Page 59

The day stretched on slowly as the divers continued their plodding work, and after a tedious afternoon Sam and Remi decided to return to the hotel rather than spend another night aboard the Darwin. The radio hadn’t reported any further unrest, and the latest broadcasts sounded as though things were returning to normal in Honiara.
On the outskirts of town, traffic was heavier than the day before, and there was a sense of normalcy to the pace of the pedestrians making their way down the darkening sidewalks. There was still an increased police presence, with a pair of uniformed officers on every other corner, but their demeanor was unconcerned.
The hotel security guards were still at the entrance of the almost empty parking lot. The other guests had obviously chosen to play it safe and leave the island rather than stay in the uncertain environment. Sam selected a parking stall near the front doors and they entered the deserted lobby, empty except for two desk clerks. One of them waved Sam down and handed him a message slip. He glanced at it and thanked the clerk.
“Selma called,” he said. “That’s a good sign. Means she’s found something.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Once in the room, Sam threw the sliding doors open and stood on the small terrace, satellite phone in hand. Selma answered on the second ring.
“Oh, good. You got my message,” she said.
“We did indeed.”
“I scoured my sources for reports of anything resembling your treasure that was liquidated by the Japanese during the war and came up empty. Nothing. So then I checked with all the usual suspects who might have been involved in clandestine sales to collectors—you know the sort—and again found nothing. So if a treasure was discovered by the Japanese, it’s the best-kept secret of the war years.”
“That’s not good news.”
“I know. I’m still digging, though, but a significant find would have attracted attention, as you more than know.”
“Selma, the bayonet confirms the Japanese were in the vault, and, based on what we saw, they dug a significant amount of gold out of the walls. And the carvings were just the decoration of the vault. I’d have to assume that whatever was housed inside were riches far more valuable than the wall ornamentation.”
“Right. So after running into a brick wall tracing suspicious sales during or after the war years, I turned to the evacuation, as you asked. Specifically, that final run on February seventh.”
“And?”
“I’ll forward everything to your e-mail, but there’s a glaring lack of data on the Japanese navy’s movements around Guadalcanal. Other than accounts of the naval battles, I really had to dig.”
Sam bit back his impatience. “I presume you found something that caught your interest?”
“Yes. It might be nothing, but I found an account of an Allied ship rescuing some Japanese sailors from the Solomon Sea on the morning of the eighth. From what I pieced together, the destroyer they were on sank in a storm. Most of the hands didn’t make it.”
“Wait. I read about the evacuation online. It’s described as having gone off without a hitch.”
“Maybe so. What struck me as odd was that one ship was in the Solomon Sea rather than with the main force, which was more than a hundred miles away—and it wasn’t on a course for the base on Bougainville Island.” She paused. “As for online research, you know what I think of most of the available sources.” Selma had nothing but disdain for the sites most used as a kind of gospel. As a research specialist, she was deeply distrustful of anything that hadn’t been subjected to rigorous peer review, and she openly scoffed at the web-based encyclopedias that, in her opinion, were nothing more than unsubstantiated hearsay.
“Yes, your stance is well established. That’s the only oddity from February seventh?”
“Unless something happened that was never recorded. But I will say this—I almost missed the destroyer sinking. Unlike the other ships that went down around the Solomons, there’s no information on this one. And perhaps most odd is that it’s not listed on any of the rosters of Japanese warships involved in the Pacific theater.”
“That is strange.”
“Yes, it?
??s almost as though Tokyo scrubbed its existence off the books. That got my alarms sounding. Sort of like that Sherlock Holmes story about the dog that didn’t bark.”
“What about the survivors? Nobody wrote a tell-all memoir?”
“No, they were taken as POWs and imprisoned for the duration.”
“You know the next question . . .”
“I anticipated it. I’m trying to track down info on survivors as we speak. But that will take more time. I have to follow up on each name, and when and where they were imprisoned and released, assuming they lived to the end of the war. Many didn’t. And of course anyone who made it would be older than dirt by now if they are still alive, which isn’t likely.”
Sam sighed. “You mentioned that the ship went down in a storm. Where, exactly? Can we narrow it down?”
“I’m way ahead of you. Based on the Allied naval reports of where the survivors were rescued, I came up with a likely area grid where it sank. I established a fifteen-mile radius from where they were picked up, allowing for the direction of the storm, which was north.” Selma hesitated. “It’s not good news.”