The Solomon Curse by Clive Cussler

evidence of the massacre other than glistening black stains on the road.
    â€œGo on, now. Get out of here. Stop at the shore and clean yourselves off, and take care to get all the blood off your weapons. And remember—not a word to anyone. I hear anything, I’ll cut your tongues out and have you staked over an anthill.”
    The men shuddered. Nobody doubted the speaker’s sincerity. They nodded and climbed into the van, which started with a sputtering puff of blue exhaust, and were out of sight before the motor’s roar faded. The speaker walked to the bloody smudges on the road, considered them, and smiled. Everything was going according to plan, and the only thing that remained was to contact the papers and plant a statement saying that the rebel militia had kidnapped two aid workers and were demanding all foreign companies invested in the island relinquish their claims and leave—before lives were lost.
    The surrounding jungle was quiet, the only sound the scurrying of nocturnal creatures moving toward the easy meal that awaited them. A black SUV pulled out from behind a thicket twenty yards down the road and headed for Honiara, leaving the Australians’ truck and their mutilated corpses at the bottom of a nameless ravine, two more casualties on an island whose soil ran red from battles fought for its control.

CHAPTER 12
    The next morning, Sam and Remi headed for the hospital. Dr. Vanya was there and this time allowed them into the depths of the building to see Benji, who thanked them profusely for their help in barely understandable English. It quickly became obvious that there wasn’t anything further to talk about, and after a few minutes of assurances that Leonid would help out with the hospital bills they moved back to the patient lounge with Vanya.
    â€œWhat do you have planned for today?” she asked.
    â€œWe’re going to interview some locals about Guadalcanal legends and then maybe go see the mine,” Remi said.
    â€œOh, well, be careful. Once you get outside the city, the roads can be treacherous. And you’ve already seen what the jungle can hold. The crocodiles are only one of the dangers.”
    â€œYes, Manchester told us all about the giants,” Sam said.
    Vanya slowed and smiled, but her expression seemed brittle. “There are some colorful beliefs here, that’s for sure.”
    â€œAs we’d expect in any isolated rural society,” Sam acknowledged. “We’re respectful of the traditions that fostered them, but still . . .”
    â€œI’ve heard about giants ever since I was a toddler. I don’t even pay any attention to the stories anymore. I treat it sort of like religion—people are entitled to think what they think,” Vanya said.
    â€œBut he did say there’s been an increase in unexplained disappearances,” Remi reminded her.
    â€œI’ve heard rumors that there are still pockets of militia in the mountains who are hiding out. I find that far more likely than the giant explanation.”
    â€œMilitia?”
    â€œEver since the social upheaval, when the Australians sent in an armed task force to keep the peace, there have been those who have agitated for a change in regime—who view foreign intervention as a disguised occupation of the country in order to control its natural resources. While the majority seems ambivalent about it, there are still groups of people who are angry, and some of them are militant. There have been clashes.”
    â€œThen it actually
is
risky to go explore the caves?” said Sam.
    She nodded. “Not because of giants. But does it matter what gets you if you’re never heard from again?”
    Remi eyed Sam. “She has a point.”
    â€œThanks for taking the time to escort us to see Benji,” Sam said to Vanya. “What happened to the poor man is a tragedy.”
    â€œMy pleasure. Just take care that the same doesn’t happen