The Hydra Monster

by Lee Falk

  The Story of THE PHANTOM

  TIE HYDRA MONSTER

  PROLOGUE

  HOW IT ALL BEGAN

  *

  OVER 400 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 HIS 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 FATHERS MURDERER, HE SWORE AN OATH BY FIRELIGHT AS THE FRIENDLY PYGMIES WATCHED. "I 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 FORMED 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 WORLD-WIDE 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 HIS HEIRS 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, 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 THAT THTF LEGEND INSPIRED WAS A GREAT HELP IN HIS ENDLESS BATTLE AGAINST EVIL. ONLY HIS FRIENDS, THE PYGMIES, KNEW THE TRUTH. TO COMPENSATE FOR THEIR TINY STATURE, THE PYGMIES MIXED DEADLY POISONS FOR USE ON THEIR WEAPONS, IN HUNTING OR DEFENDING THEMSELVES. IT WAS RARE THAT THEY WERE FORCED TO DEFEND THEMSELVES. THEIR DEADLY POISONS WERE KNOWN THROUGHOUT THE JUNGLE, AND THEY AND THEIR HOME, THE Deep Woods, WERE DREADED AND AVOIDED. ANOTHER REASON TO STAY AWAY FROM THE Deep Woods WAS THAT 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 EYRIE ON A HIGH, SHEER MESA THAT WAS THOUGHT BY THE INDIANS TO BE HAUNTED BY EVIL SPIRITS AND BECAME KNOWN AS Walkers 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 THEIR 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 A DAY WOULD COME WHEN THEIR GREAT FRIEND WOULD LIE DYING. THEN, ALONE, A STRONG YOUNG SON WOULD CARRY HIS FATHER TO 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."

  THIS STORY OF THE HYDRA MONSTER 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 1973

  CHAPTER ONE

  They caught up with him down by the black water.

  There was fog all around. It came spilling in off the night waters of San Francisco Bay. He couldn't even see them clearly. There were dark blurry shapes stalking him down the empty streets. He knew what they meant to do.

  He'd known that since he'd left the saloon on Front Street and realized they were on his trail. That started him running;, running through the shrouding fog. Running along the grey streets where everybody went home at sundown. Running, stumbling again and panting, under the ramps of the Embarcadero freeway. Running around the grey supporting spires, heading for any place away from them.

  It was no good. He was in no kind of shape anymore, fifty and too fat. There didn't seem to be any air to breathe, only harsh, grey fog. Harsh fog rasping at his tired lungs.

  He thought about crying for help. But there weren't any cars anywhere, no people. Only him, him and them behind him. He stopped, put a sweating palm against the stone wall of a waterfront building. He gasped and sucked in air through his mouth.

  For a few seconds, he didn't see them.

  Then the pair stepped out of the drifting fog, slow and smiling.

  "Listen," he said. "Listen, I'm sorry about what I know. I promise . . ."

  He had no more time.

  Two guns sounded, not loud, in the fog.

  The cab driver's name was MacQuarrie. He was a lean, black man of thirty and most people called him Mac. He was cruising along the Embarca- dero, down below the freeway, after dropping a fare at the foot of Market Street.

  All at once, he hit his brakes. Two men had come running across the street through the fog.

  "Hey, you jerks," he said to himself. "I almost hit you."

  The fog swirled up for an instant and he no
ticed something against one of the warehouses. Parking his dented, yellow car, Mac got out and cautiously approached. He didn't want to get hit on the head for his few dollars in change.

  "Hey, you in trouble?" he called to the man who was sitting against the stone wall with his arms limp at his sides.

  A single word sighed through the fat man's lips.

  Mac moved closer to him. He saw the blood now, splashed all over the front of the man's faded windbreaker. "What happened?"

  "I know about . . ." moaned the dying man.

  Kneeling beside him, Mac said, "You stay here

  and I'll get help. I don't think you ought to be..

  "Hydra," said the fat man.

  "What?" Mac had his ear near the man's Hps.

  "Hydra," he repeated. He died.

  "Oh, God," said Mac.

  The police told Mac who the dead man was. He was an informer named Estling who lived in one of the rundown hotels in the Tenderloin district. They didn't think he knew anything that would be worth killing him for. Mac told the police the word the dying man had said. The word "hydra" didn't mean anything to them. But a young shaggy-haired reporter from the CHRONICLE thought it would make a good lead for the story he was going to do.

  Mac got home about 1 a.m. He didn't say anything to his wife about what he'd walked into. No use waking her up. He didn't sleep much.

  The next morning, a warm, clear San Francisco morning, the dispatcher told him he'd made a conquest.

  "Hey, what are you talking about?" he asked the radio in his cab.

  "Got a special request for you and you alone," came the raspy voice out of the dusty speaker. "Maybe they want to ride with you now that you're a celebrity. See the papers yet?"

  "I glanced at them," admitted Mac. They'd spelled his last name with a Y at the end instead of an IE. "Where's this fare?"

  The dispatcher gave him an address out in the Avenues.

  It was a white, three story apartment building

  in a row of them. Two men were standing in front of it. Young men, in their late twenties, in good suits and modish haircuts. One of them was wearing wrap-around sunglasses.

  He waved at Mac. "You MacQuarrie?"

  "That's me," said Mac as he parked. He'd never seen either of them before.

  "Our aunt told us you were an A-OK man," said the young man with the dark glasses. "We got some luggage inside." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the apartment building. "Give us a hand?"

