by Lee Falk
He watched The Phantom carefully in the big rear mirror.
"You're both lying!" The Phantom snapped.
"Drive me to Scorpia Headquarters."
Otto Koch drew himself up and put his pudgy hands in his lap.
"Mr. Walker, you can shoot us," he said slowly. "But it won't get you any closer to Headquarters."
The Phantom could see tiny beads of sweat running down Koch's forehead as his face was reflected in the mirror.
"We have an ancient law in Scorpia," Koch said. "That is, die before revealing information!"
He smiled bitterly.
"Stop the car here," said The Phantom. They had reached a lonely spot outside the town, where a ravine ran alongside the road. The Cadillac slid to a halt and Cringle cut the motor. Both men turned around to look curiously at The Phantom, who leaned calmly back, holding the revolver steadily where both men could see it clearly.
"What do you know of the history of Scorpia?" he asked.
"Shooting us won't get you to our hideout, Mr. Walker," Cringle said.
The Phantom laughed.
"Mr. Walker isn't my name. It's short for the Ghost Who Walks. Does that mean anything to you?'
Otto Koch started and his face turned pale. He glanced quickly at Cringle.
"The Ghost Who Walks is The Phantom," he gasped. "The legend says that he fought the Scorpia centuries ago!"
He turned back to the big man in the rear seat. His eyes were hard again.
"Are you trying to tell us you're that Phantom? A ghost? Do you think we're idiots?"
He snorted. "I've read about the skull mark. It's a lot of rubbish."
His fingertips at last touched the butt of the Luger strapped to the leather upholstery at his feet. He brought the gun up, turning with triumph on his face. The Phantom's mighty fist came up with the force of a sledgehammer. There was a tremendous crack as it caught Otto Koch beneath the chin. His head slammed back against the window frame and he sagged unconscious, a thin trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. The gun dropped to the floor of the Cadillac.
"I don't think you need that," said The Phantom calmly. To Cringle, he added, "Pick it upl"
Sweating with fear, Cringle bent slowly and searched for the Luger with Ms fingertips. One look at The Phantom's set features told Mm not to try anything. He handed the gun to the big man, butt first, and felt it taken from him. He stiffened, Ms eyes focused on Otto Koch's unconscious face. The mark of a skull was grinning up at Mm from the unconscious man's livid flesh!
"The skull!" he gasped, looking at The Phantom with sudden fear on his face. "Just as the legend says! Who are you?"
"I told you," The Phantom answered imperturbably. The pistol muzzle remained trained unwaveringly on Cringle's head.
"Now drive me to your hideout."
Cringle swallowed heavily. Sweat ran down Ms face.
"We will die before revealing our Headquarters," he said in a quavering voice.
"Very well," said The Phantom inflexibly. He advanced the pistol until its cold rim seemed to be eating into the blond man's neck.
"You will obey the ancient law!"
Cringle gave a muffled cry as he heard a minute click behind him. His nerve broke. He twisted away.
"All right!" he said. "I'll take you there. The law will have to be broken this time."
He put the Cadillac in gear and the big machine moved forward through the night. Otto Koch was groaning his way back to consciousness as Cringle pulled up in front of the farmhouse and switched off the engine.
Koch struggled up, massaging his jaw tenderly with one pudgy hand. All his self-confidence seemed to have deserted him.
"Fool!" he snarled to his companion. "Why did you bring him here? You know the law of Scorpia!"
Cringle turned a twisted face to him.
"Just look at yourself!" he said. "That's why!"
Puzzled, Koch turned to the rear-view mirror and examined his face carefully. He began to tremble as the reddened skull symbol stamped into his puffy flesh stared back at him. He got out a handkerchief and passed it across his face, as though the action would erase the mark.
"The sign of The Phantom!" he stammered. "I don't understand."
"You will," said The Phantom calmly. "Get out of the
car."
The two men preceded The Phantom up the steps, their hands clasped behind their heads.
