The Veiled Lady (6 page)

Letting go of his vine rope, the Phantom dropped five feet to a rocky ledge, scattering pebbles when he landed. Here the sheer cliff ended and the gradual slope began. Taking out Guran's spear, the masked man held it like a staff as he looked down.

It was warmer here, the mist more steamy. The Phantom started down the slope of 's interior.

After a moment he nearly stumbled, for something snapped underfoot. Bending, the Phantom said,

"So there were indeed sacrifices here in olden days."

Sprawled near the rim of the ledge was the broken skeleton of a young girl. It was centuries' old.

There were no other skeletons around, only this one lying alone.

"The others must have fallen further below," observed the masked man. "This poor girl landed here by accident." Stepping around the bones, he resumed his downward way.

He was able to progress on foot now, but he had to move slowly and carefully. The mist was so thick he could never be certain what awaited him a few feet further down. Waves of fog lapped at him.

The Phantom took one more careful step and suddenly the rock surface he had touched snapped and cracked away beneath his booted foot

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The slippery slope side hit hard against his side as he fell and went sliding down. Rough rocks hit at him like fists as he rolled and tumbled. The masked man grabbed out for something to hold on to, something to halt his fall. Everything he clutched at was slippery and elusive.

Finally, pushing out with his powerful legs and throwing himself sideways, the Phantom got hold of an outcropping of rock. He held tight to it, regaining his balance.

Now, poking with his spear end as if it were a blind man's stick, he continued his downward journey.

It seemed to grow a little-only a little-easier. Occasionally, as he made his difficult descent, the Phantom paused to scratch a mark on an outcropping of rock with his Skull Ring. If he had to return this way he wanted to be able to find his course again.

Surefooted and careful, the Phantom continued down the rocky incline, descending, gradually, thousands of feet down.

It was hot as the hottest day of summer now. The mist was thinning as he reached ground level.

Suddenly, up overhead, came a giant whirring sound. Instinctively the Phantom ducked, while thrusting upward with his spear.

The loud droning faded away in the mist.

What was that? the Phantom thought. He'd gotten no clear look at what it was which had zoomed through the fog. A flying boulder, or maybe a flying truck from the sound of it.

Soon he felt moss and thick grass beneath his boots. "Last stop, everybody out," said the Phantom.

The air was relatively clear here. The masked man found himself in a vast tropical forest. Spotted here and there among the thick, lush foliage were geysers which spouted up steam.

"When that steam hits the cooler air up above it makes the mist," he said. "So this is the secret of the lady's veils."

Far to his right he noticed more skeletons, a great mound of bleached bones-all that was left of the maidens who had been sacrificed to the long-dead gods. The Phantom's head bowed for an instant before he continued on.

Spear in hand, he strode across the soft moss. "I wonder where their copter came down," he mused.

The Phantom halted, cupped a hand to his mouth, and shouted, "Hallo, Doctor Love! Halo, can you hear me? Doctor Love!"

No answer came.

The masked man called out once more and then resumed his trek into this valley which lay in the heart: of .

Half an hour later the Phantom stopped once again to call. "Doctor Love! Halo, Doctor Love!"

Still no one answered his hail.

The masked man was frowning, studying the foliage through which he had been moving. He went over to a large stalk which rose up to a height of ten feet. "This is very familiar-looking, but I can't

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quite place it..."

Near the base of the stalk lay an enormous splash of white, the size of an unfurled pennant. Kneeling, the Phantom touched it. Hey, it's a flower petal, a gigantic flower petal, he thought. Snapping his fingers, he said aloud, "And this thing here is a wild flower- but a wild flower ten feet tall."

He stood, scanning the surrounding area. "There- that's an orchid plant, with orchids the size of a man or bigger. And those ferns over there must reach to a height of thirty feet!"

The Phantom heard something in the brush. He turned. "Look at that fellow," he said.

Making his way along the mossy ground, carrying a twig the size of a baseball bat, was an ant. This ant was as large as a house cat. Seeing his three-section body, his waving antennae, his half-dozen legs so clearly made you feel as though you were studying him under a powerful microscope.

But this is no optical illusion, the Phantom thought as he blinked and shook his head. This is real.

What kind of place is this?

The leaves of the giant flower rustled.

Looking up, the Phantom exclaimed, "Whew!"

Flapping above him was a beautiful yellow-and-purple butterfly. Its wingspread was a full twelve feet.

I feel as though, thought the Phantom, I were Jack in that beanstalk fairy tale. This is like some giant's hothouse.

He watched the enormous butterfly flap up to lose itself in the high mist.

The Phantom continued to explore the volcanic valley. Everything he encountered was a giant version of something in the world outside . Plants which were tiny in the Deep Woods stretched up tall as trees here. Weeds grew higher than men, with seedpods the size of ripe pumpkins. The insects were of animal size. Red and black ants roamed the valley, looking like packs of dogs in size.

"I wonder if Doctor Love expected any of this," said the Phantom.

Up ahead of him he saw a great green grasshopper, with one of its legs resting on something black.

When the big insect sensed him its membranous wings opened and it gave a flying hop up and away, looking like a large model airplane on the loose.

The Phantom picked up the black object. It was a notebook, with a pebbled leather cover. Each page was filled with notations in neat, tiny printing. This must be Doctor Love's, concluded the Phantom, tucking the book into his belt.

Off among the foliage to his right, he sensed a large dark shape huddling. The Phantom planted his booted feet wide, turned with ready spear.

It was the helicopter.

The ship looked like a broken toy among the giant plants and flowers.

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"Doctor Love," called the Phantom. "Doctor Love, are you here?"

No response came.

The copter's rotor blades were bent like the fingers of an old man's hand. The flying machine was tilted far to one side.

