The Legend of the Phantom (24 page)

As the radio newscast finished the Phantom reached down to stroke his wolf Devil’s soft fur. “Pirates, hmmm. A cursed coin and mysterious deaths… Just the thing to occupy mind and body. Looks like its time for me to take a trip, Devil.”

Chapter
34

Les Mann leaned heavily against the corner post of Avenida 2 and Calle 10. Nearby, La Merced lighted up the night and just beyond to the west was the park that stood between himself and the Hospital San Juan de Dios. He labored to breathe, more from being out of breath than from the wound.

As he pulled his hand away from his side to steady himself against the post,
he marveled at the amount of blood on it. Looking behind him he could see where he had left a trail of blood that seemed to be consumed by the darkness.

He turned so as to allow the post to support his weight while
it appeared he tried to stop the spinning that the loss of blood would be having on his vision. As he tersely rested, he heard the ever-increasing tread of heavy footfalls behind him.

Les shut his eyes tightly for a second then gathering his strength, he launched himself forward toward the park and hospital beyond. There would be help there. Guardsmen and doctors. Just a few short steps away.

Suddenly the man was upon him grabbing his arm.

As the man stepped under the light, he came out of the shadows to reveal a skin-tight purple
outfit that covered an obvious perfect frame of steel muscle. At his hips hung two revolvers. A black mask hid his eyes so effectively that it was impossible to see where he was looking.

“Are you Les Mann, the same Les that worked on the ship
Scavenger
?” asked the masked man.

The voice commanded response, and Les found himself replying honestly despite any will of his own. “
On that cursed ship? Yes, I’m Les.” Then in a more timid voice he asked, “Are you here to kill me?”

“No,” replied the masked giant.

“But I am,” cut in a new voice. “And I’
d like to kill your friend as well…” From the shadows of the street stepped another, his heavy boots slapping the tiled sidewalk. A gun deftly pointed at the newcomer. “…but first let me welcome you to Costa Rica, Phantom.”

“What?” Les began.

“So you’ve heard of me?” mused the Phantom.

“Let’s just say I have never forgotten you,” sneered Stripes, indicating the skull mark on his jaw.

“I see…” laughed the Phantom as other pirates stepped out from behind the nearby bushes.

“I suggest you come along quietly or your friend here will be shot dead,” replied Stripes.

“And myself?”

“I hope to kill you
; but since I’ve tried that before and it didn’t take, I believe I’ll try my hand at torture instead. I understand you still hurt…” Stripes trailed off as he covered them while several of the pirates advanced. “Remember, one false move and your sailor friend gets it.”

The Phantom silently held his ground. Heavy chains were brought over and h
is wrists were chained together as Stripes took his firearms. As they led them off he caught Stripes fingering his skull tattoo. It reminded him of his own pain from having his heart ripped out by Diana as she slapped him. “Did it hurt? Or do you remember?”

“Not as much as I’m going to hurt you,” retorted Stripes.

Shortly a van pulled up and
the Phantom found Les and himself thrust inside. The walls of the van were windowless, and the men were handcuffed to the inner beams.

Realizing he could do nothing for the time being, the Phantom seemingly lazily stretched out, while he awaited the end of their journey. However, his sharp mind was recording every turn in the road and every sound that h
e caught in the night’s drive.

It was sometime into the journey when Les attempted to make conversation with the Phantom. “So where are you from?”

“Bangalla,” replied the Phantom in a short one-word answer.

“Bangalla? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Really?”

Les waited for more but none came.
“What did that pirate mean by Phantom?”

No reply came from the masked man.

“Did you give him that mark?”

Still no reply. Les wondered if he was being ignored or if the man was asleep. The Phantom kept him wondering.

It was nearly two hours later that the van finally pulled up to a small concrete building. The sound of the coast was ever present and the Phantom instantly realized that they must have been transported to some safe house near where the pirates launched their attack.

In fact they were taken to an
old abandoned cement strong house just outside of Jacó that was used in the past as a jail.

Emmanuel’s eyes flew open as the vehicle approached. Being a vagrant child, he was used to running from those in authority that searched out children like himself. So like an alarm clock to an accountant, the sound of the approaching vehicle woke him quickly from his deep sleep.

‘His home’ was an old abandoned stronghouse on the outskirts of
Jacó beach, where he collected shells and other flotsam that he sold for whatever price he felt his marks would cough up. Being a provincial building, the building’s water lines had never been turned off, whether through laziness or thoughtlessness. Either way, Emmanuel loved the hideout, and used it for his housing as often as possible.

Lately though, others had come and done some minor renovations on the structure. Noth
ing that could keep a wharf rat, such as himself, from getting inside, but it worried him that they might be considering using it once again as a jail.

Now as the vehicle approached, he realized the hour was quite
late and sliding further into the shadows, he watched.

Guns appeared as the doors flew open and Les and the Phantom were marched down a short staircase into a small lower room.