  "Sure thing." Mac switched off the ignition, pocketed the keys. "Where you going ... airport?" That would be a pretty good fare.

  When he was on the sidewalk with them, the one with the glasses asked, "What did Estling say last night?"

  "Who?"

  "Estling, the fat stoolie. What did he say to

  you?"

  Mac looked from one to the other. "Hey, what's with you two guys?"

  "We want to give you a little memory lesson. Now, what did he say?"

  Down at the far end of the block, a blonde mother with a baby carriage appeared.

  Mac shook his head. "The guy said, 'Hydra' if it's any business of yours."

  The other young man, the silent one, hit Mac twice in the stomach.

  "Wrong," said the one wearing sunglasses, as Mac doubled up. "Wrong, he didn't say anything."

  The other one hit him twice more, hard in the ribs. Then kicked his legs out from under him.

  "Remember, mister," said the one wearing glasses. "Estling didn't say anything. You never heard of 'Hydra'."

  Mac was on his hands and knees on the grey sidewalk, gagging.

  The other one kicked him in the tailbone.

  The girl with the baby carriage screamed.

  The two young men ran.

  "Why did they do that?" The young mother stopped at the side of the fallen, black man. "Why did they do that to you? Are you hurt?"

  Mac stayed on the ground. He didn't say anything.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The road wasn't supposed to lead anywhere. Just a narrow road across the flat, dry, Southwest countryside, a road somebody had probably started and never gotten around to finishing. A dead end, that was what the sign out on the other side of the old, rail fence said.

  This was not, however, strictly true. The road went quite near the side of a high, rocky mesa. Right now, a little before mid-day, a car with

  three occupants was moving along this dusty road.

  In the front passenger seat sat a pretty, dark- haired girl, relaxed, arms folded, watching the orange and brown countryside.

  Beside her, at the wheel, was a good-looking broad-shouldered man. He wore dark glasses and a belted raincoat.

  Stretched across the back seat was a large, grey animal often mistaken for a dog. Actually, it was a wolf.

  There were spiky, yucca plants dotting the rocky ground, a few giant saguaro cactuses. Diana Palmer said, "I'd almost forgotten you had a house here."

  "Well, I don't know if you can call it a house," said the Phantom. "It's more of a hideout."

  "You told me once that one of your ancestors had built it."

  "Yes, way back on the Phantom family tree there's the footloose ancestor who's responsible for the Eyrie," he answered. "The place was built roughly two centuries ago. I haven't been here very often myself."

  "Well," said Diana, putting a hand over his, "I hope you'll be able to spend a few days here at least. Your life has been pretty hectic lately."

  He smiled. "My life is always hectic."

  On the back seat Devil, the Phantom's trained wolf, gave a yawning bark and sat up.

  "He knows we're almost there." The Phantom guided the car off the roadway and into a small, natural cave in the side of the earth-colored hillside. "Nobody will notice the car in here."

  "I doubt anybody but some grizzled, old prospector will be passing by."

  The Phantom got out, came around to open the girl's door. He nodded upward. "Airplanes do fly

  over."

  "Oh, that's right. Hadn't occurred to me."

  The wolf gave a pleased anticipatory yelp as he jumped out of the vehicle.

  The Phantom lifted a box of supplies out of the car. Then he went outside the cave and began running his fingertips over a stretch of rocky cliff- side. "Yes, here we are." He pressed at a section of deep, brown rock and a foot-square doorway popped open.

  "I remember now," said Diana as she watched him. "The trip up to the Eyrie is an experience in itself."

  There was a winch handle in the hollowed-out place in the rock. The Phantom began cranking it. "Nobody had invented elevators back when my ancestor did his roaming."

  "Here it comes." Diana shaded her eyes with one hand and pointed up into the bright blue sky.

  A length of rope was slowly unreeling down toward them. "Looks like my machinery is still in working order." When the tail end of the thick rope was five feet above his head, he stopped cranking. "Okay, Diana, you and Devil wait here and 111 send down for you in a minute."

  The Phantom leaped and caught the rope. Pulling with his powerful arms, he made his way up the sheer rock wall. Rapidly, hand over hand, he

  climbed the rope and reached the rock plateau three hundred feet above the ground.

  He waved at Diana, then located the large basket which would carry the girl and the wolf and the supplies up. It was connected to a large windlass, the whole contraption concealed by camouflaging brush. The Phantom lowered it.

  Down on the ground, Diana lifted the box of groceries and sundries into the huge, wicker basket. She climbed in, followed by Devil.

  Moments later, she was beside the Phantom on the plateau. "That's some ride up here!" she said.

  "Bumpy?"

  "Well, not the smoothest ascent I've ever made."

  Across the plateau stood a great mound of rock, looking something like an Indian cliff dweller's home. Devil was already trotting toward an opening in the structure.

  "Welcome to the Eyrie!" the Phantom told Diana.
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  "Eagle's nest is right." With hands on her hips she looked around. Red, gold and brown country stretched away in all directions. "You can see for miles."

  The Phantom picked up the supply box. "Come on in," he invited as he walked toward the jagged entrance Devil had used.

  The big wolf was sitting before what appeared to be a stone wall at the end of a short passageway through the rock.

  The Phantom touched two spots on the stone wall. After a few seconds, it slid away.

  Beyond , was a large comfortable-looking living room, complete with stereo setup and television. Lights in the ceiling came on as they crossed the threshold. "That's right," said the girl. "You've got your own generator up here."