by Lee Falk
He had just passed through the waterfall when Guran met him. One look at the little man's face v?as enough to tell him that all was not well.
Guran's eyes were filled with tears.
"I hardly know how to begin, O Ghost Who Walks," he began.
The Phantom dismounted from Hero and bent to scratch Devil's ears affectionately as the great wolf rubbed his head against his legs.
"Just tell me the news, Guran," said The Phantom softly.
"It's Miss Palmer, O Great One," said the little man, speaking slowly and with great deliberation.
"She is missing!"
"How do you mean, missing?" The Phantom said.
The pygmy chief winced, as the big man's iron hand tightened on his arm.
"I'm sorry, Guran," The Phantom said, releasing him.
"Missing, O Great One, in an aircraft which has crashed into the sea," said the little man, massaging his upper arm gingerly.
"They do not know what happened."
Despite his shock, The Phantom quickly assumed control of himself.
"Missing," he repeated. "Not dead. There's still a chance."
He tinned back to Guran.
"It doesn't sound reasonable. Diana is an experienced pi-
lot. It is hardly feasible that she flew over the sea without checking the airplane carefully."
Guran shook his head.
"I do not know, O Ghost Who Walks," he said. "That is all that the Talking Drums said."
The Phantom was already walking rapidly to the entrance to Skull Cave, his brain working overtime as he made plans and evaluated possibilities. The little chief of the pygmies had! a hard time keeping up.
"I shall be taking a long journey, Guran," The Phantom said as he strode down the tunnel leading to the interior. "I want you to take care of Hero and Devil while I'm gone."
The little brown man bowed.
"They will be treated just as though you were present, O Great One," he said gravely.
The Phantom took European clothes from a great carved chest in a corner. The torchlight flickered on his strong face as he turned to Guran.
"Send a message through to Colonel Weeks of the Jungle Patrol, Guran," he said. "I'd like a helicopter to pick me up. I must get to Mawitaan as soon as possible, from there I can pick up a jet to the United States."
The Bandar chief's eyes were wide with compassion as he replied, "It shall be done within the hour."
As The Phantom changed into a lightweight suit and a collar and tie, only the set of his jaw and the expression of his eyes betrayed the pressure he was under.
"Was there anything else in the bulletins, Guran?" he said. "It would be useful to know."
Guran sat down on a stone ledge at the side of the cave and remained as though carved in stone for several minutes.
"I am trying hard," he said. "But I find your Western ways so difficult."
The Phantom smiled slightly, despite the seriousness of the situation. Devil went to sit opposite him and regarded him with great yellow eyes, as though he knew his master would soon go away.
"There was something," said Guran, eventually. "Miss Diana had evidently been in the news recently. She was studying something called the Scorpia."
"The Scorpia?"
The Phantom's eyes were sharp with interest. He finished knotting his tie and moved forward.
"Think, Guran! What else did you hear?"
The pygmy chief wrinkled his brows in concentration.
"It had something to do with pirates," he said. "That is all I can remember."
"Pirates!"
The Phantom's tone gave the word a wealth of incredulity-
"If Diana were studying Scorpia there must be some reason," he said. "She isn't a girl who would do research without hope of reward."
He straightened his jacket and buckled a pistol into a special shoulder harness beneath his armpit which did not disturb the line of his suit.
He led Guran along the corridor to the corner of Skull Cave where the records of four centuries of Phantom justice rested in great hardwood bookcases. Here, each Phantom had written the chronicles of his adventures in huge volumes bound in leather. The Phantom went to the massive carved wood lectern and consulted a register.
"Since we are interested in pirates, we had better start with the fifteenth century."
He turned back to Guran.
"You'd better get that message off or I won't get away today!"
"Certainly, O Great One!" said Guran.
He bowed and then scuttled away along the corridor, leaving The Phantom to the huge bound volumes and to the weight of his own thoughts. He carried the first of the tomes to the lectern and began the difficult task of deciphering the precise handwriting and archaic modes of expression. For the next hour he studied two of the great volumes and then an exclamation of satisfaction escaped his lips as he came across a reference to Scorpia.
His face was alive with interest when Guran came back two hours later.
"I've found some information about Scorpia," The Phantom told the little man. "They were a pirate band organized about four hundred years ago. My ancestors fought them through the years. They were almost destroyed but each lime they returned."
The pygmy leader looked puzzled.
"This is beyond me, O Great One," he said helplessly.
"It's beyond me for the moment, Guran," said The Phantom. "But if Diana thought researching the Scorpia was important, then there must be something in it."
He sank his square chin into one massive hand as he went to sit at the lectern again.
"The Scorpia apparently died out in the late nineteenth century. What interest could they conceivably hold for Diana?"
Guran shook his head and transferred his weight from one foot to the other.
"Could Diana in her innocent research have stumbled onto something?" The Phantom went on.
"It's possible," Guran said, his brown eyes searching The Phantom's face with compassion.
"Anything is possible, Guran," said The Phantom, rising from the lectern and replacing the volumes on the shelves.
