by Lee Falk
He climbed up the gangway and was aboard the yacht. There were no guards on deck. I don't have much time to find Diana and get her off of here, he thought.
Aft on the main deck, a small seaplane was lashed to its catapult.
He glanced at it before moving forward toward the cabin area. Edwards had told him Diana would probably be put in one of the forward cabins.
Cautiously, he looked through the first porthole he came to. Laura Leverson was in this cabin, by herself, sitting with her hands pressed to her face.
The masked man continued to explore. Two cabins further on, he located Diana. She appeared to be alone in the room. Very cautiously he tapped on the glass.
The dark-haired girl looked up, then shook her head violently. "No, go away!" she cried.
"Quite an impressive performance," said Chris Danton. He was a few feet behind the Phantom, with a gun. "Hard on my staff, but entertaining, none the less. I've been watching your approach on my closed-circuit television monitors."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"An old-fashioned touch perhaps," said Danton, laughing. "However they frequently prove useful."
Danton was referring to the manacles which held the Phantom's wrists to the metal walls of the cell. The cell was somewhere in the bowels of the yacht. Though he had been held fast in his position since the night before, he showed no outward signs of fatigue. "Where's Diana?" he asked.
The handsome Danton was still leaning in the doorway, toying with a silver ring of six bright keys. "In her cabin," he replied, "doing quite well."
The Phantom said, "What are you planning to do with us?"
"No need to use the word us,' Phantom. I have entirely different fates worked out for you both." He took two steps into the metal-walled cell, chuckling. "Diana will travel with me for a while, taking somewhat of a grand tour. And you will disappear once we are out to sea."
The Phantom said nothing.
"Aren't you interested in knowing when that will be?" asked Danton. "Don't you want to know how much longer you have to live?"
"Nobody really knows that."
"Ah," laughed Danton, "but you are one of those privileged people who do. We'll leave this place of concealment tonight. So it's safe to say you won't be alive by this time tomorrow, Phantom."
"And yourself?"
Touching his face, Danton asked, "What do you mean? Do you know something about that madman who's stalking me?"
"Only that he seems very dedicated to killing you," replied the Phantom. "That is, if you really are Rolf Langweil."
The other man moved closer to the manacled Phantom. "I'll tell you something you can contemplate as you wait to die," he said. "I am, indeed, Rolf Langweil. I've had many names and many identities since I smuggled myself out of Berlin in 1945." He laughed yet again. "And I've enjoyed them all. Furthermore, I intend to keep on living, Phantom, and keep on eluding these fools they send to track me."
The Phantom watched Danton. "You've enjoyed your most recent role as drug pusher?"
"Quite a lot, yes. I've been able to buy everything I've wanted, to afford anything," answered Danton. "It's quite a good life." He was only a few feet away from the masked man. "I had it all very carefully worked out, too, my smuggling operation, until you began giving me trouble."
"Lots of other people want to give you trouble," the Phantom told him. "Federal agents like Terry, Marcus, Busino. . ."
"They've never been able to prove a thing," pointed out the owner of the Sea Horse. He stomped gently on the metal floor with one white- shod foot. "After I bought this yacht, I had a few modifications made. There's a false section beneath us." He stomped twice again, softly. "But you can't reach it from within the yacht. You must go beneath the keel to reach what is stored there. So, with the judicious use of scuba equipment, I have been able to import substantial quantities of relatively pure heroin."
"Very enterprising of you." The Phantom suddenly kicked out with one free foot. He aimed the toe of his boot at Danton's midsection.
But the handsome Danton had anticipated the kick by a few seconds. He swooped back out of reach, laughing. "Not quite good enough, Phantom." In the doorway, going out, he added, "You can begin counting the hours."
Hours later, light again sliced into his dark cell.
"I brought you something to eat, but you'll have to promise not to kick me or anything." It was the small red-haired Laura. She held a paper sack in her left hand, a thermos under her arm, and a .38 revolver in her other hand.
"Come on in," invited the Phantom. "I don't get many visitors in the brig."
"Chris doesn't really approve, but I told him it wouldn't do to have you die of starvation before he got around to killing you." She entered the cell, switched on the overhead lights with an elbow, and closed the door with her backside. "Do you like iced tea?"
"That would be fine."
"It's not poisoned or anything." Staying on the other side of the room from him, she placed the gun and the paper bag down for a moment. She then poured some tea from the thermos into its cup-lid. "I have to keep saying that because nobody quite trusts me anymore." Picking up the gun, she brought the cup toward him. "If you try anything, I'll have to shoot you." She pressed the gun to his stomach and the cup to his lips.
After he'd drunk the iced tea, the masked man said, "Thanks."
"Would you like a sandwich?"
"Nothing else, thanks."
"Not even a macaroon?" Laura backed away from him with the gun and the empty plastic cup. "I made them myself in the kitchen—galley rather. Baking cheers me up."
He said, "You looked somewhat unhappy last night."
"I was," she said. "I am. Listen, he hasn't got any mikes or other lands of bugs in here. I know that for a fact, so we can talk. I—"
"Getting tired of this set up?"
