Lee Falk - [Story of the Phantom 14] Read online

  PROLOGUE

  HOW IT ALL BEGAN

  Over four hundred years ago, a large British merchantman was attacked by Singg pirates off the remote shores of Bangalla. The captain of the trading vessel was a famous seafarer who, in his youth, had served as cabin boy to Christopher Columbus on his first voyage to discover the New World. With the captain was his son, Kit, a strong young man who idolized his father and hoped to follow him as a seafarer. But the pirate attack was disastrous. In a furious battle, the entire crew of the merchantman was killed and the ship sank in flames. The sole survivor was young Kit who, as he fell off the burning ship, saw his father killed by a pirate. Kit was washed ashore, half-dead. Friendly pygmies found him and nursed him to health.

  One day, walking on the beach, he found a dead pirate dressed in his father’s clothes. He realized this was the pirate who had killed his father. Grief-stricken, he waited until vultures had stripped the body clean. Then on the skull of his father’s murderer, he swore an oath by firelight as the friendly pygmies watched. “/ swear to devote my life to the destruction of piracy, greed, cruelty, and injustice, and my sons and their sons shall follow me.”

  This was the Oath of the Skull that Kit and his descendants would live by. In time, the pygmies led him to their home in Deep Woods in the center of the jungle, where he found a large cave with many rocky chambers. The mouth of the cave, a natural formation carved by the water and wind of centuries, was curiously like a skull. This became his home, the Skull Cave. He soon adopted a mask and a strange costume. He found that the mystery and fear this inspired helped him in his endless battle against worldwide piracy. For he and his sons who followed became known as the nemesis of pirates everywhere, a mysterious man whose face no one ever saw, whose name no one knew, who worked alone.

  As the years passed, he fought injustice wherever he found it. The first Phantom and the sons who followed found their wives in many places. One married a reigning queen, one a princess, one a beautiful red-haired barmaid. But whether queen or commoner, all followed their men back to the Deep Woods to live the strange but happy life of the wife of the Phantom. And of all the world, only she, wife of the Phantom, and their children could see his face.

  Generation after generation was born, grew to manhood, and assumed the tasks of the father before him. Each wore the mask and costume. Folk of the jungle and the city and sea began to whisper that there was a man who could not die, a Phantom, a Ghost Who Walks. For they thought the Phantom was always the same man. A boy who saw the Phantom would see him again fifty years after, and he seemed the same. And he would tell his son and his grandson, and his son and grandson would see the Phantom fifty years after that. And he would seem the same. So the legend grew. The Man Who Cannot Die. The Ghost Who Walks. The Phantom.

  The Phantom did not discourage this'belief in his immortality. Always working alone against tremendous—sometimes almost impossible—odds, he found that the awe and fear the legend inspired was a great help in his endless battle against evil. Only his friends, the pygmies, knew the truth. To compensate for their stature, these tiny people mixed deadly poisons for use on their weapons in hunting or defense. But it was rare that they were forced to defend themselves. Their deadly poisons were known through the jungle, and they and their home, the Deep Woods, were dreaded and avoided. There was another reason to stay away from the Deep Woods—it soon became known that this was a home of the Phantom, and none wished to trespass.

  Through the ages, the Phantoms created several more homes or hideouts in various parts of the world. Near the Deep Woods was the Isle of Eden, where the Phantom taught all animals to live in peace. In the southwest desert of the New World, the Phantoms created an aerie on a high mesa that was thought by the Indians to be haunted by evil spirits and became known as Walker’s Table—for the Ghost Who Walks. In Europe, deep in the crumbling cellars of an ancient castle ruins, the Phantom had another hideout from which to strike against evil-doers.

  But the Skull Cave in the quiet of the Deep Woods remained the true home of the Phantom. Here, in a rocky chamber, he kept his chronicles, written records of all his adventures. Phantom after Phantom faithfully wrote his experiences in the large folio volumes. Another chamber contained the costumes of all the generations of Phantoms. Other chambers contained the vast treasures of the Phantom, acquired over centuries, used only in the endless battle against evil.

