The Solomon Curse

CHAPTER 26

The streets of Honiara were slick from a recent cloudburst when Sam and Remi arrived the next afternoon. They dropped their bags at the room and Sam eyed Remi, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” she asked.

“I was just thinking it is a nice day for a drive.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, really. Where did you have in mind?”

“We might want to go back and talk to Rubo. He was around during the Japanese occupation. He may know something.”

“Unless it’s how to find a ship that’s a mile and a half below the surface and raise it off the bottom, I doubt it.”

“Perhaps,” Sam said. “But we don’t have much else to do. We can hang out on the boat and watch the divers blow sediment all over, but that doesn’t feel particularly useful, does it?”

Remi shuddered involuntarily, the cold air-conditioning prickling her skin. “As I recall, the last time we did that trip, we came back without a car.”

“I promise not to get run off the road.”

“Or shot at?” She sighed. “I suppose there’s no point in trying to talk you out of it.”

“We’ll be fine. What could…” Sam paused with a slight wink of his eye before continuing in a firm, deliberately bright voice. “What could be nicer than a drive along the coast?”

“Close, Fargo, close.”

He looked at her innocently, his face a blank.

There was one roadblock on the road out of town, but the police waved them through without interest. Apparently, the state of emergency was over and things were back to as routine as they ever were. When they ran out of pavement, the van bumped down the dirt track that ran along the river and Sam had to slow to a crawl.

After a particularly memorable bump, Remi glanced sideways at Sam. “Whatever you do, Sam Fargo, promise me we won’t get stuck.”

“I’m doing my best not to.”

“Not to promise or not to get stuck?”

“Neither, hopefully.”

“You aren’t convincing me on either count.”

When the hut finally came into view, Rubo was lounging in the shade, watching the river rush by. He looked up at them when the van pulled to a stop. They got out and Remi waved.

“Rubo. Are we disturbing you?”

Rubo cackled and shook his head. “Every day the same as the last out here. You want to hear more stories?”

“We do.”

Watching as they approached, the old man motioned to a spot on his log bench. Remi sat next to him and Sam took a stump opposite. The heat was sweltering even in the shade. The old man waved a fly away and raised an eyebrow. Remi leaned nearer and waited for Sam to speak.

“Rubo, you said you were here when the Japanese occupied the island. That they treated the locals badly.”

Rubo nodded. “That’s right. They mean as crocodiles.”

“All of them?”

“Hard to say. But the officer who ran things… he a monster.”

“What can you tell us about him?”

“He a devil, he was. Kuma… Kumasaka. Colonel Kumasaka. Never forget that name, I won’t.”

“What did he do?” Remi coaxed. “Specifically?”

“I told you. He bad. Do bad things to us.”

Rubo repeated his prior account, and nothing in the story changed on the second telling. Sam then pressed in a different direction.

“Did you ever hear or see anything out on the west side of the island? With the Japanese?”

“Like what?”

“Anything strange. Maybe diving in that bay that you told us about,” Sam said.

“In the end, there was lot of fighting, so can’t say for sure. But I remember sometime before they leave for good there was big killing in the village near the bay. Those bad times.”

“The Japanese killed islanders near the bay?”

“I just say what others talk about. I wasn’t there.”

Remi nodded. “We understand. What do you believe happened, Rubo?” she asked softly.

“I hear things. One of the things is that whole lot of island men killed by Japanese. They make them slaves, then kill them before they leave the island.”

“Slaves? For what?”

“I don’t know. Some kinda work.”

“Was that normal?”

Rubo shook his head. “No, they leave us be, mostly. But this man… he in charge of west side and he like to kill. Everyone know he a bad one.” Rubo spit into the dry leaves by his side. “Only two islanders get away. All the others…” He shook his head with a sad frown.

“There were survivors?” Sam asked, his voice quickening.

“Like I said, I think one still alive. Tough as rock.”

“Really? Do you know him?”

“You live long enough, you know everyone, sure do.”

“Where is he?”

“Still in the same village, I think.” He eyed Remi. “But he don’t speak no pidgin. Just local talk.”

“Would you be willing to take us to him?” Remi asked.

Rubo stared at the van distrustfully. “Long way.”

“Bad roads?”

He laughed and spit again. “No roads. You not going in that.”

“If we get a bigger truck, something for off-road, would you help us, Rubo? We’d pay you for your time.”

Rubo studied Sam and then his gaze wandered to Remi. “How much pay?”

Sam did a quick equation in his head. “Solomon dollars or American?”

Rubo didn’t blink. “American.”

“I don’t know. What do you think is fair?”

The old man appeared to give it deep thought and then sat back with a grunt. “Hundred. Hundred American dollars.”

Sam and Remi didn’t know whether they were expected to negotiate, but Remi didn’t chance it. “That’s fair.” She glanced at the time: still five hours until dusk. It was an hour and a half from the bay, the way Sam drove. Allowing for time to rent something more rugged… It would be too close. “We can pick you up tomorrow morning. Will that work for you, Rubo?”

He nodded slowly and smiled his toothless grin. When he spoke, he savored each word like rare wine. “Hundred dollars.”