"Not exactly," she said. "Although, maybe the reason I didn't hit you and her the other night is because ... I don't know, I just don't want to kill anyone." She sighed, leaning back against the closed metal doors. "Listen, things were better all around before Chris met her. Better in a business sense, better between Chris and me and—well, just better."
"You'd like them to be that way again?"
"I'm not sure," she replied. "I do know I want things to stop being like they are now. If I could help you get out of here—?"
"Can you?"
"Yes, I know where he keeps the spare keys to those things that have you clamped to the wall," she replied. "And I know where he put your automatics and gunbelt. If I ... if I could turn you loose, will you simply take her off the Sea Horse and away and leave Chris alone?"
"Yes," the Phantom promised, though he had no intention of keeping that promise. This didn't seem like the time to debate issues.
Laura nodded, more to herself than him. "Okay, I'll think about it." And she was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Laura handed him a seaman's outfit and said, "You'd better put these on."
Freed from the manacles, the Phantom was rubbing his wrists together, flexing his fingers, getting back control of his hands. "What about my guns?"
"You look like a Boy Scout trying to start a fire." She bent, straight-legged, and dived a hand into the plastic laundry basket she'd brought into his cell with her. "Here you are; I had them under the sailor outfit."
He took the wide black belt, and strapped it back round his waist. He had a little bit of trouble getting it buckled, but his hands were fast returning to normal. "Where's Danton right now?"
"He and Chuck and a few of the others are having dinner in the dining room off the galley. We won't have to pass that on our way upward," said the small red-haired girl.
"And Diana?"
"She's still in her cabin," said Laura. "Chris intended her to have dinner with him, but she, luckily for all concerned, turned down the invite. He didn't ask me."
The Phantom pulled the stiff white bellbottoms on over his costume. "Is Danton still planning to leave tonig
ht?"
"I hope everything's the right size. I had to guess," she said, watching him shrug into the navy-blue jacket. "Yes, the Sea Horse ... excuse it, were not supposed to be the Sea Horse any more. Our new gray yacht is going to pull out in less than two hours, which is why I decided I'd better hurry if I were going to spring you."
"I appreciate that." He reached under his jacket and drew an automatic out of its holster.
Laura kicked a foot at the basket on the metal cell floor. "Want a snack before you leave? I brought you a new sandwich and some donuts I made this afternoon."
"I wouldn't want to eat and run," he said, smiling. He pressed her arm, moved quietly to the cell door. "What about the key to Diana's cabin?"
"Oh, I forgot about her." Laura crossed and placed a gold key in his palm.
The Phantom looked down at her. "You sure you want to stay here?"
"I think so, yes," she answered. "And don't worry, Chris won't feed me to the sharks when he finds out what I've done."
If the Phantom had anything to say about it, Chris Danton would be in the hands of the authorities before many more hours had passed. He stepped out into the corridor now, scanned it in both directions, and headed for the metal stairway which would take him up to the main deck and Diana.
He had gone a half-dozen steps when the first of the explosions shook the Sea Horse.
"Good lord!" Laura came running out of the cell into the corridor. "What's that?"
Another dull boom sounded.
The Phantom took hold of her arm. "Come on." He ran to the stairs, pushing her up ahead of him.
Down below, and behind them, doors were opening, men were shouting.
"What the hell's coming off here?" "It must be the engine room."
"How can that be?"
"Look, that's water coming in over there!"
"Water?" said Laura as she opened the door at the top of the stairs. "How can we have a sea disaster when we're not at sea?"
More men were scurrying along the deck. One was on the rail, contemplating diving off the Sea Horse and into the dark waters of the cavern.
There was a third explosion, stronger and more severe than the other two. The yacht reverberated in the water.
The Phantom left Laura standing, puzzled, amidst the confusion of the deck, and started for Diana's cabin. He inserted the gold key ill the lock, pushing the door open. "This is where we get off," he said.
Diana jumped up out of the chair she'd been sitting in. "Oh, Kit," she said, coming into his arms.
He hugged her, then eased her toward the door. "I want to get you safely up out of here and off the island. Then I'm coming back for Danton."
"The explosions," said the dark-haired girl. "What are they? Did you—?"
The Phantom guided her across the deck. "I don't know what's causing them," he told her. "Not me, anyway."
A passing crew member took time out from the pandemonium to realize who Diana was. "Wait, miss, you're not supposed to—"
The Phantom hit him twice and he dropped. "Just around this bend," he said to Diana, "and we'll reach the gangway."
They got there safely and made their way across to the cavern catwalk. The Phantom handed Diana one of his automatics. "Use that elevator over there," he instructed, "and get yourself topside. Wait for me in the house up there."
"Kit, what are you—?"
"I'm going back for Danton."
"Can't you forget just—?" She didn't finish her sentence. She had known the masked man long enough to realize he would not turn away from what he had vowed to do.
The Phantom raced back up the gangway. The giant Sea Horse was already starting to list slightly to starboard. He wasn't sure how long she'd stay afloat.
He heard Danton's voice, deep and booming, barking out orders.
