As the Phantom turned the knob of the fire door, he heard a sound at the other end of the corridor. Standing there by an open door was Baldy, his head gleaming in the light.
“The Phantom!” cried Baldy, quickly reaching for his jacket pocket.
The Phantom pushed the Princess in through the fire door and whispered, “Wait for me!”
He ducked behind the door frame and reached for his own handgun just as Baldy fired the first shot from his weapon. The noise racketed through the corridor as the Phantom fired back.
Baldy’s second bullet smashed into the door just behind the Phantom’s head. His own shot blew wood chips away from the door behind Baldy, and Baldy ducked back into the room from which he had emerged.
“Quick!” snapped the Phantom, slamming the fire door shut and grabbing the Princess. “Down we go!”
He ran down the winding stairs, carrying the Princess in his arms. She was terrified, but outwardly calm as they wound around the steep turns.
Three floors down, there was a clattering explosion in the stairwell, and a slug ricocheted back and forth in the emptiness around them.
“He’s coming after us,” the Phantom said to the Princess.
“I’m betting on you,” smiled the Princess.
The Phantom redoubled his efforts, taking the stairs three at a time. Baldy had fired two shots, but then he began to follow and did not fire until he had hit the second landing. By that time, the Phantom had outdistanced him, taking two floors to his one.
The Phantom reached the basement and ran around the elevator banks to a supply room he had observed in his earlier exploration of the hotel building. Here, beneath one of several high windows opening out onto a service alleyway where food and supplies were delivered to the hotel during the daytime, he had hidden an extra raincoat and dark glasses for just such an emergency as this.
The Phantom rammed open the window, lifted the Princess out, and clambered up after her. Tightening the belt of the raincoat around him, the Phantom grabbed her hand and ran out toward the cross street.
A taxicab was in sight, and he hailed it quickly. Once in the cab, he called out, “International Airport.”
The cab pulled away from the curb just as Baldy appeared in the alleyway, cursing.
He simply slid the handgun back into his jacket and stared hopelessly after the Phantom and the Princess in the cab.
“Bangalla,” said the Phantom to the girl at the counter in the international wing at the airport. “Two round-trip tickets, please.”
The girl stared at the Phantom in his trench coat and dark glasses and shrugged. She took his credit card and checked it out by phone, then returned and issued the tickets.
Meanwhile the Princess was in a phone booth nearby, waiting for the switchboard at the Hotel Majestic to connect her with her father.
“Yes,” her father’s voice said, finally.
“It’s Naji, Dad.”
“On the telephone? Why are you telephoning me?”
“I’m not at the hotel, Dad. I’m at the airport.”
“The airport! Why?”
“Tonight a man tried to kidnap me. Mr. Walker rescued me. He says it’s too dangerous for me to stay at the hotel. I’m going with him.”
“With Mr. Walker? How do you know he isn’t in with the kidnappers?”
“Oh, Dad! Don’t be a fool. I know.”
“When did this happen? WTiat—?”
“Look. There’s a man unconscious in my room. Have the police arrest him. He’s in with the Assassins. That’s what Mr. Walker told me to tell you. Do you understand?”
Pause. “Yes. I understand.”
“Dad, I’ll be all right. I’m going with Mr. Walker. He’ll be in touch with you. You do what he says to do. So far he’s been right, and no one else has. Do you hear me?”
“Uh, I hear you, Naji.”
“Good-bye, Dad. We’ll be in touch later.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
Princess Naji sighed and hung up. The Phantom took her by the hand and led her into the area reserved for overseas passengers awaiting departure. She could see him keeping a sharp eye on the entrance to the airlines building.
But no one came to intercept them.
At the airport in Mawitaan, the capital of Bangalla, the Phantom picked up Hero, his horse, at the stables, lifted Naji onto Hero’s withers and galloped out of the city and toward the Deep Woods and the Skull Cave.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As the Phantom and the Princess sped through the depths of the jungle, the native drums were beating furiously to broadcast the arrival of the Ghost Who Walks with his beautiful companion.
Guran was ecstatic at the news. He called together the chiefs of the surrounding territories and a great feast and royal ceremony were planned. Hunters were sent out in all directions to kill wild boars and gather other delicacies fit for a king.
The Skull Cave was cleaned from top to bottom and two dozen maids of honor were brought in from the remote areas of the Great Wasteland to help prepare the feast.
And for four hours before his arrival, all the wives of the chiefs and their children were lined up along the way, standing at attention and wearing their very finest cocopalm skirts.
Soon a murmur began resounding through the jungle, and Guran, standing proudly in front of the entrance to the Skull Cave, sensed a tingle of excitement. The buzzing became louder than thousands of bees swarming on a field of sweet flowers.
“He comes! He comes! He comes!”
And then, with a clatter of hoofs, Hero, the Phantom and the Princess galloped into the clearing in front of the Skull Cave, the home of the Ghost Who Walks.
The Phantom reined up short, almost snapping Hero back on his rear legs.
He stared down at Guran.
“Well?” His voice was like ice.
“Greetings, Phantom,” said Guran with a broad smile. “Greetings, to you and your bride!”
