Lee Falk - [Story of the Phantom 14]

by The Assassins (v0. 9) (epub)

  Quickly glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, he slipped out of his trench coat, hat and glasses, and climbed out through the open window. Gripping the ledge of the windowsill with one hand, he closed the window with the other.

  Then he lowered himself carefully down the wall, gripped the edges of the stone slabs and began moving around the side of the building toward the room under Prince Tydore’s.

  It was very dark out, with a light fog hanging in the air. He could not see down into the street below; he hoped no one was watching him.

  Finally he had crossed the wall to a point directly below the Prince’s room. Then he began moving up the wall, holding on with his hands until his feet found a toehold, and then holding on with one hand while the other explored to find the next hand grip.

  Hanging onto the sill of the window to the Prince’s room, he pulled himself up to chest level. He could see Prince Tydore inside the room, leaning back despondently in an overstuffed chair near his bed. The Prince of Tydia was dressed in his royal blue robe and turban. It was obvious he was alone.

  With his fingernail, the Phantom tapped on the window several times, and finally the Prince roused himsel from his stupor long enough to see the Phantom’s silhouette at the window.

  He rose with alacrity and pulled open the window. “Who the devil are you?”

  “I’m Mr. Walker, Prince Tydore. I’ve come to help you. I couldn’t get in the front way.”

  “Mr. Walker! Where’s my daughter?”

  The Phantom slipped into the room and closed the window quickly, making as little noise as possible. He put his finger to his lips and spoke in a low voice.

  “I’ve taken her where she .will be completely safe. Don’t worry about her. You’re the one that the gang is after now.” “What is this costume you’re wearing?” Prince Tydore asked, reaching out to touch the skintight suit.

  “It makes it easier for me to get around to help those who need help.”

  Prince Tydore sighed dolefully. “I guess I’m one of those, all right. But how can you help me?” Prince Tydore wrung his hands in dismay. “I’m surrounded by the henchmen of those kidnappers. My guards have all been replaced by armed killers. I have no hope.”

  “There’s always hope,” said the Phantom. “Now you just let me take care of this. What exactly happened to your guards?”

  “The cutthroats apparently replaced them one by one. I have no one I can trust now.”

  The Phantom considered. “Have the kidnappers contacted you in any way yet?”

  “No,” wailed the fat little man.

  "They will,” the Phantom said with assurance. “Meanwhile, I think we should forget all this and enjoy a little game of chess. Do you play?”

  Prince Tydore’s face lit up. “But of course!”

  In the middle of a Sicilian Defense, the telephone on the Prince’s stand rang.

  “That’s my private line,” said Prince Tydore, Ms face wet with perspiration, “Answer it,” ordered the Phantom. “It’s the Assassins.”

  With shaking fingers the Prince of Tydia lifted the telephone. “Hello?”

  “Prince Tydore?” a voice rasped on the other end of the line.

  The Phantom could distinguish the words clearly with his exceptionally keen hearing.

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t escape. I guess you know that now.” The voice chuckled.

  “Who is this?” Prince Tydore asked, trying to summon up a modicum of courage.

  “You know who this is!” snapped the voice. “Now be quick. We have no time to lose.”

  “But I don’t know what you—”

  “We want ten million dollars’ worth of your royal jewels, or we’ll kidnap you and hold you for a far larger ransom.” There was a pause. “Prince Tydore?”

  “Yes?” The monarch could barely speak.

  “Do you hear me? We can kidnap you. Your own guards are under lock and key. They belong to us.”

  “But I haven’t any jewels,” Prince Tydore protested in a trembling voice.

  “We know all about you,” snapped the would-be kidnapper. “We know your jewels are listed at twenty to thirty millions by the insurance companies. We know the Princess always wears them at functions outside Tydia. We know you carry them with you in a private safe. Now get those jewels ready to be picked up by us or prepare to be carried off!”

  There was a slam as the caller hung up.

  Gingerly Prince Tydore replaced the phone.

  “You heard?” he asked the Phantom in a tormented voice.

