The Solomon Curse by Clive Cussler Page B

wondering if he’d crossed some social line, and the old man grinned, exposing toothless gums.
    â€œDon’t worry. Me don’t like shaking hands. Not taboo. Just don’t like.” Rubo asked, “You sit?” motioning to a log that ran along one of the thatched walls, thankfully in the shade.
    â€œThank you.”
    They took seats, the old man’s watchful gaze roving from Sam’s shoes to his hair.
    â€œWhat you want?” Rubo asked again, his voice quiet.
    â€œI want to talk about the old days. Old stories. Orwen said you know more than anyone.”
    Rubo nodded. “Could be. Lot of stories.”
    â€œI’m interested in any about a curse. Or a lost city.”
    The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Lost city? Curse?”
    Sam nodded. “About a bay on the other side of the island that’s cursed. Bad luck.”
    â€œWhy you ask ’bout city?”
    â€œI heard from someone who’s exploring the island that there are ruins underwater.”
    Rubo looked off into the distance, watching the river’s brown water surge past. When he returned his attention to Sam, his face was stony.
    â€œThere is story. Old. King who tempt gods. No good, tempt gods. He build temples in bay. But big wave destroy. Curse bay. No good go there.”
    â€œWhen did this happen?”
    The old man shrugged his bony shoulders. “Long time back. Before white man come.”
    Sam waited for him to continue, but for a storyteller Rubo was short on details. After a half minute of silence, Sam tried a smile. “That’s it?”
    Rubo nodded, then held out a gnarled finger, pointing at the car. “Who that?”
    â€œOh, sorry. My wife.” Sam waved to Remi and motioned for her to come over. She stepped down from the vehicle and approached.
    Rubo’s vision seemed to improve and his eyes stayed locked on Remi as she neared before looking away at the last second.
    â€œRemi? This is Rubo. He was just telling me about a legend. A king who built temples in a bay that the sea then reclaimed. Angry gods.”
    â€œNice to meet you,” Remi said, beaming a smile at the old man. He stood unsteadily and took her proffered hand and shook it. Sam didn’t say anything. Apparently, there were exceptions to every rule.
    â€œSit,” Rubo invited, and she offered him another smile. She took a seat next to Sam and waited expectantly. Sam cleared his throat.
    â€œSounds like our ruins, doesn’t it?”
    â€œYes. It’s amazing that Rubo knows the story.”
    The corners of Rubo’s lips tugged upward. “I know many. Stories.”
    â€œI’m sure you do. And your English is very good. How did you learn to speak so well?”
    â€œBig war. I help Uncle Sam.”
    â€œDid you really? Those must have been rough days,” Remi said.
    Rubo nodded. “Bad days. Many die. Hate Japanese.”
    â€œThey were bad to the islanders?”
    â€œSome. One very bad. Colonel.”
    â€œWhat did he do?” Sam asked.
    â€œBad things. Kill many of us. And do tests. Secret.”
    Remi edged closer. “What? What kind of tests?”
    Rubo looked away. “Med.”
    â€œMed? You mean ‘medical’?”
    He nodded. “Yes. With white man. But not American.”
    Sam stared at Remi. “Japanese experimenting on locals with white men. Want to take two guesses what nationality they were?”
    They turned their attention back to Rubo. “Why haven’t we heard anything about this before?”
    He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe nobody care?”
    â€œJapanese engaging in war crimes here? I can’t believe that would be swept under the rug.”
    Rubo gave her a blank look. “Rug?”
    â€œSorry. An expression.”
    â€œBack to the king and his temples. Can you tell us the whole story?” encouraged Sam.
    Rubo shrugged. “Old. Not much to tell. King build temples and palace. Gods