by Lee Falk
Somewhere east of the center in the wildest and thickest part of this vast jungle were the Deep. Woods. liven the would-be headhunters and the moody cannibals gave it wide berth. They wanted no part of the Bandar, much less the Ghost Who Walks. But on occasion, jungle folk did enter the Deep Woods by invitation.
This was one of those times. The tomtoms were throbbing, "Council of Chiefs, come to the Deep Woods." And the chiefs were on the way. It was rare for the Council to meet in the Deep Woods, but these chiefs were wise men and they could guess the reason for the gathering. The jungle was full of trouble, new danger, for the city war was spilling over.
The Phantom saw some of it as he raced along jungle paths toward the Deep Woods. Outlying villages and farms had been terrorized and burned down, their owners robbed, killed, or fled from the bands of terrorists. He heard gunfire, savage laughter, screams of grief as he sped on. He did not stop to intervene. The menace was widespread and needed unified jungle action.
Pygmy sentries rose from the thickets to greet him as he reached the edge of the Deep Woods. He waved to them and raced on through the waterfall, one of the secret entrances, and reached the clearing before the Skull Cave where some chiefs and a message from Diana awaited him. Guran, the pygmy chief and the Phantom's life-long friend gave him the message—"My work is finished. May I visit you?" His face softened at the thought of Diana. He had known she was with the UN team, and had waited for this moment. He gave Guran the reply, to be sent by talking drums at once . . . "Wait until I send for you." Then guessing at the impatience of the team to leave the jungle, and knowing danger now threatened every jungle path, he sent six of the Bandar to the Wambesi village.
Then he sat on the ground before the skull throne with the chiefs. The Bandar served a feast of meat, fish, nuts, berries, and spring water, and the conference began. The chiefs were all aware of the criminal bands who were looting and pillaging the countryside.
"How can we fight them?" they asked each other
anxiously. "The deserters are armed with rifles, submachine guns, and grenades. They are vicious people, and without pity."
"They are animals. We will fight them as we fight animals," said the Phantom.
"We have only arrows and spears against their guns," said the chiefs, worried and uncertain.
"Yes," said the Phantom, "our spears and arrows against their bullets and grenades. But they will never see our spearmen or bowmen, even as the hunted animal does not see them until it is too late. And we will use tiie traps and snares and pits that we use to catch large animals. And if all else fails—which it will not— then we will use the deadliest weapon of the jungle." And he gestured toward the silent watching Bandar, the pygmy poison people.
Now the chiefs smiled and lost their anxiety. For these were strong, bold men, and they saw this plan and liked it. During the talks, Wambato, high chief of the Wambesi arrived, winded and weary from his hurried trip. He spoke softly to the Phantom.
"The lady Diana is much loved by my people," he said.
"Thank you," said the Phantom, taking his hand. "Is she well? Is she happy?" he asked, almost anxiously.
"She is well. I believe she could be happier," said Wambato.
"Happier?" asked the Phantom.
"If she were here," said Wambato.
The Phantom was lost in thought for a moment, the Council of Chiefs and the dangers of the jungle far from his mind. The other chiefs looked curiously at him and Wambato, and all sat quietly, waiting. Then the Phantom shook himself, pulling himself out of reverie.
"Let's get on with it," he said, and the Council began to buzz with plans. Wambato smiled as he joined them. For a moment, he had seen the man behind the mask, a man in love.
Newspaper headlines around the world told the story of the military coup by General Bababu and the civil war raging in Bangalla. Equal prominence was given the United Nations medical team trapped in the jungle, because of the presence of the elected President La- manda Luaga and the glamorous socialite Olympic star, Diana Palmer. The capitals of the world turned to the United Nations to settle the strife in Bangalla. The Sccretary-General's office acted quickly. From its headquarters atop the tall polished slab on the bank of New York's East River, one of their most skillful trou- bleshooters, Ambassador Cari, was immediately flown to Bangalla. With him went a rescue crew complete with helicopter, and a large group of newspaper reporters and television and radio people.
In the Wambesi village, Diana received word of the rescue mission as the team crowded around the radio. All cheered loudly. The pygmies still waited outside the village gates, and by now everyone knew about the roving bands in the jungles. Help was on its way and the delegation was jubilant, but Luaga was less confident.
"They'll have to deal with Bababu," he said. "There is no other authority."
Only the previous day, they'd received word of the general's latest move. His soldiers surrounded the armory housing the new congress which had met in its first session despite the street fighting. Bababu strode in with his retinue, brushed the presiding officer off the speaker's podium, and faced the legislators, a cigarette in the long holder jutting from his lips.
"Until further notice from me, this congress is adjourned," he said casually, flicking his cigarette ash on the secretary sitting at the table below him. One man, a party leader named Towanda, faithful to Luaga and braver than most, stood up.
