The Scorpia Menace Read online

  There was a dangerous edge to his voice and Carson gulped.

  "Sorry, sir," he said. "I'll try to get through immediately."

  "See that you do," Sojin said.

  He put the receiver in place and leaned back. His smile was not pleasant to see in the light of the match which illuminated his face as he lit another Russian cigarette.

  21

  AN OLD MAN REMEMBERS

  The Phantom's pistol pointed steadily at Otto Koch as the loudspeaker boomed again.

  "This is Center calling. Is Otto Koch there?"

  Koch's face was white and the skull symbol where The Phantom had hit him stood out vividly on his jaw. He had caked blood on his forehead to add to his sorry appearance.

  He moved sullenly over and picked up the mike at The Phantom's whispered instructions.

  "Koch speaking," he said.

  The Phantom stood over him, holding the pistol menacingly. Koch licked his lips and flipped the transmitter switch. There were fear and pain in his grey eyes.

  "This is Baron Sojin," the speaker boomed.

  The Phantom shot an interrogatory glance at Koch. The plump man turned white.

  "At your service, Sir!" he replied.

  "I want a straight answer," the Baron went on. "Who was it who came on the air and said he was The Ghost Who Walks?"

  The Phantom's gun-muzzle dug into Koch's ribs. The fat man groaned. Perspiration ran in rivulets down his flabby cheeks.

  "Nobody, sir," he said in what he hoped was a normal voice. "I've been here all the time, Sir. I don't know what you mean."

  "All right, there must be some mistake, Otto," the speaker boomed. "Thank you and good-night."

  "Good-night, sir," said Otto with relief. He put down the mike and mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

  There was a clatter of feet on the stairs. The people in the room turned as the door burst open. The room was suddenly full of men in blue. Chief Mulcade's eyes popped as he caught sight of The Phantom in his costume. David Palmer was behind him, his pipe belching smoke.

  "We got your message, Kit," he said. "Good show!"

  Mulcade looked around the room in amazement.

  "Who are these people?" he said, turning to The Phantom.

  "The local branch of Scorpia!" said the big man with a grin, turning over their guns to a sergeant at Mulcade's elbow. He led the Chief of Police over to the filing cabinets in the corner of the room.

  "They're a world-wide crime ring. I can't go into the details now. You'll find everything you need there,"

  He turned as David Palmer came up.

  "Incredible," the blond man said. "You're amazing!"

  The Phantom smiled at his enthusiasm.

  "I'll need to be a lot more incredible before we have Diana back," he said.

  "The important thing is that she's alive. I must get to her at once."

  He pointed to the spot where all the lines intersected on Otto Koch's map.

  "She's there!"

  Mulcade was barking instructions to his men. Half a dozen burly officers led Koch and his subordinates away.

  "We'll make out the charges later," Mulcade called. He grinned at The Phantom.

  "Great job, Mr. Walker," he said. "We're indebted to you!"

  "Temporarily, there must be no news leaks."

  "Scorpia Center mustn't suspect we know their location."

  He drew the Chief over into one corner of the room.

  "Post some of your best men here from now on. Keep Cringle here so he can handle the radio. Then we can monitor all the messages from Center. It may give us more information."

  The Phantom went over to the door. There was dynamic energy etched in every line of his body.

  "Now, I need a plane—fast—at once!" he said.

  Chief Mulcade turned admiringly to David Palmer as The Phantom's footsteps clattered on the stairs.

  "Dave, who did you say he was?"

  David Palmer grinned as his pipe erupted smoke and ash into the air like a miniature Vesuvius.

  "You'd never believe me if I told you."

  The radio operator's face was white. He stared blankly at Baron Sojin, inwardly shrinking at the icy contempt in his eyes.

  "Either you were drunk or dreaming," the Baron said coldly. "Ghost Who Walks indeed."

  He turned to Lieutenant Carson.

  "Lieutenant, I am holding you personally responsible for this idiocy. We shall discuss it later."

  "Yes, sir!" said the Lieutenant. He saluted stiffly, clicking his heels together. He looked viciopsly at the radio operator.