  “I heard,” the Phantom assured him grimly. He looked around hurriedly. “Where are the jewels?”

  Prince Tydore put his head in his hands. “They’ll kill me! I know they will!”

  “Don’t think about it,” said the Phantom. “If you have the jewels, they know it. Do you have them?”

  “Yes. Hidden. Well guarded.”

  “Good.” The Phantom frowned, thinking furiously. “Their intelligence is first-rate. Obviously they can’t get at the jewels themselves, but need you to bring them out. Now there'll be another telephone call, informing you when and when- to deliver the jewels.”

  “I’ll—I’ll get them ready—”

  The Phantom held up a hand. He shook his head. “No. Don’t touch them. They may be watching to see where you go. I’ve got an idea—”

  Prince Tydore blinked. “But they said they’d kidnap me, Mr. Walker! I don’t want to be held hostage. They may kill me. After all, it’s only a bag of jewels. They can have them.” “Nonsense! If you turn them over, you’ll encourage these ruffians. Don’t you understand, you’ve got to stand up to them.”

  “How? How can I stand up to them?”

  The phone rang again.

  The Phantom pointed to it.

  “Hello,” Prince Tydore said hesitantly.

  “Put the jewels in a pillowcase. You got that?”

  Prince Tydore’s eyes widened. He looked at the Phantom helplessly. The Phantom nodded, encouraging the Prince to answer in the affirmative.

  “Yes. I understand.”

  “Ten million dollars’ worth, Prince Tydore. If you don’t come up with the right amount, we’ll take you somewhere you won’t want to be. You’ll be lucky ever to see Tydia again. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get the jewels into the pillow slip, tie it up, and put the pillow slip on the window ledge. Do you understand?”

  Prince Tydore nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’ve got five minutes.”

  “Is that all?” Prince Tydore wailed.

  “Leave it on the window ledge. If you try to alert the authorities, you’ll wish you hadn’t. You hear me?”

  “Yes,” said Prince Tydore in a tremulous voice.

  The phone slammed down.

  Prince Tydore rose and faced the Phantom indecisively. “I’ll get the jewels, Mr. Walker.”

  “No, you won’t,” said the Phantom. He walked quickly over to the large bed, removed a pillow, and slid the pillowcase from it. It was spacious, and the Phantom stuffed a number of jars and cut-glass ornaments from a bureau into it.

  “What are you doing?” Prince Tydore asked.

  “I’m filling up the pillowcase with whatever you have lying around. Are there any books here? I haven’t got enough weight yet.”

  “But-—”

  The Phantom found some books in a small bookcase against the wall and dumped them into the case. Finally it was heavy enough, and he twisted the top together, tying it with a string.

  “What are you doing that for?”

  “I want to see exactly how they’re going to remove this from the window. If that’s what they’re going to do. It may be a bluff.”

  “I see. But—”

  “No buts about it, Prince Tydore.”

  Prince Tydore sighed. “I don’t mind telling you, I’m scared to death!”

  “Don’t be,” the Phantom said reassuringly.

  He took th
e pillowcase over to the window ledge and set it there, glancing out into the night as he did so.

  “All right,” he told Prince Tydore. “We go right back where we were and wait.”

  It was very quiet in the room. The Phantom turned down all the lights but one and raised his finger for silence.

  In exactly five minutes, there was movement at the window. A large metal hook on the end of a silken line was slowly lowered into view at the top of the window opening.

  “That’s it,” whispered the Phantom. “They’re on the roof, or somewhere above us in the hotel, lowering that hook on a rope. They’ll pull up the pillowcase. Well, Prince Tydore, we know they’re capable of getting away with it, don’t we?”

  “Yes,” said Prince Tydore faintly.

  “Buck up,” said the Phantom. “We aren’t licked yet.”

  “But when they discover what’s in the bag—”

  The Phantom was watching the hook as it caught in the neck of the pillowcase and straightened up. The pillowcase swung out from the windowsill, vanished below a moment, and then slowly rose, staying back and forth until it was out of sight.

