Page 42
“Well, that’s good news.”
He turned to her. “How’s the neck?”
“If you’re asking whether I can manage a dive or three, the answer’s yes.”
He inspected her cheek, which still had a trace of discoloration from bruising, and smiled. “You ready for breakfast?”
“With Comrade Chuckles as usual?” she smirked.
“It wouldn’t be the start of a new day on the islands without Leonid’s sunny disposition and sense of childlike wonder, would it?”
“He’s certainly got the market cornered on pessimism. Although I did get the sense that he was enjoying his dive experience, for all his grumbling.”
“Me too. But don’t let on that you noticed or it’ll ruin his whole morning.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Sam escorted her to the hotel restaurant, where Leonid was sitting at their usual table, his face sunburned, sipping coffee with an expression like the dark brew was laced with rat poison. He looked up as they approached and offered a humorless smile.
“Good morning, my friend,” Sam said cheerfully, slapping him on the back. “You’re looking sprightly.”
“I’ll take whatever you’ve been drinking,” Leonid said sarcastically.
“I think the island pace agrees with you, Leonid. You’re positively glowing,” Remi beamed as she took a seat across from him.
“Make it a double,” Leonid muttered, but Remi caught a barely controlled flash of a smile.
“We come bearing good news,” Sam announced.
“Really?” the Russian asked, raising a distrustful eyebrow.
“The Darwin will be here in a few hours and then
we can get this exploration kicked into high gear. And you can show off some of your newfound scuba moves.”
“As long as they consist of sitting on board and directing the divers, you won’t be disappointed,” Leonid assured him.
“I bet you’re like a fish in water,” Remi teased.
“A puffer fish. It’s all I can do to get into the pool, much less swim.”
“Well, fortunately, Selma called this morning to tell us that she’s got four ex–Navy divers flying in to help. They should arrive tomorrow,” Sam said.
They agreed to meet at the boat when it was scheduled to dock. Leonid still had one final dive to do before getting his certification. They watched him trundle out to the parking lot and Remi shook her head.
“You’d think he’d just found out he only had a few days to live. Has he always been like that?” she asked.
“As long as I’ve known him. What’s funny is that he’s had a relatively charmed life. There’s no logical reason for it. But that’s the way he is.”
“Thank goodness I didn’t marry Mr. Sourpuss.”
“How could anyone be married to you and do anything but smile?”
Remi grinned. “You’re showing promise, young man.”
—
The Honiara waterfront lived up to their expectations, with the pungent aroma of decaying marine life thick as fog. Rows of rusting cargo ships in various states of disrepair bumped against the concrete docks in the gentle swell, and Sam and Remi watched as a large power catamaran edged to a stop near the shipyard. The water shimmered with a sheen of oil and gas, adding a petroleum stink to the area, and Remi wrinkled her nose and leaned in to Sam.
He turned to her. “How’s the neck?”
“If you’re asking whether I can manage a dive or three, the answer’s yes.”
He inspected her cheek, which still had a trace of discoloration from bruising, and smiled. “You ready for breakfast?”
“With Comrade Chuckles as usual?” she smirked.
“It wouldn’t be the start of a new day on the islands without Leonid’s sunny disposition and sense of childlike wonder, would it?”
“He’s certainly got the market cornered on pessimism. Although I did get the sense that he was enjoying his dive experience, for all his grumbling.”
“Me too. But don’t let on that you noticed or it’ll ruin his whole morning.”
“My lips are sealed.”
Sam escorted her to the hotel restaurant, where Leonid was sitting at their usual table, his face sunburned, sipping coffee with an expression like the dark brew was laced with rat poison. He looked up as they approached and offered a humorless smile.
“Good morning, my friend,” Sam said cheerfully, slapping him on the back. “You’re looking sprightly.”
“I’ll take whatever you’ve been drinking,” Leonid said sarcastically.
“I think the island pace agrees with you, Leonid. You’re positively glowing,” Remi beamed as she took a seat across from him.
“Make it a double,” Leonid muttered, but Remi caught a barely controlled flash of a smile.
“We come bearing good news,” Sam announced.
“Really?” the Russian asked, raising a distrustful eyebrow.
“The Darwin will be here in a few hours and then
we can get this exploration kicked into high gear. And you can show off some of your newfound scuba moves.”
“As long as they consist of sitting on board and directing the divers, you won’t be disappointed,” Leonid assured him.
“I bet you’re like a fish in water,” Remi teased.
“A puffer fish. It’s all I can do to get into the pool, much less swim.”
“Well, fortunately, Selma called this morning to tell us that she’s got four ex–Navy divers flying in to help. They should arrive tomorrow,” Sam said.
They agreed to meet at the boat when it was scheduled to dock. Leonid still had one final dive to do before getting his certification. They watched him trundle out to the parking lot and Remi shook her head.
“You’d think he’d just found out he only had a few days to live. Has he always been like that?” she asked.
“As long as I’ve known him. What’s funny is that he’s had a relatively charmed life. There’s no logical reason for it. But that’s the way he is.”
“Thank goodness I didn’t marry Mr. Sourpuss.”
“How could anyone be married to you and do anything but smile?”
Remi grinned. “You’re showing promise, young man.”
—
The Honiara waterfront lived up to their expectations, with the pungent aroma of decaying marine life thick as fog. Rows of rusting cargo ships in various states of disrepair bumped against the concrete docks in the gentle swell, and Sam and Remi watched as a large power catamaran edged to a stop near the shipyard. The water shimmered with a sheen of oil and gas, adding a petroleum stink to the area, and Remi wrinkled her nose and leaned in to Sam.
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