"Now, take me to your companions," said The Phantom when Cringle had opened the door and they were in the musty hall. "And no unnecessary movements, or this gun might just go off."
"We ought to go up normally, or they'll know something's wrong," Cringle said. Koch gave a low mumble of anger.
"That's all very well," Cringle flared. "But getting shot isn't going to help Scorpia."
"We will take this up later, clown," said Koch, with a flash of his former confidence.
The two men walked slowly up the stairs to Koch's private quarters. The Phantom swiftly searched the rooms while the two men sat on the couch and watched him sullenly.
"You must have a transmitter here somewhere," said The Phantom. "Where is it?" "Up top," said Cringle, before Koch could reply.
The Phantom smiled.
"After you, gentlemen."
Cringle led the way to the attic room. As they got near the door, The Phantom's heart leaped in his throat. He could hear Diana Palmer's voice coming through the thin partition that separated them.
Diana was saying, "I must find out if Scorpia really exists."
Then another woman's voice broke in.
"Now listen," it went on. "I'll bet you can't tell my voice from Diana Palmer's."
The Phantom relaxed. He jammed the pistol in Otto Koch's ribs as the three of them stood listening outside the boarded attic room.
"I must find out if Scorpia really exists," Diana's voice repeated.
"That was great, Vanessa," said a man's voice enthusiasm tically.
The Phantom didn't wait for more. His mighty hand with all his weight behind it propelled the two men violently forward. There was a crashing impact and Koch and Cringle sprawled through the door and landed in a heap on the floor of the radio room. A tall, attractive blond turned with a start of surprise. Behind her, a rat-faced little man reached for a pistol on the bench beside him.
The Phantom seemed to fill the whole room with his powerful personality as he leaned against the door jamb.
"I wouldn't touch that, sonny," he told the rat-faced man pleasantly. "Or you'll look like a Swiss cheese."
The rat-faced man trembled slightly and then withdrew his hand from the pistol.
The Phantom surveyed the cowering group with satisfaction.
"You did a great job, Vanessa!" he said.
20
THE GHOST WHO WALKS
The blond girl called Vanessa goggled with surprise as she surveyed The Phantom; the black boots, the gun belt, the striped shorts and the hooded jerkin. The mask caused her the most amazement. She sat down on a chair near the rat-faced man and shook her head.
"Are you looking for a masquerade party, Mister?" she said.
The Phantom laughed.
"No, Vanessa. For a missing link! You imitated Diana Palmer's voice on the phone. You pretended to be her when you dumped the plane into the sea after parachuting out. "Now, where is Diana?"
The girl drew herself up and looked coolly at the big man with the strange garb.
"If you're so brilliant and know so much, you should know that answer too," she said levelly.
She looked contemptuously at the dusty forms of Cringle and Koch on the floor. Koch had certainly lost his image. He had hit his head in falling and his shirt was now covered with blood, as well as cigarette ash. The girl raised her gaze from the two men on the floor to The Phantom.
"If I did know where she was, do you think I'd tell you. . ."
She started back as The Phantom's pistol made a deafening roar in the confines of the loft Through the blue smoke swirling i
n the air, the little rat-faced man screamed with pain. He looked stupidly at the scarlet patch on his shoulder as he went down. The pistol skidded from his nerveless hand and went skidding along the floor.
"I warned you, sonny," The Phantom said pleasantly.
He turned to the girl.
"You'd better look after him. And kick the gun over here."
The girl did as she was told. She helped the little man to a chair and plugged his wound with a handkerchief. Cringle and Koch had decided to stay on the floor. The Phantom picked up the pistol and broke it. He took out the slugs and put them in his pocket. He threw the gun into a corner.
"Perhaps I can find out where Diana is, without your help," he said levelly.
He crossed over to some filing cabinets in the corner and riffled through the documents.
"Like all efficient organizations, Scorpia keeps records," he said, as though to himself. He smiled suddenly.
"Ah, radio transcriptions."