  Thus, twenty generations of Phantoms lived, fought, and died, usually violently, as they followed their oath. Jungle folk, sea folk, and city folk believed him the same man, the Man Who Cannot Die. Only the pygmies knew that, always, a day would come when their great friend would lie dying. Then, alone, a strong, young son would carry his father tp the burial crypt of his ancestors where all Phantoms rested. As the pygmies waited outside, the young man would emerge from the cave wearing the mask, the costume, and the Skull Ring of the Phantom; his carefree happy days as the Phantom’s son were over. And the pygmies would chant their age-old chant, “The Phantom is dead. Long live the Phantom.”

  The story of The Assassins is an adventure of the Phantom of our time—the twenty-first generation of his line. He has inherited the traditions and responsibilities created by four centuries of Phantom ancestors. One ancestor created the Jungle Patrol. Thus, today, our Phantom is the mysterious and unknown commander of this elite corps. In the jungle, he is known and loved as the Keeper of the Peace. On his right hand is the Skull Ring that leaves his mark—the Sign of the Skull—known and feared by evil-doers everywhere. On his left hand—closer to the heart—is his “good mark’’ ring. Once given, the mark grants the lucky bearer protection by the Phantom, and it is equally known and respected. And to

  good people and criminals alike in the jungle, on the seven seas, and in the cities of the world he is the Phantom, the Ghost Who Walks, the Man Who Cannot Die.

  Lee Falk New York 1974

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was a clear, warm day in Bangalla, with not a cloud in the sky and no sign of civilization’s atmospheric pollution. The rains had come and gone for the season. The air was as heady as vintage wine.

  In the middle of that remote section of the country called the Deep Woods, a tall muscular man, six-feet-six, with wide shoulders and strong legs, strode vigorously through the heavy jungle growth.

  He was dressed in his traditional mask, hood and skintight costume, with belt and two handguns bolstered at his waist. Although his name was Kit Walker, he was known to the good and the bad of the world as the Phantom, the Ghost Who Walks.

  It was during a period of unexpected leisure that he had taken to making these long walks in the afternoon to keep himself in shape.

  As he came through a stand of cocopalms near a small pool formed by an old abandoned beaver dam, he saw a movement in the undergrowth. He hesitated. Usually he did not run across the beasts of the jungle. They were quite accustomed to his comings and goings and stayed out of his way from habit.

  A stray lion? A tiger on the prowl?

  No.

  It was a young woman sitting beside a pool, soaking her feet in the cool water.

  The Phantom frowned. What kind of security was this? No one knew this stretch of the jungle but the Bandar pygmies, the “little poison people” who inhabited it. No one dared enter the area but the Phantom himself. It was dangerous for any human being who was not familiar with the beasts in residence. And forbidden to all tribes by the ancient decree of the first Phantom.

  But the girl couldn’t have cared less. She was blue-eyed, with red hair and freckles. Actually, she was quite pretty. The Phantom gazed at her exposed legs and found himself thinking of Diana Palmer, whom he h
ad not seen for months. Diana was his sweetheart from his college days at Harrison University in the United States.

  “Hello.” The girl had a slight British accent.

  The Phantom stared. She was watching him in the pool where his form was reflected on the surface of the water.

  “Hello. Who are you?”

  “I’m Lola Bateman.” She smiled. Her freckles were not particularly unattractive, but when she smiled he was conscious of two large front teeth. “You’re Kit Walker, aren’t you?”

  “Some call me that,” said the Phantom. “I’m sorry to inform you that this is all forbidden country. You’ll have to leave.”

  She pouted. “I say, now.”

  “It’s very dangerous here,” the Phantom insisted, becoming slightly exasperated at her stubbornness.

  “I’m a very brave girl.” She grinned. “Besides, you can protect me. You’re the bravest man in the world.”

