Lee Falk - [Story of the Phantom 14]

by The Assassins (v0. 9) (epub)

  The guard bowed and did as he was ordered, handing the phone to the Commissioner.

  “Nolan,” he barked into the phone. He listened. The Phantom waited. His own ears could make out the voice over the phone almost as easily as the Commissioner’s, but he kept his face expressionless.

  The Commissioner hung up, his face stem. He handed the phone to the valet de chambre, who took it, bowed to Prince Tydore, and backed out.

  “Thank you, Bardov.”

  “Gentlemen,” said the Commissioner, turning from Prince Tydore to the Phantom. “I’ve got bad news. Someone has murdered the captured Assassin. A sniper, operating from an office building opposite the city detention wards.”

  “Our one lead is now destroyed,” mused the Phantom.

  The Commissioner’s face reddened. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, no matter how long it takes!” he vowed.

  “Indeed,” thought the Phantom, “but how long is forever?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  When Police Commissioner Nolan and the man in the trench coat and dark glasses left Prince Tydore’s suite, Bardov let them out, bowing to them discreetly as he did so.

  The Commissioner, Bardov decided, was a true gentle--man—a wealthy aristocratic type of the kind he was used to serving. He had worked for the Tydore family all his life in the palace at Tydia, and he knew how to recognize true royalty.

  As for the man in the trench coat, Bardov was puzzled. He had seen the man’s piercing eyes, and he could discern the muscular strength under the odd clothing, but he did not think he could adequately characterize him at all.

  He was puzzled because he considered himself an excellent judge of character.

  Shrugging, he went into Prince Tydore’s drawing room and asked if there was anything else the Prince wanted. His Highness seemed a bit preoccupied and simply waved Bardov away. Bardov smiled and bowed out. He then went down the hallway and knocked on the Princess’s door.

  “Who is it?” she asked.

  “Bardov, Your Highness,” he said in Tydian, “Come in, Bardov,” said Princess Naji.

  Bardov opened the door. Princess Naji lay on the bed in her dressing gown, reading a book. She glanced up with a smile.

  “What is it?”

  “Does Your Highness wish anything? I thought I’d retire. Of course, the regular guards are outside, if you do want anything. I’m rather tired after the excitement today.”

  Princess Naji smiled. “Me too, Bardov.”

  “Of course I understand that.”

  “You go right on to bed. If I need anything, I’ll call the night man. We’ve doubled the guard, I understand.”

  “Yes. It’s that business with the Cult of the Silken Noose.”

  “An odd thing,” murmured the Princess.

  “Good night, then.”

  “Good night, Bardov.”

  Bardov backed out, closed the door, and went on down the hallway. His own room was at the far end of the suite.

  As he passed through the central waiting room, he glanced out and saw the two guardsmen standing at the main door. He waved to them, and they grinned and waved back. They were lifelong members of the palace guard in Tydia.

  Bardov walked rapidly to his room, opened the door, flicked the latch when he got inside, and strode over to the bed. He turned on the small television on the table and flipped the channels until he found a gangster movie made some thirty years ago. Bardov loved American movies, the more violent, the better. He settled back, removed his tie, jacket, and shirt, and then his shoes.

  Then he lay back, his fingers laced behind his head.

  He did not really hear the door to the closet open. However, a rapid movement a moment later did attract his attention, and he stiffened in surprise, his eyes wide open and mouth sagging.

  “What is this—?” he gasped in Tydian.

  A short, heavy-set man with an ugly face and a shock of red hair clapped his hand over Bardov’s mouth, jerked hard, and pulled the Tydian valet de chambre off the bed, flipping him over and sending him to the floor with a jarring blow.

  Bardov shook his head and tried to rise. Another blow to the head sent him reeling. He lay there, panting. He knew then that his assailant had somehow gotten into the hotel room, had hidden in the closet, and had come out to assault him.

  He knew that he was at the mercy of one of the members of the Cult of the Silken Noose, which he had overheard the Commissioner and the man in the trench coat talking about with Prince Tydore that evening.

  The Assassins!

  Then another blow came, and Bardov blacked out.

  When he came to. he could hear low voices. At first he could not understand the words, but could tell only that both voices belonged to men. Bardov became aware that his mouth was taped shut with strong pressure-sensitive tape. A gag had been thrust into his mouth so he could not make a sound. Also, his hands were tied behind his back with some kind of soft cloth, quite probably a ripped-up sheet. He had been thrust aside into one of the chairs in his room. The light was on. He could see two men by the doorway. One of them was the ugly short redhead who had attacked him. He was talking to a man much taller than he, an impressive-looking, rock-hard fellow with a shaved head and great piercing black eyes.

  It was then that Bardov realized to his amazement that the redheaded man was dressed in Bardov’s own clothes!

  “It ain’t a good fit,” the redheaded man was saying to the bald giant.

  “Forget it. It’s good enough to fool any of the idiots in the Royal Suite.” The bald man grinned evilly.

  “Okay, I guess it’ll have to do.”

  “You got the orders?”

  “I think so. But you better brief me again.”

