The Phantom (12 page)

He placed the unconscious man’s head back on his pillow and crawled off the bed. He looked around the tight crew quarters. Sailors were sleeping in the other bunk beds, apparently undisturbed by the momentary ruckus.

The Phantom opened a door and entered a narrow corridor. He heard someone coming down a stairway to his immediate right. He turned left. A door swung open ten feet down the corridor. He reached back to the handle of the door he’d just closed.

Locked. He was trapped.

Then he saw another door across the hall. He reached for the handle, pulled, and it opened. He ducked inside just in time to avoid a confrontation in the corridor. He was in another section of crew quarters. It was empty.

He noticed a pair of flyer’s goggles and a leather cap hanging from a post of an empty bunk bed. Nearby, strewn on a couple of bunks, were flight suits and more goggles. The Phantom heard the slamming of locker doors and shower water running in an adjoining room. He moved soundlessly in that direction.

If the flyers who had captured Diana Palmer were here, the Phantom might persuade one of them to lead him to her. He pulled out one of his pistols, which was a greater persuader, and opened the door. He was met by a haze of steam.

“Okay, nobody move, gentlemahh . . .”

The Phantom didn’t finish the word. Five women in various stages of undress were in front of him. Several of them grabbed towels and covered themselves. The others just gaped for a few seconds, and so did the Phantom.

“Ah, sorry, ladies,” he said, breaking the stunned silence. He holstered his gun. “I hope you’ll pardon my error.”

One of the women pulled a revolver from her locker and took a shot at him. The bullet pinged off a water pipe next to his head. “I guess not.”

Before she got off another shot, the Phantom leaped feet first into a laundry chute and tumbled out onto a pile of clothing. “Interesting crew,” he muttered.

FOURTEEN

Z
ak wandered along the dock, a fishing pole over his shoulder. Villagers came here every day to fish and no one would pay any attention to another kid with apparently the same intent.

He had cut the pole from the bamboo thicket a short distance away. It looked like an ordinary fishing pole, except it didn’t have line with it. But then, Zak wasn’t going fishing, either.

As he strolled past the gangplank leading to the freighter, he looked around the deck. There were only two crew members in sight. They were talking to each other and had their backs to the gangplank. He stopped, checked the immediate area to make sure no one was watching, then tossed the pole aside and stole up the gangplank.

He raced across the deck to the bulwark, pressed his back up against it. His heart pounded, and his breath came in short, startled gasps. It would be bad enough if he were caught here, but worse if the bad guys recognized him. He had to help Ghost Who Walks find his father, though. If he did nothing else with his life, he would do this.

Zak had always believed in Ghost Who Walks. He’d heard stories all his life about the great things he did. How he helped people who were in trouble and how he’d been doing it since the olden times, long before anyone could remember.

His father assured him the stories were real, because his own father and grandfather remembered Ghost Who Walks, and Grandfather even said that
his
grandfather had once helped the Phantom fight off a dozen men who wanted to kill his daughter because they thought she was a witch.

When Zak had asked if the woman really was a witch, his grandfather had told him that she could see things in the future, and one of the things she saw was that Ghost Who Walks would be around for a long, long time.

Now he knew the witch was right and that Ghost Who Walks wasn’t just an old story. Ever since they had escaped from the falling bridge, he could hardly contain himself. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends how they had flown through the air as the bridge and truck disappeared into the gorge. Or how they had ridden on Hero, the white stallion who appeared out of nowhere every time the Phantom whistled for him.

He wanted to tell his friends everything. But he’d promised Ghost Who Walks that he would never say a word about being in Skull Cave. Besides, his friends would never believe him. Nobody went with Ghost Who Walks to Skull Cave.

Zak heard footsteps. Someone was coming his way. He slid along the bulwark, trying to stay out of sight. He slipped into a dark alcove and crouched down, pulling his knees in to his chest. He sniffed. Hot, stale breath.

Slowly he turned his head and saw large, glowing green eyes staring at him from less than a foot away. He sucked in his breath and stifled a cry as he saw the snout and long sharp teeth. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized it was Devil, the Phantom’s huge wolf.