  The Phantom, unable to think of a rejoinder, bit his lip.

  “Mainly I like it because it’s cool. And I like to soak my feet.”

  “I see.”

  She watched him. “They say I have nice feet.” She traced her finger in the dirt by her side. “Back in London.”

  “That’s good,” the Phantom observed sagely.

  “Thank you.” She blushed and it seemed as if she could blush at will.

  “Well.” The Phantom came around the pool and reached out his hand to help her to her feet. “We’ll have to get you out of here, won’t we?”

  Her lips pushed out in a pout. “Will we? Why?”

  “It’s for your own safety, Lola.” The Phantom reached down gallantly to take her hand. “Deadly snakes. Lethal rodents. Killer cats. All that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, dear. But I’m of very good stock. I’m not frightened.”

  The Phantom nodded. “Excellent.” He grasped her hand and lifted her quickly. She was heavier than she looked. “Upsy-daisy. On your feet.”

  Lola pouted at the ground. “My shoes.” She pointed.

  The Phantom let go of her hand and picked up her shoes. “Let’s go.”

  “I can’t walk without my shoes!”

  The Phantom stared at the shoes in his hand and then at her. “But you said you were of such good stock.”

  She flushed with annoyance. “Are you going to insult me?” He handed the shoes to her. “Put them on.”

  She stamped a foot. “You’re being mean to me! You put them on.”

  The Phantom shook his head. He was not used to the company of people. Nor was he used to the society of coy, flirtatious women. How had this one gotten here, anyway?

  “Are you going to put them on?” Lola’s voice was suddenly soft and beguiling. He was conscious of the pressure of her hand on his arm.

  The Phantom stooped and slipped one shoe on her foot, then the other. He could not avoid noticing her ankles and her legs. They were quite adequately formed.

  “Do we have to go now?”

  The Phantom stood and stared down at her. “You’ve got your shoes on, and you can walk. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then we have to go.”

  They started off through the palm stand and onto a sandy flatland. Lola switched her hips next to him, flouncing out her cotton dress. “You’re not very nice, you know.”

  “Sorry about that. I’m a very busy man and I have little time to cultivate the social amenities.”

  “What do you do?”

  The Phantom smiled. “I travel.”

  “To London?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you like me?”

  The Phantom frowned. “I hardly know you.”

  “Perhaps we could remedy that!”

  “That brings up an important question.” The Phantom was trying to rein in his growing anger.

  “Yes?”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I was invited.”

  “I see. And who invited you?”

  “A funny little man named Guran.”

  The Phantom bit his lower lip. So this was Guran’s doing! Wait until he got hold of the little pygmy! He’d tell him a thing or two.

  “He said you’d be out walking today.” Lola smiled, wrinkling her nose.

  The Phantom eyed her shrewdly. “And he told you where.”

  “Yes. He was right, too,” she added after a pause.

  “About what?”

  “You’re a very shy person.” She giggled. “Well, I can take care of that.”

  “You can?” The Phantom was beginning to walk faster and faster. Lola was having trouble keeping up with him.

  “I certainly can. I’m not shy at all.”

  “That’s rather obvious.”

  “Hey, wait!” Lola stumbled in the sand. “What’s the hurry?”

  “I’m late,” said the Phantom over Ms shoulder, increasing the distance between the two of them.

  “For what?”

  “A public whipping.”

  “Who, for goodness’ sake?”

  “Guran.”

  And the Phantom was gone.

  Lola Bateman was exhausted and disgusted by the time she got back to the Phantom’s cave.

  In a way, she was not surprised to see her luggage packed and waiting there for her return flight to London from Mawitaan, the capital of Bangalla.

  When the Phantom finally coaxed Guran in out of the tall bush where he had hidden during the night, the two of them retired to the Skull Cave where the Phantom had all his books, records, and communications equipment—everything that had to do with his professional role as the twenty-first Phantom.