Slowly, the Phantom worked his way through the tangle of overgrown plant life.

He took a deep breath and held it when he came near the cockpit. Exhaling, he said, "No one inside at all."

The cracked cabin glass was zigzagged with fine lines. His face pressed to it, the Phantom studied the inside of the crashed helicopter. Radio's smashed, he noted to himself. Which explains why she couldn't contact Colonel Weeks to ask for help.

He stepped back from the downed ship and began studying the ground all around the crash site.

"What's this?" he asked aloud. He bent, touching the ground with his fingertips: A splotch of red stained the moss. "Blood. So at least one of the three is hurt."

The Phantom found a second scarlet dot, then a third. "Traces of footprints, too. Looks like they headed off in this-"

Above him a great buzzing was growing.

Straightening, the Phantom turned to face the approaching source of the ominous sound.

CHAPTER TEN

Colonel Weeks came striding across the gravel parking lot behind Jungle Patrol headquarters. Taking his place in the jeep, he gave Sergeant Barnum an address, adding, "He's supposed to be home today, according to the people at the field."

The stocky sergeant put the machine in gear and they roared away."You think this might have something to do with Doctor Love's crash?" he asked.

Lines showed on the commander's forehead. "We don't know there's been a crash, Sergeant," he reminded his aide. "All we know is she hasn't communicated with us since yesterday."

Sergeant Barnum concentrated on his driving for a while, taking the jeep through the narrow dusty streets and alleyways of Mawitaan, cutting sharply round corners and easing through the thick afternoon traffic on the wide thoroughfares of the market area. European and American cars mingled with horse-drawn carts; messengers on motor scooters cut around native women with wicker baskets balanced on their heads.

When the jeep was climbing uphill away from the sea, the sergeant asked, "You think Gabe McClennan had something to do with . . with whatever happened?"

The gray-haired colonel bit on the stem of his pipe for a few long seconds. Faint smudges of shadow under his eyes indicated he hadn't slept much since the disappearance of Doctor Love and her party.

"I like to build cases on facts," he said finally.

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"Hey!" Sergeant Barnum hit the brake, in time to avoid hitting a stray piebald goat which was clacking its way across the narrow cobblestone street.

When the jeep started up again, Colonel Weeks continued, "Right now we don't have anything against Gabe. Nothing except his past record, and I don't like to hound a man because of that. The thing is, Sergeant, I can't keep from wondering why Orlando didn't take the helicopter into . He was the pilot originally scheduled for the job."

"Okay, suppose he wasn't sick," said the sergeant. "Maybe he got hoodooed. Everybody's heard stories about the volcano. Orlando's a family man and all."

"That's occurred to me," admitted the colonel. "I can't help it, though, Sergeant, I've got a hunch- a hunch that something is not quite right."

"Here's the house." Sergeant Barnum parked the jeep against the curb.

They were in a block of fresh, white two-story homes. The stucco, tile-roofed houses were so close together they gave the impression they were all segments of a block-long wall.

After the colonel rang the bell, an iron grille in the heavy wooden door swung open and a little hand appeared where a face was supposed to look out. A tiny voice asked, "Yes, what is it please?"

"Is your father home?" Sergeant Barnum said.

"I think he's sick," answered the tiny child's voice. "I don't think he can see anybody."

"Tell him the Jungle Patrol wants to talk with him," said the sergeant. "It's very important."

"Okay, I'll tell him."

The colonel touched Barnum's ann. "There's a side entrance off the alley between houses. Go watch it."

"You think he'll try a skip?"

"Another hunch."

The sergeant nodded, trotting off.

A kitten's fuzzy face appeared at the peephole in the door. "This is my new cat," announced the tiny voice. "I'm holding him up so you can see her."

"Very handsome," said Colonel Weeks. "Now I'd like to see your father."

"He's too sick," explained the unseen child in the Orlando home.

"Hey! Hold it!" came Sergeant Barnum's voice from the narrow passageway between the bright white houses.

"I haven't got a name for him yet, but-"

The colonel pivoted on one foot, running to join the sergeant.

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He found the stocky Barnum grappling with a middle-sized dark young man against the iron-grille fence at the alley's end.

"He runs pretty good for a guy with his appendix just out," remarked the sergeant.

"All right, Orlando," said Colonel Weeks to the pilot. "What's this all about?"

"My doctor says I'm not supposed to have visitors."

"Your doctor also says you had your appendix out over a year ago," the colonel reminded him. He put one big weathered hand on the pilot's shoulder. "Why are you pretending to be sick?"

Orlando straightened, and ran his fingers through his curly hair. "Oh, I got scared," he said, trying a smile on the colonel and then the sergeant. "When you're a family man you can't, you know, afford to take too many daredevil jobs."

Colonel Weeks had his big hand still pressing the young man's shoulder. "I don't think you'd dodge us simply because you didn't want to admit to being a coward," he said. "Now you listen to me, Orlando. Right now three people are missing, one of them a woman. I want to know what happened to those three and I'm going to keep at it until I do." He swung his other hand up to clutch the pilot's other shoulder. "This may even turn out to be murder, Orlando."

"Gabe wasn't going to kill anybody," said Orlando, trying to back away. He was already up against the black-iron bars of the fence.

"What was he going to do?" demanded the colonel in an even voice.

Orlando kept his eyes from meeting those of the JP commander. "I don't know."

"What did he tell you? Why did he want to take Doctor Love's flight into ?"

"I'm not sure, Colonel, believe me."

"But Gabe did arrange for you to drop out."

Orlando licked his upper lip before answering. "Not Gabe, exactly."

"Someone else?"

"Look," began Orlando, "I'll tell you what I know, Colonel, but you have to believe me when I say I had no idea Gabe was planning any violence."