The Phantom

by Rob MacGregor

Horton took out his pipe. “Old jungle saying: ‘The Phantom is many men.’ ”

  The Phantom noticed that Horton was about to light his pipe, and nudged Guran, who spoke up. “No smoking in Skull Cave.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I forgot.” He shook out the match. “I received your uncle’s wire, Diana. What could be so important to bring you all this way?”

  She reached into the pocket of her slacks and took out the envelope she’d been carrying since she left New York. “Can you identify this symbol?” she asked, removing the piece of paper.

  Horton looked at the spider-web design and made a sour face. He showed the Phantom the symbol. “Interesting.”

  “Will somebody say something? What does it mean?” Diana asked, exasperated.

  The Phantom handed her the slip of paper. “It means you’re mixed up with the Sengh Brotherhood.”

  “The what?”

  “The Sengh Brotherhood. An ancient order of evil,” Horton explained. “They started out as pirates. Nowadays, there’s no telling what they’ve become.”

  “Where did you get this, Diana?” the Phantom asked.

  He was intensely curious about it. He knew that Quill was associated with the Brotherhood, but he’d had no idea why he was interested in Diana.

  “New York. My uncle’s newspaper is investigating a man named Xander Drax. He’s crazy. He’s wealthy, manipulative, and greedy. He’s a power-mad financier and industrialist who uses coercion whenever he can to gain what he wants. He’s dangerous, and he wants to possess a supernatural force that originated in this jungle.”

  The Phantom knew, of course, exactly what Xander Drax wanted: the Skulls of Touganda. But he wasn’t aware that the Sengh Brotherhood had extended its influence into the United States. He wondered if this Drax had managed to gain power, if not control, of the Brotherhood. Drax sounded like an industrial pirate, and they were every bit as bad as the traditional sort.

  He had to be careful what he said to Diana. He didn’t want to get her any more involved. She didn’t need to know about the skulls. As it was now, her life was in danger. “The Bangalla jungle is full of strange and dangerous things, Diana.”

  He looked over to Horton. “Captain, I want you to take Diana back. Use every man at your disposal. Give her all the protection she needs.”

  “Certainly.”

  “What? That’s it? You’re sending me away?” Diana fixed her hands to her hips, miffed at his cavalier dismissal. “I’m not done here yet. I need to know more. Much more! Don’t you understand? This is urgent. What is Drax after? I want to know.”

  “All you need to know is that you’ve helped me in ways that I can never explain.”

  “Oh, puh-lease,” she muttered. “Enough of the Mr. Mysterious stuff, okay?”

  “I’ve said all I’ve got to say,” the Phantom replied. “Bye, Diana. Take care.” Then he walked back into the cave.

  “Well, I can tell when I’m not welcome,” Diana said as she and Horton left the valley on a pair of slow-moving horses.

  “You shouldn’t feel angry toward him,” Horton said. “He’s doing you a favor. It’s best that you leave this jungle as quickly as possible. I’ve seen more than one person come here and start poking into the business of the Sengh Brotherhood. They usually don’t live very long. If they do, they’ve been compromised.”

  “What about the Jungle Patrol?” If she couldn’t get information out of the Phantom, maybe she’d have better luck with Horton. “How do you deal with this brotherhood?”

  “Very carefully. For the most part, we keep our distance. If they don’t push us, we don’t push them. It seems to work. It’s the jungle way.”

  Diana glanced back toward Skull Cave. She couldn’t take her eyes off it, and hoped that the Phantom would make one more appearance.

  She was upset, but she could hardly be angry with the Phantom. After all, he’d saved her life more than once yesterday. As far as she knew, he had no reason for lifting a finger to help her. That’s what was truly amazing.

  Horton noticed her looking back. “Quite a fellow, isn’t he?”

  Diana just turned around and faced forward, her fingers touching the black pearls around her neck.