The room was not
much as rooms go with four plaster-covered walls that appeared to be made of cinderblock underneath from the outside appearance. Whitewashed, and somewhat dirty, the only visible ‘furnishings’ in the room were four strong anchors placed into the outer south wall; two sets comprised of one above and one below; made to accommodate holding chains. Additionally, a closed–circuit camera faced the anchors, assumedly to monitor the activities of anyone left there.

F
our men covered them with guns while two others chained them to the wall with their arms placed hanging above their heads and their feet left with little movement as they were chained to the lower anchors.

Yet
from the moment they were captured to the moment they were chained up they didn’t frisk them at all, aside from removing the Phantom’s guns.

‘Curious
er and curiouser,’ thought the Phantom.

At that moment
a woman entered, followed by Stripes.

Chapter 35

Despite the recent breakup, the Phantom couldn’t help but take in the woman. Obviously perfect in physique, she commanded attention whether or not one wanted to give it to her, and by her looks, it was easy to give it to her.

Having stepped up from behind her
Stripes grinned maniacally at the pair hanging from the wall. “Hello, Phantom,” said Stripes. “Hello, Les. Hope you like the chains?”

Les lunged forward, but was caught by the chains. Then working up some saliva he spat at h
im.

Wiping the saliva from his face Stripes
sidled up to the girl. Both men in chains watched a bit bewildered as he purposely grabbed the girls butt.

Flipping around the girl grabbed Stripes hand and forcefully removed it from her derrière.

“Touch me there again, Stripes, and you’ll lose that little piece of flesh that you feel defines your manhood.” Having let go of his hand the man cowered back and the girl turned her attention once again to the pair hanging from the wall. Composing herself, she continued, “Hello Les. Just hanging around?”

Les was furious and showed it. Again he tried to spit, missing the target completely.

“Tsk, tsk, little man. I can’t have you doing that,” she said as she caressed his face with one hand.

The
Phantom looked on bemused. “Les, you know this woman?”

“Of course he knows me,” she interjected
before he could speak. “We’re old friends,” she said laughing, as she stepped away from him in time to avoid another spittle attack.

The movement turned her back to the Phantom for just a moment which allowed him to see placed there a tattoo of an enormous
Black Widow.

“By old friends she means that she is the head of the pirates that attacked my ship, killed my friends and shipmates, and stole the treasure!”

“You’ve been busy,” commented the Phantom dryly.

“No, Kit, it’s you who have been the busy one.”

The use of his first name startled the Phantom and though he was amazed and suspicious he recovered quickly.

“I see you know my name.
And who are you? I can tell by your accent that you are originally English.”

L
aughing she said, “I see that you are just as observant as my uncle insists you are. For the fun of it you can call me the Black Widow.” She turned her back and swiveled her hips to better display the massive tattoo of a Black Widow which sprawled her back.

“Your uncle?”
Kit asked, as he tried to ignore her theatrics.

“
Lynn. He told me how he met you when he was a young man of twenty while attending the university. He told me that you are great friends. I’m sure you know who I am talking about,” she said sliding one of her hands across his rippled chest.

“
Lynn?” asked the Phantom, somewhat distracted. Her touch made him instantly realize just how much he missed the feminine touch.

“Yes,
Lynn. You met him in Ohio. Oh don’t you remember? Or was that your father he met?” She could tell her touch had distracted him. Not that she minded. He was quite some man, that Phantom! “Either way, dear Lynn helped the Phantom recover from a serious injury that was sustained while in pursuit of some criminal… and in return he was given an ivory walking stick.”

“An
ivory walking stick from Spain that includes a short sword?”

“That’s the one, darling.”

“You’re his relative?”

“N
o. But I’ve been calling him ‘Uncle’ since I was a child. Actually I’m your relative— which I never believed until I met Lynn as a teenager. You like stories, don’t you?” Not giving him a moment to answer, she continued, “You see, I grew up on the legend of the Phantom. My great-great-great-great-grandfather was the Phantom and he had a son and a daughter. From what I have been told, the son was badly hurt while in the persona of the Phantom, so his sister took over as the Phantom and saved the day… only to turn over the legacy again to her brother and run off to marry a local priest…”

‘That would have been the 1
7
th
Phantom!’ thought Kit to himself. He glanced over at Les to see how he was taking all this, and caught the man looking furiously at him. As their eyes met the hate-filled eyes lowered and Les turned his head quickly. ‘Now what was that all about?’ Shaking his head he turned back to the better looking distraction.

“…As I grew up on the stories, I always
hoped to one day to run across my ‘cousin’ so many times removed.

“Just when I decided that the stories were nothing more than stories, I met
Lynn. Suddenly the stories came alive again and I realized that the rest of the tales must be true as well.”

“What part?” asked the Phantom as Les tried hard to fade into the background.

“The part about the Phantom treasure. And I don’t mean the simple treasure that you keep in your drafty cave. I mean the real treasure of the Father of the First that the Second found and kept to himself to die with him when he found out that his son had taken up acting instead of the Oath.” Here she paused.