  “Go down the hallway to the far room on the other end. That’s where the Princess Naji is sleeping. Just walk along as if you belong here. Everybody knows the valet de chambre. If anybody says anything, just nod and wave and keep on going as if you’re on a special mission. You got that?”

  “I got it.”

  “Okay. You get down to the last door and knock on it.” “Yeah.”

  “Somebody inside will probably ask you what you want. You tell her you’re Bardov.”

  “Bardov?” The redheaded man looked over at Bardov and laughed. “Bardov.”

  “Right.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then you tell the Princess you have a special message for her. And she’ll let you in.”

  “Then what?”

  “This is the part where you got to do it all just right. You push against her the minute the door opens and knock her down. Slam the door behind you and pull the latch. Just before you knock on the door, you pour the ether from the bottle into the handkerchief that you’ve got in your pocket. When you get the Princess on the floor, push the handkerchief hard against her nose and mouth. If she struggles, slap her chin hard. Don’t let her yell or breathe fresh air. In a little bit, she’ll pass out.”

  “Okay,” said the redheaded man. “I got it.”

  “She’s out cold, and you get her on your shoulders and go over to the window and open it. There’s a fire escape. Walk out onto it, climb down one flight of stairs, and climb in the room there. I’ll be there, and we’ll get her into the wheelchair I rented. We’ll be out of the hotel in minutes, and on our way to the airport.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re going to stay here in the city. I'll take the Princess to the rendezvous spot in France, where I’ll be met by Kali’s man Rudd. You got that?”

  “I got it.”

  “After that, Kali takes her to the island where the Palmer girl is.”

  The bald giant slapped the redhead on the shoulder and walked over to the window, which he slipped open. He stepped outside onto the fire escape and began climbing up to the next floor.

  Bardov was staring through the window. They were smart, these Assassins! The bald man had rented a room above his and a room below the Princess’s. There was no way to stop the kidnap
ping of Prince Tydore’s daughter now unless Bardov got himself loose.

  He tugged at his bonds.

  It was useless.

  He knew he couldn’t get away.

  The redhead heard him struggling and turned to watch him sardonically. He emptied a small bottle into a handkerchief and put the handkerchief into his jacket pocket.

  “So long, jerk,” he said and stepped out into the corridor, trailing the smell of ether behind him.

  Bardov fought fiercely at the bonds.

  Princess Naji leaned back and closed her eyes, sighing deliciously. The book she had been holding loosely in her hands fell to the bed. She let her mind wander back to those special moments during the day, those moments of high excitement and terrible fear which at the same time were replete with heady romance and unexplainable thrills.

  She could see the strong face of her rescuer again and those piercing eyes behind the dark glasses. Beneath that odd costume she could imagine the tough, masculine sinews that made up his athletic body. In his face, she could read kindness and respect, qualities that few men of her acquaintance had.

  If the secret were to be known, she had listened with her ear to the door panel when this stranger—he said his name was Kit Walker—had been talking with her father and the police commissioner.

  He was intelligent, too. She liked the way he phrased his thoughts, liked the way his logic cut through the protocol and habit of the court and of the police system. Actually, he was the only one of the three who had really assessed the situation properly, she thought.

  And yet her father had refused to listen. Even though he was Your Highness to everyone else, Prince Tydore was just “Father” to her, and he was really not all that wise when it came to judgments. Her grandfather, the King of Tydia, was the wisest of all. But of course he was old and unable to make these courtesy calls to America.

  But the man Walker was the most interesting male she had met since college. She had gone to school in England; where her mother, too, had been educated. Many of the Tydores before her had attended the Sorbonne, and one had even gone to Heidelberg, but those places were out of fashion now.

  Actually, she would be glad to get back to Tydia. Even though it was rather boring at the palace, she knew exactly who she was and where she was. Travel had its drawbacks. And looking after her father was not the easiest thing to do. He was a nervous, terribly frightened little man. It was Mother, the Princess Anna, who really ran the family. And Mother always told Naji that it was Naji who ran the kingdom.

  Naji laughed.

  There was a knock on the door. “Who is it?” she asked in Tydian.

  No answer.

  “Who’s there?” she asked in English.

  “A message for Princess Naji.”

  “Who was that?” she wondered. Rising, she hesitated a moment. Odd. It didn’t really sound like Bardov, but he had said he was tired. Quite probably ...

  She opened the door.

  Instantly, she was forced back off her feet and slammed to the floor by a blow to her head. She tried to cry out as a handkerchief was jammed into her face and nose. The blinding, eye-watering stench of ether filled her nostrils.

  She kicked and scratched.

  Her assailant gripped her hard, pushing down on the stifling handkerchief.

  Blackness rolled in from the sides of her field of vision, and just as she was about to go under, the handkerchief was snatched from her face.

  There was the sound of a solid blow directly above her, and the man who had attacked her was lifted from her and hurled against the wall.

  Princess Naji blinked, and through tear-streaming eyes, she saw that a stranger was battering the man who had assaulted her.

  She rose and staggered to the bed, where she sat in dizzy nausea.

  Her attacker lay still.

