The Solomon Curse

CHAPTER 53

Remi eyed the impenetrable rushing of the waterfall and turned to Lazlo, who was standing between Sam and Leonid.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Never more so.”

“But Nauru never said anything about going through a waterfall,” Sam said.

“Be that as it may, I’d bet money there’s a cave behind that water.”

Sam glanced at the puffs of clouds drifting across the sky, glowing white in the noon sun. “The Japanese may well have moved the crates, once they were in a nearby cave. Or the old man might have just been forgetful. We tend to remember the dramatic moments and forget the rest — and having your entire village slaughtered in front of you is certainly dramatic enough.”

“So how do we get around the water?” Remi asked.

Leonid pointed at the falls. “It looks like there are a few feet of rock that we can traverse over on the right side.”

“No time like the present,” Sam said, and led them toward the edge of the small pond the waterfall fed.

“Wouldn’t this be exactly the kind of place you’d expect to find crocodiles?” Lazlo asked as they moved along the spongy ground.

“Oh, I’d think they’d find only you,” Remi said.

“They’re saltwater, aren’t they?” Leonid asked.

“Technically, but they do seem to like coastal rivers and lakes, too.”

“That’s reassuring,” Lazlo muttered.

Sam grinned. “Relax, Lazlo. You only live once.”

“The problem is, rather more that you only die once, unless you’re a cat. Or a Fargo, apparently.”

They skirted the water and approached the waterfall, the roar increasing until it was practically deafening. Sam peered along the side of the solid white stream of water and nodded. “There could be something back there. Lazlo, care to do the honors?”

“I’d hoped you would, being a seasoned adventurer and all.”

“This is how you gain all that valuable experience, my friend.”

“Like pneumonia. Or hypothermia,” Remi added helpfully.

“Come on, Lazlo. Fame and fortune await,” Sam coaxed.

“Sometimes called crocodiles and snakes by the locals,” Leonid quipped.

Lazlo gave him a dark look and nodded. “Very well. Here goes nothing.”

He edged past Sam along the narrow strip of rock that framed the waterfall and moved toward the rushing white foam, the spray soaking him as he pressed himself flat against the rock face of the cliff and inched sideways until he was out of sight.

Remi checked her watch. “If he isn’t back in two days, we go in after him.”

“Unless something else comes up,” Sam agreed.

They didn’t have to wait long. Lazlo emerged, sopping but excited, from the waterfall’s edge.

“There’s a cave, all right. Come on, then,” he said.

“Any crates?” Remi asked.

“I didn’t do anything besides confirm that the cave’s there.”

Lazlo disappeared behind the waterfall and Remi followed him, glad her backpack was waterproof. Sam was next and Leonid last, a frown of distaste tugging the corners of his mouth as the water doused him.

They found themselves standing before a narrow gap five feet wide. The roar of the falls was amplified by the acoustics in the entry, making the sound almost unbearable. Remi unzipped her backpack and extracted two flashlights and Sam did the same, handing his to Leonid and Lazlo before taking one of Remi’s. “Lead on, Britannia!” he called out.

Lazlo turned to face the darkness and switched on his light, then took the first steps into the opening.

The narrow entry quickly widened and the floor sloped upward. Their flashlight beams played across the walls, and Lazlo was walking toward another gap at the far end when Sam grabbed his arm.

“Freeze.”

Lazlo did, and Sam pushed past him and crouched down, eyeing the floor. He directed his light at the wall, where there was a small cavity, and crept toward it while retrieving a Swiss Army knife from his back pocket.

“What is it?” Lazlo said.

“Booby trap. Probably no longer works, but no point in pushing our luck, right?”

“Can you disarm it?” Remi asked.

“Looks like a simple trip wire — so, yes. I just want to make sure there’s no spring that will detonate it if we cut the wire.” He paused, shining his light into the tight space, and then snipped the wire with a snap.

“Seems like we’re on the right track,” Leonid said.

Lazlo’s right eye twitched, and he brushed droplets from his brow with the back of his arm. “Good catch, old chap. I didn’t see it.”

“Maybe I should take point from here, just in case?” Sam suggested. Nobody objected, so he moved ahead to the opening directly in front of them. He stopped at the threshold and shined his light all around the rock edge, checking for more traps, and then turned to his companions. “There are a bunch of crates in there covered with dust and rot. We need to be careful, though, because any of the crates might be wired to blow. Don’t touch anything,” he warned. “And watch the floor. There might be more trip wires.”

“Brilliant,” Lazlo murmured.

“Let me do a quick recon while you stay out here,” Sam said, and, without waiting, took several steps into the cave toward the crates, his flashlight beam roaming over every inch of floor.

When he’d satisfied himself that there was no danger, he returned to the gap and smiled at Remi. “Looks clear. Let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”

Remi nodded and joined him, trailed by Lazlo and Leonid.

A pile of at least fifty wooden crates, three feet by two feet by two, were piled in the center of the small grotto. Lazlo kneeled in front of the nearest and brushed away a layer of mold, then turned to Sam and Remi. “It’s kanji. Identifies the crates as property of the emperor. Bit cheeky, that…”

“How can we open some of these safely?” Leonid asked.

“Good question,” Sam said. “If we’re careful and on the lookout for pressure plates, spring-loads, and the like, we should be okay. We can work on a couple of them, but I’d like to get spotlights in here, as well as some specialists, before we try to open more than a few. The good news is, I can’t think of many booby traps that would still be operational years after the fact. But still, don’t touch anything, just in case they used a contact poison on the surfaces or the contents. Anything’s possible — I just don’t know enough about what was in use during the war to be certain.”

Remi pointed at a crate near the edge of the pile. “Let’s try this one.”

Sam moved to her and set his backpack down. After eyeing the crate, he handed Remi his flashlight and removed a crowbar from the bag and set it on the ground next to his machete.

“How are you going to do this?” Remi asked.

“I’m thinking I core a hole in the top rather than try to pry the lid off. Prying would be the obvious way of opening it, so that’s the way I’ll avoid.”

He went to work with the machete, scraping away the soft outer wood, and then grinding the harder inner area until there was a fist-sized hole in the top of the crate. He sat back, put the machete down, and took his light back from Remi as she kneeled next to him. They exchanged a long glance, and then he leaned over the hole and blew away wood dust and chips. Remi shined her light inside while they both looked through the opening.

“Well, what is it?” Leonid asked impatiently.

“Yes, do tell,” Lazlo said.

“Fabric,” Sam said, unfolding his knife again. “Looks like a sack.” He reached into the hole and sliced at the fabric, which crumbled to dust at his touch, and then pulled his arm back with a look of revulsion on his face. A large black spider was crawling up his forearm, raising its legs in menace as it neared his elbow. Remi swatted it away with the back of her hand and it scuttled off into the darkness as Lazlo jumped back. Sam’s eyes met hers. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Sam took a deep breath and they both leaned over the hole again, their beams shining into the interior. They stayed that way for a few moments and then sat back. Leonid stepped closer. “Well?”

Remi shook her head and Sam shrugged. “Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. That’s how it goes.”

“What’s in it?” Lazlo demanded, drawing nearer.

Sam’s serious expression cracked and he grinned at Lazlo and winked. “It’s gold, my friend. The crate’s filled with gold.”