The Phantom glowered. “It is a good thing we are speaking in Bandar and not in English. What kind of idiotic tomfoolery is this?”
The Phantom could tell that Guran had blanched, although it was particularly difficult to see it in his dark face. “But, Phantom. We have been waiting for days, and now you have come with the promised bride—”
“I am in the midst of a difficult assignment,” snapped the Phantom with asperity. “Will you kindly stand out of the way while I allow the Princess Naji, of Tydia, to descend?”
“But, Phantom—” protested Guran.
“If you do not move this instant, I shall grasp you by your hair and turn you inside out as one would prepare a glove for cleaning!”
Guran gulped and moved aside.
The Phantom helped Princess Naji down from Hero’s back. He spoke to her gently in English.
“Welcome to my poor abode, Princess,” he said, eyeing Guran and the assembled multitude grimly. “My friends and neighbors are not used to casual visits.”
“He’s cute,” said the Princess, smiling at Guran and leaning down to let him kiss her hand.
The Phantom watched stiffly. “Now', Guran,” he said finally, waving his hand in the distance, “get all these people back to their homes, will you? We’ve had a long ride, and I’m hungry.”
Guran nodded and withdrew diplomatically. Something was bothering the Phantom, he thought. He wondered what it could be. A lovely girl like this Princess Naji, and he didn’t even want to carry her across the threshold of the Skull Cave. Obviously the Phantom’s recent trip to America had unhinged him in some way. Oh, well. He would soon find out what was the matter. And then, perhaps with a little judicious and diplomatic persuasion, he could convince the Phantom that a wedding would be in the best possible interest of everyone concerned.
Wearily, he waved his arms and began ordering the thousands of people back to their homes.
Inside the Skull Cave, Princess Naji examined her surroundings in stupefaction.
“Why, it’s j
ust beautiful in here, Mr. Walker. I see you’ve
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fixed it up just like a palace. And those two skulls on either side of that—that throne—they’re awfully dramatic.”
The Phantom smiled. “Make yourself at home, Princess Naji. We’ll eat, and then I’ve got to get back to Mawitaan and America. You’ll have plenty of time to explore the cave, the jungle, and acquaint yourself with the interesting customs of the natives.”
He thought of Guran maliciously and allowed himself a small smile.
In a tiny cell bed in the city detention wards, the redheaded prisoner lay on his cot, staring at the ceiling. He could not yet understand what had happened in the abortive attempt to kidnap the Princess Naji from the Royal Suite of the Hotel Majestic.
Everything had been going like clockwork, and suddenly—boom! A strange figure dressed in a skintight leotard had descended on him, smashed him into the wall, and left him there unconscious. When he had come to, he had been staring up into the eyes of a pair of Prince Tydore’s Palace Guards.
Then, after frightening hours of inquisition and interrogation, he had been brought to this impenetrable cell.
He counted back and remembered that he had been here at the city jail for over two days now. He wondered how long it would take to bring him to trial. He knew that he had been questioned many times about Kali and the Cult, but he had been able to resist and had said nothing so far.
Somehow the police knew the identity of his own co-conspirator—they called him “Baldy”—but they had not caught him. He wondered if Baldy had gotten to the Princess after he had run out of the hotel. Probably not.
He held out no hope for the future. He knew that the rule of the Assassins was not to talk, not to hope, and not to live. Somehow they would find him and kill him. After these last few days, that would be a pleasure.
“Hey, Red!” cried the guard.
He turned and smiled. The guard, who called himself Jess Boynton, was a jovial roly-poly fellow who liked to joke with the prisoners. “Red,” of course, referred to the prisoner’s hair. The prisoner had never revealed his name; on pain of death, he had been warned not to by the Assassins.
“Almost time for chow,” said Boynton.
“I could use a bite to eat,” said Red in his slightly accented English.
“What’s new with you?” Boynton asked.
It amused the guard to pretend that there might be something new with Red.
“Nothing.”
Boynton broke into long peals of laughter. “Not a bad setup for chow,” he said. “Linguini.”
“What’s linguini?” Red asked.
“Beautiful food!” said Boynton. “You don’t like Italian food?”
“When are you going to bring it in?” Red asked.
“Few minutes.” He stood by the bars and peered in. “Hey, Red. There’s still no news of that Princess you tried to snatch. Whoever beat you up got away clean. How do you like them apples?”
Red frowned, wondering what apples had to do with princesses.
“Huh?”
“The story goes in the newspapers that a kidnapping plot against the Princess Naji of Tydia was foiled by the capture of the kidnapper. However, another news story then got out that the Princess has vanished! Either she’s hiding out, or she’s been kidnapped by someone else.”
Red’s ears pricked up. Hope formed in his heart. If Baldy had indeed succeeded in picking up the trail of Princess Naji, perhaps she had been taken to Kali.
“What do you think of that, Red?”
“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” he said.
“What? That you didn’t kidnap her and get the money?”
Red smiled. “Yes.”
