The Phantom

by Rob MacGregor

  “There is more than one way to travel, you know,” Ella replied, then asked for an accounting of what had happened to her. After Diana had finished telling her story, Ella grinned and said that the grizzly bear had been a gentleman. “It’s strange, but in the legends the animals often behave better than their human counterparts.”

  “Well, well, Diana Welcome back home. What are you doing here all by yourself?”

  She looked up, startled from her musings. Jimmy Wells leaned against the counter next to her in his tuxedo, martini in hand, watching her as she ate her sandwich. Jimmy’s features were soft but attractive. To Diana he defined the expression “idle rich.”

  “Hi-ya, Jimmy Bird.”

  He smiled. “Keep up with that and I’ll change it to Commander Byrd, and we’ll fly off together to the North Pole.”

  If nothing else, Jimmy always had a quick comeback to her gentle prodding. “You’d hate the North Pole. You’d find it too cold.”

  He grinned. “Not with you there to keep me warm.”

  Diana avoided a reply; she didn’t want to get him going. But Jimmy apparently wasn’t finished.

  “You know,” he said, “I had the strangest urge a few weeks ago to charter a plane, track you down up there in the frozen North, charge into your hut, or tent, or log cabin, or whatever, sweep you off your feet, and bring you back here to New York.”

  “Really, Jimmy? Why didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly, but after a few sets of tennis and a cold gin fizz, the urge just seemed to pass.”

  She laughed. “Immediate pleasures are so much more fun.”

  Her sarcasm seemed to fly right over his head. He was looking her over, as if seeing her outfit for the first time. “You look awfully pretty in those woodsy flannels. You must have been driving those poor lonely lumberjacks out of their minds.”

  “I didn’t see any lumberjacks.”

  He moved closer to her. She was about to take a bite of her sandwich, but he pushed her arm down, cupped her chin in his palm, and kissed her on the mouth.

  Diana didn’t resist, but she didn’t participate, either. When the kiss ended, her expression was completely passive. She barely resisted the urge to rub the back of her hand across her mouth.

  He touched her chin with the tip of his finger, tilting her head upward, so she had to look at him. “You have to admit, Diana, there’s magic there.”

  She simply took a big bite of her sandwich in response.

  “What’s in the sandwich?”

  “Baloney,” she replied.

  TEN

  As publisher of The New York Tribune, David Palmer often found himself socializing with people whose names and activities were the topic of articles in his paper, and they weren’t always mentioned in the best light.

  That made for some uncomfortable dealings, but Palmer was used to easing the hurt feelings of the town’s politicians, celebrities, and assorted power brokers. On rare occasions, however, he spoke bluntly at social affairs, and tonight would be one of them.

  Waiters were pushing carts laden with food, setting up the buffet, as he walked over to Mayor Krebs and Police Commissioner Farley. Both men were eyeing the ample buffet. He needed to talk with them, and he might as well get it over with before dinner. “Mayor. Commissioner. Are you enjoying yourselves this evening?”

  “As much as I can in this monkey suit,” Farley griped, tugging at the lapels of his tuxedo.

  A waiter arrived with a fresh supply of cocktails. He picked up the empty glasses and moved on.

  “Wonderful affair, Dave. You’ve outdone yourself,” Krebs said jovially, and patted him on the back. He held up his drink. “To the Palmer Foundation and all such worthy causes.”

  “Thank you,” Palmer said, clicking glasses. He was about to sip his drink when he glimpsed Xander Drax moving across the room toward the trio.

  Drax extended a hand to Palmer and smiled congenially. “Now, here’s the man I want to see!”

  “You’re not welcome here, Mr. Drax.”

  It wasn’t Palmer’s style to insult dinner guests, but in this case he intended to let Drax, as well as the mayor and police commissioner, know his exact sentiments. He found Drax’s business dealings repugnant, and the last thing he wanted was for any of his guests to think he had invited him here.

  Drax lowered his hand, his eyes narrowed, his jaw settled in a defiant pose. Then he smiled again. “I see the police commissioner is right here. Why don’t you have me arrested?”

