Diana was surprised to learn that the girls, by and large, were not in this harem against their will, or as a result of white (or ‘nonwhite) slavers. Most of them came from impoverished villages and homes. The Sheik’s agents made the rounds annually, seeking the prettiest girls. A deal would be made with their families. It was considered an honor to be chosen for the Sheik’s harem. It also meant food, clothes and shelter for the lucky girl and cash for her poor family. For their part, the girls were amazed to learn that in Amerikka (as they pronounced it) men had only one wife. Their comments about this were hilarious, accompanied with much tittering and tinkling of bells. So it went, and Diana laughed too, feeling like a tourist in this exotic place and forgetting for a time that she was an inmate.
But as night came and the servants moved quietly about turning on soft lamps and lighting candles, two guards appeared outside the bronze grille doors. The big eunuchs moved to the laughing group and told Diana to accompany them. The girls translated. Diana froze, all the laughter gone. Now what? She refused to move. While the girls, now silent, made way and watched, the big fat man picked her up and carried her to the entrance.
“I can walk,” she cried angrily, getting her feet to the floor. “Where are they taking me?” she called to the girls. One of them ran to her, smiling.
“Do not be afraid. They will not hurt you. They are taking you to the master.”
The bronze gates of the harem clanged behind her.
As the lights from the palace began to flicker through the darkness, the Phantom and Devil moved out of the bushes. Search parties had been trooping by for hours, and he’d changed hiding places twice. But so adept at cover were they that they were unnoticed. In the jungle, if upwind, both were able to lie concealed, soundless and motionless, while a great cat passed close to them. How much simpler to hide from the noisy thrashing soldiers. Now, with the coming of nightfall, guards moved only near the palace, where the. lights were on. But in the dark garden, he knew others were concealed, in bushes, behind pavillions and sheds.
With Devil, he moved slowly toward the palace on all fours. It was like going through a mined field at night, except he now had to avoid riflemen instead of mines. As they approached a nearby clump of bushes, Devil stopped and flattened on the grass, his long nose pointing toward the bushes. The Phantom also lay flat on the grass, and wriggled to the bushes. Reaching them, he made out the vague form of a soldier in the pale starlight. A quick karate chop followed by a swift blow to the jaw, and the soldier fell without a sound. This slow approach was repeated four times. Each time, Devil halted, flattened, and pointed, his keen nose and ears picking up the presence of the hidden guard. And each time the Phantom reached the man and silenced him before he could make an outcry.
Now he reached the flowerbeds alongside a wide verandah. Across the verandah were high glass doors stretching from floor to ceiling. Gauzy draperies covered the windows, and soft music came from inside, a modem French ballad, either on a record or from the radio station. As he crouched by the railing, Devil suddenly alerted him, pointing to the side. A squad of soldiers was approaching. He had to decide either to retreat into the dark garden and lose all the headway he had made, or enter the palace. He made the decision in a flash, leaped over the railing with Devil, quietly opened the high door and slipped inside.
The scene was one of Oriental splendor. A long wide room With a low ceiling. Rich wall hangings of gold and silver cloth. Flowers and greenery in dozens of vases. Soft lamps and candlelight. Beautiful tiled floors. A long pool with gleaming emerald-green water. And seated about and near the pool on cushions, eating from low tables, were dozens of Women in scanty gauzy costumes. There was a low hum of conversation as all concentrated on their food. As he entered quietly with Devil, the girl nearest him gasped. All heads turned in his direction. He had a fleeting impression of young pretty faces in this dim light. It might have been a dining room in a women’s college, but he realized where he was. The Sheik’s harem.
For a moment, the girls stared at this masked apparition out of the night, and at the big hairy beast. Then several Ishrieked and some started to their feet. In one comer, the huge eunuch guards were so intent on their food that they failed to look up for several seconds, enough time for the Phantom to move swiftly to the bronze gates. But they were bolted from the outside. One of the guards looked up, climbed laboriously to his feet, and drew a long scimitar that hung from his belt. He lumbered toward the intruder with the big weapon raised over his head. He had no intention of asking who this man was. Masked or not masked, a man in the harem was a disaster.
