by Lee Falk
"Apparently this Barber has the notion we came down here to find the treasure of ."
"He sent these two to hijack you?"
"Yes," said Jan. "But not only that. He hired Gabe to be a-well, a spy for him."
"So that's why Gabe kept wondering why you weren't looking for treasure."
"Wait though." She put her hand on his arm. "I think Gabe has had a change of heart."
"How so?"
"Well, you see, the little one, Silvera, got the idea he'd find out where the treasure was if he hit me a few times."
The Phantom's fingers tightened into fists. "He did, did he?"
"That made Karl and Gabe unhappy," continued Jan. "Gabe, being supposedly on their side, had a 58
gun. Well, what he did was shoot Silvera and tell me to run for it."
The Phantom asked, "So how many do we have to woriy about encountering in the camp?"
"I'm not sure. Silvera was hurt, but still had control of his Winchester when I left. Which could mean there are still two armed men there."
"Or possibly three if Gabe's had another change of heart."
"I don't think so. I think he's on our side for good now."
"We'll soon find out," the Phantom told her.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Colonel Weeks came pounding down the front steps of the Jungle Patrol headquarters building. A tall black man in the uniform of the Mawitaan police was approaching up the path. "Any news, Lieutenant Kiwanda?" called out the colonel.
"I think perhaps, yes," answered the police lieutenant.
"You know where Sergeant Barnum is?" The sergeant had not reported in for several hours, and the colonel, worried, had called on the Mawitaan police for assistance in finding out what might have happened.
"Not exactly where he is," answered Lieutenant Kiwanda, "but where he was something like an hour ago. We can drive there and talk to the street police man who believes he noticed your Sergeant Barnum."
"Yes, very well." Colonel Weeks followed the lieutenant to a tan-colored Volkswagen. "Where is it?"
Starting the car, Lieutenant Kiwanda said, "My man says he saw the sergeant enter Bahari Lane earlier this morning. He did not see him leave. Bahari Lane is a dead end, as you know."
While they drove toward the Mawitaan waterfront, the Jungle Patrol commander said, "Yes, that's right. So Barnum may still be on that block somewhere."
"It lies in a not too-reputable sector," said the policeman. "That particular lane is mostly uninhabited except for a few nondescript shops and some abandoned buildings."
"He's trying to get a lead on the whereabouts of Lemos," said the colonel. "Anything to tie Lemos in with Bahari Lane?"
"Lemos could be tied in with most anything." The lieutenant turned onto a curving street from which they could see the broad Mawitaan harbor. "Now and then, one or another of those gutted apartment houses on Bahari is used as a rendezvous spot for narcotics dealers and their unfortunate customers.
We try to discourage that, but, you know.. .
"Not enough men," supplied Weeks. He grew silent, dipping the bowl of his pipe into his tobacco pouch.
Lieutenant Kiwanda stopped the VW to allow a fruit vendor to push a cart of melons and pineapples
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from one side of the narrow street to the other. "Why exactly do you want to see Lemos?"
"You've heard about what happened to Doctor Love and her party, haven't you?"
"The lady scientist who was lost in , yes. What has Lemos to do with that?"
"We want to ask him," said the gray-haired colonel, "for the reason he was anxious to make sure he got a certain pilot to take their helicopter into the volcano."
"Which pilot would that be?" The black police lieutenant pulled up to a curb. "The lane is nearby.
Let us walk."
Stretching up out of the little tan car, Colonel Weeks said, "The pilot Lemos planted on the flight was Gabe McClennan."
"Ah, yes, Gabe. I was hoping he'd straighten out as he matured."
"So was I," said the colonel.
The foot patrolman was not in evidence at the moment. "My patrol corporal seems to be elsewhere,"
said Kiwanda. "We'll look over the little street ourselves."
They turned down a small shadowy lane.
Seated on a crate in front of a narrow fly-infested grocery was a huge black woman in a loose gown of bright silk. Large round discs of deep-green glass covered her eyes. She was chewing on a tiny brownish apple. "Good morning, Lieutenant."
"Good morning, Mother Mafuta."
"Have you seen a broad, stocky man go by here?" the colonel asked the fat woman.
She tapped the right lens of her dark spectacles with chunky fingertips. "I don't see anything, ever."
"But you hear," suggested Lieutenant Kiwanda.
Mother Mafuta grinned, taking another small bite of her apple. "I heard a lumbering fellow, with booted feet, go by an hour or so ago."
"Any idea where he headed?"
"All the way down the lane, to the end. Either into that warehouse nobody uses any more, or on through the alley and jumped into the bay."
"Thank you, mother," said Lieutenant Kiwanda.
Colonel Weeks was already hurrying toward the warehouse the fat shopkeeper had indicated. The building was low, a smeary black in color. The wide wooden front door stood open an inch.
