The Scorpia Menace

by Lee Falk

"Something about Diana not making her usual signal with the headlights when she drove out of the garage that evening."

  The Phantom scratched his chin thoughtfully.

  "We certainly haven't got much to sink our teeth into here, Dave," he said.

  "What was the police's attitude?"

  "Oh, like I said on the phone, they took it seriously, but It's difficult. There's so little to go on."

  "Let's get back to the night Diana was threatened," The Phantom went on. "Diana gave you a description, you said."

  "Yes," responded Palmer.

  "She said he was a thin man with a hard face. He had long blond hair which hung down below the brim of his hat, and he had a small scar on his right cheek, up near his eye."

  "That sounds fairly distinctive," The Phantom said.

  Palmer shook his head.

  "One would think so, but the police had no luck. I saw Chief Mulcade again, after Diana disappeared and they'd come up with nothing in the files."

  "Of course, the man might not have a record," The Phantom mused.

  "Some crooks are fortunate for a while and aren't caught. But there's always a first time. Some other city may have a dossier."

  "Oh, they're keeping at it," David Palmer said.

  He looked sharply at his companion as he drove up the winding road through the hills. "You think the same man who threatened Diana kidnapped her?"

  "It certainly looks that way," The Phantom said. "Those are the only threads we've got to go on. We can't afford to neglect any clues."

  He shook his head.

  "It beats me why she chose an ancient pirate band to research."

  "That's the strange part," said David Palmer, turning the car off the road and onto another which was sign-posted: WESTCHESTER.

  "She only became really interested after she read that The Phantom, your ancestor, had destroyed, or partially destroyed the Scorpia band in 1612."

  The Phantom lowered his head. He looked unseeingly through the side window of the automobile.

  "Strange and sad," he said gently.

  Both men were silent until the car crunched through the gates of the Palmers' Westchester home.

  After he had been up to see Mrs. Palmer, The Phantom sat for a long while meditating in his room. He had written notes on a number of points mentioned by David Palmer and he went over them again and again in his mind and on paper, sifting and re-sifting, trying to make some sense out of the tangled pattern of evidence.

  Later in the evening, he went downstairs. He found Dav-

  david Palmer sitting in the study. For once, his pipe was not belching smoke and flame. David Palmer looked as though the heart had gone out of him. His pipe was empty and unlit, though still clenched between his square, strong teeth. He got up with a smile as The Phantom came in.

  "Would you like a drink?" he said.

  The Phantom shook his head.

  "Never touch it," he said.

  "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot," said David Palmer, embarrassed. "Please forgive me. This business has been so upsetting. . ."

  He broke off. The Phantom moved forward to sit opposite him.

  "Nothing to forgive," he said. "I wondered whether you have Diana's research notes. I'd like to have a look at them."

  "Certainly," David Palmer said. "I think she left them in the drawing room. I'll go and get them."

  The Phantom sat absorbing the peace of the study with its dark, panelled walls until Diana's uncle returned.

  He took the notebooks and loose sheets David handed him. He spent the next two hours opposite Palmer, studying the notes. Neither men said anything. David Palmer spent the time staring silently into the fire or playing solitaire in a half-hearted fashion. Eventually, The Phantom gathered the papers together with a grunt.

  "Well, I've learned one thing," he said.

  "What's that?" his companion asked.

  "These notes indicate that Scorpia might still exist," the big man said. "I must learn a lot more, though, before I can be certain. I'm turning in now. Tomorrow I'll go to the airport and see what I can find out there."

  The sun was shining brilliantly next morning when The Phantom drove David Palmer's car out to McGuffey Field. Today, he wore a tartan check raincoat with a silk scarf knotted at the throat. The dark glasses and low-slung fedora effectively masked the upper part of his face. A short while later, he came down the steps of the Administration Building with one of the senior executives.

  "That's the man you want," the latter said, indicating a burly mechanic in the airfield's standard blue coveralls.

  He introduced The Phantom.

