“Why are you doing this?” Remi whispered.
“You’ve intruded into matters that are none of your concern. Unfortunately, once seen, your discoveries can never be unseen, so even if you swore to remain silent, there’s no way I could allow you to leave.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “You’re involved in the skeletons? The children?”
“Regrettably, some of the more aggressive medical treatments result in terminal side effects. When dealing with incurable illnesses like malaria, it’s often necessary to try experimental approaches in order to advance the human condition. It’s a necessary by-product of discovery, of developing new cures.”
“You’d kill some of your patients,” Lazlo said, almost in awe. “The disappearing village children . . .”
“I’ve been fortunate enough to work in an unofficial capacity with some visionary pharmaceutical companies. But, as with most industries, they’re hamstrung by arcane rules and regulations that prevent them from creating cures that could save millions. So they seek out medical professionals who understand that the greater good sometimes requires regrettable sacrifices.” Vanya offered another smile, but instead of warming her face, the effect was chilling. “Don’t look at me like that. I assure you it’s nothing new. For decades, Africa has been a testing ground for new vaccines and treatments. Nobody cares what happens over there—or even knows anything is happening at all. A few villages nobody’s heard of suffer casualties, but disastrous human plagues are averted. It’s the way of the world.”
“It’s monstrous. A violation of international law,” Remi stated flatly.
“Spare me your high moral tone. Your country refuses to abide by international law and flouts it constantly. Why should I be any more bound by it than you?”
“You’re insane,” Sam said, his voice quiet.
“Oh, right. Of course I am. That’s always the reaction of the uninformed when you confront reality. You don’t want to know the truth, preferring to live in a dreamworld.” Her face darkened. “In Guinea and Liberia, there are ‘defensive’ bioweapons laboratories that are funded by your country. Why? Because those nations never signed the bioweapons proliferation treaties your government did, so your military-industrial complex can develop nightmares there without technically violating the treaties. It’s a shell game designed for one purpose—to carry out research the civilized world has agreed shouldn’t be continued. But how much outrage does that cause in you? None. What I’m doing is far more benign.”
“It isn’t the same as murdering children,” Remi spat.
“Are you kidding me? I just told you that the same thing has been done in Africa for most of the twentieth century.”
“That’s a rationalization for taking money from the same drug companies you claim to despise and conducting research that would land you in prison for life. It’s got nothing to do with idealism, and everything with money,” Sam countered.
“You can’t be that blind. This is the way the world works. The appetite for medical miracles is insatiable, and there are large tracts of the planet that are off the radar, where shortcuts can be had, saving years, and sometimes decades, so developed nations can enjoy breakthroughs. Do you really believe that ethics and morality, which shift depending on which side of a border you’re on, guide behavior all over the world?”
She frowned. “Your government, your corporations, are guilty of so-called crimes as bad, or worse, than anything I’ve done here. For all your self-righteousness, you’re no better than I am. You want the benefits—you just don’t want to hear about how the sausage is made.”
“You swore an oath—the Hippocratic oath. Which you’re violating every day,” Lazlo said.
“I merely grasp that in order to progress, one needs to make accommodations. Compromises. I’m focused on results. We’re no different at all. I simply admit what I have to do in order to get things done. You want to remain ignorant.” She snapped her fingers and the gunmen stepped forward. “I’m tired of this. Good job capturing them. You have my permission to use whatever means necessary to obtain the information I’m after.” The chilling smile returned as she fixed Sam with a hard stare. “Artifacts indeed. Before you join the skeletons in the cave, you’ll tell my men the truth about what you were doing here.”
“We told you the truth.”
“You told me fairy tales. But we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“So now you’re going to have your rebel associates torture us? Is that also in the interests of medical expediency?” Lazlo demanded.
“Think of that as a fringe benefit of being the leader of the so-called rebels.”
Understanding settled over Remi’s face. “You’re behind all this? But Manchester was your friend . . .”
“Orwen was a drunk and a fool. For the only time in his life—in death—he served a productive purpose.”
“You sat with him, ate with him, joked with him . . .”
“And enjoyed myself. But he was standing in the way of progress. That’s always a dangerous stance to take and he paid the price.”
“You really are nuts,” Sam muttered disgustedly.
“Perhaps. But your opinion on the matter is irrelevant. Soon you’ll be part of the boneyard, dead and forgotten in a mass grave.”
“Then you’re nothing but a common murderer,” Remi said. “After all the lofty rhetoric, you’ll murder to protect yourself, to keep your evil from becoming known.”
“Don’t forget to make money,” Sam said. “Why do I suspect that this whole popular rebellion is nothing but a pretense for a swindle? Remember who’s talking—a woman who will experiment on her fellow islanders for a buck while coloring it as some noble way of getting cures to market.”
Vanya sneered at them. “Say what you like. This discussion is finished. It was nice knowing you. I would have enjoyed taking your money for the clinics, if that’s any consolation.”
“You won’t be able to keep your crimes secret,” Sam said. “We’ve made a find that will put Guadalcanal on the national news and have scientists swarming over the island. It’s just a matter of time until they come across your misdeeds and then you’ll be judged harshly by the same laws you believe don’t apply to you.”