  "Perhaps it was a misdirected message bounced off the ionisphere," said the miserable soldier. "I know I didn't imagine it."

  "Silence!" the Lieutenant snapped imperiously.

  He had to take it out on someone. He, too, would have a talk with the man later. He escorted the Baron to the door, expressing his regrets at the mix-up.

  The Baron went out with a strange expression in his steel-blue eyes. He paused on the battlements. The tropical night had already fallen, but the overhead lights, adding their brilliance to the moon's radiance, lit the courtyard as though it were day. One could hear the faint swish of leaves from beyond the corner of a buttress. The Baron walked toward the parapet, his faint footfalls masked by the tinkle of an ornamental fountain. He found an ancient gardener raking up leaves from the base of a tree which grew from one of the diagonal flower beds. He stood for a moment, admiring the old man's energy and manual dexterity.

  "Miki," he called softly.

  The old man put his hand to the tip of his broad- brimmed hat and shuffled toward him. He took off the hat and twisted it nervously in his hands. The faded, brown eyes in the wrinkled, brown face looked anxiously at the ruler of Scorpia.

  "Yes, Excellency?" he queried.

  "Miki," said the Baron. "I want to ask you something."

  "Anything, Excellency," stammered the old man. "I am eager to be of service."

  "I know that, Miki," said Sojin softly. "You are the oldest living member of Scorpia."

  "That is correct, Excellency," said the old handyman, with pride lighting up his face.

  Sojin's face was grim beneath the glare of the lamps as he fixed Miki with an unwavering stare.

  "Have you ever heard of The Phantom?" he said.

  The old man started. He shifted his feet nervously on the cobbles of the courtyard.

  "Yes, Excellency," he said in a low voice. "The Ghost Who Walks!"

  Sojin was amazed but there was no visible change in his expression.

  "Did you ever see The Phantom?" he next asked.

  The old man shook his head.

  "No, sir," he replied. "When I was a boy, my grandfather told me of the days when he was young."

  He smiled suddenly and unexpectedly.

  "My grandfather was a cabin boy when Scorpia was Scorpia. One night The Phantom came—The Ghost Who Walks. He blew up the ship's powder magazine. It was said he hated pirates."

  Baron Sojin shivered suddenly at the slight breeze which had sprung up in the courtyard. His eyes seemed to have become clouded and filmy.

  "Your grandfather actually saw The Phantom?" he said sharply.

  "Yes, sir," said old Miki. "In those days, all who sailed the seven seas had heard of him. He was called the destroyer of piracy."

  The oldster shook his head.

  "He was four centuries old then," he said with wonder in his voice. "He is the man who cannot die. The Ghost Who Walks!"

  Baron Sojin suddenly broke away from the old man with what seemed to be a definite physical effort.

  "Thank you, Miki," he said, dismissing the handyman. "That will be all."

  He walked over to the battlements and stared unseeingly out at the ceaseless murmur of the ocean.

  "These old fools with their childish superstitions," he told himself.

  He dabbed carefully at his forehead with his handkerchief. A chill seemed suddenly to have settled in Ms bones. He tried to thro
w off a sense of foreboding. That was what came of listening to old men's fantasies, he told himself angrily.

  On sudden impulse, he went back to the radio room again. The startled face of Lieutenant Carson greeted him as he opened the door.

  "I hope nothing else is wrong, sir?" said Carson nervously.

  "Of course not," snapped the Baron angrily. He was beginning to lose control. He must watch himself. It was unlike bim to suffer from nerves. He forced himself to smile in what he considered to be an amiable manner.

  "I'd like you to contact Westchester again. Just routine, but I want to make sure of something."

  "Certainly, sir," said Carson. "Will you wait here?"

  "Of course I'll wait here," said Sojin, some of the savage edge creeping back into his voice.

  He waited impatiently while the operator established contact. He got out his cigarette case and drummed his fingers nervously on its edge. He almost jumped when Cringle's voice boomed through the loudspeaker.

  "Cringle replying to Center. Everything normal, sir. Do you have special instructions?"

