“We’ll give Selma a call. She’ll find someone.”
Remi nodded. “Too bad there’s no handy cell tower nearby.”
Sam smiled. “Not a problem. I packed the sat phone,” he said, and rooted around in his backpack. He retrieved an old but reliable Iridium Extreme satellite phone, powered it on, and then checked the time. “She should be around.”
Leonid shifted from foot to foot, obviously antsy. Sam wandered to the waterline while he listened to the warbling ring, and Leonid returned to the nearest group of natives. After several seconds Selma picked up and her perky voice drifted over the line.
“Selma! Guess who?” Sam said.
“Collection agency?”
“Very funny. How are things in San Diego?”
“Same as they were two days ago when you left. Except Zoltán’s eaten another hundred pounds of steak. And Lazlo’s loitering around here, driving me nuts.”
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full. Listen, we’ve identified something on preliminary dives and want to get a mother ship here. A vessel with all the bells and whistles. Sonar, dive gear, magnometer, the works. Think you can find something suitable?”
“Of course. It’s just a question of time and money. When do you need it and for how long?”
“Open-ended on duration, yesterday for how soon.”
“So the typical leisurely schedule.”
“Never a dull moment, Selma.”
“Indeed. I’ll get right on it. Probably out of Australia or New Zealand, I’d think.”
Sam nodded to himself. “That sounds about right. And could you also pull up anything you have on ancient civilizations in the region?”
“Of course. I’ll send whatever I find to your e-mail?”
“That would be perfect, Selma. Good luck on locating a ship.”
“Budget constraints?”
“The usual.” Meaning none, within reason. The Fargo Foundation had more money than it could spend in ten lifetimes, with additional cash coming in every day from Sam’s portfolio of intellectual property relating to his inventions, so expense wasn’t an issue on their own expeditions.
“I’ll call when I have someone qualified.”
“Very well, Selma. Thanks, and pet the bear for us.” Zoltán was a massive German shepherd Remi had adopted during an adventure in Hungary who resembled nothing so much as a grizzly walking on all fours.
“Sounds like a good way to lose some fingers, but anything for the cause,” Selma teased. Zoltán adored her and glued himself to Selma’s side whenever the Fargos were out of town. For her part, she doted on the dog like the child she’d never had, coddling him at every opportunity and spoiling him worse than rotten.
Sam hung up and examined the battery indicator. Plenty of charge. He returned to Remi and plopped down next to her. “Selma’s on the hunt,” he reported.
“Good. No offense to Leonid, but a couple of questionable wet suits and a rowboat’s probably not the right way to handle this,” Remi said.
“True, but I can see his logic. Why call in the cavalry before he knows whether he’s found anything? For all he knows, it could have been a downed plane or a sunken landing craft. Don’t forget that Guadalcanal was hotly contested during the war. A lot of junk’s strewn around the islands.”
She nodded. “Some of it still explosive even after all these years.”
“Just like you.”
Remi ignored him and glanced at the dive boat. “What do you think this is?”
“Man-made structure at eighty feet? You got me.” He stretched his arms over his head and eyed Remi. “But we’ll know soon enough.”
Remi ran her fingers through her hair and was about to reply when the stillness was shattered by a bloodcurdling scream.