The Solomon Curse (31 page)

Sam studied the metal slab. “Probably. The Japanese built a lab for their experiments and the good doctor took it over. Makes sense—if the Japanese did it correctly, they probably bored ventilation shafts and ran wiring. All Dr. Vanya had to do was step in and modify it, depending on its condition when she found—”

Sam's rumination was interrupted by the lights shutting off with a snap, plunging the cave into darkness.

They stood frozen in the pitch black, afraid to move. A muffled thump echoed from the other side of the door, followed by silence.

“What do you think this is? Desensitization technique?” Sam whispered to Remi.

“Could be they just want to save their power for more important things than prisoners they plan to torture and kill,” Remi said.

“Doesn't sound optimistic,” Lazlo said.

Their speculations were cut short by a scrape, followed by the bolt sliding free. They stepped back just as the heavy door swung wide, hinges creaking. The cave beyond was also dark and they couldn't make anything out.

“Which one of you is the better shot?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. “I managed to relieve one of the natives of his pistol, but there are more where that came from,” Leonid said.

“Leonid! You're alive!” Lazlo whispered in surprise.

“Barely. So who's best with a pistol?” Leonid repeated.

“Remi is,” Sam said.

“Where is she?” Leonid asked.

“I'm right here,” Remi offered from Sam's left.

Leonid took a step into the room and held out the gun, which Remi felt for and then took from him.

“Are you hurt?” Sam asked.

“Nothing broken, but I'm not going to win any beauty contests.”

“You killed the lights?” Lazlo asked.

“Yes. Machete to the main power cable. Took three tries.”

“Where's the machete?” Sam asked.

“Buried in a guard.” He paused. “I have a flashlight, but I don't want to turn it on. Better to wait for the others to return and shoot at their lights.”

“I keep forgetting that you were in the Russian army,” Sam said.

“And I've been married three times,” said Leonid.

A glow bounced from the far end of the cave as a flashlight approached. Remi stepped in front of Sam and pointed beyond a row of beds at the oxygen tanks lined up against the wall. She held her fingers to her lips as the light drew closer and said softly to Sam, “Take cover. I'm going to close the door so they don't see anything wrong. It might buy us a few seconds.”

“I'm coming with you,” he said.

There was no time to argue. She and Sam moved into the cave with the medical equipment, pulled the door shut, and bolted it. Remi ducked behind a wooden crate and Sam hurried to a portable monitoring system near the beds, hoping the apparatus would hide him.

They didn't have long to wait. A flashlight appeared in the opening at the other side of the cave and they could make out three islanders toting pistols. The beam moved directly to the door, as Remi had hoped, stopping at the bolted lock. The men muttered unintelligibly among themselves and took cautious steps toward it, and both Sam
and Remi held their breaths as the gunmen moved past them to the door.

Remi's shots were as loud as cannon fire in the cave. The first caught the flashlight bearer between the shoulders and the second hit his companion as he was spinning to shoot at her. She squeezed off two more shots at the third gunman as he threw himself behind another crate. Hers missed as he fired two of his, one of which splintered the wood by her head, the other ricocheting harmlessly off the stone walls.

The flashlight lay on the ground, shining into nothingness, providing just enough illumination for Remi to make out the far crate. The gunman's leg shot out and kicked the flashlight into the wall, shattering the bulb and plunging the cave back into darkness. Remi's night vision took several seconds to adjust and her reaction was too slow as the gunman rolled from behind the crate, pistol in hand.

Sam pushed the cart over and the heavy monitor landed on the stone floor with an explosive crash, buying Remi critical moments for her eyes to fully adjust. The gunman froze at the unexpected commotion fifteen feet from where he thought the threat lay, exposing himself for an instant.

Which was all the opportunity Remi needed. She fired two more times, emptying the revolver. The gunman slumped over and his gun clattered harmlessly to the floor. Sam moved from behind the cart to where the first two islanders lay dead by the door and groped around until his fingers found one of their guns—another revolver.

“See if you can find the other pistol,” Sam whispered to Remi. “I'm going to get the door open so we can use Leonid's flashlight. After this, we've lost any element of surprise.”

“Okay,” Remi agreed, moving cautiously toward the sound of his voice.

Sam worked the bolt free and swung the door wide as Remi neared. Lazlo and Leonid were crouched inside. “Time for your flashlight,” Sam told Leonid, who switched it on.

Remi located the other gun, a Beretta 9mm semiautomatic, and scooped it up. She quickly checked the magazine, which was full, as Sam retrieved a fallen flashlight. She felt in the gunman's shorts for a spare and noted without emotion that the dead man was the lead islander who'd captured them, the one who had brutalized Sam's head with the same weapon she now held.

Now that there was light in the cell, they could see the extent of Leonid's injuries. Sam didn't react to the Russian's appearance, but his stomach tightened when he saw the patchwork of scabs and cuts covering his face and arms. It was a minor miracle Leonid had managed to recover from his spill into the chasm, but he was clearly the worse for wear and every visible inch of skin sported a contusion or scrape.

Lazlo followed Sam and Leonid out of the cell and moved to where the third gunman's weapon lay near his dead hand. Lazlo leaned over and picked it up, distaste written across his face, and held it out to Leonid. “I suspect you might be able to make more productive use of this than I,” he said. Leonid took the revolver without comment and quickly checked the cylinder.

“Only two rounds,” he said, then grunted and directed the beam at the cave entry. “Who wants to take the lead?”

“I will,” Sam said, but Remi shook her head.

“You're hurt. I'll do it. Leonid, give me your flashlight.”

Leonid nodded and handed her the light. Sam looked ready to challenge her, but she cut him off with a determined look. “No arguments, Fargo. I've got the most firepower with the automatic. Back me up.” She glanced at Lazlo. “Give him a hand, would you please?”

Remi shone the light around the chamber and froze when a moan drifted from another doorway—which was bolted shut. They moved to the heavy door and Sam pulled loose from Lazlo, a determined expression on his face. Remi stood by the side of the door, pistol at the ready, as Sam worked the bolt loose.

They exchanged a glance and Sam nodded. He swung the door
wide as Remi aimed into the darkness, Sam shining his beam into the gloom. When no attack came, he took a cautious step toward the threshold, and then another moan came from inside the chamber.

It sounded like a girl.

“What on earth . . .” Remi whispered as she moved into the cavern. She scanned the interior with her light, holding the pistol in one hand and the flashlight in the other, and then gasped when her beam settled on one of a dozen beds along the wall. A figure lay prone there, one thin arm shackled to a chain dangling from the stone wall.

Sam played his beam along the surface, where manacles hung from rusting chains clasped to iron rings. In one corner, an iron box stood open and he shuddered when he saw what it was—a coffin-shaped contrivance just large enough to imprison a human. Next to it stood a metal cage backed against the wall, its surface grooved from hands scratching at the stone in a futile effort to get free. Rust-colored streaks ran down the wall and again Sam shuddered—it was dried blood, some of it probably decades old, but enough of it relatively fresh to send chills up his spine.

Remi moved to the bed, where a young female islander was laboring for breath. Empty IV bags littered the stone floor, along with discarded syringes and medicine vials. A cockroach scuttled near Remi's foot and she grimaced.

“It's . . . it's like some kind of medieval torture chamber,” she murmured.

“I think we've found where the Japanese did their dirty work,” Sam agreed, leaning over to examine the girl. He touched her forehead and looked at Remi. “She's burning up.”

“We have to take her with us, Sam.”

He took a deep breath and nudged the girl's shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

She moaned again, a pitiful sound filled with pain and fear, and her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze was unfocused as it settled on Remi.

“Sweetheart . . . Do you understand me?” Remi asked quietly.

The girl managed a weak nod.

“We're going to get you out of here. What's your name?”

She struggled to form a word, and both Sam and Remi leaned closer in an effort to make it out.

“Lil . . . ly . . .”

Sam stepped away from the bed and Remi joined him. “She's too sick to walk, Remi.”

“Then we'll have to carry her.”

“We need to come back for her.”