  Sojin shook his head. Carson took up the microphone. "Routine check," he told Cringle. "Everything normal. Over and out."

  He put down the mike as the operator signed off. Baron Sojin was thinking hard as he rode up in his express elevator. He went through the big room with the magnificent views, extinguishing the lights. He tip-toed up the stairs to the gallery, hesitating outside Diana's door. Then he went to his own quarters. He was to have a very disturbed night.

  22

  THE PHANTOM DROPS IN

  The jet droned on through the night. The hum of its motors made a smooth background to the thoughts of the pilot. And he had a lot to think about. He was a tall, broad- shouldered man of about thirty-five, with thick, black hair showing beneath his airline cap. Headphones were clamped over his head as he listened to a weather report. He reached forward to the instrument panel, and adjusted the squelch control.

  "Roger," he said briefly. "Avoiding edge of storm area."

  He banked the plane slightly, watching the compass, and settled down on the new course. He looked over curiously at his companion in the co-pilot's seat. The stranger had not spoken more than twice since the flight began.

  The Phantom's face was frowning with concentration. Every minute was carrying him nearer to Diana. He wished he could double the plane's speed. Conscious of the pilot's eyes on him, he smiled in a friendly manner.

  "We'll be over the island in about two hours, Mr. Walker," the pilot said. "I hope you're enjoying the flight."

  "Everything's o.k.," The Phantom answered. "I'm not myself today."

  "I understand, sir," said the pilot, while glancing at his instruments.

  "I get all sorts of assignments, but this is one of the strangest. I can't help being curious."

  The Phantom nodded.

  "I wish I could tell you more," he said. "But unfortunately, my mission is top secret."

  The pilot looked across at his companion and once again, wondered at the thick black boots, the mask and what he was sure was the bulge of a holster under the white belted raincoat the big man was wearing. Still, as the Airport Controller had said, it was none of his business. He noted the strong jaw, the set of the mouth and the resolve in the eyes. He wouldn't like to be on the receiving end of this man's displeasure.

  "I'd really like to ask you why you're wearing that outfit, Mr. Walker," he said.

  The Phantom chuckled.

  "You've already asked, Captain," he said. "And I'd really like to tell you." He smiled again. "Curiosity makes the world go 'round."

  With that the Captain had to be content. An hour and a half later, he alerted The Phantom.

  "You'd better be getting ready," he said. "Would you mind sending the co-pilot forward."

  "A pleasure," the big man assured him.

  When the co-pilot joined the Captain, only half-awake, they gaped at their passenger. He was wearing his jungle clothes and with the parchutes strapped on, he looked even more impressive.

  The co-pilot was wide-awake now.

  "Excuse me, sir, but would you mind telling me why you're dressed like that?" he said, indicating The Phantom's striped shorts and the jerkin which joined a hood, hiding most of the big man's face.

  "Your colleague just asked me that," The Phantom replied. "My answer is the same. It's top secret."

  The pilot interrupted.

  "There's the island dead ahead," he said.

  The Phantom felt an increase in his pulse as he made out the dark form of an island rearing from the moonlight- splashed water. He discerned the sharp, turreted mass of what looked like a medieval castle.

  "Can you drop me somewhere near that fortress but not within sight?" he asked.

  "Can do," the pilot nodded. "I don't want to drop you in the jungle. I think I see an open space beyond."

  "Fine," the big man grunted. He was already working his way aft to where the co-pilot had the cargo hatch open. Icy air whipped at him as he waited to jump. He waved as the pilot shouted, "Good luck, sir!"

  He knew the Captain was watching him in the cabin surveillance mirror.

  "Good luck, sir," the co-pilot repeated, patting his back. "I'd still like to know why you're dressed like that."

  The Phantom grinned.

  "Tell you later," he said.

  He nodded as the pilot turned on the jump light and the co-pilot tapped him on the shoulder.

  He fell wide of the aircraft as it banked steeply to starboard. He fell free for 40 seconds then pulled the ripcord. There was a tremendous jerk on his legs as the chute opened. Then he rocked gently through the air, the great canopy of dacron above him shimmering faintly in the light of the moon. The ground came closer.

