The Hydra Monster (16 page)

"There is truth in what you say," admitted Captain Miranda. "Still . . ."

"Even if V didn't kill himself, he'd have plenty of time to destroy all his Hydra files," the masked man said. "I want to cut off all the heads of this monster organization at once."

"Very well," said Miranda. "I will position my men all around the perimeter of the sun house estate, far enough away so as not to warn anyone inside, yet close enough to take action quickly if need be."

The Phantom was studying the map once more. "I can reach the beach itself by this road, come out roughly a quarter mile from the cliffside of the villa."

"Yes, that will work."

Nodding, the Phantom clicked off the flashlight. "All right then, 111 go in alone and pay V a surprise visit," he said. "By the way, did you learn anything about who owns the Casa del Sol?"

"The usual," replied Miranda. "The villa was taken on a one year lease about a week ago, the day after the first quake. Obviously, unlike the citadel, this is not a headquarters base. It was, in other words, rented only after V decided to come to Santa Florenza to oversee the current Vulture operations of Hydra."

"Has anyone seen him in the week since he's been here?"

Miranda shook his head. "The villa was rented by a man who identified himself as the private secretary of the actual tenant," he said. "The secretary called himself LaVerga and identified his employer as F. X. Tramoya. We've been unable, in the few hours we've had, to find any evidence that either of these gentlemen existed prior to last week."

"Sumter, and I think he was being truthful, indicated he didn't know Vs real identity," said the Phantom. "He described him as a large man in his forties."

The driver of the minibus turned his head for a second. "Nearly there, Captain."

"Pull off onto the side road we agreed on." Then to the Phantom, Miranda said, "You are on your own now, senor. I will wait an hour. Very good luck to you."

As the bus slowed to turn off the main highway, the masked man opened a rear door and dropped out into the darkness.

The sand glowed a dead white in the moonlight, the sea was quiet and black. The Phantom left the narrow, downhill road and, staying close to the scattered rocks and scrub brush, began to make his way along the beach. There was a faint breeze coming in off the ocean, blowing cold Over the pale sand, tangles of seaweed and the thousands of tiny fragments of seashells.

A quarter of a mile later, he encountered an eight foot high wire fence which ran from the cliffside out into the water. A sign announced, in both Spanish and English, that this was a private beach from this point on, absolutely no trespassing.

The masked man cautiously examined the place where the high fence was bolted to the rocky cliff. He noticed two new-looking wires running down from above. "Looks like V wanted to make extra sure of his privacy by adding electricity," he mused.

He stared upward. The cliff was, he judged, over three hundred feet high. It slanted slightly inward and had a bumpy, jagged look by the light of the moon.

The Phantom rubbed his powerful hands together once, then leaped and caught an outcropping of rock. Using the shallowest of footholds and the smallest of handholds, the masked man pulled himself up the sheer wall of rock. He had learned to climb, at such an early age that he could not now even remember when, in the jungles of Bangalla. To him, therefore, this hazardous ascent to the Casa del Sol was difficult, but not the impossibility Captain Miranda believed it to be.

In just fifteen minutes, he was at the top. A hundred feet in front of him stood a whitewashed, stone wall. The wall appeared to circle most of the estate, except for a stretch where the terrace of the villa itself ran out to the very edge of the cliff. There a wrought iron fence stood guard.

Taking a few careful steps back, the Phantom stretched to scan the top of the high, stone wall. Rusty spikes and shards of broken, bottle glass festooned the top of the wall. And, barely visible, an electric trip wire ran along the top just above the spikes. "The previous occupant wasn't all that cordial either," reflected the Phantom.

Next to the wall, on the masked man's left, was a narrow stretch of forest. He moved in among its shadows as he walked parallel to the villa wall.

The house looked to be large, a two story affair of white stucco walls, Moorish arches, grill work and slanting tile roofs. There were lights glowing on both floors.

Another dozen yards and he saw the first guard. The man was fat, wearing loose, dark clothes, squatting against a wooden gate in the wall. The man held his rifle upright beside him, like a warrior's spear. He was smoking, taking rapid puffs on a cigarette.

Feeling quietly with his hand, the Phantom located a large rock in the loam of the forest floor. He hefted it from hand to hand, then threw it straight at the guard.

The stone cracked against the man's fat fingers just where they clutched the rifle barrel. He gave a low startled exclamation.

Before the guard could cry out again, the Phantom was upon him. Two deftly administered chops dropped the fat man. The Phantom searched the senseless guard, found a brass key on a twist of wire. After hurling the rifle off in the direction of the woods, the Phantom tried the key in the lock of the wooden door.

When the door swung inward, the masked man crossed into the estate grounds. He closed the gate behind him and headed toward the villa.

He'd covered only a few yards when a snarling white police dog came charging out of the night at him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The white police dog, legs spread apart, hair bristling, halted a few feet from the Phantom. It snarled at him, showing sharp, yellowish teeth.

The masked man knew the animal had been trained in such a way that it would either attack him or start barking to warn the guards. He wanted neither of those things to happen.

Without hesitating he dived straight at the growling animal. With one strong hand, he clutched its mouth shut, with the other he applied pressure to the nerves at the back of the police dog's neck.

Whimpering quietly, the huge dog passed out. The masked man deposited him behind a hedge and resumed his journey.

