The Phantom

by Rob MacGregor

  He lifted the skull out of the satchel and held it up in the light. “Oh, baby. Come to papa. It’s beautiful. Just beautiful.”

  “I used a little toothpaste. It polished up real nice,” Sala said.

  Drax gave her a cold look that made it clear she wasn’t to touch it. She had no idea, no idea whatsoever, of what she was dealing with. But he decided not to comment. He put the skull back in the satchel.

  “I’m in such a good mood right now, I almost hate to mention this minor matter, but . . .” He picked up the newspaper and turned it around so they could read the top headline: EDITOR’S NIECE ESCAPES KIDNAPPERS—DIANA PALMER RETURNS HOME. Below the headline was a photograph of Diana being embraced by David Palmer.

  “The happy homecoming. Brings tears to your eyes, doesn’t it?” He looked from Sala to Quill. “So, what went wrong?”

  They both started talking at the same time. Then Sala let Quill speak: “Something we didn’t count on. It was a total surprise.”

  “And what was that?” Drax asked, tapping a pencil against his desk.

  “The Phantom.”

  Drax frowned. “I thought that nonsense was just a superstition—native bugaboo.”

  “Oh, no. He’s real,” Quill insisted. “And he won’t die. I know. I killed him once, I mean twice . . . and he isn’t dead.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.” Drax’s impatience leaked into his voice. He dropped his pencil and rested his chin on his folded hands as he stared at Quill. “Start at the beginning.”

  “Look, I brought this to prove it.” Quill opened his coat, revealing a skull-head holster around his waist, exactly like the one the Phantom wore. He unbuckled it, slid it off, and held it up.

  “See this hole? This is where I stuck him ten years ago with a twelve-inch blade.”

  “You stabbed him in the back?” Drax smiled. “I’ve underestimated you, Quill.”

  Quill beamed. “Right to the hilt.”

  “It’s not the story I heard,” Sala said dryly.

  “That should’ve done the trick, all right,” Drax said, reassessing the situation. “So what happened the second time?”

  Quill told him how he’d stabbed him in the side, about the rope bridge, and the gorge. “I saw the truck fall, and I never saw him get out of it. I was there. I tell you, he’s invincible.”

  “The Phantom helped Diana to escape,” Sala said. “I think he’s in love with her.”

  Drax rolled his eyes. “Really, this is getting more interesting by the second. Maybe he’s not quite so invincible. Love is a great weakness. We can always take advantage of it.” He looked at Sala. “What makes you think he’s in love?”

  “Because he could’ve had me. He picked her. It can only be love.”

  Drax looked her over as though she were an apple he was about to eat. Sala seemed more than willing to be the apple of his eye. She leaned forward, her pose hardly provocative despite her best attempts to make it seem so. “Maybe it was just bad judgment on his part.”

  “What should we do about him?” Quill asked.

  “Nothing for now,” Drax answered. “This is New York City. I’m not concerned about some jungle folk-hero half a world away.”

  Kit Walker stepped out of a taxicab in the heart of Manhattan. He was wearing a tailored suit and dark glasses. It had been several years since he’d been in New York, and he knew from past experiences that it took him a while to adjust to the crowds and the buildings.

  He casually handed the taxi driver several bills. “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you very much, sir,” the cabbie replied.

  When he traveled, he was a chameleon who fit in wherever he went. But it had been some time since he’d been out of the jungle, and he hoped it didn’t show. For a moment, he thought, he was doing quite well. But the cab driver wasn’t fooled.

  “Hey, not so fast!” He jumped out and ran around his cab, waving Kit’s money. “What is this? It’s not real money.”

  “You’re right. That’s Bangallan currency.”

  “Coin of the realm would be much appreciated,” the driver replied dryly.

  Kit fished into his pocket. “I’m afraid it’s all I’ve got on me.”

  “It better not be.”

  “Wait! Here’s something,” Kit said, reaching into another pocket. “These are opals. And this one looks like a star sapphire.” He held it up to the light and nodded. “And these other ones . . . oh here, take them all.”

  The chunky driver, who had talked all the way from the airport, was momentarily at a loss for words as Kit dropped the gems into his palm.

  “Don’t worry. They’re real,” Kit said. “And they should buy your services for the rest of the day—so wait right here.”

  “You’re kidding . . .”

  “I never kid.”

  Kit walked into a building that said New York Tribune above the door.

  About the same time that Kit was arriving at the Tribune building, a few blocks away Drax was convening a meeting in his office, high above street level. Seated at the table were Police Commissioner Farley, Quill, and Sala, and the Zephro brothers, Raymond and Charlie.

  Drax stood in front of the group and pressed a button. The drapes closed automatically and the room faded to black. As it did he opened the meeting with three words: “Darkness rules the earth!”

  Drax let the words sink in, then continued: “But don’t take my word for it. Just look around. America is in financial ruin and Europe and Asia are on the brink of self-annihilation. Armies clash in the night. Governments crumble. Borders dissolve. Nations vanish. Chaos reigns. But like I’ve always said: there is opportunity in chaos. Lots of opportunity.”

  Then he reached into the leather satchel and removed the silver skull. “And so, my brothers, I give you the Skull of Touganda!”

  Drax hit a button on his desk. A glass slide projector lit up and beamed the image of two skulls on the wall. “This skull is one of three. When all three are united, they will produce a force more powerful than any army on earth, a force like the world has never seen.”

  He walked over to the wall and held the silver skull between the two images that were projected on the wall, symbolically uniting the three. The eyes in the silver skull seemed to glow, creating an eerie, malefic effect that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.

  Raymond Zephro broke the spell. “But you only have the one.”

  “Legend has it that if the skulls are separated, two of the skulls will point the way to the third one,” Drax explained.

  “Like I said, you only—”

  Drax cut him off. “But I know the location of the second skull.”

  Everyone perked up at that bit of information. They looked around, exchanging glances. Then Drax hit a button and the spider-web symbol was projected on the wall.

  “You’re looking at the symbol of the Sengh Brotherhood, a confederation of evil that has marauded exotic regions of the globe for more than four centuries. We shall succeed where they have failed. They have pointed the way, but we will complete the journey. The skulls—and the power that comes with them—shall be ours.”

  “Wait a minute,” Raymond Zephro interrupted. “What makes you believe any of this power stuff is true? That sounds like a superstition, if you ask me.”

  “Good point,” Drax said. “But I’ve done my research. I’ve looked into the past, and I know there were objects with great powers that have been lost for many centuries. The Skulls of Touganda were among the most powerful. The prophecies of the Tougandan shamans said that the skulls would be lost, then one day reunited and their powers would be multiplied.”

  “Don’t you think the Sengh Brotherhood is going to be interested in those skulls?” Quill asked.

  “When I bring the skulls together, the Sengh Brotherhood will be totally irrelevant.”

  Drax hit another button and a new symbol replaced the large spider web on the screen. It was a large X with smaller letters—D-R-A—fitted snugly around it.
The DRAX logo.

  Raymond Zephro leaped to his feet. “Count me out. It’s wrong! Skulls, forces of darkness—it isn’t right! I was an altar boy, for the love of Pete! At St. Timothy’s. So were you, Charlie. This isn’t right. We weren’t raised like this.”

  “Sit down, Ray,” Drax said.

  “The only ‘power’ I believe in comes out of the barrel of a gun, not from some jungle souvenirs.” Raymond Zephro turned to his brother. “So, what’s the story? Are you with me, Charlie?”

  Charlie Zephro was quiet a moment. When he spoke, his voice was firm. “You’re on your own, Ray.”

  “Fine. Suit yourself.” Raymond Zephro headed to the door, where he paused. “But I’m gone, Drax. And I’m taking my entire syndicate with me!”

