The Solomon Curse by Clive Cussler

four-wheel drive. You’ll need it.”
    â€œWhere’s the best place to find one?”
    Manchester sat back down in his executive chair and wrote out a brief letter on official stationery with the Solomon Islands crest at the top and then scribbled several names and addresses on a separate sheet of ordinary paper. He slid both to Remi with a flourish.
    â€œRubo is about a hundred years old. He’s the one on the dirt road. The superstitious think he’s a shaman—a holy man. Tom’s a former logger who knows everyone. Not as old, but he’s plugged in to everything that happens around here. He probably already knows you’re looking for him,” Manchester said with a grin. “Both speak some English, so you shouldn’t need a translator. As for the car, this guy’shonest and his vehicles aren’t bad. Tell him I sent you and he’ll treat you well.”
    They stood and shook hands and Sam’s was again crushed as he forced a tight smile. Once out in the swelter, he read the directions to the car rental company and shook his head.
    â€œQuite an adventure, all right. Look at these directions. ‘Take dirt road east, past washed-out bridge, look for a hut on left near big banyan tree.’ How badly do you want to do this?” he asked.
    Remi shrugged. “We don’t have anything better to do. Might as well see the sights.”
    â€œRight. What could go wrong?”
    Remi froze and then slowly shook her head. “How many times . . .”
    â€œOops. Sorry. I take it back. I never said it.”
    â€œToo late. The universe heard you.”
    â€œLet’s hope it’s not paying much attention to the Solomons today.” He looked around at the shabby storefronts and sparse traffic. A rooster eyed them from across the street before darting around a corner.
    â€œLooks like a fairly safe bet.”

CHAPTER 10
    The car rental company was owned by a chubby man with a Buddha-like countenance who laughed at the end of each sentence he spoke like a form of punctuation. He showed them a silver Nissan Xterra that was more dents than not and they agreed on what seemed like a reasonable price per day.
    It began raining as they climbed into the cab. Sam took the wheel and within minutes they headed east at a crawl, the main road having almost instantly become a river from the cloudburst. They passed beneath a pedestrian bridge and Sam paused to look at the elaborate graffiti murals adorning the concrete pylons. Depictions of islanders from the distant past and of primitive deities ringed the concrete, the detail impressive even in the heavy rain.
    Within minutes, they had left the city limits and crossed the swollen Lor Lungga creek, its rushing brown water thick with floating branches from the mountains. They passed Henderson Field, the internationalairport that had been built by Allied forces during the war, and soon were barreling along through dense jungle. The rain blew across the asphalt in silver sheets, and the Nissan’s wipers struggled to keep up with the downpour.
    After a few miles, the rain stopped as abruptly as it started. When the clouds parted, steam rose from the pavement as the water evaporated under the harsh glare of the blazing sun.
    â€œWell, one good thing about this place,” Sam said as Remi fiddled with the dashboard knobs, trying to coax the reluctant air-conditioning to action.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œIf you don’t like the weather, all you have to do is wait a little while and it will change.”
    â€œRight. A choice of humid hot and raining hot. My hair’s hopeless,” Remi said, tugging at her limp locks.
    â€œAfter we finish up here, I’ll take you anywhere you want. Rio, Milan, Nice. Spas, salons, shopping, pampering, the works.”
    â€œAny chance we can skip straight to the fun part?”
    â€œDidn’t I tell you? This is the fun part.” Sam chuckled.
    A