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“Looks like manacles. Rusted beyond recognition. They’ve been here a long time—probably from the war years,” Sam said.

“The murdered villagers?” Lazlo asked.

“Doubt it,” Sam said. “They were left where they fell, according to Nauru’s account. And I don’t think the Japanese would have found much use for slave labor that couldn’t walk because of broken legs. No . . . this is something different.”

“Maybe this is where the victims of the medical experimentations wound up?” Remi said softly.

“That makes more sense.” Sam shuddered involuntarily at the thought, the sheer number of dead difficult to comprehend. He moved around

the edge of the pit to where the cave continued deeper and lit the connecting passage. After several moments, he turned back to them.

“The ceiling drops to next to nothing and it gets impassible. Looks like there might be another cavern on the other side, but if there is, we aren’t getting in through here.”

“If we can’t get through, neither could the Japanese. Whatever horror this is, it doesn’t have anything to do with the treasure,” Remi said.

“No, I don’t think it does,” Sam agreed. “But it does create several more mysteries.”

“Ones we need to get to the bottom of,” Remi whispered.

“Agreed,” said Sam, his expression grave.

Lazlo glanced at Sam. “I understand the war dead, at least intellectually. But the children are more than puzzling.” He stood, lost in thought, and then continued, his words quiet. “I wonder if there’s any truth to the stories of the giants. Didn’t you say that the legends have them stealing villagers and eating them?”

Remi stared at him. “Lazlo. There are no such things as giants. Come on.”

“Right. Of course. But what I’m suggesting is that perhaps the stories are based on some sort of fact. That perhaps there’s an element of truth to them. I don’t know . . . maybe there are surviving soldiers from the war who never surrendered, who went mad and became mass murderers. I remember a movie like that—the blighter was still going years after the war had ended because nobody ever told him it ended.”

Remi gave him a perplexed look. “They’d be in their eighties or nineties. You really think that’s realistic?”

“Preposterous,” Leonid spat.

“I agree, although one might have said the same thing about a sunken city just off the coast.”

They retraced their steps until they were back in the sunlight, the mass grave left behind, and Sam checked the time. “There have to be other openings along this ridge if the diary is accurate.”

Lazlo nodded. “It makes sense. We have the water sources to create the cave system, we have the right sort of limestone . . . but how do we proceed from here? And what about the skeletons? Surely we have to report them to someone.”

“When we do, we can expect the authorities to take this area apart,” Leonid observed. “Any chance of us locating the treasure is lost at that point.”

“But this is mass murder,” Lazlo said.

“Yes, it is. And we’ll report it.” Sam hesitated, his gaze locked with Remi’s. “In due time. For now, we’re here, but we haven’t found what we came for. I think we have to stay focused on our objective. Once we find the treasure, we’ll have every cop in the islands crawling through these caves. But we need to continue our search before that happens.” He stared at Lazlo. “Agreed?”

Lazlo nodded. “How much more daylight do we have left?”

“At least half a day. It’s only eleven-thirty.”

“‘The way lies beyond the fall,’” Remi quoted, gesturing at the waterfalls. “There are the falls. We need to keep going along this ridge until we find the right cave.”

As Sam glanced at the jungle, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He scanned the dense brush for any signs of a threat but saw nothing. Still, he couldn’t shake an uncomfortable sensation as they continued hiking along the ridge, following the creek that paralleled the rise, Remi leading the way.

A feeling like they were being watched.

“I know it’s a little strange, but I can’t help but feel like we’re not alone,” he said softly.

Remi turned and fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Are you hearing voices again?”

“I’m serious,” he said, glancing around.


Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller