Killer's Town

by Lee Falk

  shook his head, then leaped upon Hero. As he wheeled the great steed about, he swung low off the saddle, grabbed a roasted fowl from the mat, then raced off. The pygmies laughed and cheered, as he disappeared behind the roaring waterfall, pursued by Devil.

  The jungle does not have planes, trains, superhighways, or even roads. Only thickly overgrown paths. But there is one way to move fast. The Phantom on Hero sped through the jungle, leaping over bushes and logs where no path existed, and reached the bank of a swift, foaming mountain stream. A drum message from the Deep Woods had preceded him, so that a large raft was waiting for him with two Mori raftsmen. They were of the Mori fisher folk, the most expert of jungle people in the skills of the sea and streams. The two men, wearing only loin cloths, smiled at the sight of their big masked friend. The Phantom dismounted, 5 shook their hands, then led Hero and Devil onto the raft. Without further ado, the Mori untied the raft and, wielding their nine-foot poles, pushed the raft into the channel of the stream.

  This was icy water from the Misty Mountains. The grade here was steep, and the stream roared and foamed as it raced toward the distant sea, carrying the raft with it. It was a wild, bumpy ride. Devil, the wolf, remained in a crouch to keep his balance. The Phantom held tightly to Hero's reins as the stallion braced himself. The raft pitched and rolled, bounced over rocks, leaped through the air over low waterfalls, landing with a crash; rumbled over rapids, drenching men and animals in the icy spray. After three hours of this, the pace lessened, as the mountain torrent widened into a calm river nearing the sea. The Mori poled the raft to the bank. Another handshake and the Phantom, Hero, and Devil leaped onto the bank and were gone.

  The Mori watched until they were out of sight. Usually their big friend joked with them, and was easy and relaxed. This time, he was grim and in a hurry, headed for some trouble he hadn't explained. Whoever was causing the trouble would wish they hadn't, now that the Phantom was on the way, the Mori told each other as they poled out into the stream.

  From the top of a high tree that grew only a hundred feet from the wall, the Phantom could look into Killer's Town. He saw a few men walking idly in the streets. He noted the guard at the gate, and guards patrolling inside the wall. And he could see the cage hanging by the inn sign, with the girl sitting inside. It appeared to be an old tiger

  cage, used by some long-gone animal dealer. Several men stopped beneath the cage and called up to her, but he was too far away to hear their words. He could hear their laughter as they walked on into the inn, and he saw her cover her face with her hands. On the other side of the town, he could see the wharf on the salt-water inlet A speedboat had pulled up, discharging several men with boxes. The Phantom climbed down, and made his way quickly through the bushes, around the town, getting close to the wharf. As he waited, a big amphibian plane roared down from the sky and made a smooth landing near the wharf. Several men rushed out to meet the plane and its passengers. The Phantom, crouched under bushes, was close enough to hear them.

  "Killer, this here's Pug and Ossie. Broke out of a limey pen. Plenty of lettuce. Want room and board."

  "Sure. We're expecting you boys. Rooms ready. Five hundred a night. Pay at the desk," said Killer.

  "Five hundred? The bloke told us three," protested one of the arrivals.

  "Ain't you heard of inflation? Everything's gone up," said the one called Killer. They all laughed, but without enjoyment.

  "We also want to see your heist" continued Killer, pointing to a suitcase one man was carrying. "Diamonds, wasn't

  it?"

  "That's our business," said the man.

  "Also ours. We want a cut. That's part of the rent."

  The two arrivals turned angrily on the third man.

  "You didn't tell us about that Eagle."

  The skinny man shrugged.

  "Killer makes the rules."

  "Take it or leave it," said Killer. "If you know a better place, go to it."

  The men stared at each other. One of the arrivals made a move toward his coat. The other one grabbed his arm.

  "If that's a gun, park it at the desk," said Killer calmly.

  "Nobody carries rods, except us," he said, pointing upward. The men looked up. A guard was on the roof of the wharf warehouse, pointing a rifle at them.

  "Okay?" said Killer.

  "Okay," said the man.

  "That's the inn. Wait in my office," said Killer. The two men from the "limey pen" walked away, talking angrily to each other. Killer grinned at the man with him.

  "Anything else, Eagle?"

  "Sharp sent this with Pilot, for storage. From Hong Kong—half million in snow."

  Killer whistled.

  "Wow," he said, as they walked off.

  I've seen enough, the Phantom told himself, as he crawled away through the bushes. That scene, plus the story from the Colonel on the phone, gave him a good picture of Killer's Town. Well named—a den of thieves and murderers. As for that poor girl in the cage, she was the first priority. He moved a half mile down the beach, through thickets and swamp, to reach a concealed clearing where he'd left Hero and Devil. He untied the pack roll behind the saddle, took out clothes and dressed—trousers, topcoat, sunglasses, scarf, hat—completely concealing his costume. Then petting his animals and giving them a command to wait, he returned to the wharf. He climbed a tall tree and waited.

  There was a small gate here with an armed guard. A man left the amphibian plane tied to the dock and walked to the gate.

  "Hi, Pilot," the guard greeted him.

  "Hi."

  There were happy little screams from inside as two young women rushed up to embrace Pilot, evidently a favorite. He embraced both of them. Then they lit cigarettes and talked excitedly. At the same time, the Phantom climbed out on a branch, then swung over the wall, avoiding the spikes and broken glass atop it, and landed lightly on the other side. He looked about quickly. No one had noticed him. Then he walked casually to the center of the town.

  The two new arrivals, the "limeys", were standing beneath the cage with a third man.

  "Hey, look at her. Who's she for?"

  "Skip it, Ossie. Part of a special deal of the chief's."

  "Chief?"

  "Killer Koy."

  The one called Ossie called an obscenity to the girl in the cage. The men laughed and went into the bar. The girl buried her face in her hands. "Will this nightmare ever end?" she asked herself, for the tenth or twentieth time. "I've got to be strong, I won't cry, she told herself as tears brimmed in her eyes. Two other men wandered out of the bar and looked up at the red-haired girl in her flaming silk shirt and riding pants. One of them called an obscene comment Caroline gritted her teeth, then yelled down at them.

  "You filthy beasts. You're horrible, horrible."

  "Who's filthy? I just had a bath."

  A few other men peered out of the swinging doors. All

  laughed.

  "The Colonel's daughter, how about that?" said Killer

  Koy.

  "Killer, what a deal you've got here. No law, no fuzz— and the Colonel's daughter. What you going to do with

  her?"

  "Keeping her in storage for a while."

  "For who?"

  "For me. Who else, stupid?"

  "Hey, sweetheart, any room up there for me?" shouted one of the men at the bar doors. And he made an obscene joke that caused a roar of laughter from the others, Killer laughing loudest of all.

  "You can say that again," he said as they all went into the barroom, laughing.

  Caroline sat rigidly.

  "I've got to control myself. They treat me like I'm a monkey in the zoo. But I've got to ignore them—I—" Then she was shaking with a fit of sobbing.

  A voice came to her from the street below.

  "Courage, Caroline."

  She looked down through tear-dimmed eyes, then wiped her eyes. A man wearing a hat and coat had just gone into the bar. Was that the one? Something good about that voice, friendly and good.
Was there hope, or had she imagined it? She stared down into the street.

  In a town of strangers, a man can remain unnoticed for a while. The man in the hat and coat, the Phantom, walked casually through the bar. The men there were drinking, in intimate conversation with the women, or had their heads together, plotting future deals. A few glanced at the passerby with little interest. He went on into the casino where men were crowded around the two dice tables. A few were at blackjack and roulette. The dice players were not quiet bettors. The place was bedlam, curses of happiness or despair as they won or lost. The passer-by, a stranger among strangers, moved on, leaving the casino. It was dark outside now, and he wandered around to the back of the inn. Outside the busy kitchen, an old man, barefooted and in tattered shirt and trousers, with matted hair and beard, was drinking a can of beer and eating a hamburger.

  "Know what they give me to eat," he said when he saw the stranger. "Whatever somebody else sends back, when it's overcooked or no good. I get it," he grumbled. He peered sharply at the stranger. "You new here?" The stranger nodded. "You a friend of his—Koy's?" The stranger shook his head. "But you know who he is?" The stranger nodded. "Do something for me? He's never paid me for this place. They promised, but they never did. I keep asking Eagle and he just laughs and gives me a can of beer. Plenty of beer—no money."

  "Who are you?" asked the stranger.

  "Matthew Crumb. I owned this place. I mean, I still do, if they don't pay me, wouldn't you say?"

  "Possession is nine tenths of the law," said the stranger.

  "I was mayor of this here town. I was Governor-General. Now they make me sleep in the cellar. Give me burned hamburgers."

  "Governor-General?" said the stranger.

  The old man grinned slyly.

  "I gave myself that title after everybody else left. But I was elected mayor, fair and square, in the old days."

  "Did you see that girl in the cage?"

  "I did. Looks like a sweet girl. They're a bad lot."

  "What do they have in mind for her?"

  Matthew Crumb shook his head.

  "Do you know who she is?" Again, Crumb shook his head.

  "She's the daughter of Colonel Weeks of the Jungle Patrol."

  Matthew stared at the stranger. He'd always admired the Patrol. That pretty girl who called him "sir," the Colonel's daughter? Then he shook his head again.

  "I don't know. I keep outa their business. They keep outa mine."

  "What kind of business do you have?"

  "I—" He sat quietly for a moment, staring at the half eaten sandwich. "I usta do a lot, mister. Say," he said suddenly glaring at the stranger. "Who are you, asking all this?"

  "Your friend."

