by Lee Falk
"Shh," he hissed as he came nearer.
In the casino, Koy sat at the bar and watched Pretty at the dice table. The crazy kid was having a run of lipk, and two of the "ladies" were draped around him, helping him rake in the money. Koy scowled. If the mad dog had enough sense to quit, he'd be way ahead. But that type never quit. And when he lost, as he must, he'd start to boil and make trouble. That one was bound to make trouble sooner or later. He'd be ready for him. Eagle walked by. Koy gestured to him.
"They find that stranger yet?"
"I'll see if they're in your office. Should be by now."
Eagle left, then returned. "No sign of them."
"Send Fats and Sport out to find them," snarled Koy.
Fats and Sports were in the middle of a double sirloin in the dining room and wanted to finish that first, but Eagle sent them out, angry and grumbling.
"Cook'11 keep the sirloin warm. Find those guys."
They found Greasy in the alley, out cold. They looked at his face in the light coming from the casino window.
"What's that on his face?"
"I dunno. Get Eagle."
Eagle came out, had a look, then rushed back for Koy to tell him about Greasy. Moogar, the black hoodlum, was at the bar getting drinks and caught something of Eagle's report. He followed them into the alley. Koy bent over the recumbent figure.
"Is he dead?"
"No. Knocked out, like he was hit with a brick."
"What's that on his jaw? Some kinda mark. Did he have that before?"
"No. Not that. Looks like—here, light a match, have a good look."
"Jeez, looks like a skull."
"Yeah, a death's head."
Moogar, still holding the two drinks, took a quick look, then pressed back against the wall, his eyes wide.
"Listen, you know what that is?" he said.
"You keep quiet about this. Where's the other one, Gutsy? Maybe he did this."
"Why would he? They're pals."
"Anyhow, that mark "
"Will you listen, you guys," said Moogar. "That mark "
"Keep out of this and keep your trap shut," said Koy angrily to Moogar. He'd seen the black man with Pretty—the two were buddies. That was enough to put Moogar in Koy's bad book. Sport and Fats had circied the inn, and found nothing.
"How about the girl up there in the cage? She might have seen something."
They looked up at the cage. The shape inside was vague against the dark sky.
"Go up and get her and bring her to my office. I'll talk to her," said Koy, suddenly remembering the trim beauty of the Colonel's red-haired daughter. Fats and Sport grinned and went inside the inn.
"Eagle, get some of the other boys, Scarface and Slim, to look for that guy Gutsy. I think he's playing games."
"Yeah, but how about the guy they were supposed to find with the sunglasses?"
"Yeah, find Mm too," said Koy, now eager to see the young girl in his office. As he started into the inn, he heard a voice from above. Fats and Sport had gone up to the top floor and pulled the cage near the window.
"Hey, boss," said Fats.
"What?" said Koy, looking up.
"Come up here."
"What do you mean, come up there? I told you, bring her to my office."
"She's not here."
"What do you mean, she's not there?"
"Come up, see," said Fats, and there was an edge of panic in his voice. Koy raced into the inn, up the stairs. What could have happened? Was the girl dead? Had some kook gotten into the cage, assaulted, and killed tier before he, Killer, could get hold of her, ruining his own plans for her?
Furious, he went up the stairs, three at a time. Moogar followed. Reaching the top-floor window, Koy peered out Fats and Sport had pulled the cage in. There was a body on the floor of the cage. Not the girl. A man.
"Who in hell is that?" said Koy.
"It's Gutsy."
"How in hell did he get in the cage?"
"I dunno. Maybe he came up after the girl."
"Then where's the girl?"
"I dunno."
"What happened to Gutsy?"
"He got slugged. Out cold, just like Greasy."
"The girl couldn't do that."
"No. Like Greasy—see his jaw?"
Sport had a flashlight. The beam was on the escaped lifer's jaw. The same mark as on Greasy. The Death's Head.
"I told you, you fools. You wouldn't listen. That's the Sign of the Skull—the Phantom! He's here!" shouted Moogar, his eyes wide with terror.
While Koy and his men were looking at Gutsy in the cage, the Phantom and Caroline were lying flat on the sloping tile roof, only a few yards away in the darkness. They clung to the peak of the roof, side by side, and could hear the voices of the men. Caroline began to tremble. Her arms ached.
"Oh," she sighed.
"Shh," warned her unknown companion.
"I'm slipping," she whispered, feeling weak and dizzy.
The ground was four stories below. The tiles were slippery. Her fingers and hands were numb. She clung with all her strength, but felt her fingers starting to lose their grip.
"Help me," she whispered in sudden panic but before she'd finished the brief sentence, a strong arm grasped her back, holding her firmly against the roof. She sighed, feeling secure and safe. The arm was like iron. Her cheek was against the cool tile, but she could hear the men's voices, so near, getting louder, angrier.