The Phantom sighed, releasing much of the built up tension within him. Tearing his eyes from her slender form, he made a conscious effort to look her squarely in the eyes.
“But his son did return to take up the mantel of the Phantom,” he said, stating the obvious so that she would continue.

“Yes,
he pursued the Phantom line rather than the finer points of Shakespearian theatre… so, on his death bed, he told his son, ‘Take these rings…Search the Eyrie…Father of the First’. Pausing she glanced over at Stripes and nodded. “So… time to hand them over.”

“What?”

“Your rings, Kit.” Seeing that Stripes still hadn’t taken up the cue, in a louder voice she called out, “Stripes!”

“You called?”

“Yes, you bumbling idiot. Take his rings.”

“I won’t give them up easily,” warned the Phantom.

“I didn’t think so,” said Stripes. “Let me know if this hurts,” he snarled and grinned as he swung a metal pipe across the Phantom’s jaw.

The blow knocked him senseless for just a moment, but it was long enough to get the rings off his massive steel fingers.

As the Phantom came to, he
shook his head as he tried to get his thoughts under control.

Working his jaw, the Phantom flexed it a few times before speaking. “Yes, I bet my punch did hurt you a bit, didn’t it, Stripes?”

Stripes, who had been leaning across the room, scowling at the man, now leapt forward to deliver another well placed blow.

“Stripes!” shouted the
Black Widow. “Get back in the van.”

Stripes immediately cringed and with tail between his legs moved for the door. But before he let it close, he growled, “I’ll make you pay, Phantom.”

“Sure,” replied the Phantom with a nod of his head. “Whatever.”

Stripes stormed off.

The scene left everyone quiet for a moment. The Black Widow, who had watched Stripes storm off, turned again to the Phantom, with her lower lip still held in her teeth where she had unconsciously half bit it. Seeing the Phantom study her, she quickly composed herself again.

The Phantom smiled a faint smile at the silent body communication, and considered saying something more but
before he could initiate anything, the girl interjected her own question.

“Are you married?” the Black Widow asked, breaking the silence.

“What?” replied the Phantom, thrown off by her sudden intimate question.

“I didn’t think so,” she replied, as she sidled up to him and caressed him with her body as she slid down his front, her hands running down his sides.

The Phantom fought hard to control his own thoughts and body.

“Why the rings?” asked the Phantom, trying to change the direction of the conversation. The question prompted the Black Widow to consider them and he watched as the girl tried them on over her immaculate long, thin fingers.

“
I’m not certain yet, except I’m told they are needed to unlock the treasure.” The Black Widow replied, as she pursed her lips in thought.

“
Ok… So now you have the rings, but there is still the small matter of finding the Eyrie,” responded the Phantom.

Her eyes lit up.
“Yes, but ever since I ran across dear old Lynn, I have been searching. And recently I found it.”

“How?”

“By following the Second’s words exactly… even the part of the ‘second star to the right and straight on 'til morning’ line that Barrie later used in his drafty book.”

“What about the treasure from Les’ ship?
I should think 17 chests of gold would be sufficient for one lifetime.”

“
Oh, a girl always needs more. I knew that once you heard about it you would come running, so I took it. But you didn’t come running,” she accused, “so I had to resort to letting a few of the ships sailors move onto their next adventure.” Laughing as his face tightened, she continued, “and the media ate it up! ‘Cursed Pirate Treasure’ they called it! And it is pirate treasure, you know.”

“It is now,” agreed the Phantom
, controlling his features once again.

“N
o!” She shrieked, her face contorting, “The treasure is pirate treasure from before. It is our ancestor’s treasure and it is proof that they were pirates!” She searched his impassive face. “Not willing to admit that your own ancestry is suspect, Kit?”

The Phantom said nothing.
His own thoughts wondered the same, but he was definitely not going to let her know that. His face remained impassive. It was as if she were speaking to a granite bust.

“Well
I
suspect that the coins were made to remind the Father of the First of his pirate ancestry. What do you think of that?”

Still the Phantom remained impassive.
Only his traveling eyes that moved up and down her form gave him away.

“Fine I’ll spell it out for you! T
his means only one thing: if the coin is a gift from the Grandfather of the First, to the First’s father, then he must be descended from a pirate!” Finding herself shouting she quickly tried to compose herself and continued, “…And like all good pirates they left a map. The scroll said…” A short blast of a van horn sounded. The horn brought her out of her mood and she trailed off as she realized she had over-spoken.

Instead she stood there, eyeing her captive from head to toe.
Abruptly, she leaned forward and kissed him on his mouth. A deep kiss that he should have tried to thwart but instead found himself giving into. “Now we’re kissing cousins.” She turned and headed for the door, rings in hand, her hips intentionally swaying as she walked. Looking back she caught the men eyeing her tattooed backside, “…and Kit…” she called back to him, “you can have the rings back … when you catch me.”