“Right. Assuming the Solomon Islands government allows them access to the island. Which is doubtful at this point in light of the antiforeigner sentiment ruling the day.” She eyed Sam like an owl would a mouse. “And at some point soon I can see the caves being destroyed by demolition charges I’ve already had placed, erasing any evidence. And before long I’m going to be rich beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, so I won’t have to bother with chasing pennies from pharmaceutical companies for doing their dirty work. I’ll be a billionaire many times over, at which point all this becomes an unnecessary distraction.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Sam tried, struggling to hide the distaste he felt. “Once the caves are destroyed, there’s no proof of anything. You said so yourself.”
“True, but I don’t need a pair of multimillionaires claiming I’m the Antichrist. I’m not so provincial that I don’t understand you could stir up enough interest to drive an investigation. No, I’m afraid there’s only one way this ends. You and your colleagues must die. Think of it as a noble sacrifice, if it makes you feel any better, makes your deaths seem meaningful to you.” She checked her watch. “And now I’m afraid I have a hospital to run and politicians to counsel. Good-bye, Sam and Remi Fargo. And you—whatever your name is,” she said, eyeing Lazlo.
The nearest gunman held the iron barrier open for her and both men followed her out, shutting the heavy door and locking it behind them. The sound of the bolt sliding into place was as final as the closing of a coffin lid. As Vanya’s and the men’s footsteps echoed down the passageway, Sam and Remi shared a bleak look with Lazlo.
Sam was the first to speak. “Tell me about what you saw when
they brought us in here.”
Remi collected her thoughts and eyed the door. “This cave is farther down the ridge from the one with the bodies and the one we were ambushed in. This is probably all part of the same cave system, though—maybe the fork we didn’t take when we were making our escape.”
“How far in are we?”
“We went through two smaller caves after we entered the mountain.” Remi shuddered. “The one on the other side of the door has the medical equipment and beds in it. It smelled like death.”
Sam nodded. “Think hard. Is there anything we can use, anything either of you saw, that could help us?”
Remi and Lazlo were silent for several moments and then Lazlo shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Bit of a bind this time, I’d say.”
Sam looked at Remi. “Anything at all?”
“If we could get into the next room, some of the equipment could be used as weapons. The oxygen tanks. Some of the cleansers and solvents . . .”
Sam grunted. “Help me up. I want to look at the door.”
Remi and Lazlo did as Sam asked and they approached the iron door, Remi supporting Sam. He ran his fingers over the hinges, examined where rust was bleeding down the seams, and gave Remi a sour look. He didn’t have to say that there was no way they could work the oversized pins loose—the door had to weigh hundreds of pounds and had been competently installed, framed by concrete rather than the softer limestone of the cave walls.
“They built quite a bunker here,” Lazlo said. “The door and the cement look old. Might have been the Japanese.”
Sam studied the metal slab. “Probably. The Japanese built a lab for their experiments and the good doctor took it over. Makes sense—if the Japanese did it correctly, they probably bored ventilation shafts and ran wiring. All Dr. Vanya had to do was step in and modify it, depending on its condition when she found—”
Sam’s rumination was interrupted by the lights shutting off with a snap, plunging the cave into darkness.
CHAPTER 49
They stood frozen in the pitch black, afraid to move. A muffled thump echoed from the other side of the door, followed by silence.
“What do you think this is? Desensitization technique?” Sam whispered to Remi.
“Could be they just want to save their power for more important things than prisoners they plan to torture and kill,” Remi said.
“Doesn’t sound optimistic,” Lazlo said.
Their speculations were cut short by a scrape, followed by the bolt sliding free. They stepped back just as the heavy door swung wide, hinges creaking. The cave beyond was also dark and they couldn’t make anything out.
“Which one of you is the better shot?” a familiar voice asked from the doorway. “I managed to relieve one of the natives of his pistol, but there are more where that came from,” Leonid said.
“Leonid! You’re alive!” Lazlo whispered in surprise.
“Barely. So who’s best with a pistol?” Leonid repeated.
“Remi is,” Sam said.
“Where is she?” Leonid asked.
“I’m right here,” Remi offered from Sam’s left.
Leonid took a step into the room and held out the gun, which Remi felt for and then took from him.
“Are you hurt?” Sam asked.
“Nothing broken, but I’m not going to win any beauty contests.”
“You killed the lights?” Lazlo asked.
“Yes. Machete to the main power cable. Took three tries.”
“Where’s the machete?” Sam asked.
“Buried in a guard.” He paused. “I have a flashlight, but I don’t want to turn it on. Better to wait for the others to return and shoot at their lights.”
“I keep forgetting that you were in the Russian army,” Sam said.
“And I’ve been married three times,” said Leonid.
A glow bounced from the far end of the cave as a flashlight approached. Remi stepped in front of Sam and pointed beyond a row of beds at the oxygen tanks lined up against the wall. She held her fingers to her lips as the light drew closer and said softly to Sam, “Take cover. I’m going to close the door so they don’t see anything wrong. It might buy us a few seconds.”
