Killer's Town by Lee Falk Page A

Misty Mountains, was a place all jungle folk knew as the Deep Woods. No one in the Patrol had even heard of it. And though few had even been close to it, and only a handful had actually seen it through the centuries, all jungle folk knew it was taboo. Even the fierce Tirangi, on their occasional relapses into headhunting, avoided it as did the primitive Massagni, rumored to be cannibals in this age of moonwalks. The Deep Woods was feared and avoided for several reasons. This was the land of the pygmy Bandar, whose poison weapons caused instant death. The pygmies, it was well known, treasured the privacy of their shadowy domain and resented intruders. Then, too, even if you were foolish enough to go looking for them, the Deep Woods were hard to find. You never knew you were there, until a pygmy peered out of the bushes, with a poison arrow in his tiny bow. There was one clue, the sound of a roaring waterfall. When you heard that, if you were wise and not bent on suicide, you turned around and ran in the opposite direction.
But the real taboo concerning the Deep Woods was another more mysterious matter. Somewhere behind the waterfall, reached by secret entrances, were the fabulous Skull Throne and Skull Cave, the legendary home of the Phantom, the Ghost Who Walks, the Man Who Cannot Die.
At this moment if you were there, you might see a large animal resembling a dog enter the cave. The mouth of the cave, carved by the wind and water of eons, looks like a giant skull. And the animal that looks like a dog is actually a big mountain wolf with the pale-blue eyes of his kind. He trots through the cave, past rocky chambers containing a variety of wonders: a dim grotto containing rows of engraved stone plaques behind which are the vaults of long- dead Phantoms—twenty generations of them. Another chamber contains shelves filled with large folio volumes, the chronicles of the Phantom. Another chamber glitters and gleams In the torchlight, filled with treasure chests brimming over with precious jewels, gold, silver, and platinum objects. A deep, pleasant voice comes from another chamber and the wolf heads for that. Inside is a powerful radio transmitter. Seated, speaking and listening, is a large man clad in tights, hooded and masked, with two guns in holsters on a gunbelt that bears his ancient insignia, the Sign of the Skull.
"Your daughter, Colonel Weeks? Killer's Town. I've just returned to Bangalla from a distant place and know nothing of this. Tell me."
This is the voice on the other end of the X band. The unknown Commander of the Jungle Patrol.
Colonel Weeks told him all about it—Killer Koy and the new town, the impotency of the Jungle Patrol and all other enforcement agencies, his night trip to the gates; the ultimatum from Killer Koy. Then of Caroline in the cage.
"Have you told me everything?" asked the Phantom.
"All that we know. The Lower Gamma banfc gang are there. Also the escaped lifers from here. But the plane goes in and out several times a week. Perhaps there are many more criminals."
"What happened to the old man who owned the place?"
"Matthew Crumb? We heard he's still there, unless they've killed him," said the Colonel. He waited for a moment.
"I will look into the matter, Colonel."
"What shall we do?"
"Nothing, Colonel, until you hear from me. Over and out."
There was a click and that was all. Colonel Weeks stared at the phone. Do nothing? How could he do that with Caroline in that cage? But what else could he do? Orders are orders.
Guran, the pygmy chief, and a dozen other little Bandar warriors were waiting at the Skull Throne as the Phantom dashed out of the Skull Cave with Devil, the wolf, at his heels. They were waiting for him to start the feast spread on mats on the ground before the throne, celebrating the Phantom's return from a distant mission. But he had no time for a feast now. He raced to a patch of grass where Hero, the big white stallion, was grazing, untied, and quickly saddled him. As he did, he