Remi looked to Sam, who had a small smile on his face. “We’ll take it under advisement. Do you have a plan? A budget written out?”
“Of course. An entire presentation.”
“Could we get a copy?” Remi asked.
“I’d be delighted. Is it really something you think your foundation might be interested in supporting?” Vanya asked, her tone excited.
Sam finished his beer. “No promises, but let’s see what you have. I know the foundation has funded other worthwhile causes.”
Steaming platters of fish arrived, and Manchester made a point of studying his silverware for blemishes before digging in. By the size of his bites and the speed with which he ate, it was clear he was a man who didn’t miss any meals. Silence reigned at the table until the fish was gone. Sam sat back. “That was wonderful. Like they just caught it.”
Vanya nodded. “I’d be surprised if it was more than a few hours old. Thankfully, there’s no shortage of marine life here. One of the ways we’ve been blessed.”
“That and the mineral riches we can’t seem to get organized enough to pull out of the ground,” Manchester chimed in, sounding bitter.
“Really?” Sam asked. “Like what?”
“Good gracious, man. Oil. Tankers full of it. And every kind of rarity you can imagine. Gold by the truckload. Emeralds. Rubies. And on and on. We should be richer than the bloody Saudis, but instead all we do is bicker with each other and chase our own tails.”
“Don’t get Orwen started. It’s one of his pet peeves,” Vanya chided as the plates were cleared.
“We’ve had a history of corruption and of foreigners coming in and taking anything of value. How much do you know about our history?” Manchester asked with a slight slur.
“Not enough, obviously,” Sam said.
“We were a British protectorate for years and then the Japs invaded and took over the islands. Then the Yanks fought them off, only to hand us over to the Brits again after the war. We’ve been passed around like a pack of smokes at a rock concert, and, up until recently, nobody, including ourselves, thought that we might actually be entitled to self-determination rather than being somebody else’s possession.” He barked a humorless laugh. “Fat lot of good it’s done us. We might as well be destitute. We’re sitting on a fortune in natural resources and we can’t make a go of it. Saddest story you’ll ever hear.”
Vanya sighed, obviously having heard all this many times before. “Next, he’ll be railing about the gold mine.”
“So there’s still gold?” Remi asked.
“Of course there is. But you wouldn’t know it to look at us, would you? And as Vanya alluded to, people get frustrated at all the jockeying and ineptness, so they kick their administration out with regularity, so the mentality of most politicians is to grab what you can while you’re in office because chances are you won’t be much longer. It’s a vicious circle. One I’ve lived in the last twenty years.”
Vanya eyed the big man with a gentle gaze. “Orwen here is one of the last good ones. Don’t let him sour you on Guadalcanal. It’s got its share of problems, but it’s a beautiful place filled with warm-hearted people.”
Manchester drained his beer. “And crocodiles. Can’t forget them. Maybe we should let them have a turn at running the thing. Can’t do much worse than we have.”
The conversation stalled, and Vanya did her best to bring it back to center. “It’s confession time. I haven’t been completely honest with you two,” she said in a low voice.
“Really?” Remi said with arched eyebrows.
“Yes. I’m a bit of a research fanatic, and when I went home to change, I googled Sam and Remi Fargo. I suppose you know what I found.”
Sam looked sheepish. “Can’t believe everything you read on the web.”
“Perhaps.” She eyed Manchester. “Orwen, I’ll have you know you’re sitting with celebrities. Sam and Remi are renowned treasure hunters.”
Manchester’s face could have been carved from granite. “Treasure hunters?”
“A distortion the media loves. They sensationalize everything,” Remi explained. “We’ve been fortunate a few times in locating significant finds. Some of our archaeological projects have turned up some historically valuable items. But it’s not like we find treasure and keep it,” she said, frowning. “It goes to the rightful owners for charitable work and enrichment.”
“That’s right. It’s a case of man bites dog. Anything to sell papers,” Sam echoed.
“And modest as well as famous,” Vanya said. “The Fargos have discovered more hidden booty than anyone else on the planet, Orwen. Don’t let their humility fool you.”
Sam waved a hand. “Most people have better things to do than root around in old temples and the like. That’s a meaningless statistic,” he said. “It’s like having seen more ghosts than anyone. Doesn’t say much.”
“Where did you say you were diving?” Manchester asked, his tone polite but with a hint of frost to it.
Remi smiled megawatts at him. “We didn’t. It’s our friend’s expedition, so not ours to talk about. But I can assure you there’s no treasure involved.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s a small island. I’m sure everyone’s already talking about the attack. Secrets like that don’t stay that way very long around here.”
“Probably, but we have to respect our friend’s wishes. He’s an academic and these kinds of things are important to him. Bragging rights,” she said.
Manchester nodded. “I completely understand. I just thought that perhaps I could be of service if you need any help with permits or that sort of thing.”
Remi gave a polite yawn behind her hand, and Vanya took the hint and gestured for the check. When it came, Sam snatched it from the waiter’s hand before she could reach it. “Please. Let us buy dinner. That was the best fish and some of the most engaging company we’ve had in ages. It’s the least we can do.”
Vanya’s eyes flashed, but she smiled. “That’s very generous. Hopefully, that generosity will extend to helping my people.”
“Hell, if I’d known someone else was buying, I’d have drunk more!” Manchester declared with a guffaw.
Vanya dropped Sam and Remi off at the hotel with a promise to e-mail them the clinic plan and they in turn said they’d stop by the hospital soon to check on the injured worker.
“Manchester’s a character, isn’t he?” Sam said as they shouldered their way through the door under the vigilant gaze of the desk clerk.
“That’s an understatement. He seems angry, doesn’t he? Not that far below the surface. Resentful.”
“I can’t blame him. Sounds like he’s fighting a thankless battle and losing two steps for every one he gains.”
“Assuming he’s telling the whole truth. He didn’t strike me as suffering too badly.”
CHAPTER 7
When Leonid picked Sam and Remi up, two ratty dive suits and well-used rigs lay in the back of the SUV. The Russian looked like he’d had a hard night, his eyes red and two days of salt-and-pepper stubble dusting his jaw.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Sam said as he studied his friend’s profile. “You lose a round to the local rum?”
Leonid smiled ruefully. “Don’t ask.”
“Were you able to get another crew?”
“I guess we’ll see when we get out to the bay. I had to pay double what it cost yesterday, but I think they’ll show up.”
Sam checked his watch and pulled the satellite phone from his backpack as they made their way out of town. Selma answered after two rings, her tone businesslike.