He stared at the decoded signal pad. One phrase stood out: "BRING DIANA PALMER TO CENTER." He read it again and put it in the pouch on his belt. He crossed to a map in the corner. All the lines from various parts of the globe intersected at one point.
"So this is your Center," he said interestedly.
The girl Vanessa rose from attending to the little man's wound.
"We operate in every country in the world," she said contemptuously. "Do you think you can fight us?"
The Phantom admired her spirit even as Cringle said sullenly. "He isn't a man! He's the Ghost Who Walks . . ."
The girl turned round.
"What does that mean?" she said.
They were suddenly interrupted by an incoming radio transmission. Cringle quickly went over and tuned in properly, prompted by The Phantom's pistol muzzle.
"Center calling, Center calling," said a man's voice from the metal-grilled speaker.
The Phantom whispered a few sentences to Cringle and then turned to survey everyone in the room.
"Sit down," he told them. When they'd obeyed, he turned back to Cringle.
"Stay close to me," he said.
Center was still requesting acknowledgment. The Phantom picked up the microphone.
"Calling Center," he said. "Calling Center. Westchester here. Come in Center."
He watched Cringle switch to receive and waited tensely. The speaker was silent for a few seconds and then a voice boomed, "Are there any developments in the Palmer case?"
The Phantom pressed the switch on his microphone.
"Nothing to report," he said. "All quiet this end. How is Miss Palmer?"
The unknown operator at the other end was back in a few seconds.
"All right, I guess. They don't let me in on the top-secret information. What's your next move?"
The Phantom looked urgently at Cringle who moved quickly to his side and whispered something.
"Our instructions are to do nothing, but to keep the Palmer household under surveillance," The Phantom replied.
"That's good," the speaker crackled. There was a long silence broken only by the rustle of static. The Phantom thought he'd detected a slight quality of indecision in the voice from Center. His gun muzzle passed in a menacing arc across the three men and the girl in the room.
The man at the other end was speaking again.
"I don't recognize your voice," it said.
"I don't recognize yours, either," The Phantom said.
"Who are you," said the loudspeaker.
There was a note of urgency in the voice now.
The Phanton smiled as he switched over to send.
"This is The Ghost Who Walks!"
Baron Sojin's eyes widened with pleasure as he saw the effect his words had on Diana Palmer. The girl had gone to stand at the great window. She stood silent now, looking at the last of the sun reflected on the sea.
"You must look at things from my viewpoint, Diana," he said. "When you trumpeted Scorpia's name over television, we were naturally alarmed."
He crossed to the table where they had dined and lit a Russian cigarette from the silver candelabra.
"We, of Scorpia, dislike publicity. I decided you could be dangerous. Usually, when a person is dangerous to Scorpia, he, or she, quietly disappears. But then I saw your photograph . . ."
His voice dropped to a soft monotone and Diana could see his blood-red reflection in the window.
"Scorpia has always had a Queen," said Sojin simply. "I've chosen you, Diana."
The girl turned, her eyes widening, her figure stiff. Sojin held up his hand suddenly.
"Hear me out," he said. "Come over here and sit down."
The girl went to sit once more in the leather chair by this strange man's desk. Her eyes never left his face as he went on outlining the history of Scorpia and its place in the modern world.
Sojin tapped his cigarette against a crystal ash tray and leaned back behind the desk.
"The Kings of Scorpia in the past have often taken their Queens from Royal houses," he said. "They were my ancestors. Today, I am King of Scorpia."
Diana's eyes flashed.
"But today, Scorpia is only a gang of criminals," she said, witheringly.
Sojin smiled slowly.
"You expect me to marry you?" Diana continued. "To be Queen of the earth's human residue!"
"That's not a nice way to put it," the Baron said in the same, soft voice.
"It's the truth!" the girl replied.
"Very well then—Queen of criminals," the Baron conceded. "World-wide Scorpia."
"My answer to that is—no!" said Diana with great emphasis. "Send me home."
"My answer in turn must be no," Sojin retorted, a reluctant smile of admiration on his face. "But I respect your courage."