  “If that’s how you feel about it, Ray.”

  As Ray turned his back, Drax whirled around swiftly, grabbed an African spear from the wall, and hurled it at the traitor. The spear found its mark between Raymond Zephro’s shoulder blades. It pierced his body, knocked him forward, and pinned him to the wall. He jerked and twitched for a few seconds, then went limp. No one in the room moved or spoke.

  “Anyone else feel like leaving?” Drax asked.

  Silence.

  “Good. I do so hate interruptions.” Drax rubbed his right shoulder, working out the stiffness. “The bursitis seems to be flaring up again.” He turned to the remaining Zephro brother. “Charlie, you’re the new boss of bosses. Can you handle it?”

  Charlie beamed, already over the shock of his brother’s sudden violent death. “Been waiting all my life.”

  Jack Farley looked as if he were undergoing some sort of personal crisis. He was shifting uneasily in his chair, his head was wobbling from side to side, he kept blinking his eyes. He was obviously having difficulty maintaining his composure.

  But he was police commissioner, an eye witness to a murder, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He was far too indebted to Drax, and afraid of him. But finally he regained his poise.

  “Uh, Xander, the plans have been set for tonight to go in and get the item while the building is closed.”

  “No,” Drax said. “I can’t wait that long. This is too exciting. We go in now.”

  “What? In the middle of the afternoon?” Farley started to lose his composure again. He looked as if he’d just realized he was standing naked in front of an audience of critics.

  “Yes.” Drax circled the table and walked behind Farley. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your policemen away until I’m done. Is that understood?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Farley muttered, and wiped his brow.

  Drax called an end to the meeting.

  Diana Palmer moved through the lobby of the newspaper building at a rapid clip. But not rapid enough to avoid Jimmy Wells.

  “Hey, found you! The page-one girl! Back from her escapade in the jungle.”

  Diana continued walking. She didn’t feel like talking to Jimmy just now, but she didn’t want to offend him, either. “Jimmy, what’re you doing here?”

  “I was in town on business. I thought we could get together for a while.”

  “What business?” She was curious to know if Jimmy was actually working.

  “I was having some suits made,” he said, sounding slightly annoyed and defensive.

  “That’s not business.” She turned down a hallway, and Jimmy followed.

  “It is for the guy making the suits,” he said brightly. “Why do you have to be so difficult? I just thought we could grab an early dinner and a show. What do you say?”

  “Can I take a rain check?”

  “Sure. Add it to your collection.”

  Jimmy sounded defeated, yet he always bounced back quickly. He never gave up on her. Maybe it was arrogance, maybe it was just plain stubbornness. In some ways he was like an endearing little pet.

  She turned into her uncle’s office with Jimmy still tagging along. Uncle Dave was at the front desk consulting with his secretary. He looked pleased to see her. “Diana, I have a surprise for you. Come into my office.”

  Diana followed him into the room. A tall man with broad shoulders was standing by the window, looking out onto the street. He turned and met her gaze.

  “Kit! What a surprise!”

  “Hello, Diana. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?”

  “A few years at least.”

  He looked just as handsome as she remembered—the same square jaw, bold features, and dark, compelling eyes. Kit had been the greatest passion of her life, and then an even greater disappointment. Now here he was again, and her feelings about him were once again in conflict as it all came back.

  “Six to be exact,” he said. “I read about what happened. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It started out bad, but it turned out all right.”

  If there was time, she would like to tell him about it. She figured he would be interested. She remembered him as someone who was always willing to take a chance to help someone or right a wrong, even when doing so put him at personal risk. But she had something else to talk to him about before she told him anything about her present life. She needed to know what had happened to him, why he’d simply disappeared.

  Jimmy had been totally ignored, so he stepped forward and introduced himself. “By the way, Jimmy Wells. Nice to meet you.”

  “Kit Walker.”