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
There was no time to argue. She and Sam moved into the cave with the medical equipment, pulled the door shut, and bolted it. Remi ducked behind a wooden crate and Sam hurried to a portable monitoring system near the beds, hoping the apparatus would hide him.
They didn’t have long to wait. A flashlight appeared in the opening at the other side of the cave and they could make out three islanders toting pistols. The beam moved directly to the door, as Remi had hoped, stopping at the bolted lock. The men muttered unintelligibly among themselves and took cautious steps toward it, and both Sam and Remi held their breaths as the gunmen moved past them to the door.
Remi’s shots were as loud as cannon fire in the cave. The first caught the flashlight bearer between the shoulders and the second hit his companion as he was spinning to shoot at her. She squeezed off two more shots at the third gunman as he threw himself behind another crate. Hers missed as he fired two of his, one of which splintered the wood by her head, the other ricocheting harmlessly off the stone walls.
The flashlight lay on the ground, shining into nothingness, providing just enough illumination for Remi to make out the far crate. The gunman’s leg shot out and kicked the flashlight into the wall, shattering the bulb and plunging the cave back into darkness. Remi’s night vision took several seconds to adjust and her reaction was too slow as the gunman rolled from behind the crate, pistol in hand.
Sam pushed the cart over and the heavy monitor landed on the stone floor with an explosive crash, buying Remi critical moments for her eyes to fully adjust. The gunman froze at the unexpected commotion fifteen feet from where he thought the threat lay, exposing himself for an instant.
Which was all the opportunity Remi needed. She fired two more times, emptying the revolver. The gunman slumped over and his gun clattered harmlessly to the floor. Sam moved from behind the cart to where the first two islanders lay dead by the door and groped around until his fingers found one of their guns—another revolver.
“See if you can find the other pistol,” Sam whispered to Remi. “I’m going to get the door open so we can use Leonid’s flashlight. After this, we’ve lost any element of surprise.”
“Okay,” Remi agreed, moving cautiously toward the sound of his voice.
Sam worked the bolt free and swung the door wide as Remi neared. Lazlo and Leonid were crouched inside. “Time for your flashlight,” Sam told Leonid, who switched it on.
Remi located the other gun, a Beretta 9mm semiautomatic, and scooped it up. She quickly checked the magazine, which was full, as Sam retrieved a fallen flashlight. She felt in the gunman’s shorts for a spare and noted without emotion that the dead man was the lead islander who’d captured them, the one who had brutalized Sam’s head with the same weapon she now held.
Now that there was light in the cell, they could see the extent of Leonid’s injuries. Sam didn’t react to the Russian’s appearance, but his stomach tightened when he saw the patchwork of scabs and cuts covering his face and arms. It was a minor miracle Leonid had managed to recover from his spill into the chasm, but he was clearly the worse for wear and every visible inch of skin sported a contusion or scrape.
Lazlo followed Sam and Leonid out of the cell and moved to where the third gunman’s weapon lay near his dead hand. Lazlo leaned over and picked it up, distaste written across his face, and held it out to Leonid. “I suspect you might be able to make more productive use of this than I,” he said. Leonid took the revolver without comment and quickly checked the cylinder.
“Only two rounds,” he said, then grunted and directed the beam at the cave entry. “Who wants to take the lead
?”
“I will,” Sam said, but Remi shook her head.
“You’re hurt. I’ll do it. Leonid, give me your flashlight.”
Leonid nodded and handed her the light. Sam looked ready to challenge her, but she cut him off with a determined look. “No arguments, Fargo. I’ve got the most firepower with the automatic. Back me up.” She glanced at Lazlo. “Give him a hand, would you please?”
Remi shone the light around the chamber and froze when a moan drifted from another doorway—which was bolted shut. They moved to the heavy door and Sam pulled loose from Lazlo, a determined expression on his face. Remi stood by the side of the door, pistol at the ready, as Sam worked the bolt loose.
They exchanged a glance and Sam nodded. He swung the door wide as Remi aimed into the darkness, Sam shining his beam into the gloom. When no attack came, he took a cautious step toward the threshold, and then another moan came from inside the chamber.
It sounded like a girl.
“What on earth . . .” Remi whispered as she moved into the cavern. She scanned the interior with her light, holding the pistol in one hand and the flashlight in the other, and then gasped when her beam settled on one of a dozen beds along the wall. A figure lay prone there, one thin arm shackled to a chain dangling from the stone wall.
Sam played his beam along the surface, where manacles hung from rusting chains clasped to iron rings. In one corner, an iron box stood open and he shuddered when he saw what it was—a coffin-shaped contrivance just large enough to imprison a human. Next to it stood a metal cage backed against the wall, its surface grooved from hands scratching at the stone in a futile effort to get free. Rust-colored streaks ran down the wall and again Sam shuddered—it was dried blood, some of it probably decades old, but enough of it relatively fresh to send chills up his spine.
Remi moved to the bed, where a young female islander was laboring for breath. Empty IV bags littered the stone floor, along with discarded syringes and medicine vials. A cockroach scuttled near Remi’s foot and she grimaced.