"General Bababu," he said tensely, "we are the legally elected representatives of the people of Bangalla. You cannot adjourn us. We are protected by the law."
Bababu laughed so hard that his cigarette fell from the holder and his medals jangled. Then he pounded the podium with his big fist.
"I am the law," he roared, pointing at the speaker, as two soldiers grabbed the angry man and took him away. The legislators sat silently. The soldiers dragged the man just outside the big chamber into the corridor, then shot him. The gunfire echoed through the hall. The body dropped on the marble floor.
"You are adjourned," roared Bababu.
The legislators filed out without another word as the armed soldiers lining the walls watched them without expression.
"Now, this news of the UN rescue mission!"
"But Lamanda, I mean President Luaga—they're sending Ambassador Cari. He's a marvelous man. I am sure he will do something," said Diana.
Luaga smiled sadly and patted her hand.
"I want you and the doctors to get to your homes safely. As for us," he added looking at his delegation, "it is not so simple."
"I don't understand," persisted Diana. "Won't General Bababu listen to Ambassador Cari?"
"Dear girl, you don't know Bababu. I hope you never will," replied Luaga.
Diana remembered those words, later on.
In the jungle, the plans made at the Council of Chiefs in the Deep Woods were put into action. Bowmen and spearmen fanned out through the jungle, covering the main trails. They remained hidden behind bushes and in trees, firing their arrows, throwing their spears, then disappearing into the brush. Deep pits were dug, with sharpened stakes at the bottom concealed by a light covering of twigs and leaves. Tree- snares were rigged. Here, strong saplings were bent to the ground and tied. A loop of rope or vine was fastened to the bent tree, and it was so arranged that when anyone stepped into the concealed loop, the bent tree would spring up dragging the trapped man by the ankle into the air. He would hang there helplessly until a spearman or bowman reached him. Thus, using these old jungle tactics, the jungle fighters avoided open confrontation with the modern arms of the looters and killers. And the plan was working. Unfortunately, there were many small bands of invaders, hundreds of desperate, vicious men, and it would take time to defeat them. And all too often, the enemy bullets would find their targets.
The Phantom moved among the guerilla fighters, helping them, urging them on. Before leaving the Deep Woods, he'd heard the news of the rescue mission being sent to fly the medical team out of the jungle. He thought of Diana. It
would be best if she left with them, he told himself, and get out of this warring country. That meant not seeing her for a long time—who knew when? He visualized her beautiful face—"May I visit you?"—oh, Diana, if only you could, he said almost aloud as he worked with several Llongo to set a bent tree-snare.
The rescue plane with UN Ambassador Cari, the helicopter crew, and the press people arrived at Mawitaan's airport. Soldiers circled the field. The press corps was confined there. Cari, the crewmen, and a few UN guards were escorted to the palace.
Ambassador Cari and the two crewmen waited in the anteroom of Bababu's office. Bababu had moved from his command post in the army camp to the palatial presidential palace. They sat patiently, waiting. After three hours, Cari was less patient. He was a distinguished-looking man—white hair, coffee-colored skin, elegant in dress and manner, a diplomat of international reputation and experience. He questioned the armed orderly several times. He was told the general was at lunch. They waited. Loud snores came through the heavy wooden doors. Evidently, the general had finished lunch and was having his nap. Cari became exasperated.
"The general knows I am here. This is absurd," he
said tensely. The orderly shrugged and shifted his rifle. The two crewmen, young ex-navy flyers wearing bush jackets, sat alertly, ready to jump the orderly if it became necessary. Cari paced in annoyance on the polished floors. After five hours, a young officer covered with braid and medals opened the door and grinned at the angry Cari.
"The general will see you now," he said. The crewmen started to follow. The officer held up his hand. "Not you," he said.
"Better do what he says," said Cari worriedly, pausing at the door.
"No, we want to see the general too," said one of the fliers, Tom Lanston, a husky redhead. The officer shrugged and stepped aside.
Bababu sat at a huge carved table that served as his desk. The table had once belonged to a king of Spain. A tray with Bababu's lunch still rested there, and as they entered, Bababu belched loudly and stretched and yawned. He'd evidently been asleep in a big leather chair. The men stood before him. He looked at them and said nothing, picking his teeth with a fork.
"I'm Ambassador Cari. I bring credentials from the Secretary-General of the United Nations," he said, taking some papers from a small briefcase. He put them before the general, who swept them onto the floor.
"I know who you are," he said. "What do you want?"
Years of diplomacy in high places had taught Cari to remain calm.
"I believe the Secretariat sent you a full memorandum on the subject of my visit," said Cari.
The general glanced at his officer-aide who stood at the side, idly playing with a revolver he'd taken from a belt holster. The officer shrugged.
"So?" said the general.
"It is the expressed wish of the Security Council and the General Assembly that the rebellion be ended and that the elected government take power," said Cari evenly.
"The rebellion, as you call it, is over," said Bababu.
