The Solomon Curse

CHAPTER 8

Selma looked up from her computer screen at the sound of the front door opening. Her assistants, Pete and Wendy, were at lunch, and Zoltán bristled at her feet at the intrusion. She reassured him with a stroke of her hand and then relaxed when she saw it was only Lazlo.

The bedraggled English academic had taken to stopping by regularly, she strongly suspected, because he had nothing better to do with his time now that his Laos expedition was formally over with and no treasure discovered. He’d been dejected by the outcome but had recovered when he’d gotten wind of a recently surfaced document that was purported to be written in the notorious pirate Captain Kidd’s hand — in code.

“Selma, my dear woman, may I say you look breathtaking this fine day,” Lazlo announced to her amused gaze. “And Zoltán, you handsome beast, what a fine specimen of canine corpulence you are.”

“He’s not even close to being fat,” Selma said, defending the dog’s honor. Zoltán tilted his head as he regarded Lazlo and then lay back down and closed his eyes, dismissing the visitor with the disdain only a purebred can master.

“Merely a term of endearment. I adore the bloodthirsty killer.” He looked at her screen. “And what are we working on?”

She pressed the power button and the monitor blinked off. “Nothing of interest to you, I’m sure.”

“One never knows. I suspect that if you’re involved, I could muster some enthusiasm.”

Lazlo had been increasingly flirtatious since returning from his trek, which amused Selma.

“Well, at your age, I suppose enthusiasm’s all one could hope for.” She paused. “What brings you by, Lazlo?”

“I was hoping I might help you. Do you have anything I could be of assistance with? Perhaps an unbreakable cipher? A riddle that’s baffled the brightest minds of our time?”

“Still haven’t decided whether you’re going to chase down the Captain Kidd thing, have you?” she said knowingly.

“I’m looking into it. The owner of the letter believes it’s somehow related to his lost pirate treasure, but I think that’s overly optimistic.”

“And of course those trying to convince others to buy obscure documents have been known to exaggerate the importance of the contents,” Selma observed.

“Which is why I’m not willing to trust and need to verify. Right now I’m hopeful, but cautiously so, absent any further substantiation. However, if it turns out to be what the owner purports it to be, it could be a magnificent opportunity — and a profitable one, to be sure.”

Selma shook her head. “Don’t quit your day job.”

“Yes, well, this rather is my day job.” He glanced away. “And how are our benefactors, the Fargos, faring? What are they up to now?”

Selma filled him in on the Solomons find. “I’m researching the area for them. Volcanoes, earthquakes, a history of tidal waves — you name it. I haven’t heard from them since they were going to dive the site and confirm whether there’s anything to the accounts.”

“Hmm. Most intriguing. There aren’t many areas of the world that haven’t been thoroughly explored. But I’d venture a guess that’s one of them.”

“True. And with all the social unrest, it’s likely to remain that way. There was a civil war in the early millennium, and then widespread rioting in 2006, and then again in 2014. The poverty’s off the scale, and the Australians have basically had to station a small occupation force there to keep the peace. Not really an area conducive to exploration.”

“Leave it to the Fargos to find something right under everyone’s noses. Amazing, that.”

“If that’s indeed what they’ve done, it’s actually their colleague Leonid Vasyev who made the discovery. They’re helping out.”

“Leonid, eh? Good Irish name.”

“Well, Laz-lo,” Selma said, stressing the second syllable of his name. “Can’t jump to conclusions. That’s the first rule the Fargos have. A good one, I’d say,” she cautioned.

“Then he’s not Russian?”

She cracked a small smile. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

He stood, taking the hint. “No, no. I was just stopping in to ensure you hadn’t been swept off your feet by some rakish pretender.” He nodded at Zoltán, then to Selma. “Good day to you, then, Selma. I’m only a phone call away should you need my considerable skills.”

“How reassuring. I trust I won’t today.”

“Nevertheless, I’m at your beck and call.”

She watched him retreat, his head held high, and smiled to herself. He definitely had a certain charm, even if he was full of himself and completely amoral as they came. Mad dogs and Englishmen indeed.

The front door closed and she returned to her duties, a small part of her registering that the room seemed empty now that Lazlo had left. A blur of motion from outside the floor-to-ceiling picture window facing the Pacific Ocean caught her eye and she watched as a white gull rode an updraft, effortlessly soaring into the clear sky. Lazlo was a menace, she told herself with conviction, a scoundrel, and she’d have no part in his shenanigans, but the small smile remained even as she turned back to her monitor. Zoltán shifted at her feet and she reached down and petted his massive head.