The drapes were not drawn over any of the ground floor windows. From behind a tree, the Phantom watched the house. Toward the rear, in a room which opened out onto the wide terrace, was a large office. Seated at a desk with papers spread in front of him, his broad back to the window, was the man who must be V. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

The view of the man was blocked suddenly by 145

the figure of an armed guard. He'd come pacing by, moving as though this were his regular route. He looked in at V, then marched on. He carried his rifle on his shoulder, army fashion.

When the guard was a safe distance off, the Phantom made his way closer to the house. A French window leading out onto the tiled terrace stood half-open. By scaling the wrought iron fence, he could get through the window and right into Vs sanctum.

He eased close to the fence, scrutinized it to make certain there were no wires attached. "Seems safe," he decided and reached out to grab hold of a bar.

A police whistle shrilled nearby in the night. "Trouble! Come quick!"

"What is it?"

"One of the dogs . . . he's out cold on the lawn here!"

"Better turn on all the floodlights!"

The masked man vaulted over the fence.

He met V face to face the next instant, when the big man stepped out onto the terrace to see what all the shouting and noise was about.

With his hand hovering over his holster, the Phantom said, "So you're V."

"And you're the Phantom."

Twin .45 automatics appeared in the Phantom's hands. "Let's go back inside your office and have a talk."

"Your luck won't continue to hold." V backed over the threshold he'd just crossed. "There are enough men here to kill you twice over. You'll never get out alive."

The Phantom, eyes always on V, closed the French window and then drew the drapes on all the windows. "Sit down on that sofa there, with your hands on your knees."

The leader of Hydra obliged. "How'd you find me, if I may ask?"

"I always find the people or animals I'm hunting," replied the masked man. A wall safe, its door open, was set in the mantle. He could see it contained several, thin record books. Holstering one gun, he lifted out a book. He opened it at a random page and quickly scanned what was written there. "The Hydra membership list."

"That'll do you little good, Phantom, since you'll be dead before the night is much older."

The masked man snapped the book shut, placed it on the mantle. "So this is the new life you wanted to start?"

V laughed. "I was very good, wasn't I? The not-too-bright hood, well-meaning but weak of will." His laugh grew louder. "I think it's quite a tribute to my abilities that I was able to fool you so completely."

The big man on the sofa was the man the Phantom had let go in Tiburon, the man the local chapter of Hydra had known as Mumm. "Yes, you fooled me," admitted the Phantom. "It was you, then, who killed Cisco while he lay in the field."

"Poor Cisco was of no further use, since you'd seen him."

"And what about that business of your being dumped into the Bay?"

"Fat Learman knew I was more than simple Mumm, though Cisco did not," said V. "I was deposited in the Bay as a ruse, to convince you I was a good but misguided fellow at heart. Learman saw to it that nothing serious was done to

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me.

"Then I was sure to walk into the death trap you had set for me, once I trusted you."

"Exactly," said the man who'd once been Mumm. "Though you were not the original reason for my masquerade. Like the king in the
A
RABIAN
N
IGHTS,
I am fond of keeping a personal eye on our far-flung activities. It doesn't do, however, to have everyone know who I am. I adopt a variety of
PERSONAS.
In Cairo recently, for instance, I was a highly-convincing rug merchant. You wouldn't have recognized me."

The Phantom watched the man for several, long, silent seconds. "Why have you brought Hydra back to life?"

straightened in his chair. "Hydra never dies, Phantom. It has a tradition as ancient and venerable as does the Phantom," he said. "Though instead of wasting time on good deeds, Hydra has obtained its satisfactions across the centuries through the pursuit of personal gain."

"A polite description of what you do. Your late friend, V2, talked in much the same way."

let out an amused snort. "Even though he was all wrapped up in our traditions, he was not a top caliber man. His people had been connected with Hydra for generations, but rarely in positions of authority."

The Phantom reached for the rest of the record books; there were five of them altogether. "You and I and these lists must now leave your villa."

The broad man gave an amused shake of his head. "You were able to escape the Death House, the guns of the warehouse and even the waters of Lake LaPaz," he said. "You won't escape Hydra again. This is the final encounter, Phantom."

Gesturing with his automatic, the masked man ordered, "Get up."

"When you closed those drapes" .said V, not moving, "You sealed your fate. My men know that if they don't see me in here for any reason when I'm at work, it means an emergency. Right at this moment, behind the walls of this study, six separate guns are aimed at you."

"A nice bluff," said the Phantom.

"Not a bluff at all," the leader of Hydra assured him. "I am above such cheap tricks. Let me give you a convincing demonstration. He waved his hand toward the wall on his right. "Station 2, fire a warning shot into the floor."

A second passed, a small hole in the wall slid open. A bullet came singing into the room to dig into the hardwood flooring.

"It goes without saying that the next bullets will be a good deal closer to you, Phantom," V told him. "Drop that automatic of yours."

The Phantom held out his hand, letting the gun fall.

"Take the other one out. Drop it beside the

first. I don't understand why you favor such a heavy weapon. To me . . . but I'm straying from the main point which is your death."

A light tapping sounded on the office door.

V smiled. "A few of my men are here," he explained to the Phantom. "To help me dispose of you. Yes, come in."

The door opened. Captain Miranda, gun in hand, stepped in. "We're getting much better at these surprise attacks," he said to the Phantom. "This time we made hardly any noise at all. I think it's that course in guerilla warfare we all had to take last year."