  “So, tell me, Kit, I’m curious, where do you know our Diana from?”

  “We were friends at college.”

  “I see.”

  Diana could tell Jimmy was mulling over the word “friends,” wondering exactly what that meant. “Are you living here in New York?” she asked.

  “No. Just passing through. Your Uncle Dave and I have been catching up on old times.”

  “And trading information about Xander Drax,” Uncle Dave added.

  “What do you know about Drax?” Diana was curious about what had brought Kit here, but even more interested in finding out what he knew about Drax.

  “Drax has come into possession of a rare artifact connected to the Sengh Brotherhood,” Uncle Dave said, answering for Kit. Then he turned to Kit and encouraged him to tell Diana what he knew.

  “Yes. It’s an ancient silver skull with precious jewels where the eyes and teeth would be.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jimmy said, casually. “I’ve seen something like that before,”

  “You have?” Kit suddenly took a renewed interest in Jimmy.

  “Yeah. But it wasn’t silver. I think it was black,” he explained.

  “Black? Black jade, perhaps. Where did you see it, Jimmy?”

  “Let’s see. It was my twelfth birthday party. Mom and Dad rented this big room. Oh, now I remember.” He looked around, basking in the sudden attention. All eyes were on him. “The Museum of Natural History.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  The cabby was leaning against his taxicab when he spotted Kit walking away from the Tribune building. He straightened up and opened the back door like he was a limo driver. “Yes, sir. At your service,” he said with a snappy salute.

  Kit was taken aback by the man’s new attitude. “I see you’re in a good mood.”

  “You bet I am,” the cabby beamed. “While you were inside, I had those stones appraised. And you can call me Al. Rhymes with pal.”

  Diana hurried out of the building and rushed up to Kit. “I’m going with you,” she said, and slid into the back of the cab before he could object.

  “You don’t even know where—”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Where to now, sir?”

  “Museum of Natural History,” Diana said quickly.

  The cabby turned to Kit for confirmation.

  “You heard the lady,” Kit said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You know him?” Diana asked.

  “I just met him.”

  “And he’s ready to zip you around town.”

  “Apparently.”

  “I don’t get it
,” she murmured.

  Moments later Kit and Diana were speeding through the concrete corridors of midtown Manhattan. “You haven’t changed a bit, Diana. You look . . . well, great. Prettier than ever.”

  “You just vanished, Kit. You never even said good-bye, or said where you were going.”

  Kit’s smile faded. Time to pay the piper, he thought. “I guess you’re right.”

  “That’s all you can say? You never even sent a letter, never called, nothing. You just disappeared.”

  “I know.” He’d told her he’d grown up overseas and might return there after graduating. When she’d asked where exactly he’d grown up, he’d been vague. He said he’d moved around because of his father’s business dealings, which he couldn’t talk about.

  “Why?”

  “I had to go home,” Kit said. “My father died rather suddenly.”

  “I’m sorry about your dad. But it wasn’t fair that you never bothered getting in touch with me. It was the least you could have done.” She crossed her arms and looked out the window as the taxicab turned down Fifth Avenue.

  “I had to take over the family business. It’s hard to explain, but I’ve thought about you a lot since then, Diana.”

  “I thought about you too, Kit. Then I stopped and went on with my life.”

  “I know. Dave brought me up to date. One adventure after another.”

  “What about you, Kit? Tell me about this family business. What exactly do you do? Are you a spy, an international art thief, or a jewel thief, what?”

  Kit noticed the cabby raise his head when he heard that last possibility. “No. Nothing like it. At least, nothing illegal.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “The family business? Well, it’s . . .”

  “What? A little hard to explain?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is. Sometimes there are jewels involved and sometimes there’s spying involved, too. But I’m not a jewel thief and I’m not a spy.”

  Diana shook her head, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to tell her any more than that. “You always were a mystery, Kit.”

  He pointed to her necklace. “Those are certainly unusual.”