  "This is Mr. Walker, a friend of Miss Palmer's. He's making inquiries on behalf of the family. Please give him every assistance."

  The mechanic turned a tough, good-natured face to The Phantom.

  "Sure," he said. "Glad to oblige."

  The two men shook hands.

  "It was a terrible thing, Sir," said the mechanic. "I still don't understand how it could have happened."

  "I believe you were one of the last people to see Miss Palmer before she took off?" the big man said.

  The mechanic nodded.

  "That's right. I serviced the aircraft. Everything was in A-l order."

  "I know," The Phantom said. "I've just looked at the check lists. Nothing unusual there."

  The two men were walking slowly across the apron now. The thundering reverberations of aircraft engines being started up echoed from the hangers further down. The Phantom turned his strong, broad face to the sun and gazed out across the runway from which Diana's plane had taken off.

  "The gas tank was full?" he asked.

  "I filled it and checked it myself," the mechanic said.

  He took off his long-peaked cap and scratched his unruly thatch of hair.

  "She could not have run out unless a gas line broke. I heard her on the radio just before the plane went into the sea. She was quite calm. For some reason, she did not give a position report, although the controller asked for it."

  The Phantom stood lost in thought for a moment.

  "Did you know Miss Palmer?"

  The mechanic shook his head.

  "I'd never seen her before. Naturally, I knew her reputation as a pilot. I followed all her record attempts."

  He scuffed with the toe of his shoe on the rough surface of the apron.

  "She didn't look the same as her pictures in the papers."

  The Phantom made a sharp movement that startled his companion. He put his hand on the mechanic's arm.

  "Say that again."

  The mechanic looked puzzled.

  "I thought she didn't look much like her pictures, that's all."

  "No?" said The Phantom.

  A faint suspicion of a smile was playing about his mouth.

  "How do you mean?"

  "She seemed so much younger and prettier in her pictures. She just looked different."

  "Go on," said The Phantom. His face had relaxed now, but there was an air of alertness about his whole body, as though complex emotions were being held in check.

  "I didn't really get a good look at her," the mechanic went on. "She wore dark sunglasses and a black beret pulled down over her forehead."

  "Thanks very much," said The Phantom. "You've been a great help."

  The mechanic took the folded bill The Phantom slipped into his palm as they shook hands; he put it slowly in the pocket of his coveralls.

  "Thank you, very much," he said. "Glad to have been of service."

  The Phantom drove rapidly back to the Palmer home. Dave Palmer was cutting the front lawn, driving the big mower as though it were an automobile. He shut it off as the car crunched into the drive and rapidly crossed toward The Phantom.

  "Any luck at the airfield?" he asked.

  The Phantom slid out of the car and slammed the door behind him.

  "It was an interesting morning," he said. He took the other by the arm and they went around the house to sit on a bench by the pool.
/>
  "I want to ask you something, Dave," he said. "Can you recall Diana ever wearing a beret?"

  David Palmer shook his head.

  "Not as far as I know. To the best of my knowledge, she never owned one, much less wore one."

  The Phantom's face broke out in a smile. David Palmer stared in amazement.

  "Just what I thought," The Phantom said.

  "I've done a lot of figuring since last night and reached a number of interesting conclusions."

  David Palmer got up and took a turn up and down the terrace. He came back to stand facing his guest.

  "Just what do you mean, Kit?"

  The Phantom passed a strong hand across his chin.

  "I don't want to raise your hopes too much, Dave. And I certainly shouldn't say anything to Mrs. Palmer at this stage."

  "Whatever you say," said David Palmer. His good-natured features wore a puzzled expression.

  "I'm making a calculated guess that Diana is still alive," The Phantom said.

  16

  A GUEST AT CASTLE TOEPLITZ

  Diana Palmer stumbled up a rocky pathway on the Island of Scorpia, still feeling cramped from her long flight. Two men in loose-fitting denims and flat military caps walked with her. The black snouts of their Schmeisser machine guns were pointed at the ground as they carried them slung over their shoulders, but she knew they could swing (hem into firing position in less than a second.