  The big transport banked and circled dipping its wings in salute. Then it turned to the west and he was alone in the sky. The Phantom pulled in shrouds and sideslipped the chute. He landed perfectly in a small open clearing.

  Baron Sojin was having a restless night. He turned feverishly in his sleep and unpleasant dreams kept tugging at the edges of his consciousness. The dreams included gigantic men who blew up pirate ships and ghosts who couldn't die. He groaned and the suddenly awakened. He switched on the bedside lamp, blinking in the sudden glare. His pajamas were drenched in perspiration. He looked at the clock. It was two a.m. Baron Sojin sat up in bed. Then he made up his mind.

  He swung out of bed and donned his blue and white, striped bathrobe. He went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He sponged his face in the basin, combed his hair and then felt better. He returned to the bedroom and pressed a bell on his bedside table. He lit a Russian cigarette as he waited for his valet. The man's sleep-sodden features appeared round the door about five minutes later.

  "Wake Miss Palmer," said Sojin, peremptorily. "Ask her to meet me in my study at once."

  The man blinked as though the light in the room were too strong for his eyes.

  "Yes, Excellency," he mumbled.

  He went along the corridor to the secondary suite while

  the Baron made his way down the staircase. He was at his desk studying notes when Diana came down. She was wearing a pale blue negligee which enhanced her symmetrical figure and her magnificent black hair floated behind her as she came into the room.

  "Baron Sojin," she said crisply. "It was bad enough to be kidnapped, but I don't relish being awakened in the middle of the night!"

  "I'm sorry, Diana," said the Baron soothingly, indicating a chair. "This is urgent, and could not wait until morning."

  Diana sat in the chair and watched the Baron intently. She looked as fresh as though it were mid-day and not the middle of the night.

  "I'm waiting," she said impatiently.

  "I have a few questions to ask Diana," replied Sojin, going back to his desk. "Questions that cannot wait until morning."

  "Very well, then," the girl retorted. "Ask them."

  "You must tell me all you know about The Phantom
," said Sojin.

  For once his control had deserted him. He struck his clenched fist on the desk. The heavy walnut fixture shivered with the impact. Diana stared wide-eyed.

  "I've nothing to say," she said through tight lips.

  Baron Sojin stepped toward her, his eyes blazing. Instinctively, Diana shrank back, thinking that he was going to strike her. The sudden ringing of the telephone stopped him in his tracks.

  Sojin's face changed. The film cleared from his eyes. He smiled his sinister smile.

  "Forgive me, my dear," he murmured.

  He picked up the phone.

  "This is the radio room, sir," came Colonel Crang's voice. "I'm sorry to bother you at this hour, but something important has happened."

  "That's quite all right, Colonel," said Sojin, smoothly.

  He was master of himself now and he glanced at Diana reassuringly.

  "I'm always at Scorpia's disposal."

  Diana walked over toward the table and watched the Baron's face closely as the conversation continued.

  "I just received a transmission from Westchester," said the Colonel.

  "Something seems to be seriously wrong there."

  "What do you mean, Colonel?" Sojin snapped. His knuckles tightened on the receiver.

  "The agent acted with admirable initiative," Crang went on. "He was about to report in to Otto Koch when he saw a police car stop in front of the farmhouse he is using as headquarters. He hid and watched. He witnessed the arrest of our entire staff, including Koch. He immediately used his emergency transmitter and called us. Can you hear me, sir?"

  "I hear you, Colonel," said Sojin. His face was grimly set.

  "That means that the last messages from Westchester were not genuine, Baron," Crang went on urgently. "The police are monitoring all our calls—probably using Cringle under duress—while at the same time, sending us false messages reporting everything normal."

  "The significance of this had not entirely escaped me, Colonel," replied Sojin, keeping his brilliant blue eyes fixed on Diana. "We had a message from someone called The Phantom earlier. Tell our operators to find out everything they can about him and report any information, immediately."

  He paused a moment.

  "And Colonel Crang, I suppose we have checked the authenticity of this latest message?"