  “Be sure to sample the buffet on your way out, Mr. Drax.”

  “For God’s sake, Dave,” Krebs interjected. “That isn’t necessary.”

  “Thank you, Mayor, but I can speak for myself.” A beat passed as Drax studied Palmer. “Dave, your reporters are poking their noses into my personal affairs and I don’t understand why.”

  “You will. When we publish our story. And I assure you that you won’t have to wait much longer, either. As you know, you’ve been given every opportunity to respond to the allegations.”

  “Why go after me?” Drax touched his hand to his chest, a gesture that seemed to say, Why little ole harmless me? “I’m just a private citizen.”

  “Private citizen?” Palmer could hardly contain himself. “You own companies that regulate public utilities. You control the trade unions. You influence interest rates and stock prices. And you have personal and business involvement with the Zephro crime family. I’d say you were a very public figure, Mr. Drax.”

  Drax looked bemused. “In all my life, I’ve never heard such tall tales.” He looked at Krebs and Farley as if for support. The two men smiled uneasily, uncertain how to react.

  “Dave, have you been speaking to my ex-wives?” Drax asked. “You know what I . . .” He turned to the mayor. “Mr. Krebs, how much does this newspaper cost?”

  “Ten cents daily. Twenty cents on Sunday.”

  Drax laughed. “No, I mean all of it. The building, the presses, the typewriters. Maybe I’ll just buy the whole thing.”

  Palmer could hardly believe what he was hearing. Drax was so used to buying his way out of trouble that he thought he could take over the paper. Palmer struggled to control his anger. “Not everything in life is for sale.”

  Drax was no longer amused. The tension was as thick as storm clouds. Lightning flashed in Drax’s eyes. He leaned menacingly close to Palmer and spoke in a low voice that sounded like thunder. “I usually get what I want, Dave.” Then with a big smile as if the sun had just broken through the clouds, he added: “You know, that buffet sounds good about now. Excuse me.”

  Drax moved off as Diana walked up to her uncle. “That arrogant—”

  “Diana!” Palmer admonished.

  “Dave, if you want my personal opinion, I think your newspaper should kill this investigation it’s doing on Mr. Drax,” Mayor Krebs said.

  Farley nodded in agreement. “He’s a rich and powerful man, and maybe he bends the rules once in awhile. But so what? There’s no story there.”

  “That’s the way I see it, too, Dave,” Krebs said. “No story.”

  Palmer and Diana exchanged a look. He knew that Diana was thinking Krebs and Farley were acting like spineless pawns. But he wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. “Mayor, Commissioner, I think we should talk in private. There are a few things you should know.”

  “Can I join you?” Diana asked.

  He looked at the two men, who shrugged. “It’s always nice to have a pretty girl sitting in on these tedious matters,” Krebs said in a patronizing voice.

  The truth was that Palmer considered Diana his confidant. He trusted her opinions, and he was pleased to see that she had not only quickly recognized the importance of the situation, but that she was interested in helping him. They moved down a long hallway, through the smoking room and into the library, where Palmer sat down at his desk. Diana remained standing to one side as Krebs and Farley took seats opposite Palmer.

  “Gentlemen, I
have learned from a highly placed source at the city library that Xander Drax has been conducting extensive research using a number of esoteric volumes that are normally kept under constant lock and key.”

  Krebs turned his palms up. “So?”

  Palmer took out an envelope from his file folder and handed it to the mayor. “He’s interested in something connected with this symbol.”

  Krebs opened the envelope and looked impassively at the paper inside, which contained a stylized spiderweb design. Krebs shrugged, then handed the envelope to Farley.

  “So, what’s it mean?” Krebs asked. It was evident in his voice that he thought Palmer was wasting his time.

  “It means that Drax is tampering with the darkest forces of evil.” Palmer paused; the remark hung like smoke in the air. “He’s on a quest for a nefarious supernatural power. That much we know. In his hands, nothing good can come of it.”