  In any case, even if she could escape, where could she go? For all she knew, Scorpia might be hundreds of miles from the mainland. Diana decided that she must remain calm and try to take advantage of any opportunity that might arise. She walked up a steep stone staircase hewn from rock. The castle of Toeplitz rose dizzily into the sky before her.

  The two men with her stiffened to attention and saluted, as they got to a great arid space at the top of the steps, above which the castle gates rose. A huge man, with a massive head like a pineapple, saluted the two soldiers perfunctorily, and looked curiously at Diana. He wore a lightweight tropical uniform, and gold epaulettes glittered in the sunshine.

  "I am Colonel Crang, Chief of Security at Castle Toeplitz," he told Diana. "Welcome to Scorpia."

  The girl ignored the Colonel's outstretched hand.

  "It would be more meaningful if you told me why I've been brought here," she said curtly.

  The Colonel gave a little bow.

  "Ah, that is not for me to say, dear lady," he replied. "It is outside my sphere of authority. But you will know soon enough. And now, if you will accompany me. .

  He dismissed the two soldiers, who saluted again and marched smartly across the baked rock parade ground toward the Castle gates. Diana and her escort followed at a more leisurely pace, the Colonel adjusting his Malacca swagger stick smartly beneath his arm.

  Far above them, the sun reflected momentarily on something at one of the windows, radiating dazzling beams of light. Baron Sojin again raised the binoculars to his eyes with a satisfied smile. He focused the glasses impatiently. Then Diana's figure came into focus, tremendously magnified by the powerful instrument. The Baron smiled his thin smile.

  "Even prettier than her pictures!" he exclaimed, involuntarily. He turned away from the window and went to a mirror at the far side of the great room and admired bis image.

  "Hurry, Colonel," he said softly. "You know I don't like to be kept waiting under such circumstances."

  The elevator whined smoothly upward as Colonel Crang examined Diana Palmer carefully. Now that he had met the famous athlete he could well understand the Baron's interest. He felt a momentary twinge of envy. It was a lonely, celibate life out here. But all he said, with a bland expression, was, "This is Center, Miss Palmer. The Headquarters of the Scorpia, about which you have expressed so much interest."

  The Baron's instructions had waived protocol today, so there were no security checks; no magnetic keys in locks; no images on television screens. Colonel Crang ushered Diana Palmer in through the tropical greenery and slid the door aside for her. He walked with the girl toward the Baron's desk. Baron Sojin rose as they approached.

  "Miss Diana Palmer," said Colonel Crang gravely. He introduced the girl with a gesture of one massive hand, as though the Baron might not have noticed her.

  He turned to the girl.

  "This is Baron Sojin, ruler of Scorpia."

  "Thank you, Colonel Crang," said Sojin, fixing the Colonel with steady eyes.

  "You may withdraw. I shall ring if I require your services."

  "Thank you, sir," said Colonel Crang.

  He saluted the Baron smartly, gave a half-bow and a

  light smile to the girl and went out. Diana and the Baron remained warily facing one another until the door closed behind the Chief of Security.

  "Well, Miss Palmer," said the Baron at last. "This is a great moment. Do, please, be seated."

  The girl stepped forward and sank gratefully into the padded chair indicated by the Baron. She still carried her handbag, raincoat and scarf and the Baron graciously relieved her of them. Then he went to the other side of his great desk and sat down again. He slid open a drawer and look out a buff-colored dossier. He opened it on the blotter before him and was silent for a moment or two. Diana said nothing.

  Baron Sojin's mirthless smile was a true indication of the man's nature, thought Diana as the minutes ticked by. His l ace was not unpleasant until one came to the mouth.

  "You were curious about Scorpia, Miss Palmer," he said at last. "Well, now you have met its leader and you are at present in it's headquarters."

  He turned and pointed to a large, carved table that had been set for a meal, beyond his desk.

  "But I forget my manners. You must be hungry after your long flight."

  Diana spoke to the Baron for the first time.

