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“We won’t know for sure that it’s viable till we get there, but it seems like our only alternative.”
The sat phone rang and Sam hurried to the table by the sliding glass doors, where it was charging. He punched the line to life. “Hello?”
“Did you hear the news?” Selma asked, her voice concerned.
“Which news is that, Selma?”
“Another assassination. This time, the Governor-General and one of the members of parliament.”
Sam froze, eyeing the darkening harbor. “Which member?”
“Orwen Manchester.”
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, then opened them and turned toward Remi. “When?”
“It just came across the wire a few minutes ago.”
“What happened?”
“Car explosion. The rebels were quick to claim responsibility. Said that the puppet of colonial imperialism had been executed for the better of the islands, as would be all foreigners responsible for the nation’s subjugation. I quote, obviously.”
“Then Manchester’s dead?” Sam asked in a hushed voice.
Remi sat up on the bed, her eyes wide. “What? Let me talk to her.”
Sam handed her the phone as she stood and padded onto the terrace with bare feet.
“Tell me exactly what happened, Selma,” Remi said, her words dangerously calm. Selma recounted the news. When she was done, Remi was speechless.
“Are you all right?” Selma asked.
“Yes. I think so,” Remi said. “We just saw him. Not three hours ago. We were sitting only a few feet from him and now—”
“I’m sorry,” Selma said.
“Thanks. I wonder if he had family?”
“Doesn’t say on the news.”
“It’s . . . it’s just unbelievable.” She looked out over the water and her gaze drifted to the town. “This spells big trouble for civil unrest. I’ve seen enough of this place to know it’s going to blow wide open once word spreads. Manchester was a moderating force—a voice of reason. Without him—”
“You two should get out of there. Now,” Selma said. “While you still can.”
“We can’t, Selma. Not yet.” She took a few moments to collect her thoughts. “Any word on the missing children?” Remi had sent her an e-mail earlier detailing their discovery.
“I couldn’t find anything. There’s nothing on the Internet. Which doesn’t surprise me—Guadalcanal isn’t exactly a hotbed of tech sophistication. Even most of the businesses don’t have websites, so it’s still a few years behind everywhere else in that regard.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“You really should take some protective steps. If rioting starts—”
“I know. I’ll talk to Sam about it.”
“Call me if you need anything. And please . . . be careful.”
“I’ll pass the message along. Thanks, Selma.”
Remi hung up and handed the phone to Sam. “Selma’s worried. She thinks that the island could erupt in another bout of violence. I think she’s right.”