Devil crouched, ready to leap. The Phantom stopped him with a quick command and waited, poised in a wrestler’s Stance. For a moment, the girls were frozen into silence, watching their protector (and jailor) advance on the stranger. The Phantom did not draw his guns. He waited. As the man swung clumsily at him, he ducked under the weapon with ease, grasped the obese guard, lifted him into the air, and hurled him into the pool. He made an enormous splash, such as a small whale might make.
The action was so unexpected and funny that the girls exploded with laughter. They knew this guard well, and this was probably something they’d all dreamed of doing. Seeing this, the other fat eunuch retreated rapidly to the far end of the long chamber and reached for a wall phone.
Now, as the man in the pool flailed his arms and tried to reach the side, the girls stared at the stranger. A big powerful young man, such as they dreamed about during their lonely hours in this place. His nonviolent action with the fat man had reassured them. What did he want?
He put a finger to his lips and shushed them, a worldwide sign and sound known in any language.
“The American girl, is she here?” he said softly, but in a loud whisper all could hear, using the basic desert language.
The girls whispered excitedly to each other. So that is what this man wanted! The American girl. He was her lover. He had come to rescue her from the harem. This was a dream each had—a young lover who would suddenly appear in the night, overcome the guards, take her in his arms, and disappear into the night. Here he was, in the flesh. And masked as well, in a strange skintight costume that made him even more exciting. And with him, that great hairy beast that obeyed his slightest command. These lonely girls, with nothing else to think of all day except romance, fell in love with this daring intruder en masse. They clustered around him, all talking in excited whispers, anxious to help him find his love . . . the American. He was surrounded by bright eyes, smiling lips, perfumed skin, tinkling bells. In a dozen dialects, they told him where his loved one was—with the master.
He quickly questioned the girls nearest him, as the others crowded about trying to touch him, the way girls in other countries might surround a singing idol. Devil crawled out of the way of these tinkling bare feet and watched, his head cocked to one side.
“The American, was her name Diana?” he asked.
“Yes, Diana, Diana,” a half dozen voices assured him.
A great load was lifted from him. His gamble had won. She was alive! She was here! One more question.
“The sacred image—the bull with two heads—is that here?”
“It is, it is. But no one may touch it,” they warned him, anxious that he shouldn’t.
He was touched by their friendliness and amused by their conspiratorial tone, siding with him, wanting to help him. How quickly women understood such things, he told himself.
This conversation had happened quickly. They had forgotten about their ponderous guards, the one in the pool, and the second one who had disappeared someplace. The Phantom hadn’t forgotten. He watched alertly as he talked, as alertly as he could with the crowd of swaying bodies and waving arms about him, whispering, laughing, warning, admiring. There was a low growl from Devil, heard only by the Phantom above the murmuring girls. A sound of metal as the bronze gates were unbolted. The girls gasped in unison and started to scatter as three soldiers with rifles swung open the heavy gat
es.
The Phantom looked about quickly. He had lost time here with the girls, but he had learned what he had to learn. There was no immediate escape route. Without hesitation, he spread his arms so that they touched three or four girls on either side and moved rapidly to the pool. A dozen girls were propelled with them as he jumped into the pool, pulling them With him.
There was pandemonium in the harem as the others ran every which way, screaming. And the dozen girls in the pool, waving their arms, splashing, gasping, trying to keep their heads above the surface. The amazed soldiers ran to the edge of the pool, trying to spot the big stranger whom they had glimpsed only briefly. He wasn’t in sight. He was somewhere underwater, among the thrashing bodies.
The big eunuch guard who had preceded them into the pool had almost worked his way to the side, too fat to sink. A half dozen girls clambered over him, hanging onto his huge bulk, like shipwrecked people clinging to a raft.