Two crew members walked by, passing within three feet of Zak. “What are you doing here, boy?” he whispered to the wolf. “You really scared me there.” The wolf nudged his arm with its nose. “I’m glad you’re on my side. I’ve got to find my papa. I think he’s here.”

Devil made a low growling sound, then took Zak’s hand lightly in his jaws.

“What are you saying, boy? You want to help?” He remembered his father’s kerchief and took it from his pocket. The wolf sniffed it, made a low whimpering sound, then scratched at the deck.

“Below deck? Let’s go. Lead the way.”

As the minutes ticked by in the dark hold of the freighter, Diana kept thinking about what might happen when Tattoo Face came back. She couldn’t think of anything worse than that creepy character pawing her, having his way with her.
Think about something else.

It did no good to think about what might happen, or about the filthy gag in her mouth and the tightness of the ropes on her ankles and wrists. So she turned her thoughts to other tight fixes from which she’d escaped during her past forays in exotic locales.

When she was fifteen, she’d visited the Hopi Indian reservation, where she stayed at a missionary’s house. Reverend Tucker was a friend of her uncle, and he kept a close eye on her. But the only Hopis he knew were those who had been converted to Christianity, and their rituals weren’t exotic enough to interest Diana or satisfy her curiosity, and she kept looking for an opportunity to talk to “real Hopis,” as she thought of them.

Then one day she met a teenage boy, a few years older than she, who said he was the son of another missionary. He told her, in a conspiratorial tone, that if she met him that night outside the mission, he would take her to a Hopi elder who was teaching him about the kachinas.

She hesitated, but only a moment. She was leaving for home in the morning, and had just about given up hope of anything really exciting happening. But when she sneaked out, the boy was nowhere to be found.

She hung around for a while but quickly tired of waiting and decided he must have changed his mind. Then she heard drumming coming from the village and decided to take a look for herself.

She didn’t realize, though, that a secret initiation ceremony, called the Astotokya, was taking place and that it was off-limits to everyone, except the participants. Even residents had to vacate the entire eastern half of the village.

She was caught by a guard before she’d entered the village and was taken to a small, windowless room. She was told that if she had crossed into the ceremonial area, all the initiates and priests would have been contaminated and none of them would have been allowed to live.

She apologized, but it didn’t do any good. The penalty for her transgression was death. She would be dismembered, and bits of her flesh carried in the four directions by priests and buried before sunrise.

At first she thought they were just trying to frighten her, but then she recalled what the minister had said. One of the things he admired about the Hopis was that they didn’t lie to him. Sometimes he didn’t like what they said, but they were truthful. That was when she figured she really was in trouble.

The only thing that had saved her was the craftiness of the boy she was supposed to meet. He’d arrived late but in time to see her get caught by the guards. He’d dug a hole under the wall of the house where she was being held, and helped her escape.

She left for New York on schedule the next morning, grateful that she was still alive. But the odd thing was that when she’d asked Reverend Tucker about the boy on their way to the airport, he’d said there was no other missionary with a teenage son on the reservation.

She’d survived that incident, but how was she going to get out of this one? There’d been no talk of ransom, and now she was fairly certain that Xander Drax was behind her capture. He didn’t need any money, but he might just want her dead.

She heard voices, then saw boots on the ladder as someone descended from the deck. She wiggled her arms and legs, trying to loosen the ties, but it was no use. Her skin was already burned raw.

Sala walked over to her, removed her gag. “So, how’re we getting along, Diana?”

“We
need some water.”

Sala chuckled. “Yeah, I imagine you’re a bit thirsty by now.” She held up a canteen. “This what you’re looking for?”

“Please,” she whispered.

“Oh, I suppose.” She held the canteen to Diana’s lips; the water dribbled over her chin as she gulped. “Is that better?” She took a step back, crossed her arms, and studied Diana. “You know, I can’t figure out what’s so important about you.”

“Then let me go.” Diana’s voice came back to her, and so did her feisty attitude. She disliked Quill, but Sala was the one who really annoyed her.