The guard began whispering. “Red, let me give you a piece of advice. You’ve been clamming up to the authorities, you know? I mean, you haven’t told them nothing about who’s hired you, and all that. I got word from the grapevine today that if you drop a name, they’ll let you off with a nice easy sentence. Otherwise they’re going to throw the book at you.”
Red was baffled. First he was baffled by the idea of a grape-
vine growing in the city jaii. And after that he was exceedingly puzzled at the idea of somebody tossing a book at him. He was trying to figure out what it all meant when Jess sighed.
“I’m telling you, Red, if you spill the beans, they’ll let you off the hook!”
String beans? wondered Red. Or green beans? Or pork and beans? And what was that about a hook? He didn’t like the sound of that.
“Talk!” Boynton said. “You hear me? You’ll be a free man! They’re after the biggies, not you.”
Red stared at Boynton. “If I tell who I was working with, they’ll let me off lightly?”
“That’s it, Red!”
Red frowned. Possibly Boynton was not lying to him. He might even be paid by the authorities to spread the word that a fix was in.
Yes. He would talk. Once they called him . ..
“Be back in a sec with the chow, Red. Sit tight!”
Red climbed back on his bunk and lay there with his hands laced behind his head. For the first time in two days, he felt hope. Indeed, if he could simply say a few words, and they did let him go, he knew a little hideout where he could stay, far from the probing eyes of Kali.
What would Kali do for him if he kept his mouth shut? Nothing.
And if he could get away, he had many more good years to go. Baldy hadn’t helped him at all the night of the kidnapping. What did he owe to any of them?
His eyes closed.
A little place out in the Southwest desert, far from prying eyes. He could live like a king.. . .
He heard the rattle of the cup on the bar.
“Chow!”
He got up, smiling, and walked over toward the door where the food came in through a small slot. He’d talk, and he’d tell them.
“Eat hearty.”
He recognized the voice.
He looked up.
The bald gleaming head was the last thing he saw. That, and the flicker of malice in the black eyes and the smirk on the wide mouth.
The explosion of the gunshot shattered the confines of the cell. The force of the bullet in his heart drove him back against the bunk and almost broke his back before he toppled to the floor bleeding his life out.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Phantom was waiting in line to dear customs at International Airport when a man in a gray suit and striped tie approached him.
“Your bags will be taken care of, Mr. Walker. Will you come with me, please?”
The Phantom studied him a moment. The man had the hard-eyed look of a career cop and the no-nonsense attitude of an uncorruptible civil servant.
“Of course,” he said politely.
“This way.”
The gray-suited man led him out through a rear door marked no admittance, which proved to be a passageway leading to still another door, this one opening out into the night A narrow paved roadway led by the side of the building, and a limousine was parked there with the lights on and the motor idling.
With the exception of the driver, the Phantom could not see who was inside. All the windows were covered with dark curtains.
“If you please.” The gray-suited man opened the rear door of the limousine and indicated that the Phantom should enter.
The Phantom ducked into the car and found himself sitting next to Police Commissioner Nolan.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Walker,” said Nolan with a faint smile.
The man in the gray suit slipped into the driver’s seat.
“All right, Harders,” Nolan called to him.
The limousine moved along the street, turned a comer, and started down a gently sloping ramp toward a traffic artery.
“What’s this all about, Commissioner?” the Phantom asked.
“Prince Tydore was reluctant to press charges,” said Nolan in his tight-lipped fashion, staring straight ahead. “We won’t be h
olding you. In fact, he expressed the wish that I drive you directly to him.”
The Phantom thought about Nolan’s statement. “Charges?” he asked. “What charges?”
“Charges of kidnapping Princess Naji, Mr. Walker. Kidnapping is, of course, illegal.”
“I?”
“You.”
“I interrupted an attempt to kidnap the Princess,” the Phantom corrected the Commissioner.
“You carried her off. You were seen bundling her into a cab in front of the Hotel Majestic.”
“She went of her own free will.”
“Prince Tydore did not know about her decision,” Nolan said, tight-faced.
“I’ll explain to him,” said the Phantom harshly.
“Mr. Walker, we live in this land by the stringent observance of law and order. I don’t know what kind of laws you have where you come from. Here, it is mandatory to cooperate with the people chosen by the community to enforce the laws.”
“I removed the Princess Naji from a site where I thought she would be unsafe,” the Phantom said.
“In effect, you kidnapped her.”
“Nevertheless, my aim was to protect her.”
“I suppose, in your own mind, you think you did right.” “You would not reinforce the guards placed on the Royal Suite.”
“Yes. And I told you why.”
“I was acting in the Princess’s best interests.”
The Commissioner shrugged. Then he said: “Because of you, another man in our custody has been killed.”
“Who?”
“The would-be kidnapper of the Princess.”
“How was he killed?”
“Someone assumed the identity of one of our turnkeys and shot him in his cell.”
“Have you identified the killer?”
“He escaped. He was dressed, as I said, like a guard, and he simply walked away after the killing. The corpse was not discovered for a good ten minutes.”
“You can’t hold me responsible for that!”
“Of course not. I am not doing so. But I’m not forgetting that since you’ve been in our city, two men have been killed while in custody.”
Lee Falk - [Story of the Phantom 14] Page 9