  Krebs and Farley exchanged a look. Even Diana was startled by this news. “We’re not sure exactly what you mean,” Farley said.

  “These are perilous and turbulent times,” Palmer continued. “Dictators and tyrants are popping up ail over. Drax already has the desire to become one himself, and this supernatural power will provide him with the means to achieve his goal.”

  “Nonsense,” Krebs scoffed.

  “I know. It’s hard to fathom,” Palmer said. “But Drax believes in it, and this man must be taken seriously. Everything we’ve learned about him suggests that he is a dangerous megalomaniac.”

  Diana moved closer to him and looked at the contents of the file that was open on his desk. She probably noticed the airline ticket and was wondering where he was going. “I’ve been able to trace the origin of that spider-web symbol to the infamous Bangalla jungle, one of the world’s last frontiers. And somewhere in that jungle is the supernatural power that Drax wants more than anything else in this world.”

  Diana snatched up the airline ticket. “This is a ticket for the Pan Am Clipper. You’re not thinking of going into the Bangalla jungle, are you?”

  Palmer closed the file folder. “I leave tomorrow. I’m meeting a man named Captain Philip Horton. I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.” Turning to the mayor and police commissioner, he added, “I can promise you both that there will be no article until I’ve found out exactly what Drax is after and what this spider-web symbol means.”

  “You can’t turn your back on Drax that long,” Diana said. “You need to stay here and take care of things. I don’t think you should go.”

  “Listen to your niece, Dave,” Krebs said. “She’s right, of course. The jungle is no place for a man your age. You have other responsibilities.”

  “Probably just a wild goose chase, anyway,” Farley added.

  “Let me go for you,” Diana said.

  Krebs and Farley did a double take. “You can’t be serious,” Krebs said.

  “You, Diana?” Palmer didn’t doubt that she was serious about her offer, but he didn’t feel right imposing on her. “But you just got home. You’ve probably got a lot of things to do.”

  “I have nothing pending that’s more important,” she said firmly. “Besides, I’m getting restless already. I want to go.”

  Palmer raised his eyes toward the ceiling. “Your mother will have a fit.”

  Diana smiled. “We’ve never let that bother us before, Uncle Dave.”

  Palmer thought she was probably referring to the time he’d sent her to the Amazon to track down a missing scientist who was collecting native plants used by shamans to cure illnesses. She’d returned with the man’s head shrunken to the size of a fist. It made a great story, but Lily hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks.

  Or maybe Diana was thinking of the Five Treasures of the Snow incident. The two of them had joined an expedition to the world’s third highest peak, located in the Himalayas between Nepal and Sikkim—Mount Kinchinjunga, which means Five Treasures of the Snow because its summit consisted of five peaks.

  Palmer had climbed as far as the base camp, but Diana had continued on with five others. They were on the last leg to the top of one of the peaks when they were caught in a midsummer snowstorm.

  Diana and one of the men were the only ones to survive and find their way back to the base camp three days later. Palmer didn’t think that Lily had ever forgiven him for allowing Diana to try to reach the summit.

  For that matter, she had never forgiven him for allowing Diana to accompany him on the expedition. This would just be one more black mark against him.

  “I think we can work something out,” he said.

  He turned to Krebs and Farley. “Can I trust you both to keep the lid on this discussion? We certainly don’t need anyone else knowing what we’ve talked about.”

  “Oh, of course not,” Krebs said.

  “You have my word,” Farley chimed in.

  ELEVEN

  The black Packard, one of Drax’s newer cars, was parked in the usual meeting place near the harbor. The headlights were turned on, illuminating the ground fog that was rolling over the desolate dock area.

  He’d been so preoccupied with his quest, he hadn’t taken the Tribune’s investigation seriously. He’d assumed that Palmer would withdraw his reporters once he realized Drax’s displeasure. Now he knew that Palmer was an idealistic type who thought he was doing the city a favor by exposing him.

  But Drax certainly wasn’t about to sit back and allow his life to be picked apart in the newspaper. Especially not now. Nothing could disrupt his plans. The first thing he needed to know, though, was how much Palmer had found out.