  The other man turned and came over toward her. He towered over her, six and a half feet high, and dressed in a strange way: a skintight costume from the top of his head to his feet, a domino mask over his eyes, a belt with two guns strapped to his waist, and a tight leotard around his slender but powerful trunk.

  But the eyes told her everything about him: intelligent, clear, sardonic, kindly, the eyes of her rescuer earlier in the day.

  “You’re coming with me, Princess Naji.”

  The words came out without thought. “I’d go anywhere with you. You know that.”

  He lifted her in his arms and held her close. “Yes. But right now you’re in very great danger. Hang on tight. It’s going to be a long trip.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It had been the Phantom’s decision, as soon as he had understood that Commissioner Nolan did not intend to provide police protection for the occupants of the Royal Suite, to do the job himself. His analysis of the problem revealed beyond a doubt that Princess Naji was now the prime target of the Assassins.

  With that in mind, the Phantom was deep in thought when he returned to the Palmer house in the suburbs. Walking through the wooded land at the rear of the estate in his traditional Phantom costume, he let his mind wander over various alternatives for giving Naji protection.

  As his logical mind eliminated the possibilities one by one, the Phantom found himself left with one course of action. He would simply have to go in and remove the Princess Naji from the suite where the Assassins knew she was staying.

  And so, as night fell on the city, the Phantom hastened to the Hotel Majestic to study the means by which he might possibly gain entrance to the Princess’s room. He discovered three obvious ones and a dozen not so obvious. In order of ease of accessibility, they were:

  1. One window to the Princess’s room led to a fire escape. If the window was not latched, an intruder could easily enter through it.

  2. The front door of the Princess’s room opened out onto a corridor common to the rooms of Prince Tydore, his valet de chambre, and the captain of the guards. This corridor was an interior corridor, and the guard outside the suite would have to be dealt with.

  3. A back way led into the suite, used by cleaning women, repairmen, and hotel personnel. The back door was kept locked, but with the key, an intruder could easily gain access to the suite and thus the Princess’s room.

  There were many other possibilities, of course, some of which made use of time, of space, and of a combination of both. Thus:

  1. An intruder could disguise himself as a member of the palace guard and infiltrate the rooms.

  2. A disguised man could hide out for the night and effectuate a kidnapping in the early morning.

  3. With the proper equipment, a daring engineer could break through the ceiling of a closet on the floor below and come up into the Princess’s closet.

  4. Number three, with the intruder working from the top down.

  5. A second window in the Princess’s room could be entered by a man climbing down the side of the outer wall.

  6. An intruder could disguise himself as the hotel service man.

  7. A small fire set just outside the Royal Suite could empty the rooms, letting the intruder enter and hide in the Princess’s room. He could carry her off when she returned.

  8. Variations on number seven: danger of the building collapsing; escape of natural gas in the pipes; poison fumes entering the air conditioning; and so on.

  The Phantom concluded that he would make the simplest entry possible without making himself visible to the outside world.

  He took an elevator to the top floor and stepped out into the main corridor of the hotel. At the end of the passage, he saw the sign: roof—no entry.

  Glancing about him, he walked along the carpeted corridor and tried the door. It was locked. The Phantom removed a set of small lock picks from a tiny bag he carried with him, manipulated the picks and forced the door open.

  Quickly he ran up the stairs and opened the door to the roof. He glanced around and saw that he was quite alone. Closing the door quietly behind him, he moved over to the edge of the building and looked down to the
street below.

  One of the fire escapes led down from the parapet ten feet away. Lights from the street shone up along that side of the building. He did not want to call attention to himself and so moved quickly to the center of the building where a large airshaft had been constructed. There were windows opening out onto the airshaft. Fire escapes went down two of the walls.

  The Phantom pulled a coiled length of nylon rope from the inside pocket of his coat. Then he shed his trench coat and glasses, leaving them on the roof. Securing the nylon rope to a railing, he let himself down the side of the airshaft with the line twisted around his shoulders in a classic rappel.

  He moved swiftly and silently until he came to the seventeenth floor, where he stopped outside a darkened window. This window was not in a direct line with the Princess’s bed, and he could not see what was going on inside, but he forced the latch, lifted the window and jumped inside.

  It was at that moment that he heard the sound of violent struggling. He spotted a redheaded man dressed in the costume of the valet de chambre—obviously a disguise—trying to force a handkerchief against the Princess’s mouth. The Phantom sniffed ether in the air and immediately understood.

  With dispatch, he knocked the assailant away and lifted the Princess in his arms. After a few words to each other, he carried her to the window by the fire escape and opened it. He carried her down the steps quickly and stood opposite the window of the room below the Princess’s room. There was no light inside.

  The Phantom whispered, “We’ll try this room. If I can’t get the window open, we’ll go down another story.”

  The Princess nodded.

  The window opened easily. The Phantom turned and took Princess Naji’s hand, helping her over the sill and into the room.

  “Not a sound,” he whispered. “We don’t know if there’s anyone in here or not.”

  The Phantom moved across the room toward the far end where he could see a slit of light. He turned the knob and glanced out into the hall.

  It was deserted.

  He grabbed the Princess’s small hand in his, and the two crossed the corridor stealthily, the Phantom leading the girl toward a door that was marked firestairs.