"I must leave soon. Thank you for your companionship during a difficult period."
The pygmy chief smiled with pleasure. The smile transformed his whole face.
"The Great One has thought of something?" he said.
The Phantom stood upright, the shadow of his great body enormous on the wall, reflected there by the light of the flickering torches.
"Diana is missing," he said decisively. "Missing only. There is a wealth of difference between being missing and dead."
He turned back to Guran, decisive and dynamic now.
"What time will the helicopter arrive?"
"Colonel Weeks said the machine will be landing near here within an hour. The pilot will take you wherever you want to go."
"Good," said The Phantom.
He folded a lightweight raincoat across his massive arm and picked up a dark brown grip from the ledge.
"Let's go then."
The two men walked to the entrance of Skull Cave, Devil bounding alongside. As they came to the entrance, The Phantom donned a great pair of curved, dark glasses which effectively shielded the upper half of his face. He pulled his white, panama hat down over his forehead.
"I rely on you to look after things here."
"All shall be as you wish, O Ghost Who Walks," said Guran solemnly.
The two men shook hands as the harsh beat of a helicopter motor sounded from the west and its shadow swept hugely across the jungle's carpet of green.
14
MID-AIR MEETING
David Palmer frowned as the phone shrilled in the drawing room of his Westchester home. His face was beginning to show the strain of the last hours. He picked up the receiver irritably, and then his expression changed. The lines of worry seemed to smooth away a little as he listened to the faint voice of the long-distance operator.
"Mawitaan," he whispered to himself. "Then Kit Walker knows. He
hasn't forgotten Diana."
He spoke into the mouthpiece, excitement blurring the edges of his voice.
"Yes, certainly. Of course, I'll hang on!"
Static and roaring noises and then, incredibly clear, that strong, calm voice.
"Mr. Palmer, is it true that Diana's been lost at sea?"
David Palmer took a firm grip on the receiver.
"I'm afraid so, Kit," he said. "Divers have found the plane. There was no trace of Diana."
There was a long silence at the other end of the phone.
"No trace at all?" said The Phantom slowly. "Do you think it was an accident?"
"Maybe," said David Palmer. "There's no proof at all that it was anything else. It could have been sabotage. Diana was threatened the night before she disappeared."
He heard the faint intake of breath at the other end of the line.
"Threatened? What do you mean, Mr. Palmer?"
Diana's uncle hastened to explain.
"Something called the Scorpia," he said. "It was an ancient pirate band. She was doing research for her history term paper."
"Yes, I heard about that," The Phantom said. "But I didn't know that she'd been threatened. You called the police?"
"We went to them at once," David Palmer went on. "But of course we had nothing to go on. Diana's mother's taken n very badly. She's upstairs resting at the moment or she would have spoken to you herself."
"It's all right," The Phantom said gently. "I wouldn't want to bother her at a time like this anyway."
he paused again.
"I'm coming over right away, Mr. Palmer," The Phantom said. "I'll get to the bottom of this myself."
"We'll be glad for your help," David Palmer replied with relief. "What are your arrangements, so we'll be able to meet you?"
The Phantom gave him the plane schedules and then hung up.
Later that day, as the big jet lifted from Mawitaan International Airport, its shadow printed huge on the baking ground, The Phantom thought over the many possibilities. None of them made sense, but he felt that there had to be an explanation behind her disappearance. Somehow, he could not believe that the beautiful, dark-haired girl he had Known and loved could be dead. He felt that there had to 110 an explanation behind her disappearance, that the end to their story was not an exploding aircraft sinking beneath the surface of the sea.
"The key is the Scorpia," he told himself, accepting the day the air hostess placed in front of him as the big Pan- Am jet whined effortlessly forward, annihilating the miles between him and the U.S.A. Outwardly, he was an ordinary passenger, but inside, his analytical mind was unemotionally ■ aleulating endless schemes.
If Diana had found out something about the Scorpia, they might have wanted her out of the way. But would they knowingly destroy such a famous and distinguished person as Diana Palmer? Grimly, The Phantom had to admit to himself that they might, if the stakes were high enough. Such speculations could only end in complete mental fatigue before the end of his flight, so The Phantom outwardly calm, inwardly tense, forced himself to appear normal.
He smilingly ate his meal and drank the coffee and then later, read The New York Times with such a concentrated look on his face that his fellow passengers never even suspected that his eyes absorbed nothing of what was printed on the paper.
He saw nothing, either, of the light aircraft which passed beneath the jet at a dangerously close distance. Up ahead in the Pan-Am cabin, the pilot gave a sharp exclamation as he saw the shadow flash across his vision and then disappear.
"Hell, Arnold," he said to the second pilot, a short, stocky New Yorker. "That wasn't on the plot. See if you can get Kennedy and give someone a roasting."
In the first-class passenger cabin, the stewardess had momentarily turned white at the near-miss. She bit her lip and then relaxed her mouth in a smile.
