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“Why?”
“Depths are anywhere from seven thousand to sixteen thousand feet.”
Sam’s heart sank. “So if the treasure was on the ship, it’s going to stay on it.”
“Unless you plan to pull a Raise the Titanic.”
“Not likely. That’s not the news I was hoping to hear.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Why would one destroyer be so far from safe harbor after evacuating men from Guadalcanal?” Sam said, thinking out loud. “A hundred miles is hours away from port. Why brave a storm in seas that the Allies effectively controlled during the day?”
“I thought you might ask. It makes more sense if you look at a map.”
“Why’s that, Selma?”
“Because I don’t think it was going to stop at the base at all. The boat was on a course that would have taken it all the way to Japan.”
CHAPTER 25
Late that night, Sam and Remi checked their e-mail in-boxes for the last time. Sam had a brief message from Selma that said she was tracking the only living survivor of the sunken destroyer, now more than ninety years old, and hoped to have more information the following day. He glanced at the time and decided to try Selma, the time difference making it a good bet he’d reach her. He padded out onto the terrace with the sat phone, but Selma’s line rang with no answer.
“What are you doing out here?” Remi asked from the sliding door, startling him. The phone seemed to leap from his hand and he watched helplessly as it dropped a dozen feet onto the sand. Remi saw the expression on his face and shrugged. “Sorry.”
“No problem. You caught me by surprise.”
“Selma?”
“Right. But no answer.” He looked down at the phone on the beach. “I’ll be right back.”
“Want company?”
He smiled. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
They exited the building at the far end of the wing and slowly approached the phone, the wind dimpling the surface of the dark sea the only sound. When they reached the phone, Remi scooped it up and was turning to Sam when he murmured to her, “Don’t look, but there are a couple of guys down the beach who are doing their best not to be seen. Headed this way.”
Remi glanced along the sandy spit, their footprints the only break in the smooth surface. “Behind us?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take your lead.”
“Let’s pick up the pace. With the unrest on the island, it might not be so smart to be out alone in an unlit area like this.”
Remi strode quickly back along the sand as Sam hung behind, listening for any sign of pursuit. He heard the unmistakable sound of soles slamming along the hard-packed sand by the water’s edge and dared a glance over his shoulder. Two islanders were closing on them, no more than a dozen yards behind.
“Run, Remi,” Sam called as he poured on the steam. Remi took off like a greyhound, and Sam made a mental note to increase his gym time as his breath burned in his chest from the sudden sprint.
Remi reached the corner of the building a few seconds before Sam and was fumbling with the card key as he arrived. She looked over his shoulder as he took the key from her and swept it over the reader—the islanders were only footsteps away, but slowing as they neared the lit area by the door.
And then the heavy steel door swung in and they pushed through it, heaving it shut behind them as the welcome figure of a security guard peered around the corner from the distant lobby, alerted by the commotion.
“Everything okay?” he called.
Sam and Remi exchanged a glance, both breathing hard, and Sam nodded. “Yes. But there are a couple of tough-looking fellows on the beach outside.”
The guard was by their side in moments, his baton in hand. “Are you all right?”