"Who's playing games here?" said Koy. That cage was locked. I had the only key—"
Sport turned his flashlight on the lock. They stared: It was obvious what had happened. The heavy iron lock had been twisted off as though it were tin foil, as if by a giant hand. And on the lock—that mark again—the skull!
"Like I told you, it's the Phantom's mark," said Moogar.
"Will you shut up that talk about phantoms, you loony!" shouted Koy, hitting him hard with the back of his hand. Moogar fell against the window.
"Get Gutsy outa that cage. Bring him to. Find out what happened to him," said Koy.
"What about the girl?" said Fats.
"What about her, you stupid tub of lard? Find her. Find that guy with the sunglasses," shouted Koy. A few men had gathered below in the street. Word had gotten around about the cage. Pretty was down there with Frenchy and Dutch, and the rest.
"Hey, Moogar," yelled Pretty. "What's going on up there?"
Moogar leaned out of the window, nursing his jaw where Koy had hit him.
"Girl's gone. Phantom did it. Phantom's here," he shouted.
"What?"
Koy slammed Moogar against the wall, his heavy hands ut his throat.
"Any more of that jungle rot out of you, and you're a dead duck. You got that?"
Moogar choked and nodded. Koy banged his head against the wall, then turned away from him.
"Watch that dumb idiot," he said to Sport. "If he makes any trouble, finish him." The men left the room carrying Gutsy. Moogar looked again at the Skull Mark on the lock, then followed. No question about it. That was the mark. The Phantom was somewhere nearby.
The casino and bar were empty now. Men were milling around in the big lobby, aware that Greasy and Gutsy had been laid out by somebody. But who?
As they descended the stairs to the office, carrying the heavy Gutsy, Koy gave his orders to Eagle.
"Get all our guys out with guns to find the girl and the guy with sunglasses. How far can they get?"
"How about all the rest of the guys?"
"Keep them in the bar and casino. We don't need them, we need their dough," said Koy.
But when they reached the lobby, it was filled with men from the bar and casino. They were buzzing with the mystery of the girl and the cage.
"Hey, Koy, where's the redhead?" yelled Pretty.
"None of your business," said Koy. "Now all of you guys get back to the bar and casino and have fun. This is nothing to bother anybody."
All watched as Gutsy was carried down the stairs into Koy'
s office.
"Yeah? Who laid him out?" said Pretty.
"I told you, none of your business," snapped Koy. "Maybe it is our business if somebody's taking potshots at the guys," said Finger. "We're paying for protection here."
"Right! Paying and paying!" yelled Frenchy.
"You can say that again," said Ossie.
Koy looked around. He was facing a possible riot, but his own men were in the doorways with rifles now—Fats, Sport, Banana, Scarface, Slim, and Spaghetti.
"You got protection. Any complaints?" he said, and his
men raised their rifles. Frenchy, Ossie, Fingers, and the others looked at each other.
"Okay, Koy," said Fingers. "What do you want us to do?"
"Nothing. Go back to the bar and casino. Enjoy yourselves."
"Sure, lose your money to Roy's crooked table," said Pretty. Koy glared at the smiling "mad dog." He was asking for it. Then Moogar stepped up and took Pretty's arm.
"Come, kid," he said. "Like he said, have fun. While you can."
"What do you mean by that?"
Til tell you," said Moogar, pulling him away.
The men drifted back into the bar and casino. Koy's riflemen moved into the street, searching dark corners for the girl and the man with sunglasses.
On the roof, the Phantom had pulled the girl up so that they were now straddling the apex. There were no lights near them; they could not be seen from below.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
"A friend of your father's," he whispered back.
"Are you in the Patrol?"
"In a way."
He turned away from her as he removed his hat and sunglasses. When he turned back, she was amazed to see that his head was hooded and his eyes masked. She gasped.
"Are you a thief?"
"No. Shh." He pointed down.
Below they could see Koy's men with rifles, moving through the dimly lighted street. Now she watched as he removed his scarf and topcoat, folding them and laying them over the apex of the roof. Then he wiggled slightly, removing his trousers. She stared. In the semi-darkness, she could see a powerful form, clad in a skintight dark costume and boots. Guns on either hip were in holsters hanging from a broad gunbelt. There was an insignia on the belt, but she couldn't make it out. It was all so weird. Who was this man? Did her father have friends who wore masks? In spite of everything, she began to giggle. He quickly covered her mouth with a big hand.
"Shh," he said.
"Sorry," she whispered. "It's all so strange up here with you."
He nodded, then took her arm. They started to work their way across the roof, then suddenly stopped. He point- cd down. Two of the riflemen were moving in the dark alley just below them. The masked man held her until the riflemen were gone.