  The Phantom headed directly to the Chronicle Chamber. He knew there was no point in arguing with Diana. She had no choice but to follow his wishes, and he was confident that she was in good hands with Horton. As long as she didn’t do something stupid, like bolt away from him and try to investigate the Sengh Brotherhood on her own, she had a good chance of returning to New York alive.

  Once in the Chronicle Chamber, he opened an old steamer trunk and removed the top tray, revealing several items of clothing. He pulled out a tailored suit jacket, slacks, and an overcoat. He held them up, inspected them, and brushed them off.

  “Looking for a change of wardrobe, Kit?”

  The Phantom turned to see his father standing a few feet behind him. “The Sengh Brotherhood has spread to New York. I’ve got to do something about it. It’s related to the skulls, too.”

  “It just goes from bad to worse,” his father said. “They’ve always been confined to the jungle. Now they’re loose in New York City. I agree, you must go there immediately, son.”

  “I am, Dad.”

  His father pointed to the suit Kit was holding. “Don’t take the wool. You’ll be sweating bullets.”

  “You’re right.” He was so used to receiving guidance from his father that it didn’t even occur to him how odd it was that he was getting advice on what to wear from beyond the grave. He discarded the wool suit and packed a lighter one.

  “I hate to say it, Kit, but it looks like the Brotherhood has the upper hand this time. Stay alert and follow your instincts. You can overcome the odds, but it won’t be easy.”

  He turned to his father, whose expression seemed deeply sad, filled with regret. “I know that, Dad. That’s why I’m going to New York.”

  It was past noon on the day after the fracas when Quill finally dragged himself back to the ship. He’d wandered in the jungle most of the night, uncertain which way would take him to the coast. He’d cursed the Phantom, the wolf, the woman, and all of his own useless men until he couldn’t curse any more.

  Finally around dawn, he’d come upon a riderless horse. He recognized it as one of the horses his men had borrowed from the village near the cove. Since the rider was missing, he figured the Phantom and the woman had managed to get away. For a brief moment, he’d thought about looking for the rider to find out what exactly had happened, but he quickly changed his mind. He didn’t care what had happened. He needed to get back to the ship as quickly as possible.

  Now that he was here, he headed directly to the crew quarters where he’d left his leather satchel with the silver skull. He spoke to no one as he raced through the ship, remembering that he’d stupidly left the satchel in plain view on a bunk.

  He knew as soon as he saw it that it was empty. He hurried over to the bunk, ran his hands over the sides, unzipped it.

  “Who the—”

  “Hi, there, Quill,” Sala said.

  Sala was sitting cross-legged on another bunk. The skull was in her lap, and she was cleaning it with a toothbrush.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” He snatched the skull from her.

  “Hey, take it easy. It rolled out of your bag. I was just cleaning it up and keeping an eye on it.”

  “It’s mine.”

  “No it’s not. It’s the boss’s, and he wants it right away. I decoded the message myself. I’m flying you to New York as soon as you get cleaned up.”

  “So everything’s okay,” Quill said. “I knew it.” He looked at the shiny skull. “Nice job. How about coming into the shower now and helping me clean up? Remember, we were going to do that before.”

  “Forget it. I must have been momentarily out of my mind. I’ll meet you by the plane.”

  TWENTY

  New York City

  Diana Palmer breezed into the ci
ty library and passed row after row of bookshelves and tables until she reached the reference desk in the history department. Behind it were several carts stacked with books and magazines, but no one was around. As she waited, her thoughts drifted back over the last couple of days.

  Her arrival at La Guardia Airport had been nearly as exhausting as the long trip back. She’d been met by reporters and photographers, as well as Uncle Dave and her mother, who was crying with joy and berating Uncle Dave at the same time. It was a scene that had been repeated more than once, but this time Diana had a distinct feeling that arriving home safely didn’t necessarily mean she was safe.

  Uncle Dave was anxious to hear all the details. He and his reporters had gathered disturbing bits and pieces of the story after the Pan Am Clipper had been forced down into the Bangalla Sea. In fact, the Tribune had run a front-page article about it, prominently noting the kidnapping of the publisher’s niece.