He went over toward the door and turned.
"That's why I chose you," he said with his dead smile. "I am young. I am patient. I can wait. There is no hurry."
Then his face softened as he looked at Diana's dejected form, slumped in the chair.
"You should consider it an honor to marry the hereditary King of Scorpia."
"It is a pleasure I must decline," Diana said in a muffled voice.
Sojin opened the door and prepared to step through into the adjoining room.
"Just remember, the world thinks you're dead," he added in a level tone. "You will never leave here, Diana."
The closing of the door sounded like a knell to the girl as it cut off the sight of the unyielding figure of the Baron. She put her head in her hands.
"What an impossible, hopeless nightmare," she told herself.
Sojin dropped swiftly downward in the elevator. The guards saluted as he walked across to the radio room. The Lieutenant in charge of Communications snapped him a smart salute as he walked in.
"Did you get hold of Westchester?" Sojin asked.
The Lieutenant nodded, a frown on his face.
"Yes, sir," he said. "The operator says that the person who answered must be drank. All he would say was that he was The Ghost Who Walks!"
Sojin stiffened. He thrust his jaw out in a way the Lieutenant knew well as his vivid blue eyes transfixed the officer.
"Which one of our men was it?" he snapped.
"We don't know, sir," said the Lieutenant. "The voice was unfamiliar."
Sojin stood for a moment in quiet reflection.
"Perhaps it's some sort of current American slang," he said. "I'll ask Miss Palmer. Stand by for further orders!"
He clattered out of the radio room and rushed back to his apartment.
He found the girl closely examining the great illuminated map on the wall. She turned as he came toward her.
"I forgot to tell you, there's a self-contained suite for you up these stairs," Sojin said. "It can be locked from the inside, so you're quite safe."
"Thank you," Diana replied stiffly. "I am rather tired."
"Before you go," Sojin answered. "There's a little problem I'd like your help on. What does 'The Ghost
Who Walks' mean?"
He was staggered at the girl's reaction.
Diana's face lit up in a dazzling smile.
"He found me!" she said.
"What are you talking about?" said Sojin curtly.
Diana threw her head back triumphantly.
"He saw through all your schemes! He knows I'm alive!"
Sojin crossed to his desk and sat down. His knuckles showed white on the desk before him.
"Diana, I don't know what you're talking about," he said, in a voice he was struggling to keep under control. "Would you please explain?"
"Certainly, Baron," the girl said in a cool, amused voice. She went to sit opposite the ruler of Scorpia.
"You've told me all about the history of Scorpia. Have you ever heard of The Phantom?"
"What's that got to do with The Ghost Who Walks?" said Sojin. His face was a mask of puzzlement
"They're one and the same person," Diana said. "That's all the information I'm going to give you. Figure the rest out for yourself."
The Baron's feet clattered on the staircase. He reached a gallery where all the Archives of Scorpia were stored. He took several volumes from the shelves. When he returned in half an hour, the puzzled look was still on his face.
"I've looked up The Phantom," he said. "It's just an old legend, a myth."
"He may be a myth to you but he's very real to me, and he knows I'm alive," Diana retorted.
The Baron took a step forward. He put the leather-bound volume he carried down on the desk.
"Who is the Ghost Who Walks?" he said.
"I'll tell you nothing!" Diana snapped. "Ask that worldwide organization of yours. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'll say good-night."
"Good-night, Diana," said Sojin, absently. "I hope you'll find your apartment comfortable."
He waited until the girl had disappeared up the stairs and then he picked up the phone on his desk.
"Get me the radio room," he ordered.
"Carson here, sir," said the Lieutenant in charge of Communications.
"Carson, I want a radio tie-in to this telephone," said the Baron.
"I want to speak to Otto Koch in person. There's a lot of nonsense going on and I want to get to the bottom of it."
"Yes, sir," Carson gulped. "Shall I call Colonel Crang?" "If I wanted Colonel Crang, I would have asked for him," said Sojin patiently.
