The Golden Circle (7 page)

After he'd gone through several pigeonholes' worth of unsorted papers and bills, the masked man found an unused envelope with Sweeney Todd's home address imprinted on it. "The east 60s," the Phantom remarked to himself. "A nice address."

He spent another half hour carefully searching the place. He found nothing pertaining to the golden arrow gang.

He let himself out a back door. The rain was coming down more heavily.

Sweeney Todd sat straight up in his bed when the room lights came on. His devil suit was hanging over a chair near his bed and his .45 automatic had been left on a night table. Wakening, he reached out in the general direction of both. The scarlet Satan suit still

hung, rumpled, where he'd left it. The big gun was

gone.

The Phantom was at the foot of the young man's bed. One booted foot rested on the bed frame. The masked man's arms were folded over his knee. From one hand an automatic casually dangled. "You were saying?" began the grinning Phantom.

"You . . . you can't . . . it's breaking and entering," said the satanically bearded young man. "How'd you got by the doorman and all? This is supposed to be one of the most secure apartment houses in Manhattan."

"Wouldn't think you'd need an automatic by the side of your bed then," said the Phantom.

Sweeney Todd ran his tongue over his thin pale lips. "Look, friend, let's just forget what happened back at the costume ball."

The masked man laughed. "Forget the Eye of Isis? Forget a ruby worth a king's ransom?"

"So don't forget it. Just leave me alone, Mend. That business back there, my heavy act, was all a misunderstanding. Yeah, a misunderstanding."

"Good, lefs call it that," said the Phantom. "Now you try understanding this. I want a piece of the action."

"What action?"

'Tour golden arrow operation."

"Look, friend, I don't have any...

The barrel of the Phantom's gun had swung up to point at the young man's chest. "You make the pins for them, their identifying badge. You were there tonight when Mrs. Mott-Smith's ruby was snatched," said the Phantom. "Quit trying to con me, Sweeney Todd."

"Okay, okay, friend." He held up Ms hands, palms toward the masked man. "I'm in, but not very far in.

You don't understand the setup, quite. See, there aren't any men. Not up at the top of it."

"An all girl jewel ring?" The Phantom smiled.

"Yeah, just about. They only use guys when they absolutely have to. For some of the nastier jobs, and when it comes to fencing the stuff."

"I don't necessarily have to sit on the board of directors. I would, though, like a percentage of the take."

"So don't talk to me about that," said Sweeney Todd.

"I
'm talking to you the way I'd talk to a traveling salesman who's on the road for the company," the Phantom told him. '1 want you to get me through to the people, the women, at the top."

Without warning, the door of the bedroom swung open. "You've got your wish, buddy boy."

Before the Phantom could turn completely, something hit him hard across the side of the head. The last thing he heard before he fell into unconsciousness was Sweeney Todd's chuckling.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The roar of the sea filled his head. He could hear the surf foam and hiss, the waves
drum.
Beneath his head was a hard stone floor, gritty and damp. As the Phantom awakened and pushed himself up from the floor the sound of the ocean diminished. But in the darkness which surrounded him he could smell the salty tang of seawater.

His mouth felt dry. The right side of his head, from cheekbone down to jaw, ached. There was a small circle of soreness on his upper left arm. Rubbing at the sore spot, the masked man reflected, "Feels like they gave me a hypo." He took a few tentative steps on the gritty floor. "I wonder if the shot was to make me talk, or simply to make me sleep. Well, I'll probably find out soon. Then I'll have to play it by ear,"

The Phantom judged the room he'd awakened in was small and low. Probably ten feet across and less than that high. There were no windows. He noticed a very fine line of yellow about six feet from him, running along the ground for about a yard. "There's the door," he said to himself. "And that looks like sunlight out there. So I must have slept through the night."

He felt his holsters as he moved silently and carefully across the dark floor toward the door. Both guns, as he'd expected, were gone.

The masked man stood with his ear next to the door. He detected no sound of human activity. The roar of the ocean came to him again, plus the distant shrieking of gulls. "Well, they say sea air is good for your health," he told himself.

Swiftly his gloved hands explored the door. It was made of metal. There was no handle or keyhole on his side of it. He dropped to his knees, ran a finger along the slit of light.

Then the Phantom stood up and away from the door of his prison. Used to the darkness now, he could make out, faintly, what was in the room. Over in one corner was a mattress. His captors hadn't bothered to drop him on that when they'd left him here asleep.

In another corner was a pile of something. The Phantom walked there. It was coal, not more than a few pounds, all of it dusty and laced over with thick cobwebs.

The masked man paused, inclining his head in the direction of the thick metal door. He sniffed. "Coffee?"

He heard a faint click. The heavy door swung out.

A blonde girl stood there, illuminated by the sunlight from an unseen corridor window. In her left hand she held a china cup of coffee, in her right, a long barrel .38 caliber revolver. "Good morning," she said with a faint smile. "Here's the first installment of your breakfast."

"Well, the lady on the train," said the Phantom, recognizing the blonde girl he'd first seen in his compartment. "I never did get your name."

"You can call me Mara."