  Diana told her story, at least a tempered version. She said her rescuer was a stranger and that she’d never found out who he really was—which, in a sense, was the truth. It was better that way, better for her and better for the Phantom. Privately she’d told Uncle Dave about the Sengh Brotherhood.

  Now, a day later, the hoopla was over, and she could get down to work. “Excuse me,” she said, waving a hand at a bespeckled young man who was prowling around in the stacks with a pile of books under his arms. “Can you help me with something?”

  The librarian peered over his glasses at her, then carried his load of books up to the front desk where he set them down. He was thin and pale and his shoulders slumped, as if he’d been carrying too many books. He looked like he didn’t want to be bothered. “What is it?”

  “This is the reference desk, I believe,” Diana said, annoyed by the man’s attitude. “I’d like some help with research I’m doing on an organization called the Sengh Brotherhood.” She spelled the name for him.

  Diana was sure that whatever was available would cross-reference the material that Xander Drax had been studying. Somewhere in those documents would be a description of the supernatural force that Drax wanted to control.

  “Well?” Diana asked impatiently.

  The librarian, whose tiny, cheap name tag read Henri, said, “Recent or historical?”

  “What?”

  “I said, do you want recent or historical reference material?”

  “Oh, both. I want everything you have.”

  Henri nodded and slipped away, as silent as a ghost. He returned a few minutes later. The subject she was asking about was located in special collections and required her to fill out a request form that could only be approved by the director of the library. Then, after a pause, he added: “The director is not available today. I’m not sure when he will be available, either.”

  “My uncle, David Palmer, is a good friend of Dr. Fleming’s. Maybe if I call him—”

  “You mean, Mr. Palmer, the publisher of the Tribune?” Awe crept into his voice.

  She nodded.

  “I think you should speak to your uncle about Dr. Fleming. The Tribune is doing a story on his disappearance. It’s really something of a mystery.” He leaned forward. “We’re really in the dark here. We don’t know what’s going on, except that the police are now involved, and they’ve been poking around here.”

  Diana remembered her uncle mentioning Xander Drax’s secret research to the police commissioner and the mayor. “I’ll tell you what, if you get me the material from special collections, I’ll find out everything I can about the disappearance.”

  Henri pushed up his glasses, then looked to his right and left, making sure no one was listening to them. Then he smiled. “I suppose I can make an exception, especially since Dr. Fleming is unavailable.”

  Uncle Dave told her about Fleming. He was last seen leaving for a visit to Drax’s office. Drax claimed he never showed up for the meeting, and the investigation was at a standstill. But one of his reporters had just talked to a clerk in a nearby cigar shop who had seen two men carrying something that looked like a body wrapped in a blanket to a Packard that was parked in an alley behind the building.

  Diana passed on the information, taking care to avoid identifying the witness. She was all too well aware of Drax’s ability to make witnesses and informers disappear. Henri looked disturbed by what he heard, but Diana was even more disturbed by what the librarian told her.

  “I don’t have very much for you,” Henri confided. “Most of it is gone.”

  “What do you mean gone? Where is it?”

  “Last night Police Commissioner Farley confiscated all the material that Xander Drax had requested during his visits. He said it was part of the investigation into Dr. Fleming’s disappearance.”

  Or part of the coverup, Diana thought.

  Henri pushed a cart over to a nearby table and carefully laid out three aged journals and several bound volumes of old newspapers. “This is all I have for you. Some of it dates back to the sixteenth century, so be very careful with it.”

  For the remainder of the morning and into the early afternoon, Diana studied the material. As she suspected, there was no mention of an ancient artifact of power. However, her research was not without some interesting discoveries.

  The Sengh Brotherhood, she learned, was more than four centuries old. In the early fifteen hundreds, it was a well-trained fraternity of outlaws that attacked merchant ships. The Brotherhood was encountered on the Spanish main, the West Indies, and off the coast of Africa. But their headquarters and primary hunting grounds were believed to be the coastal region of Bangalla.

