“That’s really the best news I’ve had in months.” Vanya hesitated. “How’s your dive project coming?”
“Oh, we’re plugging away at it,” Sam said brightly, avoiding any details.
“You mentioned sunken ruins. Any further clues as to what the ruins are?”
“It’s too early to tell. Could be nothing,” Sam said, again deflecting.
Again Vanya hesitated, looking pensive. “Well, let me know if you need my help in any way at all.”
On their way out of the hospital, Remi whispered to Sam, “Playing your cards close to the chest with her on the find, aren’t you?”
“We’ve learned from harsh experience that the fewer people who know a secret, the likelier it’ll remain one. This is Leonid’s find. It’s not ours to discuss.”
“I know. I just thought it was funny how you danced around the topic.”
“I’ve always considered myself a great dancer.”
“Which medication and therapy could probably help with, but—” Remi stopped teasing Sam when they neared the van and she tensed. Her eyes roved across the street, where the random bands of islanders had gathered in a mob. “Sam, you probably want to get us out of here sooner than later. This looks like trouble.”
Sam popped the locks with the remote as he assessed the situation and then slid behind the wheel. “I’m way ahead of you. Buckle up, because I’m not stopping for anything.”
CHAPTER 21
The van engine roared as Sam floored the accelerator, sounding a warning to the group of islanders spilling into the street. Sam’s horn honking drove any stragglers aside as he aimed the vehicle down the center line.
“Look out!” Remi hissed as she grabbed the armrest. Sam adjusted their trajectory just enough to avoid a rough-looking man toting a baseball bat, raising it as they neared like he was going to knock one over the wall. The heavy wood missed the van by inches, and then they were past the mob and heading toward the main boulevard that led out of town.
“See? No problem,” Sam said, but the tightness in his voice betrayed his uneasiness.
“That was close, Sam. Maybe everyone who’s been warning us to get off the island has a point.”
“Nonsense. Although it’s not a terrible idea to spend the night on the boat. I’m not sure I want to run that gauntlet again until things calm down.”
“And what if they don’t?”
“Then we may be looking forward to an extended cruise.”
The police at the first roadblock they came to were jumpier than the prior day. There were more officers, fully outfitted in riot gear, as though they felt the need to make a show of force. Their admonition that driving into the rural area of Guadalcanal was inadvisable was more strident than before, and when Sam thanked the officer in charge politely for his counsel but said he was continuing west anyway, the man shook his head like he’d never see them again.
The next roadblock was more of the same, and Sam couldn’t help noticing that they were the only car at each stop.
“Kind of deserted, isn’t it?” Remi said as though reading his mind.
“Seems like nobody’s in the mood for a drive.”
“Might have something to do with the whole brink-of-civil-war thing.”
“I don’t know. It’s a lovely day for motoring,” Sam said, although Remi noted that he picked up speed as the jungle seemed to close in around them.
When they arrived at the bay, Sam parked out of sight by the grove where the crocodile had attacked and radioed Des to pick them up. The Darwin’s skiff sliced through the calm water and reached the beach in a few minutes, Elton Simms in the stern piloting.
“Morning. Nice day for it, am I right?” Simms said.
“It’s gorgeous,” Remi agreed as she climbed aboard, helped into the boat by Sam, who quickly joined her after handing her the backpack.
“Anything new to report?” Sam asked.
Simms dropped the transmission into reverse and eased off the sand. “No. Same as yesterday. Clearing off the gunk while your man Leonid looks on.”
Bubbles frothed on the surface of the sea as they neared the ship, evidence of the work taking place beneath them. On the expansive deck of the Darwin, two crew members fed out hoses, ensuring that the surface-breathing divers had freedom of movement and didn’t find themselves gasping at the end of a kinked line.
The tender pulled alongside the red hull, and Simms cut the engine after securing a line to a cleat at the stern. They clambered onto the oversized swim step and up a stainless steel ladder to where Des and Leonid were waiting in the morning sun.
“Good to see you!” Des called down. “I caught some of the news broadcasts about the excitement on the island. Can’t say I’m too upset to be out here.”
“We’re going to spend at least one night aboard, so we’re right there with you,” Sam said. He looked to Leonid. “And how are you, my Russian friend?”
Leonid scowled and waved a fly away. “We’re making progress,” he allowed, as though unhappy with the work. Sam knew better than to query him on what was wrong and instead looked over his shoulder at the pilothouse.
“Let’s see what you’ve been up to,” Sam said.
The interior of the pilothouse was a mirror of the previous day, with the exception of the images on the monitor, which revealed considerably more of the stone blocks that composed the wall. As the divers worked along the far end of the structure, clouds of debris and bubbles filled the surrounding water until it had all the clarity of mud.
“Looks like you’re getting a lot of it cleared,” Remi said. “Check out the size of those blocks. It must have taken years to quarry them and get them to shore, much less build the structure.”
“We cleaned off some of the base and it looks like they used a combination of landfill and smaller rock and gravel to create the islands. We’re estimating that the bay was only fifteen or so feet deep when it was built, based on that,” Leonid observed.
“Sounds like a safe bet,” Sam said, peering at the monitor. “Can you imagine the size of the earthquake to drop the bottom almost eighty feet?”
“Assuming that there hasn’t been more movement in the intervening years. Looking at this, I think it happened in stages. The first catastrophic shock, where the entire shelf shifted, possibly creating a fissure that sucked the shoreline into it. And then smaller events, each depressing the bottom farther.” Leonid sighed as though exasperated. “We’ll know for sure once we have more time to study it.”
Sam grinned. “Patience is a virtue, my friend. Nothing happens fast in this business, as you know.”
Leonid threw him a dark look. “One of the many things I hate about it. Did I mention that I’m susceptible to seasickness?”
“No, that was one of the few things you haven’t complained about.”
“Only because I didn’t know until I tried sleeping last night.”
Des snorted and tried to cover the sound with a cough. Remi smiled and Sam fought the urge to laugh.
“If you dive some, I understand that will equalize the motion and you’ll sleep like a baby,” Sam offered.
“You lie, don’t you?” Leonid said, but his voice sounded a little hopeful.
Sam’s face could have been carved from stone. “It’s true.”
“I know better than to trust you, American deceiver,” he replied.
The quiet of the pilothouse was shattered when a tiny speaker near the helm crackled and a disembodied metallic voice with a thick Aussie accent sounded from it.
“Captain. You there?” Kent Warren, the dive leader, called.
Des moved to the microphone and lifted it to his mouth. “Yes, Kent. What is it?”
“You probably can’t see it yet, but we cleared something that one of the big brains should come down and have a look at.”