  The Phantom moved over to the window and looked up the side of the building. He could see nothing. As he waited there, he could hear a cry of rage in the distance. Then, quite suddenly the empty pillowcase flew out from the roof and began falling down the side of the building.

  The Phantom pulled in his head and watched it drift by.

  “Now we make our move.”

  Prince Tydore was almost in tears. “What do we do now? They’re coming down here to kidnap me.”

  The Phantom smiled. “Yes. And that fits in very well with our plans.”

  “They do? What are our plans?”

  “I need your turban, Prince Tydore,” he said suddenly. “And your robe, if I may?”

  Prince Tydore blinked. “But, Mr. Walker. This is my royal robe. Only I am permitted to wear it. The same is true of my turban—”

  The Phantom straightened. “While I put them on, Your Highness,” he said firmly, “you get into the closet. Don’t you see? They’re coming down to get you. And when they get here, we’ll have the lights out. I’ll be in that bed of yours, and they’ve got to think I’m Prince Tydore. I need your robe and turban so they’ll kidnap me.”

  Prince Tydore blinked and his lips trembled.

  The Phantom pushed him toward the closet and opened the door. “Your turban, Your Highness. If you please. And your robe?”

  “Well,” said the Prince. He didn’t like it, but he complied.

  The Phantom twisted the turban expertly around his head, got into the Prince’s royal blue robe, and made for the phone. Quickly he dialed and waited for the voice at the other end, which was Police Commissioner Nolan’s private home line.

  “Yes?” It was Nolan, slightly sleepy, slightly testy.

  “Plan B is in action,” said the Phantom.

  “What’s Plan B?” grumbled the Commissioner.

  “I’m taking Prince Tydore’s place,” the Phantom explained quickly. “The guards have been replaced here, as we suspected. I think they’ll clear out once I’m gone. Make sure you take care of the Prince.”

  “Yes, yes,” said the Commissioner. “And thanks, Mr. Walker.”

  “I’d suggest you diplomatically send His Excellency and his entourage back to his native land.”

  “And you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. At last I’m on Diana Palmer’s trail.”

  In minutes the Phantom was lying on the bed, with the lights in the room turned off. All he could hear were the sounds of the city outside.

  It had to work, he thought. If not...

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Three men crouched behind the roof parapet of the Hotel Majestic. Two of them were the Assassins known to the Phantom as Baldy and Crewcut. The third was a tall man with a heavy, well-built body and an extremely small head. In shape, he resembled a clothespin.

  “The Prince thinks he’s pulling a fast one,” said Baldy spitefully. “I had an idea he would try something like this.”

  “What do we do now?” Crewcut asked.

  “We climb down to Prince Tydore’s room and kidnap him.” Baldy snapped his fingers. “The rope, stupid.”

  Crewcut gathered up the rope that had been used to haul up the pillowcase full of trinkets and books and handed it to Baldy.

  “I’ll go down first,” Baldy announced. “You follow.”

  “What about me?” asked Pinhead.

  “You stay up here and pull in the rope. I don’t want any evidence lying around.”

  “Then what?”

  “Go downstairs the same way we came up. Get in the car. Pull it around to the rear of the hotel. We’ll come out through the back door. I want that car revved up and ready to split when we do.”

  “Right,” said Pinhead.

  Baldy lowered the rope until the end of it hung just below Prince Tydore’s window. Then he made sure it was carefully knotted to one of the vent pipes near the parapet.

  “Wait till I get into the room, and then you follow me,” he told Crewcut.

  With that, he let himself down over the parapet, grasped the rope, and climbed down knot by knot until he came to the window of the Royal Suite on the seventeenth floor.

  He let himself in quietly, peering through the gloom of the darkened room to see if he could distinguish the Prince. He saw a form on the bed. Jerking on the rope, he signaled Crewcut to follow.

  In a moment, Crewcut stood in the room with him. The rope vanished, hauled up to the roof by Pinhead.

  Baldy put his finger to his lips and tiptoed over to the bed. The form dressed in turban and robe lay there quietly.

