CHAPTER 45
It was barely light out when the Mitsubishi turned onto the logging road, which was overgrown and in poor repair but passable. An hour and a half later, the SUV ground to a halt at the end of the road, stopped in its tracks by a wall of dense jungle.
Sam held the GPS up in the morning sunlight and studied the screen. “Looks like we’re close. It’s a little over a half mile that way,” he said, pointing at the nearest peaks. “Think you can manage it, Leonid?”
“I’m a locomotive. A battering ram. Unstoppable,” the Russian said, his eyes red from a restless night at anchor.
“That’s good to hear,” Sam said. “Greg, you’ve got guard duty here.”
Greg had ridden out in order to watch the vehicle and ensure no harm came to it. He nodded once. Greg didn’t talk much, but he looked lethal with his weapons, a machete on his belt and one of the ship’s twelve-gauge flare guns in his hand, and they were confident that the Mitsubishi would be in good shape when they returned.
The waterfalls might have been closer to the logging road than the village, but the terrain wasn’t accommodating. It was tough going, with none of the game trails they came across heading in the right direction. They were forced to hack their way through the underbrush as the heat rose — cutting through the jungle and then pausing every twenty minutes to rest. Their clothes were soon drenched, and their water supply was dwindling at a rapid clip.
Eventually, they broke through into the clearing at the base of the large waterfall and sprawled in the shade of a grove of trees, studying the ridge for signs of another cave.
Remi stared at the sheer rock face and after several minutes pushed herself to her feet. “We know it’s got to be there somewhere. What was the final line from the diary?”
“‘The way lies beyond the fall,’” Lazlo repeated from memory.
“You can’t get much more beyond the fall than the ridge, so it’s a question of where, exactly, the entrance is,” Sam observed.
“Well, we’re not going to find it, lounging around here,” Remi said. “How’s the leg, Leonid?”
“I’m strong as a bull. I feel nothing but impatience at being denied the treasure,” Leonid said, his tone as serious as a eulogy. Remi held his stare and then they both laughed simultaneously as he struggled to rise.
“Perhaps a wounded bull,” Sam corrected with a chuckle.
“That’s not a terrible nickname,” Lazlo said. “Wounded Bull. It somehow fits.”
“I’m not so badly off I can’t overtake you, you colonial oppressor,” the Russian growled good-naturedly.
“Yes, well, save your enthusiasm for the hunt. I suspect you’ll need it.”
“You know,” Remi said, “I don’t mean to be negative, but I had a thought last night. What if the Japanese hid the cave entrance once the islanders had loaded in the crates? I mean, it’s not impossible. If they really wanted to conceal their stash, it would have been easy. A grenade, a mortar…”
“That’s a good point. But it would have left a trace, I’d think,” Lazlo said.
“Probably. All I’m saying is, we shouldn’t discount any irregularity in the terrain no matter how unlikely it may appear.”
The trudge along the base of the ridge was agonizingly slow in the blaze of late-morning sun, over the treacherous ground. They passed the two caves they’d already explored and continued east, eyeing the landscape. Near another small stream, Leonid pointed to the rise. “Do you see that?” he asked.
They followed his finger to a collection of boulders, trailing down the hill, evidence of a landslide.
Sam nodded as he regarded the ridge. “Could be. Let’s have a closer look.”
The group climbed across the loose shale, the stones getting larger as they neared. At the top of the irregularity, Sam and Lazlo scraped away at the rocks, prying with their machete blades, trying to loosen the rubble. Leonid and Remi stood back, letting them work. Ten minutes later, Sam looked over his shoulder at her. “There’s a space behind it. You’re a genius.”
“I just have a devious mind. It’s what I would have done. After all, they had no way of knowing whether the Allies would investigate every square inch of the island or not once they had full possession. Better safe than sorry…” Remi said.
“Let’s clear this and see what’s inside,” said Sam, now fueled to greater effort. Remi and Leonid joined them and in another few minutes a gap had been opened.
“Definitely a cave,” Lazlo murmured, gazing into the darkness. Motes of dust hovered in the still air.
“Want to do the honors, Lazlo?” Remi asked.
“You know, I just had a thought. What if they booby-trapped it?” Lazlo mused.
“I highly doubt that anything they could have rigged that long ago would still be operational,” Sam said.
“Fine. Follow me,” Lazlo said, his voice trying for a conviction he clearly didn’t feel.
They entered the cavern, trailing Lazlo, their lights illuminating the space, which was larger than the prior caves. The floor was uneven and stretched into the darkness, sloping lower as they moved deeper, with the surface slick in places from water dripping from the ceiling and leaching through the walls.
“At least it’s cool in here,” Sam said as they pressed forward.
“But no crates,” Remi said.
“Look at the bright side. No skeletons, either.”
Lazlo slowed as the passage turned to the right and he held his light up. Stalactites hung from above like giant fossilized icicles, dripping relentlessly, as they had since the cave’s birth. The team edged around piles of debris, where sections of the ceiling had collapsed over time, and soon found themselves in a larger natural chamber.
“But still no treasure,” Leonid reminded, his expression sour.
“Good things come to those who wait,” Sam said, turning slowly, his lamp raised in his hand.
“Look over here,” Lazlo called from their right. Their heads turned to where he was gazing into yet another cave through a smaller opening. “This appears to continue for some distance.”
“That would make sense. Remember that the legends of the giants claim there’s an entire system that stretches across the island. Those tales are likely based in some sort of fact,” Remi said.
“Then how do we find the right cave? This could take forever,” Leonid griped.
“What happened to Raging Bull?” Sam teased.
“Wounded Bull,” Lazlo corrected.
As they continued down through the caves, the temperature dropped steadily, and soon the oppressive heat at the cave mouth was a distant memory, replaced by a dank chill. Lazlo continued leading the way, Sam and Remi behind him, and Leonid bringing up the rear, as they edged along a narrow rise that stretched along the side of a tunnel-like passage, easily fifty yards long, the darkness at either end absolute.
The crash of Leonid’s light hitting the stone cave floor shattered the stillness as he cried out. The group spun to where he’d slipped on a slick spot and gone over the edge, dropping down the steep slope into the chasm below.
“Leonid,” Sam cried out, dropping to his knees, careful to avoid the wet patch. Lichen clinging to the stone made it as slippery as ice.