Someone out in the hallway threw a switch. Fluorescent light came on, jerkingly, in his room. The two tubes of light were set in a recess in the ceiling and guarded by a strong metal grill.

"Good morning, Mara." The Phantom accepted the cofFee she offered.

"It's black. I guessed you took it that way."

Not replying, the Phantom studied the girl. She wore a pants suit of a fine black checkered pattern. on the lapel of the coat was a new golden arrow pin.

Mara came into the little room, followed by a plump young girl carrying a tray. "We don't often have guests here who take meals," said Mara. "You'll excuse the lack of a dining table."

The
plump
girl, after placing the food tray on the stone floor, backed out She left the door open.

"Toast, orange juice, and bacon." The blonde Mara pointed at the food with one foot "I hope that suits you, Mr. . . . which name do you prefer, Walker or Devlin?"

Unless this question was a bluff, Mara hadn't given him a truth drug last night. "I think Walker suits me
better,"
he replied. He made no move toward the tray.

After a few long seconds, Mara said, "Go ahead and eat. After that, I want to talk to you."

"We can talk right now,' the Phantom said. "You might start by explaining why I'm here."

"Wouldn't you like to know where you are?"

"All in good time. I'm curious about what you have in mind for me."

Mara swung a toe in the direction of the breakfast "Your bacon's getting cold."

Smiling at her, the Phantom asked, "Cook this up yourself, did you?"

"Of course not. I don't have time for kitchen work."

"Being too busy with murder."

She looked away from him, out toward the corridor. "We don't like to kill anyone. And I can assure you, Walker, we would have preferred to leave that old fool Pieters alive. However...."

"He fought for his jewels."

There was a struggle," admitted the girl. "I came into your compartment to see if anyone had heard anything. That was Beth's idea."

"Your aunt?"

"My codirector in the golden arrow group." Mara was looking at him now. "You found the pin I lost on the train, didn't you?"

"That I did," said the Phantom. "And I decided to use it to track you down."

"Why?"

"For one thing," he said, "I wanted to see you again."

"You didn't give me the impression you thought much of me at the time."

""Besides wanting to find you, Mara, I wanted to become a part of your little group."

"Little it's not." Mara folded her arms, her gun pointing at the floor and not the masked man. "The golden arrow is unlike any other organization, Walker."

"How so?"

"All the members are women," the slender blonde replied. "With the exception of the few men who are absolutely necessary."

"I could become necessary to you."

"In what way, Walker?"

"I'm handy with a gun," he said. "And, as Sweeney Todd will no doubt testify, I can get in and out of places fairly well."

"You didn't get out of this one."

"I only awakened a few minutes ago," he said. "Give me time."

Eyes narrowing, Mara said, "You're quite a bit more attractive than the run of the mill gunman, I must admit. However, we don't need any more of those right now, no matter how tall and good-looking they are."

"You've only heard part of my resume," the Phantom said. "I also have several valuable friends in I 'In rope and South America. Such men as. . . ." Here the Phantom mentioned a half-dozen names he had learned through his dealings with criminals around the world and from his position as secret head of the renowned Jungle Patrol.

Mara's eyes opened wide. "Yes, I've heard of a few of those men. In fact, we've been trying to make a connection with one of them in particular. He's old, set in his ways, and apparently something of a male chauvinist. He's been slow to respond to our over- lures about handling some of our merchandise in his country." *

"He's a slow, patient man," agreed the Phantom. "Though I'm sure I can persuade him to move faster than is usually the case."

"Yes," said Mara, "You do have interesting qualifications, Walker. I like your style. You manifested yourself to Sweeney Todd in an interesting, amusing, almost, way. I regret Beth's cutting your confrontation short. However, we had arrived to discuss something important with him. You would have been in the way."

'1 won't be in the way when we're working together, Mara."

"Frankly," she said, "I'd like very much to have you join us. I've thought about you since . . . but that's of no consequence at the moment You see, there's only one way you can be taken into the golden arrow circle."

"And that is?"

"You must be voted in by the entire membership," the girl told him. "Six of us make up the top echelon, the board of directors as it were. I think I can persuade most of them to vote for you."

"Even dear old Aunt Beth?"

"She'll be the tough one to sway. I can do it, however," said Mara. "There's no telling, though, how the rank and file will vote." A scowl touched her pretty face.

"If they vote against me, is that bad?"

"It may mean you will never leave this place alive." Mara moved nearer to him, put her free hand on his arm. "Now eat your breakfast, will you." She left the room and locked him in once more.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Phantom was leaning in the corner of his cell, with arms folded across his chest, when the door opened again. It was about an hour and a. half since his last visitor.

"I brought you some breakfast," announced the brunette who stepped across the threshold carrying a tray.

"No gun this time," observed the masked man.

Mimi, the girl he'd met last night at the masquerade, raised her eyebrows. "What?" She noticed the other tray. "Oh, somebody beat me to it. Well, if I could just talk myself into rising at a decent hour things like this probably wouldn't happen." The dark girl had her hair pulled back and wore a pair of tan slacks and a dark pullover. "I cooked up these flapjacks for you myself. Which accounts for some of them being a little lopsided."