The Solomon Curse

CHAPTER 33

Rivulets of sweat ran down Sam’s face, and Remi fanned herself with a public health pamphlet taken from a small pile on the reception counter. Half an hour had gone by since Dr. Vanya called the police. The sounds of intruders trying to get in had faded and then ceased completely ten minutes ago.

The swelter in the waiting area drained everyone’s will to do anything but breathe. The ill, as well as those accompanying them, suffered in silence — all except a six-month-old child, who was crying nonstop in between bouts of coughing.

Remi leaned her head against Sam’s shoulder and whispered to him. “Sounds like the bad guys have moved on.”

“I hope the car’s in one piece.” He paused. “I was thinking about Manchester’s words. It’s possible the unrest is being orchestrated by the rebels in order to undermine the current administration. Chaos and looting would make the government look like it doesn’t have control over the island and that could result in a vote of no confidence and a regime change.”

She pulled away and studied his face. “And the new government might be for nationalization, giving the rebels exactly what they want.”

Dr. Vanya approached from the back of the hospital, her cell in hand. “Good news. The police are here and they’ve cleared the parking lot and run the mob off. So for the time being, it’s safe.” She gazed at the security gate with a frown. “The hospital’s never been in danger before — even during the worst of the riots, it went unharmed. This is something new.”

“I’m afraid we might have been to blame. We sort of led them straight here.”

“Nonsense. What could you possibly have done differently? Stayed out there and been…” Vanya didn’t need to finish the thought. Her cell phone trilled and she raised it to her ear and then moved away and had a hushed conversation. When she hung up, she turned to Sam. “Mind giving me a hand raising the shutters?”

“See daylight again? My pleasure.”

They heaved on the strap and the barrier slowly rose, the bearings in the mechanism compensating for the thousands of pounds of weight and making raising them surprisingly easy. When the door was clear, they could see several dozen police standing by their patrol cars, lights flashing, arranged in a semicircle around the parking lot. Vanya unlocked the entry, and relatively cool air flowed in when she pulled the doors open, drawing sighs of relief from the occupants.

A short, stout officer with the physique of a brick approached and gave Vanya a small salute.

“Everyone okay in here?” he asked.

“Yes. What happened to the mob?” Vanya asked.

“It dispersed when we came up the street with our lights and sirens on. Same in the other areas. The good news is, we’re not seeing the kinds of numbers we’ve seen in previous emergencies and the people who are causing the problems take off at the first sign of opposition.”

Remi turned to Sam. “That’s a relief.”

Sam focused on Vanya. “Thank you so much for taking us in. I don’t know what would have happened…”

“My pleasure. But do consider giving Guadalcanal a rest until things stabilize. I don’t want to read about you two in the paper.”

“We’ll definitely take it under advisement,” Remi said. She turned to the policeman. “Is it safe to drive to our car rental agency?”

“Which one?” he asked.

“Island Dreams.”

“That’s, what, maybe six blocks away? There haven’t been any reports of trouble between here and there, but I would advise against it. Wait until later. You were lucky once. Don’t push it,” the officer said, his tone gruff.

Sam took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get it cleaned up enough so we can drive it.”

They walked to the Toyota and considered the windshield, which was opaque on one side from the rock. The passenger seat and dashboard had tiny glass shards on them, and Remi returned to the hospital to get a broom and a wet rag while Sam extracted the sat phone from his backpack and called Selma.

“Selma. What’s the word?” he asked when she answered.

“Your man Kumasaka was a colorful character. Graduated with a degree in microbiology and then went career military.”

“Really? That’s an unusual vocational path for a scientist.”

“Yes, well, there’s obviously more to that story. I had a hard time finding any coherent records for him, but when I did, the information in them is conflicting. Some records put him as part of the infantry, others have him as a communications specialist, still others have him as part of the emperor’s trusted inner circle of military advisers.”

“Strange.”

“Perhaps the oddest part is that the Allies had him listed as part of the Meiji Corps.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Nobody has. I couldn’t find any information about it.”

Sam paused. “That doesn’t sound like the Selma I know and love.”

He could almost hear her grinning over the phone. “So of course I dug deeper. Tunneled. Pulled out all the stops, including contacting my shadowy government sources.”

“The suspense is killing me.”

“The Meiji Corps, as near as I can figure out, was a special projects group that was responsible for nontraditional warfare. It took its name from one of the most famous emperors in the last two hundred years.”

“Nontraditional warfare,” Sam repeated. “What would that consist of in 1942? Nukes hadn’t been invented yet.”

“Correct. I’m filling in blanks here and speculating, but that leaves espionage, and… biological warfare.”

The silence on the line hung heavy, a faint background hiss like the sound of the sea’s receding tide pulling sand from the beach.

“Which would explain the rumors of experiments. Bioweapon development…” Sam said, his voice low.

“I didn’t tell you the most troubling thing I discovered, though,” Selma said.

“Which is?”

“Even now, seventy-something years later? All DOD and intelligence files on the Meiji Corps and on Colonel Kumasaka are still classified. Top secret. So there’s no hard information to corroborate my hunches. My main contact at Defense called back and said he couldn’t help me. This is a guy who’s always been nothing but friendly. When I first called him, he was his usual self, but in our last discussion his voice could have frozen fire.”

Sam eyed Remi and then the hospital behind her.

“Top secret even now? I wonder why? What could still be classified from that long ago?” he said.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling that your colonel was anything but an ordinary soldier.” Selma answered.

Sam nodded to himself as he pulled the driver’s-side door open. “Sending a destroyer to take him straight to Tokyo would seem to confirm that.” He paused, eyeing the street for any signs of trouble. Nothing. The mob had vanished like the morning mist that hung over the harbor. “Selma, I know I don’t have to belabor this but you absolutely have to get me everything you can about this man.”

“Peter and Wendy are working on it, as am I. I’ll have more for you shortly and will send it to your e-mail.” She hesitated. “Am I reading this correctly? I just saw a headline flash on my screen that there’s been an assassination and rioting on Guadalcanal?”

“Yes. But, thankfully, we’re fine.”

Another long pause stretched uncomfortably. “See to it that you stay that way. Otherwise, my research will be for nothing.”

Sam slid into the seat and pulled the door closed as Remi got the last of the glass off her side and joined him. He glanced at the white starburst where the rock had hit the windshield and closed his eyes.

“Will do, Selma.”