  "I'm not hungry," she burst out. "Why on earth have I been brought here?"

  The Baron raised Ms hand soothingly.

  "All in good time, my dear lady. And you are hungry. Why allow your prejudice to overcome your good sense?"

  Diana was silent. She allowed the Baron to usher her forward. She felt faint suddenly as she reached the table. Sojin took her arm, and put a glass of wine in her hand.

  "Drink this," he said. "You will feel better."

  He lifted the silver dish covers from which came the rich aroma of finely cooked food. His eyes expressed amusement at her unspoken question.

  "No, my dear Miss Palmer, it is not poisoned. Come, you must eat."

  "What is Scorpia?" asked Diana, as she started eating. She had realized the Baron was right. It would be ridiculous to allow prejudice to overcome common sense. She would need all her strength for the tasks before her. The Baron watched with satisfaction as she ate and drank.

  "Scorpia?" he said.

  He pointed to the large, illuminated map of the world which occupied one side of the enormous chamber.

  "That is Scorpia, my dear."

  His hand made a graceful motion in the air.

  "You will see we operate everywhere in the world."

  "I see," said Diana non-commitally, putting down her wine glass and lifting another dish cover.

  "But what does Scorpia do exactly? I know what it was in the Eighteenth Century, and I traced it as far as the late nineteenth. What is it now?"

  The Baron's face lit up.

  "Ah, there you have touched on something close to my heart, Miss Palmer."

  He got up and started to walk around the room, a commanding figure in his immaculately-tailored blue uniform.

  "As you so correctly observe, Miss Palmer, the Scorpia is an ancient pirate band whose history extends back over four hundred years. Now we are more modern. As you surmised, the Scorpia did not die out in the late nineteenth century. It lived on, like the Mafia and other secret societies that the world knows little about in the twentieth century. But Scorpia is a hundred times more powerful than any of these."

  His face was an exultant mask of greed as he spoke, and Diana momentaril
y recoiled. Then the Baron resumed his pacing.

  "A pirate band," he chuckled. "We dispensed with sea piracy long, long ago."

  He turned back to Diana.

  "If you have finished your meal, Miss Palmer, come and sit near the desk here where you can study the map as I talk. My explanations will then be clearer to you."

  Diana got up and walked to the chair indicated by the Baron, her lithe steps drawing approving glances from the ruler of Scorpia. The Baron approached the great map with its glowing symbols. He surveyed it proudly.

  "No, we no longer bother with sea piracy," he mused, half to himself. He turned back to the tall, dark-haired girl in the chair beside him.

  "As I told you, our operations today are world-wide. I hey embrace smuggling, counterfeiting, gambling, protection rackets, bank and jewel robbery."

  The Baron spread his hands apart, pride in his voice, as I hough he were describing the world-wide operations of a linking concern. Diana could hardly believe her ears.

  "Of course, our operations also embrace other, less desirable activities, but we won't examine those too closely at this stage."

  Diana tossed her head.

  "I should hope not!" she said.

  "That's right," said the Baron, as though his guest had agreed with him.

  "Wherever an illegal dollar is to be made, Scorpia makes It." 4

  Diana involuntarily stiffened in her chair.

  "Scorpia then is nothing more than a world-wide crime ring?" she said.

  "That's one way to put it," said the Baron smugly.

  "Of course, we're unknown to most of the people who work for us. And we're also largely unknown to the outside world."

  He went to sit opposite Diana at his desk and looked at her approvingly.

  "We're the hidden power behind criminal groups in a dozen nations," he said. "And we've got such extensive power that we almost control some countries."

  Diana forced herself to remain cool and outwardly unconcerned.

  "How did Scorpia become so powerful?" she asked.

  There was genuine curiosity in her voice.

  The Baron was silent for a long minute. His speech had a strange timbre, as he replied.

  "Time, Miss Palmer. Purely time. Centimes of time."

  He got up again and went to stand by the map, as though his physical presence enabled him to exert personal power over the Scorpia agents in all parts of the globe.