The soldiers separated, covering three sides of the pool, searching. Meanwhile, the Phantom was swimming underwater, among the girls who were weaving wildly above him. He popped to the surface for a split second behind the mound of the eunuch, saw the soldiers’ positions, ducked back under, swam to the end near the gates and leaped out. Only one soldier near him saw this. The others had their backs to him. As the soldier raised his rifle and started to shoot, he was hit hard from behind as Devil landed against him. The unexpected blow pushed him headfirst into the pool. The other soldiers turned. They had a brief glimpse of the stranger dashing out through the bronze gates, followed by a long gray streak. The gates clanged. The two soldiers rushed to the gates to find them bolted. They were locked in.
CHAPTER 18
As Diana was led into the large chamber, she expected the worst. That would be soft lights and music, and an amorously aggressive Sheik. The Sheik was waiting, but not as she imagined. He was seated on the low broad ottoman that served as a throne, and he puffed on his waterpipe. He looked at her with no change of expression. Taras, the aide who’d come with them from London, was also waiting. And on the floor, the gleaming image. The guards released her arms and remained at the entrance. She stood in the middle of the room as the men looked at her. This was the first time they’d seen her in the harem finery. She felt half-dressed, but she was too angry to care. ,
“Your Highness,” she began angrily, “this nonsense has gone far enough.”
“Quiet, girl,” said Taras. “You will speak when spoken to. You will answer questions.” But Diana was not ready to be bluffed.
“There are still laws in this world, even here. If you think you’re beyond the law, you’re crazy!” she said loudly, suddenly realizing that in this man’s country, she was talking nonsense. Taras confirmed this quickly.
“Law? His word is law. Nothing else counts here, Miss Palmer.” The Sheik nodded. “We have a question. You will answer it truthfully,” continued Taras.
“You evaded this question in London. Now, we want a true answer.”
What could he be talking about? Diana wondered.
“Who is the man with the dog?”
Diana almost laughed. Why would they want to know that?
“In London, I imagine two million men have dogs,” she said lightly. Taras walked to her, and surprised her by slapping her face. Not a brutal blow, but a sharp slap such as one might give to a naughty child. She flushed.
“Answer,” he said angrily.
“I told you. He is a law enforcer.”
“His name is Walker. He followed us from London. He is here,” said Taras, watching her closely. Diana showed her amazement, then her overwhelming joy. She almost shouted with relief. Here! An end to this nightmare!
“Here? Where?” was all she managed to say.
“Diana,” said the Sheik, pronouncing her name slowly, as though the sound pleased him, “what does the word ‘Phantom’ mean to you?”
Diana caught herself. She must be careful. What was this leading to?
“Phantom? In my language, it means a ghost,” she replied.
“Yes, indeed. Does it mean Ghost Who Walks?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, thinking she’d said enough. Taras raised his hand to slap her again. She clutched her cheek. The Sheik shook his head. Taras stepped back.
“And the skull mark—the death’s head. What does that mean, Diana?” continued the Sheik, saying her name slowly as though it tasted good. They’d seen his mark someplace. That meant he was here, and that they hadn’t found him yet, she told herself.
“You’d best ask him,” she said with some spirit.
The Sheik nodded and smiled. “Capital suggestion, my dear Diana,” again rolling the name slowly. He turned to Taras and spoke rapidly in his own tongue, saying that when they found the man, he wanted to see him before he was killed. Then he nodded abruptly. Taras bowed and backed out of the room. The guards on the doorway followed and shut the high doors. She was alone with the ruler. His grim look was gone. His expression softened. He smiled.
“Come here, my dear,” he said, waving to the broad ottoman.
Oh, no, thought Diana. Here it comes. The soft lights and music.
He was intrigued with this American girl. She was not the usual sort that made up his harem. She was a lady of position and education, the sort that he met at embassy functions or at parties in Europe. She would be different “I’d rather stand,” said Diana.
This further intrigued him. His women obeyed his slightest wish, like well-trained pets. This one was different. He was to find out how very different, in a moment.