  After tonight’s encounter, he suspected the worse. But once he knew for sure, he would figure out the best way to deal with the newspaper publisher.

  In the distance, a pair of lights moved slowly through the soupy darkness. The lights brightened until they stopped directly in front of the Packard. Then they dimmed and vanished, as if the darkness had swallowed them.

  The hazy outline of a Ford came into view. The front door opened and Police Commissioner Jack Farley stepped out. He hoisted his slacks as he hastened over to the Packard.

  Drax unlocked the back door and Farley slipped into the car. “Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Drax said.

  Without preface, Farley replied, “Well, you were right. They know far too much.”

  “How much?”

  “More than you’d like.”

  “Spell it out,” Drax snapped impatiently.

  For the next ten minutes, Drax listened to Farley with a swelling sense of doom and rage. He asked several questions and each time he heard the commissioner’s replies, his body tensed.

  “Anything else, Mr. Drax?” Farley asked when Drax didn’t say anything.

  Drax barely heard him. He was staring straight ahead, deep in concentration as he formed his plans.

  Drax moved across his expansive office, his feet sinking into a carpeting so thick that it was like walking on an immense sponge.

  The office was a glass cave high above the city. Everything Drax needed was here or a phone call away. He stopped at the window and stared out over the New York skyline, admiring the skyscrapers.

  His power here was already enormous. But just wait, he thought. Just wait. They ain’t seen nothing. He laughed to himself, then turned away as the phone rang. He strolled over to his desk.

  “Drax here.”

  “It’s Ray Zephro. Our little tootsie is boarding the plane right now. Just say the word and I’ll have her dragged off by her hair.”

  “Hello, Ray. How is your little brother, Charlie, doing?”

  “He’s doing just fine, Xander. Just fine. We’re a little short on time here. What do you say? I need to know now.”

  Sitting back in his comfortable leather chair, Drax absentmindedly played with a specially designed binocular microscope. When he adjusted the focus, a pair of razorlike spikes popped out from the dual eyepieces. Drax touched the tip of his index finger to one of the spikes and smiled. P
ainful and quite lethal, he thought.

  “Xander, you there?”

  “Yeah, I’m here. Thanks just the same, Ray, but I have another way of dealing with this. After all, I do have friends in that part of the world.” The girl’s disappearance in the jungle would cause far less commotion than a public kidnapping in her hometown. “I’ve got to go. Dr. Fleming is here.”

  “Who?”

  “The librarian.”

  Drax hung up the phone, set the microscope down, then touched the intercom. “Alice, send in Dr. Fleming, please.”

  A moment later, the door opened and a tall man with an aristocratic bearing moved confidently into the room. Self-assured, even smug, he didn’t seem a bit intimidated by Drax’s urgent request for a meeting. If Drax’s power and reputation worried him, he didn’t show it.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Dr. Fleming.”

  Fleming took a seat in a comfortable chair, crossed his legs, and folded his hands together. “I don’t mind. It’s a nice day for a walk. How can I help you?”

  Drax leaned forward and ran a finger down the length of the microscope. He studied Fleming a moment before he spoke. “You can assure me that the research I’ve been doing at the city library is strictly confidential.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Drax nodded thoughtfully. “Are you sure? Because Dave Palmer has been poking his nose into my business of late.” He paused, allowing his words to impact Fleming, and scrutinized him without appearing to do so. “I’m sure you know Mr. Palmer is the publisher of the Tribune.”

  Fleming adjusted his position in the chair. Slightly nervous now, Drax thought.

  “Of course I know that. And you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Drax. Your privacy is protected. All requests for access to special collections come directly to me. I’m the only one who sees them.”

  “Thanks. I feel a lot better now. You see, I would be very upset if my activities were being discussed. I just hate gossip, you know.”

  “Oh, I understand. Nothing to worry about,” Fleming assured him.

  “One more thing, if you don’t mind. I’d like your professional opinion on something under this microscope.” Drax pushed it across the desk. “Here. Let me hold your glasses.”