Lieutenant Kiwanda kicked it gently open with his foot.
A dim silence greeted them inside.
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"Look there," said the colonel, pointing at the warehouse floor with the stem of his pipe. "That floor's been recently swept with a push broom."
"So it has." The lieutenant had his hand on his holster as they entered the dim place.
A jumble of rusted machinery lay to the immediate right of the doorway. At the other end of the low, flat-ceilinged room were piled several dozen wooden crates. You could hear the waters of the bay lapping at the pilings out behind the building. Sunlight made its way through the small dirty skylights, catching motes of dust and making them glitter for an instant.
Colonel Weeks's eyebrows went up and down. "What's that?" He trotted over near the packing cases, bent to scoop up something in his hand. He'd seen it flash in the sunlight. It was a metal paper clip.
He scanned the immediate area, then pushed his way in between the boxes.
The policeman followed him. "You've found something?" he asked.
The colonel was hunkered in front of a narrow door in the wall. Three more paper clips, linked in a chain, lay on the floor. "Fooling around with paper clips is a habit of Barnum's," he explained. He pocketed these, stood, and inclined his head toward the door. "Let's find out what's on the other side of that."
While the colonel flattened himself against the stone wail to the left of the door, Lieutenant Kiwanda kicked it open.
There was no one in the corridor beyond the door. After about three seconds, someone down at the corridor's end said, "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know."
"Go see."
Kiwanda was in the shadowy hall, running toward the voices. Colonel Weeks was close behind him.
The door at the end of the corridor snapped open and the top half of a husky black man showed. He was standing on a staircase, apparently. He held a pistol in his hand. Recognizing Lieutenant Kiwanda, he said, "How do you do, Lieutenant?"
"I'm doing very well, thank you," replied the policeman. "Will you put down the gun?"
The husky man blinked at the weapon in his hand as though he'd never seen it before. "Yes, sorry."
He reached up to place the pistol carefully on the hail floor.
"We'd like to see what's happening down there." Lieutenant Kiwanda strode ahead and picked up the surrendered weapon.
"Not much to see, Lieutenant. An old rundown pier, lots of rats. Matter of fact, that's why I had the gun, for shooting rats."
"Even so," said Lieutenant Kiwanda.
The big black man b
acked down the staircase.
Below was a scummy wooden dock built out over the bay water on bowlegged pilings. A swayback
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roof covered most of the ramshackle dock.
"Oh, just the man I want to see!" exclaimed a large man down on the pier. He wore a blue suit, complete with vest. His left eye seemed to be winking at them. At his feet, bound and gagged, lay Sergeant Barnum.
"Yes, I'm sure," said Kiwanda.
Colonel Weeks went down the rickety steps two at a time, and ran to his sergeant's side. "He's alive,"
he said, pulling out a pocket knife.
"Why, bless my soul," said the blue-suited Lemos, "of course he is. I was about to rush out to phone the police, Lieutenant Kiwanda. You can imagine my surprise when I arrived to inspect this shabby out-of-repair property of mine, at finding this complete stranger on-"
"Shut up," ordered the colonel. He had all the ropes off Barnum.
The stocky sergeant sat up, ripped off the handkerchief gag. "They were going to heave me into the bay soon as it got dark," he said.
"On the contrary," insisted the winking Lemos. "We were merely playing a joke. We mistook this gentleman for a prowler and decided to have a little sport with him."
"Lemos didn't expect to get caught for a few days yet," said the sergeant. "He's expecting some money which will enable him to travel far from Mawitaan."
"Money from where?" asked the colonel.
"Seems like there's a treasure at the bottom of the volcano," said Barnum. "Lemos here stands to get a piece of it."
The colonel took hold of Lemos's vest. "Why did you want Gabe McClennan to fly that plane?"
Lemos held both palms toward the angry colonel, shook them negatively. "I am not the master planner of this grand design, Colonel," he said. "I am only a cog in the wheel."
"Who makes the wheel go round?" the colonel wanted to know, his grip tightening. "What does it have to do with Doctor Love?"
"Perhaps you had best put those questions to the man who hired me," Lemos's left eye closed completely.
"Who is he?"
Lemos hesitated, then said, "Barber. He is Barber who owns and operates the Scarlet Cockatoo."
Colonel Weeks let go of the man. Turning to Sergeant Barnum, he asked, "You up to paying a visit to Barber?"
"That I am," the sergeant assured him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
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"Careful," warned the Phantom in a low voice. "Someone's heading this way." With a swift silent motion of his right hand, he drew out one of his .45 automatics.
Jan crouched beside the masked man in a tangle of wild grass. They were fairly near the campsite.
"Another darn mantis?"
Up ahead the chest-high grass swayed and rattled. The Phantom shook his head. "Human."