  One newspaper article from the seventeenth century surprised Diana so much that she had to reread it twice. According to the report from the office of the governor of Jamaica, the Sengh Brotherhood had been destroyed by the legendary Phantom—and disbanded in 1612.

  The same Phantom? Impossible, she thought. Maybe the Phantom she’d met was just someone imitating him. The other alternative was that “her Phantom” was a descendant of the original one. In other words, the Phantom could be a one-man tradition of sorts. One man, but also many men.

  She prided herself on her knowledge of history, but more and more she was realizing that history was filled with obscure episodes that had faded into legend. Until a few days ago, she had never heard of either the Sengh Brotherhood or the Phantom. She probably never would’ve heard of them, either, except for one odd fact that seemed to contradict the article. Both the Brotherhood and the Phantom had survived to this day.

  She sensed someone standing beside her and jerked her head around to see the librarian. “Oh, Henri, you startled me,” she said, placing a hand below her throat. “I’m just about done here.”

  “Take your time. I won’t be leaving for another hour and a half. Meanwhile, is there anything else I can get for you?”

  Gee, after his slow start, Henri had become impressively cooperative. “No, I don’t think— Wait a minute.” She showed him the article that mentioned the Phantom. “Can you look for something about this Phantom?”

  He pushed up his glasses and read the article. “The Phantom, hmm. Sounds like a legend. But I’ll see what I can find.”

  Diana continued reading and found out that the report from Jamaica had been inaccurate. Later records referred to acts of piracy by the Sengh Brotherhood in the early eighteenth century in east Africa, in 1818 near Suez, and the final recorded sighting was off the coast of China in the spring of 1898.

  “Well, I did find something for you,” Henri said. “I hope this helps.”

  He handed her an oversized book called The Mythical Heros of All Times. The Phantom was included in a chapter entitled “Modern Legends.” She read that the legend originated in the early part of the sixteenth century and was about a mysterious masked hero whose face was never seen. The Phantom’s father had been killed by pirates, and he had grown up vowing to fight worldwide piracy.

  Diana read on. “The battle against this nemesis to civilizati
on, though, was so vast that it necessarily extended beyond one lifetime, and so the Phantom was also known as The Ghost Who Walks and The Man Who Cannot Die.”

  The author suggested that the legend was based on an actual person who lived in the latter part of the sixteenth century and early seventeenth century. “In 1612 the Phantom battled a band of vicious pirates known as ‘the Sengh Brothers.’ He succeeded in killing their leader, Brunel de Gottschalk, then he blew up the powder magazine in the band’s castle, destroying their stronghold.

  “While there is no historical figure known as the Phantom, the remains of the castle he destroyed can still be found on the coast of Bangalla, where the native peoples are convinced that the Phantom remains alive deep in the Bangalla jungle. ‘The Phantom is dead; long live the Phantom’ is a popular saying among the primitive tribes of Bangalla.”

  Diana repeated the saying to herself as she closed the book. She thought about her time with the Phantom in his Deep Woods hideout and wondered if she would ever see him again. She felt that she would, but perhaps that was nothing but wishful thinking.

  “Did that help you?” Henri asked.

  She looked up. “Yes, but I think the article needs to be revised and updated.” She thought about what she’d read and about what she knew. “Then again, maybe it’s best just the way it is.”

  She stood up, thanked Henri, and left. She felt intrigued by what she had discovered, but disappointed by what she had not. She headed directly to the Tribune building. She needed to tell her uncle that Commissioner Farley had confiscated the critical records.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Xander Drax felt like a little kid at Christmas. He couldn’t take his eyes off the leather satchel. What he really wanted to do was run his hands over it, feel the shape of his precious cargo, but he wasn’t alone in his office. Seated opposite him were Quill and Sala, two recent additions to his entourage of loyal workhorses.

  Drax finally leaned forward and reached into the satchel. His hands slipped over the smooth dome of the silver Skull of Touganda. What a texture it had, he thought, a silken coolness, a kind of vibrancy.