  “It’s the Prince,” Baldy assured Crewcut. “He’s so scared he’s gone to bed. Have you got that ether?”

  Crewcut brought out a bottle, opened it and soaked a , handkerchief with its contents, then recapped it. The odor of ether spread through the room.

  “Hurry up,” whispered Baldy, “before it puts us to sleep.”

  Crewcut moved quickly to the bed, grabbed the sleeping form, and covered the mouth and nose with the handkerchief. There was a brief struggle, and then the form went limp.

  “Good,” said Baldy. He pulled an empty laundry bag from inside his sweatshirt and quickly opened it. “You know what to do,” he told Crewcut.

  Crewcut lifted the sleeping form from the bed while Baldy held the laundry bag open. Soon the man was inside the large bag, snoring gently.

  Baldy pulled the strings tightly around the lip of the bag and tied them together in a knot.

  The two men lifted the bag, opened the door to the Prince’s room, and moved quickly out into the drawing room. Baldy pointed to the left. They carried the laundry bag toward the tradesman’s entrance to the Royal Suite.

  In a moment they were descending in the service elevator. Without stopping, the elevator traveled all the way to the basement. When the doors opened, Baldy and Crewcut carried the laundry bag out into the basement corridor and went toward the rear of the hotel.

  In moments they were in the alleyway, where a car awaited them, the engine purring softly.

  “Good boy,” said Baldy with satisfaction.

  The door opened, and they tossed the laundry bag inside. Crewcut got in the back. Baldy joined Pinhead in the front seat.

  “What happens to the guys we got for guards?” Crewcut asked as the car started up and left the alleyway.

  “Their assignment ends at midnight,” said Baldy. “1 expect they’ll leave the easiest way they; can.”

  “But won’t that alert the real guards?”

  “Sure,” said Baldy. “But then it’ll be too late. We’ve got the Prince.”

  Crewcut nodded. “I don’t know why you went to all that trouble to infiltrate Prince Tydore’s guards when we were able to pull the kidnapping off without their help.”

  “Window-dressing,” said Baldy. “We had to get the Prince into a state of
panic before he’d give up the jewels.”

  “But he didn’t give up the jewels.”

  Baldy grunted. “That’s the way the ball bounces.” He cheered up. “Anyway, we got him out of there, and Kali will be happy to see him.”

  Pinhead drove up to a signal and stopped. “Why didn’t you use the guards to help you?”

  Baldy stared at the driver insolently. “We couldn’t let them know we snatched the Prince.”

  “Why not?”

  “They’d blackmail us to the end of our days. You never trust a man you hire—especially a professional cutthroat!” Pinhead shrugged and the car started up. Traffic had thinned. They were driving along the riverfront. The cool breeze blew in off the water. Soon they came to the cluttered area where the North River docks began.

  The car pulled up beside a deserted warehouse surrounded by piles of crates and boxes.

  Baldy opened the car door. Crewcut pushed out the laundry bag, and the two men carried it across the cleared area to a small beat-up jetty. A powerboat, bobbing gently in the river current, was moored there.

  In moments, they were gliding over the water, carrying the laundry bag in the bottom of the boat.

  The Phantom opened his eyes, but could see absolutely nothing. His head throbbed from the effects of the ether. He was hot in the stuffy bag.

  He remembered the moment the crewcut Assassin had shoved the ether-saturated handkerchief into his face. He had not struggled at all, but had succumbed deliberately. And that was the last he had known.

  The large cloth bag in which he had been tied up was sturdy and very difficult to move about in. The Phantom knew that he should not make a sudden movement because it might alert someone on guard over him.

  However, as he lay there, he could hear only the steady drone of powerful engines. Because of the gentle rolling of the surface upon which he lay, he decided that he was aboard an airplane, flying through the night.

  Or was it day outside?

  He brought his hands up to the top of his head, and tried to find an opening in the bag. Finally he did penetrate the point where the slip ropes were tied. He probed and tore at the hole with his powerful fingers and finally succeeded in making a one-inch gap at the opening.