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” Lazlo said. “Bit squeamish and all.”

Remi went into the hall and nodded in satisfaction at the sight of the remaining police sealing Vanya’s office with crime scene tape in anticipation of evidence collection. She was raising the phone to her ear when Lilly’s mother materialized at the end of the hall and rushed toward her.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for saving my baby,” she said, hugging Remi, tears in her eyes. “I knew she not run off like that evil woman say.”

“I hope she’ll be okay,” Remi managed between heartfelt squeezes from Lilly’s mother.

“God will provide. Lilly’s one of His children. He not send you if He not want her to live.”

Remi offered a smile. “She’s a beautiful girl. You’re very lucky.”

“Today a good day for everyone, I say. ’Cept that demon woman. Devil stokin’ hellfire for her, that for sure.”

Remi nodded in agreement, and then a nurse waved to Lilly’s mother from the other end of the corridor. The relieved island woman gasped and hurried to the nurse, leaving Remi to make her call. She dialed Selma’s private line from memory and waited as it rang.

“Oh, good. Did you get everything sorted out?” Selma answered. Remi had phoned her earlier to give her a hurried update.

“Sort of. They just took Carol Vanya into custody. Sam’s being tended to, and Leonid’s in the hospital for the night.”

“And Lazlo?” Selma asked, a slight softness in her voice.

“Hardly a scratch on him. The man has the luck of the devil,” Remi said.

Selma chuckled. “That he does.” Her tone grew serious. “I’ve been researching your doctor’s background and I’ve found something you’ll be interested in.”

“Nothing would surprise me about her.”

“This might.” Selma paused. “It’s actually about her grandfather. Apparently, he was charged with war crimes by the Allies, but once the war was over, the charges were dropped. There aren’t many records, but, near as I can tell, he had been working with the Japanese and was accused of coordinating medical experimentation on his fellow islanders, as well as on prisoners.” Selma let that sink in. “He was also a doctor.”

“My God . . . the other bodies—the older ones. Hundreds of them. Her grandfather . . .”

“That’s my guess. He probably took her into his confidence when he recognized the psychopathology ran in her, too.”

“What about the father?”

“Died a decade ago. It appears he spent his entire life trying to atone for his father’s sins, doing community work for free, tending to islanders . . .”

“And the grandfather?”

“I haven’t found anything about his passing yet. It’s like he disappeared once the war was over.”

“You . . . you don’t suspect he’s still alive, do you?”

“I’m not going to speculate. He’d be older than Moses, though, if he is, so it’s unlikely.”

“Keep on it, Selma.”

“Oh, you can depend on that. I’m sorry you didn’t find the treasure.”

“Don’t be. We’ve been able to confirm a remarkable historical discovery and we foiled a monstrous plot in the bargain. I’d say that’s a full day’s work, wouldn’t you?”