Sala laughed. “I’m afraid not. I actually kind of like you.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“So we can both be hunted? I don’t think so.” Sala paced back and forth and continued to scrutinize her. “So tell me what’s it like being so rich all the time. I’m real curious about that.”

“It’s great. Look how much fun I’m having right now.” Diana met Sala’s burning gaze. “What’s
your
story, anyhow?”

“Nothing like yours. I grew up fast and never slowed down.” She lowered her eyes. “Nice boots. Expensive, I’ll bet.”

“Not really.”

“C’mon. We can talk. It’s just us girls.” She bent down. “Mind if I try on your boots?”

“Yeah, I mind.”

“Too bad.”

She tried to take off one of the boots, but Diana struggled to keep it on. She’d picked the boot containing the envelope.

“Cut it out!” Sala said.

Sala pulled off the boot and the envelope fell to the floor. Diana moved her feet over it before Sala saw it.

“I knew I was right,” she said, glancing at the label inside the boot. “Fifth Avenue, New York City. My size, too. You don’t need them right now. If Quill has his way, you won’t ever be needing them again.” She reached for the other boot—and saw the envelope. “What do we have here, Diana Palmer?”

Diana’s stomach turned as Sala picked up the envelope, and read the name on the outside.

“Captain Philip Horton.” She smiled at Diana. “A love letter, perhaps?”

She was about to open it when the laundry chute door flew open and a big purple thing flopped on a pile of towels and clothing. A man. He stood up. He was wearing tights and a jerkin with a belt, a hood and a mask.

He looked over at them. “What is this, a ship full of women?”

Diana was startled, but Sala seemed mesmerized. “All of my pilots are women.”

“Interesting.” The Phantom drew his knife, walked over to them, and casually pushed Sala aside. “Excuse me. I’ve got business with this Palmer.”

He moved over to Diana and cut the ropes binding her legs and arms.

“Who are you?” Diana asked as the ropes fell away. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“A good Samaritan from the jungle.”

“I’ll bet you’re better than good,” Sala said. “You’re the Phantom.”

“That’s a nickname. Ghost Who Walks is what they call me around here.”

Whoever he was, Diana was grateful, as grateful as she’d felt when the boy had rescued her that night on the Hopi reservation. But they weren’t off this ship yet, she thought.

“Watch out!” Diana yelled as she leaped from the bench. But she was too late.

The Phantom turned just as Sala aimed a pistol at him. At the same moment, an alarm sounded throughout the ship. It distracted Sala long enough to give the Phantom the advantage. With lightning speed, he jerked the gun away from her. “Old jungle saying: ‘Never point a gun at somebody. It might go off.’ ”

“Fast hands,” Sala said. “I like that in a man. I really do.”

She wrapped her arms around the Phantom’s neck and gave him a long kiss on the mouth. When it was over, the Phantom showed no reaction. He pointed the gun at Sala and tossed Diana a length of rope.

“Tie her up.”

Diana looked at the rope, then at Sala. She threw an uppercut that caught Sala under the jaw and nearly lifted her off her feet. She dropped to the floor, out cold.

“I see,” the Phantom said.

“It’s sort of personal,” Diana said. “She wanted my boots.”

“Let’s go.”

Diana retrieved her envelope and put on her boot. There was another thing that reminded her of the situation on the Hopi reservation. She hardly knew the boy who had saved her, and she had no idea who this Phantom was. “Not so fast. Why should I go with you?”

“Uh . . . yeah. Sure. You’re Diana Palmer. Your kidnapping’s been reported to the authorities. This is a rescue.”

“Thanks. You’ve done a good job. I think I can handle it from here.”

Maybe Devil was really smart and that was why he led Zak into a narrow passageway between the deck and the cabins below. Or maybe the wolf was just doing what came natural, taking the most direct route he could find to reach Zak’s father. Whatever the reason, the passageway kept wolf and boy out of sight of any crew members.

Zak just hoped that Devil knew where he was going. The space was so tight that he was concerned they wouldn’t be able to turn around if they had to go back the same way they came in. Somehow they would have to get through the ceiling to his father,
if
Devil was able to find him.