CHAPTER 38
The next morning, after breakfast with the crew, Sam and Remi returned to shore accompanied by Leonid, whose relief to be off the Darwin was obvious. He trudged up the sand toward the Nissan with the enthusiasm of a prisoner released from death row, and Sam exchanged a smile with Remi.
“Be sure to make plenty of noise, Leonid. Remember the crocodiles,” Sam warned.
Leonid slowed and glanced around. “Are you making jokes again?”
“No, he’s serious. It’s a well-established fact that crocodiles are sensitive to sound. I usually sing and flap my arms. Better than being eaten alive,” Remi assured him.
“That’s right. Remember Benji. He was quiet and paid for it with his leg,” said Sam.
Leonid stopped. “I think you’re pulling on mine. My leg, I mean.”
“Did you know a male crocodile can run faster than a racehorse?” Remi shared. “I don’t know where I read that, but they’re called land barracudas by the natives.”
Once at the SUV, Sam did his usual inspection of the exterior as Leonid and Remi climbed in. After confirming that there were no new tire tracks or footprints around the vehicle, he slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and pulled onto the rutted track and made for the main road.
Getting Leonid a room at the hotel proved easy. It was almost completely empty now, the news of the assassination and the murder of the aid workers having chilled interest in vacationing on Guadalcanal.
“We got Lazlo’s itinerary and confirmation,” Remi said. “He’ll be in at eight-ten tomorrow morning.”
“Great. Assuming he’s up to it, we can head into the mountains by noon. I’m anxious to see whether we can find that cave.”
“That makes two of us. We can expect to keep news of Leonid’s find secret for only so long, and once it becomes public knowledge the island will be swarmed by researchers who’ll want to study it. You know the kind of speculation our continued presence here would cause at that point. We’d be followed everywhere by speculators convinced we were in search of treasure.”
“I really hope for Lazlo’s sake we find something. Leonid’s going to be a rock star for the city discovery. Lazlo could use a win, if only for his reputation’s sake.”
“I doubt there’s much that could redeem him after his little adventure with his student and the resulting scandal,” Remi said.
“Discovering a lost treasure would go a long way.”
“You don’t have to convince me. Now we just need to get to the part where we find it.”
“Always more difficult than it sounds,” Sam agreed.
They spent the afternoon wandering Honiara with Leonid, gathering supplies for their cave expedition. They were able to locate rubber boots and strong rope, as well as LED flashlights, but unsurprisingly had no luck with carabiners or any specialized hardware. Fortunately, Lazlo was bringing the more obscure elements so that when he arrived they would be ready to hit the ground running.
The mood of the city was apparently back to normal, with none of the brooding menace that had been present earlier in the week. There had been no further violence since the machete attack, and despite lingering tension, life went on. The arrival of the Australian-led civil defense force was largely met with welcome by the locals, although there was still a vocal segment of the population that viewed it as a further subversion of the islands’ autonomy.
Sam and Remi were up early the next day, waiting outside the small arrivals terminal at the Honiara Airport while Lazlo cleared customs. When he appeared through a double doorway, followed by a porter with an overloaded cart piled high, he looked every bit the stereotypical Englishman, in a crisp khaki shirt and matching shorts, desert boots below scrawny white calves, and a pith helmet perched precariously on his head.
“There you are! Buggers nearly didn’t let me through with all the equipment. I’m fortunate they didn’t strip-search me for pitons or whatnot,” he called out as he approached.
Sam grasped his hand and shook it, then released him so Remi could give him a tentative hug.
“Were you planning on auditioning for the local production of Lawrence of Arabia?” Sam asked.
Lazlo looked down at his outfit. “What? You’ve never seen proper tropical wear before? I should think you’d be happy your associates are trying to set a good example for the natives.”
Remi eyed him. “I thought it might be Halloween and nobody told us. It’s easy to lose track of time in the islands.”
“The last time I saw one of those hats was on Katharine Hepburn in a film,” Sam added.
Lazlo’s face could have been carved from stone. “I’m glad that I’m able to provide amusement for you two.”
Sam clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “We’re just having a little fun, Lazlo. How was the flight?”
“Over twenty hours of white-knuckle flying, stone-cold sober. It was so turbulent from Hawaii on that I was afraid I’d lose a filling. Need I say more?”