  The old man peered at him through the darkness, hist face softening.

  "My friend? Do I know you?"

  "Now you do. Good-bye, Matthew Crumb. I'll see you again."

  Matthew Crumb stared after the tall broad-shouldered stranger as he disappeared into the darkness. He took a gulp from the can.

  "My friend," he said softly, as beer dribbled down his chin. No one had spoken to him like that for years. Except that girl, the Colonel's daughter.

  Coming out of his room, Eagle, the lawyer, saw a tall man walking down the corridor. There were many new men here now. Who was this one?

  "Hello there," he called.

  The man looked back and nodded. He was big, wearing dark wrap-around sunglasses that completely covered his

  eyes.

  "Hi," said the stranger, and walked on.

  "Just a minute," said Eagle.

  But the stranger waved without stopping and went out through a door that led into the alley. Curious, Eagle followed quickly and looked into the alley, expecting to see the man. But he was gone. It was a long alley. He should still have been in sight, even in the dark. Unless he went straight up in the air. Eagle stifled an impulse to look up into the air, snorting. After all, the man didn't have wings. He went back to the casino, wondering.

  The casino was going full-blast. Practically the entire population of Killer's Town was there tonight, wagering, drinking, wenching. Pilot was there with his blond and brunette. At the dice table the escaped lifers, Gusty and Greasy, and "mad dog" Pretty with his black pal Moogar, the only native hoodlum in the town. Pretty was gambling as he did everything else—recklessly. Eagle found Koy at the roulette table standing beside the croupier, Sharp, who looked like his name, clean and hard like a razor; Koy never gambled, but enjoyed watching his crooked games take the suckers.

  "Killer, you see a big guy with a hat and coat and sunglasses?"

  "Yeah."

  "Know him?"

  "No. Didn't he come on the plane with you?"

  "No."

  "Maybe he came on the boat with Fats. Hey, Fats."

  Fats, a former pro wrestler, waddled over.

  "You bring that guy here with the sunglasses?"

  "I didn't bring no guy with sunglasses."

  "That big guy went through here earlier. See him?"

  "I seen him. A new guy with sunglasses. I figure'd he came in with Pilot."

  "I came in with Pilot. With Pug and Ossie, the limeys."

  Koy looked around the room, then spoke softly.

  "The guy must be a cop, maybe a spy, maybe a narc. Send Gutsy and Greasy out to find him. But keep it quiet. I don't want any panic. I don't want the games to stop. We're doing too good. If everybody starts running around, the games stop and we lose."

  "What'll they do with this guy? You want him hurt?"

  "Enough so he'll talk. Find him, bring him to my office. Keep it quiet."

  "Got you, chief."

  The order was passed on to Gutsy and Greasy, the two escaped lifers from the Bangalla prison. These two ranked along with Sport and Fats as the roughest and ugliest bruisers in the town.

  "Who are we looking for?" said Gusty, swinging a blackjack.

  "Big guy with sunglasses."

  "Yeah. Seen him earlier in the street. Boss wants him worked over?"

  "Not too much. We want to ask him questions. Maybe afterward." The two men went out into the dark street.

  "How'll we know him when we see him."

  "Sunglasses."

  "At night?"

  "That's what they said."

  "Must be a kook."

  'Yeah. You go around that way. I'll go through the alley. Meet in back by the kitchen. If you see anything, yell."

  The two men separated, moving cautiously through the dark. Above in her cage, Caroline looked down, wondering about the stealthy figures, wondered if she'd ever get out of this cage and this town. She'd been in it all day. It was inhuman. Yet she dreaded the moment they'd take her out There was a sharp yell from the alley at the side. She strained her eyes, but could see nothing. What was going on in this town of terror?

  As Greasy moved slowly in the dark alley, straining his eyes to see ahead, he held the blackjack in position, ready to strike at the first shadow. But a shadow struck first. A fist whipped out of the darkness, hitting him flush on the jaw. He had only an instant to react and let out a terrified yelp. Then he dropped heavily to the ground. Gutsy had just turned the other corner when he heard the sound, as if a hound dog had had someone step on his paw. Was that Greasy? Gutsy raced around to the alley clutching a lead pipe, and saw a figure on the ground. He rushed to it bending down for a closer look. It was Greasy.

  "Greasy," he started to say. But that was all as he suddenly passed into oblivion. Something hit him from the side with the force of a sledge hammer. He didn't even have time to yelp. Still wearing his hat, topcoat, and sunglasses, the Phantom bent over Gutsy, picked him up, and moved out of the alley with him over his shoulder. Light from the bar and casino came through the windows with music, excited laughter, and shouts. The Phantom, carrying the man over his shoulders, paused at the corner of the building. There was a heavy trellis there he'd noticed earlier. He started up the trellis with his load. In her cage, Caroline watched wide-eye
d as the climbing man materialized out of the darkness. She gasped.