"Ml be tough getting off this roof," he told her softly. They had gotten onto the roof from the top of the cage. They couldn't go back that way. Too exposed. At the side, above the alley, there was a balcony at the second-floor level. But how could they reach that from this slippery tile roof? While he considered this, a soft voice spoke behind them. The girl was amazed at the stranger's reaction. At the sound of the first soft syllable—almost before the sound, it seemed to her—the stranger had a gun in his hand, taken from the holster in a movement too fast to follow with the eye. They looked back. Just over the apex of the roof, the matted hairy head of Matthew Crumb peered at them,
"This way," he whispered.
They made their way along the apex to him. His head was sticking out of a skylight that had been covered with tiles like the roof. He disappeared from sight. The Phantom peered into the opening, lowered the girl into it, then dropped into it himself. They were in an attic room, filled with musty old trunks, broken furniture, the dust of years. The renovators had never reached this place.
"I watched," said Matthew Crumb softly. "This sweet girl, the daughter of the Colonel of the Jungle Patrol. You called me sir. I always liked the Patrol. And you, you said you were my friend." the garrulous old man stopped, seeing the strange costume for the first time.
"But I saw you climb onto the roof. Are you the same man?"
"I am your friend.88
The old man nodded happily. Yes, that was the voice.
"These are evil men, and they planned to hurt this sweet child," he continued.
"We know," said the Phantom. "There's a balcony on the second floor. Can you show us the way?"
They followed him quietly through the empty corridors. There were snores from a few rooms, but they met no one. They reached a closed door. The Phantom, gun in hand, opened it slowly and peered in. It was empty.
"Thank you. We'll meet again, friend Matthew Crumb,"' he said.
Matthew Crumb folded his hands and looked at them wistfully, sorry to see them go. Caroline bent over and quickly kissed him.
"Thank you, sir," she said, and the door closed behind
them. Matthew walked slowly down the hall. The quick touch of those soft lips. Friend. Sir. There were tears in his red-rimmed eyes.
A few men had returned to the bar. Koy peered in to see if the tables were busy. He saw the handsome Pilot at a table with three women. Koy bristled. Eagle had told all his men to get out and hunt. Pilot was with his women. He walked to the table. They were all laughing at a joke, then frozen when confronted by the grim figure.
"Didn't you get my order? I sent all my guys out to find the girl and that guy with sunglasses."
Pilot looked at him coolly, maintaining his bravado in front of his girls.
"I'm no flunky and I'm not one of your gun boys. I'm a pilot. That involves enough dirty work for you."
Koy moved in fast, and dumped the table, bottles, and glasses onto the laps of Pilot and the girls. The girls screamed and one fell over backward in her attempt to get clear of the table. Pilot jumped to his feet, his neat jacket dripping with gin.
"You thick-headed greaseball!" he shouted, moving toward Koy with clenched fists. He stumbled slightly, half- drank and reckless. Koy waited, then swung, hitting him on the side of his jaw. Pilot fell to one knee. The girls cowered in a corner, sobbing and brushing their stained dresses. Sport had entered and stood with a rifle at the ready.
'You're lucky you're my pilot, my only pilot, flyboy," said Koy. "If there was anybody else who could fly that crate, I'd rub you out like a bug."
Then he aimed a kick at Pilot's groin. Pilot turned to catch the blow on his hip, then fell over to the floor. Koy stood over him, working himself into the murderous rage that always surged up in him when someone was helpless before him.
"Now you get out and find that guy, and that girl, or well bury you in the cesspool and find another pilot," he shouted. Sport came alongside and took Koy's arm. He recognized the rage building up in him.
"You need him, boss. He's the only pilot we got."
Koy nodded and let himself be pulled away.
"Do like he said now," said Sport to the recumbent Pilot.
Pilot staggered to his feet and swayed out of the room, avoiding the looks of the frightened girls. He staggered alone into the dark alley, then leaned against a wall. He was bitter, humiliated, sick at what had happened to him. If he had a bomb, he'd blow up the whole town.
"I'm a pilot," he said angrily to the world in general. "I'm not one of these lousy scum." And he went on in that vein, cursing Koy, all his men, and Killer's Town in general. It was at that moment, as if he hadn't had enough for one night, when something, or someone, dropped on him, taking him to the ground. Then he was flat on his back, a heavy foot on his chest. He stared at a vague figure. But he could see the glint of a gun pointed at his head.
"Not a sound, Pilot," said a deep voice.
Confused, amazed, dizzy, Pilot did as he was told. All the fight was out of him. Then he heard the voice again.
"Now, Caroline."
As he looked up, he could vaguely see a figure dropping from a second-floor balcony. A girl. The girl. With one foot still on Pilot's chest to hold
him down, the stranger caught the girl in his arms. Pilot heard her exhale deeply in relief. All were motionless for a moment as the stranger looked about. Then Pilot was pulled to his feet, facing a gun. Behind the gun was a masked face, framed by a dark hood.