“I'm not leaving her in this living hell, Sam. Look at the poor thing. She's skin and bones.” Remi thought briefly. “I'll ask Lazlo to help me, if you think you can make it on your own.”

Sam winced as he nodded. “I can try.” He glanced back at the shackle. “How do you plan to free her?”

“One of the guards must have keys. Stay with her while I go check.”

Remi returned several long moments later with a key ring. She tried two keys before finding one that worked. The manacle opened with a metallic click and Lilly's arm fell across her thin body. Sam moved aside as Lazlo approached the bed and, together with Remi, lifted her frail form.

“Will you be able to manage her?” Sam asked.

“She's light as a feather. Between us, we'll do it,” Lazlo said, his voice confident.

Lazlo carried Lilly in his arms as Remi walked beside him, helping Sam. Leonid brought up the rear, weapon in hand. As they emerged from the chamber of horrors, Remi moved into the lead, but then stopped short at the passage that connected the chamber with the medical equipment to the entry cave, pausing to glance at the dead islander lying on the ground with a machete buried in his chest before continuing past—evidence of Leonid's resilience even when injured.

When they reached the entry cave, a blur of motion flew at them
from the shadows. Gunfire exploded as Remi and Sam fired at the attackers. Seconds later, four islanders lay dying, machetes and axes no match for quick reflexes and bullets. Remi stood, sweeping the space with her pistol, wary of another attempt—just because these islanders hadn't had guns didn't mean there weren't more gunmen nearby, waiting for their chance.

Sam pointed to the entry, a gap in the stone, with five yards of passageway leading to the outside. Light streamed through the curtain of vegetation that covered it. Remi nodded and moved to the side of the opening, gun at the ready, while Sam crept to the opposite side of the entry and listened for any hint of ambush, his ears still ringing from the gunfire. Lazlo hung back with Lilly as Leonid eyed Sam and Remi, who gestured for him to move into the passage while they covered him.

At the opening, sensing nothing, Sam whispered to them. “There could be more out there, waiting for us to show ourselves. Anyone have any ideas about how to keep from being sitting ducks?”

Remi regarded the vegetation that hid the opening. “We wait them out.”

“We can't wait here all day,” Leonid said.

“Why not?” Remi asked. “Let time work against them. Assuming there are any of them left.”

They settled in near the entrance, guns clenched in tired hands. Soon they heard the thump of footsteps on stone approaching—faint, but clear. Remi squeezed her body into a depression along one side of the entry, her pistol trained on the gap, as Sam and Leonid took cover behind rocks deeper in the passageway.

The vines rustled and Remi cocked the hammer back on the Beretta, willing her breathing to slow as her pulse pounded in her ears. She relaxed and lowered the gun when Greg's head poked through the vines and smiled as she called out to him.

“You scared the—”

Sam's gun bucked in his hand twice, deafening in the confined
space. The gunman who had been holding his pistol in the small of Greg's back fell backward, his skull obliterated as the first shot caught him in the forehead, and Greg dove to the side. Leonid's pistol barked once and a round tore through the man's torso and he dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

Remi's voice had a tremor in it as she regarded Greg. “Was that it?”

“No. One more by the car, but he only has a machete. Might be long gone by now, with all the shooting,” Greg answered, struggling to his feet. She eyed the gash on his head and the dried blood in his hair and nodded. “They ambushed me.”

“Can you make it back?”

“Sure.”

She turned to Sam and Leonid. “Nice shooting.”

“I only have one bullet left,” Leonid complained.

“Hopefully, you won't need to use it,” Sam said, rising unsteadily.

They moved to the entrance and pushed through the vines into a clearing. A dead islander lay sprawled a few feet from the opening. Greg knelt and retrieved the man's gun—another revolver easily as old as he was—and then pointed to a trail. “We're about five minutes south of the logging road.”

“Did you see a woman there?” Remi asked.

Greg nodded. “She's gone. Left before the fireworks started.”

“Damn,” Sam said.

Remi glared at the trail. “Don't worry. This isn't over. She's not going to get away with it.”

Sam studied her face and nodded grimly. “I believe you.”