"Unusual to pass a plane so closely at sea, Sir," she said to the huge man in dark glasses who sat at a window seat
The Phantom stirred.
"I'm afraid I didn't see it," he said.
"It was going east," said the stewardess. "Would you care to remove your hat, Sir."
"No thank you," said The Phantom.
He turned back toward the window as the plane whined on toward the west.
Diana Palmer gave a slight exclamation as the giant shadow of the jet sliced the air above them. The pilot swore and instinctively jerked the controls, though the danger was already past. Diana craned to rearward, but the big jet was now miles away.
"Our fault," said the big co-pilot with a grin. He had already done a stint at the controls and was piloting her again.
"One of the hazards of our type of operation."
Diana sank back on her seat again.
"Can't you tell me what this is all about now?" she said. "After all, you're safe. You're a long way from the States."
The big man's grin broke out below the thick mustache once again.
"All right, Miss Palmer," he said. "As you say, it's safe now. A woman using your name rented a plane. Then she radioed she was falling into the sea."
Diana gasped. Her mind had not yet grasped the implications.
"Actually, she parachuted down and we picked her up. As far as the world knows, Diana Palmer was on the plane. You are missing—almost certaintly dead, for the general public."
Diana gasped, "How could you do such a thing?"
"You ignored our warning," the co-pilot said calmly,
"You are the Scorpia!" said Diana indignantly.
The big man shifted on his seat and shrugged.
"A small part of it, yes."
"So, my hunch was right," Diana went on. "After four hundred years, the Scorpia band of pirates still exists?"
"In a somewhat changed form, but basically, you are l orrect," the big man replied.
Diana looked puzzled.
"But what do you expect to gain by kidnapping me in this way?"
The co-pilot turned a blank face to her.
"Ah, that's another story, Miss. Like, I said, we're small
cogs."
He tapped his forehead.
"We don't know what goes on up there. That's where the brains are. Your guess is as good as mine as to why you're here. But you'll find out soon enough."
"What do you mean?" Diana asked.
"We'll be landing in five minutes," the pilot said unemotionally, banking the plane.
blue sea and then jungle-clad, rocky island slid by beneath the wing-tip.
"We're almost there," said the co-pilot.
He picked up the pistol again and held it languidly in his right hand.
"Welcome to Scorpia, Miss Palmer."
"I may be dense, but I don't understand," said Diana, staring at him.
"This is the island of Scorpia, where the Scorpia organization has its Headquarters. You were curious about Scorpia, Miss Palmer."
He pointed downward. Diana saw a strange, turreted castle rearing from the great rock.
"You are looking at the Center!" the co-pilot said.
15
THE PHANTOM INVESTIGATES
David Palmer's face was somber with grief but it brightened as he spotted the huge form of "Kit Walker" coming down the staircase of the gleaming Pan-Am Jet. The Phantom's great fist engulfed his own as the two men shook hands. They were silent for a moment, the raucous noise of Customs' shed unnoticed. David Palmer had a special official dispensation to be in Customs. He rapidly explained what had happened to The Phantom as his baggage was being examined.
When they left the reception area, he said, "You came quickly. Thank God for that."
"As fast as I could, Dave," The Phantom replied. "How is Diana's mother?"
David Palmer frowned, taking The Phantom's suitcase as they threaded their way through the people in Customs.
"She's still in shock, I'm afraid. I can't believe it myself. I'm glad you came."
"I want to hear the whole story," The Phantom said as they reached the departure
area.
"The car's over here," said David Palmer, leading the way to the parking lot.
"We don't know much," said David as they threade their way to aisle 53.
"Never mind, Dave," said The Phantom. "Give me the facts in your own words, every detail. Any clue could be important."
Diana's uncle shot him an appraising look as they reached his car. He opened the door for The Phantom, put his bag on the back seat and then slid behind the wheel. As they joined the lines of cars leaving the airport area, he told his companion everything he knew. The Phantom listened in silence, his eyes invisible behind his sunglasses, nodding liis head from time to time as Palmer emphasized a point.
David Palmer turned the wheel suddenly to avoid a truck that crossed without warning to another lane. He blew the horn and raised his voice, momentarily.
"Diana phoned to say she planned to fly in in the morning, and was spending the night with a friend."
he turned his troubled eyes toward the big man at his side.
"She'd never been near Betty Hopper's. We found that out afterwards. Lily said Diana's voice sounded strange."
"That figures," The Phantom said. "Her voice was obviously imitated by someone else and she'd already been kidnapped earlier that night. Anything else special?"
David Palmer frowned.
"Nothing special that I can think of. Lily told me about the call when I came in that evening, but it seemed to me that Lily suspected something was wrong. It wasn't like Diana to make sudden decisions to spend the night away from home. And then Lily said something else. . ."
He paused, waiting for the lights at an intersection to change. "Go on," The Phantom prompted.
David Palmer gunned the car ahead, turning off the crowded main highway onto a secondary road. Then they were making better time, as the built-up areas started thinning out.
"Well, it was something that Lily mentioned next day," lie went on.