  Guran and the Phantom together might have made an amusing picture of incompatibles to the average observer, with the Phantom at six-feet-six, towering over the pygmy, who was four-feet-four. The two had known each other all their lives. Guran had been Kit Walker’s constant companion throughout his formative years, and even during part of his stay in America.

  Now, Guran had reverted to native costume, with a hat woven out of cocopalm fronds and a skirt made of palm leaves belted around his fat middle. Guran was Chief of the Bandar tribe, with total responsibility for the government of the Deep Woods.

  The Phantom leaned over the desk like an executive in a penthouse suite rather than a hooded man in a cave and glowered at Guran.

  “That was uncalled for,” he began, “and it was a sneaky thing to do besides. You know how I detest guile of any kind.”

  The little black pygmy was perspiring. “But Phantom, the Chiefs and I have been worried lately about your health.”

  “Do I seem sickly? Do I seem dispirited? Why have you been worried about me?”

  “You have no woman. Everybody has a woman.”

  The Phantom stared at the floor of the office. “I see.”

  “You are not getting any younger.”

  “True, true.” The Phantom put his hand to his chin and frowned slightly.

  “If there is no progeny, Ghost Who Walks, the bloodline of the great fighter of piracy, cruelty, and injustice will die out.”

  “I know the facts of life.”

  “All of us met secretly and decided on a course of action—to bring you a woman to carry on your line.”

  The Phantom growled in his throat and rose to pace back and forth in front of Guran.

  “Has it ever occurred to you that I might like to pick my own?”

  “It occurred to us, yes.”

  “Then why on earth don’t you let me?”

  “We have been waiting a long time.”

  There was silence while the Phantom sank back into his chair and stared once again, this time at the ceiling.

  “It is not easy for a man to select the proper mate.”

  Guran shrugged. “It is not easy to select an improper mate, either,” said Guran. “But men do."

  “You chide me because I am not a romantic fool?”

  “We are worried about the family line," Guran explained steadily. �
��That is all. We do not disparuge your remarkable achievements.”

  “No, no,” sighed the Phantom. “Very well. 1 suppose you have a point.”

  “Indeed w'e do.”

  “Oddly enough, I was thinking of Diana Palmer today.” “Diana Palmer is in the United States."

  “Yes. I knew her when 1 was in collcge.”

  Guran nodded. “I remember her very well.”

  “It is possible that I could visit her and—” The Phantom hesitated and plunged into meditation.

  “And?” prompted Guran.

  “And possibly—well, renew our old acquaintance.” The Phantom’s face heated up.

  “I’ll tell the Chiefs of the Jungle.” Guran rose, his round face sparkling with suppressed mirth and joy.

  “Don’t tell them yet.”

  “You won’t break your word, Ghost Who Walks?”

  “No. No. I’ll pack today. I’ll fly to the States from the capital tomorrow!”

  Guran hurried out. “I’ll take care of the airline tickets!”

  The Phantom sank back in his chair. “I thought you would.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  At approximately the same moment that the Phantom boarded a jetliner bound for America in the Bangalla capital, Diana Palmer was standing on a jetty about to board a four-engined seaplane bound for remote Bangalla. With her were her mother and her Uncle Dave.

  A scattering of passengers were moving about on the jetty, waiting for boarding time. The amphibian would be fairly full, but not crowded. ,

  “I just hope you’re doing the right thing.” Diana’s mother began fussing with the traveling bag to make sure it would not snap open.

  “Yes, Mother,” Diana responded dutifully.

  Diana was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, very beautiful girl with an outdoorsy, healthy look. She was in her early twenties, a lively person who was great fun to be with.

  Her mother was stocky and plump, and she tended to be overly protective of her only daughter. She wore her gray hair in a bun under a smart hat and covered her blue eyes with large wire-rimmed glasses. She was extremely rich, because of the Palmer fortune, although she looked so plain that she might have been the family cook.