The Phantom by Rob MacGregor Page A

and Horton was particularly concerned about her, since she had been on her way to see him. Now he wondered if he would ever meet her.
    Following the reports also took his mind off the local matter of the destroyed bridge and the missing witness who swore that the Phantom had fallen into the gorge with the truck. But there was no trace of the Phantom, as he’d suspected would be the case, and the witness, unfortunately, had not yet been found and probably never would be.
    Once inside his office, Horton took off his gunbelt and unbuttoned his shirt. He splashed water on his face from a wash bowl, rubbed his hands vigorously over his face, and wondered what the hell he was going to do about the situation with the Clipper. As he reached for a towel, he glanced in the mirror and glimpsed movement. Horton spun around and sucked in his breath. His eyes locked with the Phantom’s.
    “Hey, can’t you ever come in through the front door?” Horton snapped.
    “Too obvious. I prefer the window.”
    Horton smiled and shook hands with the Phantom. “It’s good to see you, Ghost Who Walks. I was getting worried when I found out about the bridge collapsing. I heard you were in that truck.”
    “Oh, that.” He touched his side, which was nearly healed from the stab wound. “It’s not the reason I came here.”
    “Let me guess.” If there was trouble anywhere near Bangalla, the Phantom often found his way into the mess. “We’ve had some trouble tonight offshore.”
    “I know. I picked up the distress call on the radio. Any word?”
    “The passengers were picked up by a Portuguese fishing boat,” Horton said. “Everyone’s safe . . . except a young woman abducted off the Clipper.”
    “Who?”
    Horton’s shoulders slumped. “She was on her way to meet me, oddly enough. Her name is Diana Palmer.”
    The Phantom reacted to the name. “Diana Palmer of New York? Her uncle owns the Tribune .”
    “Yeah, that’s right.” The Phantom obviously got away from the jungle from time to time. “How did you know her, if I may ask?”
    The Phantom shrugged. “Maybe I heard the name somewhere, sounded familiar.”
    “First those grave robbers, and now this,” Horton said. “Do you think the Sengh Brotherhood is involved in this airplane matter?”
    “Good question. But why would they kidnap a young woman from New York?”
    “I haven’t a clue. I just hope we can get her back,” Horton said.
    “I’ll see what I can do.” The Phantom eyed the door as though he were about to leave.
    But Horton wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. “Your father had a theory about all this, you know.”
    Mention of his father caught the Phantom’s attention, just as Horton had known it would. “What do you mean?”
    Horton paced across the room. “He was certain the Sengh Brotherhood had a secret stronghold where they’ve been hiding for centuries.”
    “I know.”
    “He was never able to find it,” Horton continued as if the Phantom didn’t already know. “He thought they had some kind of power to block him.”
    “Yeah. But he was getting close. When they realized it, they turned on him and he died.” The Phantom reached for the doorknob. “I better get going.”
    Horton grabbed his arm. “Wait. Don’t use the door. Go out the way you came in. I have enough trouble pretending you’re not real as it is.”
    The Phantom looked amused. “Captain Horton and his double life.” Then he climbed through the window and disappeared into the darkness.
    The Phantom slipped away from the Jungle Patrol outpost and into the forest. Zak was patiently waiting for him, holding Hero’s reins in one hand and his father’s red and blue kerchief in the other. Nearby, Devil paced anxiously about, wary about being so near the outpost. The Phantom swung his leg over the white steed, then pulled Zak up behind him.
    “Ghost Who Walks, I remember now. They had airplanes,” Zak said.
    For a moment, the Phantom wasn’t sure who he was talking about.