Sam grinned and put the car in gear. The Land Cruiser’s suspension groaned in protest as they returned down the mud road as though it, too, had had enough of the outing and was ready to return to civilization. “Compared to some of our other adventures? Piece of cake.”
“Why do I get the impression you’re actually enjoying this?”
“I do like a challenge.”
Remi looked at the brown river racing past and recalled their brush with death on the mine road and then tilted her head back and closed her eyes as the Toyota lurched and bounced. “Make it stop.”
“That’s the spirit.”
CHAPTER 29
Lilly, her faded summer dress a hand-me-down from her sister, coughed as she made her way to the stream that ran along the southern side of her village. Only just turned fourteen, she’d been sick for weeks, and while the new medicine she was taking was supposed to make her better, it seemed to have the opposite effect. It was only on good days over the last week that she felt well enough to emerge from her family’s shack and help with the chores.
Lilly had always been slim, but since the illness she was a wraith, having shed twelve pounds that she couldn’t afford to lose. Her high cheekbones jutted beneath ebony skin stretched like rice paper over bones, and now that her baby fat had dropped away, she was all coltish knobby knees and elbows, caught somewhere midway between adolescence and womanhood.
She was almost to the stream when she heard the crack of a branch somewhere nearby — possibly behind her, although when she spun to see who was there, the trail was empty. Puzzled, she called out.
“Who’s there?”
Silence answered her, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the canopy overhead as a bird hopped from branch to branch.
Lilly continued on her way, ignoring the rising sense of anxiety in the pit of her stomach as she heard the unmistakable crunch of footsteps on twigs. She turned, hands on her hips, chin high in defiance. It was probably one of the annoying boys from the village who’d been showing an interest in her since she’d begun to bloom last summer. They were persistent but harmless, and she’d successfully rejected their clumsy advances just as her mother, a God-fearing woman who’d warned her more than enough about the devil’s presence in boys’ hearts, had advised her.
But the track was deserted.
“I hear you, you know, so you’re not fooling anyone,” she said, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. She waited a few moments, and when there was no response, she called out again. “You best run back to the village or I’ll crack you on the head when you show yourself.”
Nothing.
“This isn’t funny. Just stop it,” she said, and this time her voice broke on the last word. If this was that Jimmy boy who’d been dropping off little gifts anonymously, she hoped he’d either show himself or lose interest in the game. One of her friends had told her she’d seen him skulking around the shack, and she wasn’t entirely displeased with the attention.
When she didn’t see or hear anything more, she continued to the water’s edge, the burbling of the current as it washed over large smooth rocks in the middle of the stream musical. She was kneeling to rinse her hands off when a pair of powerful hands clamped over her mouth and around her waist, and her scream of alarm was muffled. Lilly struggled for all she was worth until a blow landed on the side of her head and a spike of pain shrieked through her skull, and then everything faded as the viselike grip of her attacker cut off her air.
The drive back was slow going. For much of the way, Sam and Remi were stuck behind an overloaded truck that had been around since the war, black exhaust belching from its hopelessly eroded tailpipe in toxic clouds as it occupied the middle of the road without regard for the faded yellow line marking the two lanes. The few times Sam tried to pass on the narrow strip of pavement, he had to duck back in order to miss an oncoming car. He quickly tired of the island version of chicken and resolved to accept the trip taking as long as it took.
When they reached the hotel, Sam called Selma on the sat phone from the room’s terrace. After several seconds of popping and clicking, Selma answered on the first ring in her customary cheerful voice.
“Hello, there,” she said. “How’s island life?”
“Hi, Selma. Never better. How’s it going back home?”
“Nothing unusual. We’re still digging through any records that would shed some light on the phantom destroyer, but so far it’s a dead end.”
“That’s frustrating. It sounds like if it weren’t for the survivors, nobody would know the ship ever existed.”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before. Then again, there’s no way of knowing how much of that period’s history is anywhere near complete, because if the Japanese did this with other boats, they’d already be lost forever, as far as we’re concerned.”
“Well, if you have the time, I have another project for you.”
“I live for new projects,” she said, only half joking.
“This one involves giants and the Japanese.”
“I can’t wait to hear the punch line.”
Sam smiled to himself. “I think we touched on it before, but now I’m serious. There are persistent legends on the island about giants that live in the mountain caves, showing themselves only when raiding remote villages or abducting people.”
“I see,” she said, her tone flat.
“I know it’s far-fetched, but the part of the legend that interests me is the constant reference to a network of caves that supposedly runs the length of Guadalcanal and is used by the giants to traverse the island.”
Selma took a deep breath. “What, exactly, do you want me to research?”
“See if you can find the earliest references to giants in accounts of the Solomons and then work forward. And I’m also very interested in any map or description of the cave system. I know that’s a long shot, which is why I think you may have better luck leading with the giant legend rather than the caves. My bet is that nobody’s ever done much exploration, if any.”
“Right. Giants and caves. You also mentioned the Japanese?”
“Yes. I want everything you can find relating to the last days of the occupation.”
“Didn’t we already cover that with the evacuation?”
“No. I’m most interested in the time frame from October to February, before the evacuation began.”
“Care to narrow the search for me? Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
Sam told her about Nauru’s account. “I want to see if there’s any mention of slave labor or secret experiments. Even unsubstantiated accounts or rumors. I’m hoping you can come up with something because our link to the past is on his deathbed and I don’t think there’s going to be anything more forthcoming from him.”
Selma was quiet for a few moments. “What did you say the name of this commander was?”
“I didn’t. Why?”
“It may be nothing. But a colonel on Guadalcanal…”
“Selma, what is it?”
“I was just thinking that there couldn’t have been dozens of them. I mean, we’re talking about a total force of only a few thousand men at the end.”
“Right. But how does that help us?”
“When I researched the survivors of the destroyer that sank, I remember one of them was a high-ranking officer. Army. I’ll have to go back, but I think it was a colonel. Hang on just a second and let me pull up the file.”
Sam could hear the sound of keys clicking in the background in a flurry of activity and then Selma came back on the line.
“I knew it. Here it is. A Colonel Kumasaka was rescued, along with four seamen.”