“Indeed?” he said and stood up.
He approached her slowly, eying her from head to foot, smiling confidently. She stood her ground, angered by his manner. When he reached her, he looked intently at her. She did not flinch.
Where another man might have tried to soothe her with flattery, he felt no need to do so. Like Loka and all the rest, she belonged to him now. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed her in a tight bear hug. Diana reacted instantly, almost without thinking. The stunned Sheik flew over her shoulder and landed flat on his back on the polished floor with a loud thump. He fell within a few feet of the sharp horns of the gleaming image. His breath was knocked out of him. He stared from the floor, speechless. It should be mentioned that after a few judo lessons from the Phantom, Diana had gone on in New York to earn a first degree black belt.
Breathing hard, the Sheik got to his hands and knees, his head lowered. In all his life, he’d never suffered such humiliation. He couldn’t believe this had happened to him, that he was on the floor, his back and head aching, on his knees before this woman. That she had dared! It was all beyond thought. He was filled with rage. When he lifted his head to look at her, the hatred in his face frightened her. But she held her ground.
“I am not sorry,” she said. “You—you had no right to bring me here.” She realized her protests were weak before this kneeling tyrant who held the power of life and death in this country.'She knew what she had done was considered unpardonable. She also knew that if she had to do it over again, she would do the same thing.
A growl came from the Sheik. He was trying to say something, but was so furious that his words choked in his throat. His face was crimson, his eyes popping, he was gulping for air. She watched him, appalled. He started to shriek for his guards, then stopped. It was obvious to her what he was thinking. His men could not be allowed to see him like this. He started to get up, but his back was strained from the hard fall. He began to crawl, near the image. Even in his incoherent rage, he stared at the sharp horns. He had almost fallen on them. She watched, terrified now, as he crawled like a huge glittering insect toward his low gold and azure throne. When he reached it, he pulled himself painfully upon it, then turned. He was glaring at her, like a madman. He breathed deeply.
“Guards! Guards!” he shrieked in a high falsetto.
The guards in the corridor, two of them, opened the huge doors and rushed in. They ha
d heard the sound of the falling body from outside and grinned at each other. They hadn’t realized it was him. Now they looked puzzled at their ruler half sprawled on the throne, his turban on the floor. He pointed with a shaking hand toward Diana.
“Take her! Take her!” he screamed in the same hysterical voice. “Take her out! Shoot the . . .” he finished with a filthy local slang word. Diana didn’t understand the language, but she understood the intention. She tensed as the guards grabbed her arms.
“You will be killed—you understand, killed,” he shouted at her in English. Diana shivered and said nothing. Her mind reeled. Then, the unexpected.
CHAPTER 19
Sprawled on the gold and azure throne, the Sheik’s eyes Widened in surprise and his mouth fell open as he looked beyond Diana. There was the sound of the big doors closing behind her, but as the two soldiers at her side turned to see who had entered, one of them crashed to the floor with a big hairy gray beast on his back. The other soldier turned his head, to meet an iron fist that slammed against his jaw. He dropped like a rock. A strong arm encircled her waist. There was a soft kiss on the back of her neck. The deep voice that to her had to be the sweetest sound this side of heaven.
“Diana,” was all he said, but it was enough.
She looked up to see the masked and hooded head towering above her. The Sheik had not moved. For there was a shining gun in the intruder’s hand, pointed directly at him. The first soldier to hit the floor had quickly rolled over on his back, to see what had knocked him down. He stared with undisguised terror at the great gleaming fangs that were Within inches of his face. The long gray wolf’s forepaws were on his chest. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. His body was frozen with fear.
His arm about her waist, the Phantom walked Diana to the throne. “Get up and let a lady sit down. She’s tired,” he said curtly. The Sheik stared at the masked man, the gun and the big beast. He looked about wildly, mumbling. He had a thousand armed men on the palace grounds. Where were they? A strong hand grabbed his silk collar. He waslifted off the throne.
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