Then he saw someone else. It was the tall smiling man he knew as Anderson. He was wearing a water-slick scuba outfit and stalking toward where Danton must be. Before the Phantom could catch up to him, he was lost around the side of a cabin. He heard two shots.
The masked man sprinted, moving with incredible speed, and in seconds he was looking on the scene.
Danton was standing on the deck near the starboard rail. Slumped on his knees and clutching at a bloody splotch on the chest of his white pullover was the blond Chuck Piper. And stalking toward them with his .32 revolver clutched in his right hand was Anderson. There was no one else around.
"My little diversion has succeeded in giving me a chance at you, Herr Langweil," said the smiling assassin.
"What did you do to my ship, you grinning fool?" cried Danton. "Some kind of plastic explosives placed against the hull, I imagine—but why?"
"First, the Sea Horse, Herr Langweil, then
you," Anderson told him. "And now that we've used your real name, let me tell you who I am. My real name is Neil Agron."
Danton looked at him blankly. "Yes?"
"It means nothing to you? And yet you killed my father—?"
The Phantom acted. He dived at the assassin, grabbed him from behind, and chopped the weapon from his hand. The pressure he exerted on the man's neck caused him to lose consciousness.
Letting him slump to the deck, the masked man reached for his remaining automatic.
"Thank you and good-bye." Danton laughed and vaulted over the rail toward the black water. Seconds later, there was a single enormous splash.
Without hesitating, the Phantom went after him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Phantom came to the surface of the cave lagoon. The dark surface of the water was illuminated by pale-blue light from far above. He did not see Danton anywhere.
There was much noise and frenzy on board the listing Sea Horse,
But the Phantom's hearing was such that he could tune out distractions to concentrate on his quarry. He had done it often in the Deep Woods.
Now he detected a faint splash from the direction of the camouflaged cave mouth. Silently, he sped through the cold water.
A faint metallic creaking came to his ears.
"He's got a way to get out through the gate," speculated the Phantom as he neared the blocked exit of the huge cavern.
He examined the metal fretwork and paneling. Its other side was coated with some kind of styro- foam rock, but back here, it was bare metal.
"Right about here I'd guess." He pressed a panel as he treaded water. It swung narrowly open, making again the faint metallic creaking.
The night outside was clear, the sky a sharp black, and all the distant stars glistened brightly.
Now the masked man heard a dim scuffling sound. "He must be climbing up the hillside."
He swam in the direction he calculated Danton was going, and pulled himself free of the sea. He halted an instant on the scrubby ground, listening
hard. Yes, Danton was definitely scurrying up the hillside.
The Phantom, moving with great speed and silence, continued his pursuit. He must have some reason for heading up here, the masked man thought to himself. Maybe some other way of getting off the island.
He reached level ground. A gentle sea wind was blowing across the little island.
And there was Danton, a darker silhouette against the black of the night, running. There was a barnhouse by itself, away from the other buildings. He looked to be aiming for there.
The Phantom increased his pace, and went flashing through the night.
He intercepted Danton ten yards short of the barn, hitting him with a powerful body block.
Danton went sprawling, cursing. He rolled, boosting himself up off the ground with the heels of his hands. Kicking out at the Phantom with his white-shod foot, he said, "You're not keeping me from getting to my other plane, damn you."
"Afraid I am." He dodged the foot, caught Danton's ankle, and levered the man around once in the air.
Danton fell to the ground with a breath-slamming thud. But before the Phantom was able to leap for him again, the handsome man was up and running.
The Phantom drew near him at the edge of a long drop to the sea. "Give it up, Danton."
Snarling, Danton snatched at the gun he carried under his jacket.
Before its barrel could rise toward him, the Phantom's .45 was out of its holster and firing.
The first shot took the gun right out of Danton's hand.
"Do you realize what you've done?" cried Danton, backing away from the Phantom. "You and that grinning fool down there. You've destroyed one of the—"
The masked man kept moving toward Danton.
Danton went back and back and then, all at once, there was no ground underfoot. A look of infinite surprise came to his handsome face and then his full years seemed to touch him. Then he was plummeting, screaming, toward the dark sea three hundred feet below.
The Phantom stood at the edge for a moment, looking down into the blackness. "And that's the end of the Sea Horse," he said.
He turned his back to the ocean and went to meet Diana.
It was two days later and they were in yet another rented car. It was a bright hot morning. Their tan compact was only a few miles from the border between Mexico and New Mexico.
The Phantom's hands rested lightly on the steering wheel.
"This is a very roundabout way to get back to Santa Barbara," remarked Diana. "Coming by private plane to Juarez and then picking up this car. Suppose you tell me now what we're up to, Kit?"
Smiling, he said, "You should be able to guess."
The dark-haired girl frowned. "I thought the Sea Horse business was all over. This doesn't have something to do with that?"
"No, that case is closed," he said.
"Well, I'd just as well be surprised then. I have the feeling I've spent the last few weeks doing
nothing but trying to figure out mysteries." She leaned back against the headrest. "Speaking of the Sea Horse, though, why did Laura really come to your aid?"
"I imagine her conscience was starting to bother her."