The dry, thrashing sound rose in intensity. Then a voice called out, "Jan, where are you, Jan?"
"It's Karl," exclaimed the girl, starting to her feet.
The Phantom pushed her back down, cautioning, "They may be using him to decoy you out into the open. Wait right here; don't show yourself until I come for you." As he spoke, he upholstered his other black automatic and handed it to her. "I believe you know how to use one of these."
"Yes, I do."
Suddenly the Phantom was gone. He moved away through the high grass noiselessly.
The blonde girl knelt and waited, the .45 automatic resting on her palm. Overhead a swarm of gnats, the size of golf balls, were hovering.
"Jan, everything's okay," called Karl. "You can come on back. Jan?"
A moment later the Phantom returned. "It's all right," he said.
"Karl, over here!" shouted Janas she stood to wave at him.
The bearded biologist came running toward her. "You can come back. Gabe and I have taken care of them and-hey! You found the Phantom."
"He found me." Jan took Karl by the hand. "In the nick of time, too. I'll explain later. First tell us what happened back in camp."
"Well, the little diversion caused by your departure gave me the opportunity to jump Tinn,"
explained Karl. "Meantime Gabe was tangling with the other guy. He got shot again."
"Gabe?"
"No, Silvera," said Karl. "He's dead."
Jan asked, "Is Gabe okay?"
"The gash on his leg tore open again," answered Karl. "I treated it and bandaged it before coming to hunt for you. I think he'll make it."
"Are you certain," asked the Phantom, "you can trust Gabe now?"
Karl turned toward the masked man. "Yes, I am. I think Gabe realizes he made a mistake ever tying up with those boys. When the time came to make a decision, Gabe chose to side with us."
"Yes," Jan told the Phantom, "we can trust Gabe; I'm certain."
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"Very well," he said.
Karl asked, "Did you locate the River of Fire?"
"Yes. We can start for there shortly," said the Phantom. "First we'll gather up the rest of the party back at camp. And see what we can do about the dead man." He turned and began walking in the direction from which Karl had come.
"The river is boiling hot, isn't it?" asked Karl, following with Jan at his side. "Seems like a pretty wild idea to float out of here on a boiling river."
"It's worth a try," said Jan. "It's probably our only chance of getting out. But we'll need a raft."
"I have an idea about that," said the Phantom. Before they reached the fallen helicopter, another series of tremors began to shake the earth. They were the most severe shocks yet, causing the ground to bounce and rumble, shaking and thrashing the giant vegetation. The tremors didn't stop so soon this time. They continued for minutes, subsided, then began again.
"I don't like this," said Jan, holding tight to Karl's arm to maintain her balance.
"Do you think," asked the Phantom, "it may mean there's going to be a volcanic eruption?"
They reached, at last, the campsite clearing. "Well, I'm a biologist, not a geologist," said the girl.
"But I would say it doesn't look good."
"What's going to happen now?" Tinn wanted to know. He was on the ground on his hands and knees~
Gabe was standing near him. He had Tinn's automatic stuck in his waistband, his own pistol in his hand. "Think she's going to blow?"
"It's possible," replied Jan. "It's possible." The ground had ceased to shake.
"The Phantom has found a way out," announced Karl. "We'll be leaving soon."
"How?" asked Gabe. "By way of that river?"
"Yes," said the masked man.
"What the world needs now," said the black man, "is a boat."
"I think," said the Phantom, "we should be able to use the body of your helicopter as a raft. We won't have time to build a boat from scratch."
"The thing's too heavy," Gabe pointed out.
"Not if we strip it!" The masked man leaped into the ship. "We'll have to dump the engine, all the equipment. Give me a hand, Karl."
"Soon as I take care of the remains of Silvera," answered Karl.
Gabe motioned to Jan. "You watch this guy Thin and I'll help out in the copter."
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"Youshouldn't, Gabe. Your leg...."
"I won't need either leg if we get buried in lava." He gave her his pistol and went hobbling to the ship.
"I still don't understand this place," complained Tinn. "It's full of giant bugs. It's likely to explode and cover us all with lava. And the rivers are full of boiling water. I don't understand this place."
"I'll explain while we're waiting," offered Jan.
Gradually at first, almost gently, the ground had begun to shake again. This time it didn't stop.
They were nearly to the River of Fire. Karl and Tinn were pushing the gutted copter. The Phantom, his powerful muscles barely straining, was pulling, using new vine ropes he'd fashioned before they departed the camp. Jan and Gabe, who was limping badly, walked alongside the makeshift raft.
"The big eruption must be corni
ng," said Karl. "The ground is shaking like jello."
Jan glanced upward. "All the wildlife seems to sense it."
Monster bees roared overhead like a flight of bombers. Gigantic butterflies flapped by, all seeking escape and safety, none sure in which direction it lay.