"And the government is in power. I am the government."
He belched again and, picking up a large chicken leg, began to munch on it as he watched Cari sarcastically.
"The General Assembly is composed of one hundred Iwenty-eight nations. Some are your neighbors," said Cari evenly.
Tom Lanston watched Cari with admiration. The quiet little man was standing up to this pig-eyed bully.
"Meaning what?" said the general, spitting out gristle onto the deep rug near Cari's polished shoes.
"We ask for sanctions only as a last resort," said Cari softly.
"Sanctions?" roared Bababu, slamming the table with his huge fist. "Are you threatening me?"
Cari stood his ground. f
"I am merely conveying our attitude, sir," he said quietly. "Imports and exports can be blocked, an airline boycott installed, various other measures."
Bababu's eyes narrowed. All this was new to him.
"We will talk more about this," he said. "Who are (hose two?" he added, looking at the crewmen.
"There is a UN medical team stranded in the jungle. They are here to fly them out," said Cari.
Bababu began to swell up as though he would pop. Then, with a visible effort, he controlled himself.
"No," he said.
"These doctors came to help your people. The world press is at the airport. Are you going to tell them you refuse to let these doctors go?"
Bababu took a deep breath.
"I know what the doctors did. They did well. But"—he glanced at his aide—"it is too dangerous to fly in there. The woods are filled with guerilla fighters, deserters. Is that not true?" he said, glancing at his aide. The aide nodded.
"We're aware of that, General," said Lanston. "That's why they can't get out. That's why we're here."
Bababu shrugged.
"Then you take your own chances," he said.
"We have your permission?" said Cari.
"Yes," said Bababu, yawning. But his eyes narrowed.
Cari turned to the two crewmen.
"Wait outside for me, please," he said.
The two left the room. Cari faced the general.
"It is well known that Dr. Lamanda Luaga is with the medical team," he said. Bababu stiffened at the mention of his enemy.
"He was," said Bababu.
"Is," said Cari. Then, without invitation, Cari sat in a chair near the table. Bababu scowled, but the valiant little ambassador ^continued.
"We are aware that you have approached several of our members for large loans," he said. Bababu's eyes blazed.
"Go on," he said.
"Lamanda Luaga is the elected president of this country," said Cari. "He received a huge majority. To us, and to the member nations in question, that means some degree of stability here."
"Meaning what?" said the general.
"Unless Lamanda Luaga returns to his electoral position with the government, it is possible those loans will not be forthcoming," said Cari calmly.
Bababu twisted his big hands together. This cool slim diplomat irritated him. He could crush him with one blow of his fist. He could wring that thin throat like a chicken's neck. His hands tightened at the thought. Cari watched him tensely, reading the big man's thoughts as easily as if they were written on his forehead, so obvious were Bababu's reactions. Then Bababu smiled, a slow crafty grin.
"Lamanda Luaga is dead," he said.
Cari was startled.
"That can't be true," he said. "We've been in touch with our team by radio."
"Did you talk to him?" asked Bababu carefully.
"No, but to our other doctors. They certainly would have reported it."
"And when did you last talk to your other doctors?" asked Bababu, smiling now, sure of himself.
"Several days ago, before I left New York," said Cari, troubled.
"Much can happen in several days," said Bababu. "Luaga is dead."
Cari sat quietly for a moment.
"We must have evidence of that," he said at last.
"Are you calling me a liar?" said Bababu, almost casually. He was not angry. Plans were developing rapidly in his mind.
"Of course not, sir," said Cari. "The Secretariat and the world press will need evidence."
"Will his head be enough?" said Bababu, and laughed at Cari's shocked reaction. "Very well, we will bring his head so the world press and the Secretariat can see it."
He waved his hand in a curt dismissal of Oari. The Ambassador left the room hearing the rumbling laughter as Bababu shouted to his aide.
"They want his head—get it!"
In the Wambesi village, news came via short-wave radio that the rescue helicopter would leave Mawitaan at noon. It would reach the village at approximately three o'clock and the team was asked to be ready for an immediate departure.
The team, most of it, was jubilant. Alec Kirk expressed their enthusiasm.
"Here we are, trapped in the middle of this jungle, and suddenly, we'll be out,
in a matter of hours. The miracle of science! Thank you, Orville and Wilbur Wright!"
George Schwartz explained to Onato Omu that the Wright Brothers invented the airplane. "How about thanking Ambassador Cari? I knew that great man would manage it!" he added.
Diana was depressed. She didn't know what to do. Fly out with the team, or wait as the Phantom's message had requested? A second Phantom message, via tomtoms, solved her dilemma. "Go with the team, Diana," was all it said. So their reunion was to be delayed after all. She hid her disappointment as best she could so as not to spoil the happiness of the doctors.
"Can you believe it?" cried Chris Able, grasping her hands. "We're getting out!"