The Phantom and the Lost Treasure of Atlantis

By Ronald Kowalski, Jr.

Based on a story thread created by Aman King and with the assistance of friends of the 21st Phantom – The Ghost Who Walks

To the memory of Lee Falk.

Without him, the jungles of Bangalla and the dark corners of the world would be far more dangerous places.

For more information, contact Ronald Kowalski, Jr. at trk1100@yahoo.com

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For those who came in late... over 400 years ago, on a remote beach of Bangalla, friendly Pygmies found the sole survivor of a pirate attack. This man swore upon the skull of his father's murderer that he shall devote his life to the destruction of piracy, greed, cruelty and injustice and that his descendants shall follow him. That was the 1st Phantom. Now the legacy, passed on over 20 generations, is followed by the 21st Phantom. Thought to be the same man, the Ghost who walks, man who cannot die, the Phantom works alone...

It seemed like it was going to be another relaxed day in the Deep Woods. Rex and Tomm were playing with the twins and Diana was resting in the shade of a tree. Miss Tagama had given up all hope of teaching class today and was talking with her Bandar friends. The Phantom was reading over his forefathers' adventures when a piece of paper fell out of the Chronicle. The Phantom picked it up and starting reading...

'Let me begin by observing first of all, that nine thousand was the sum of years which had elapsed since the war which was said to have taken place between those who dwelt outside the Pillars of Heracles and all who dwelt within them. This war I am going to describe. Of the combatants on the one side, the city of Athens was reported to have been the leader and to have fought out the war. The combatants on the other side were commanded by the kings of Atlantis, which, as per legend, was an island greater in extent than Libya and Asia, and when afterwards sunk by an earthquake, became an impassable barrier of mud to voyagers sailing from hence to any part of the ocean.'

The parchment contained a cryptic map.

Our Phantom was intrigued by the contents of the parchment. There was no reference whatsoever to it in the chronicles. It was just one lone piece of paper out of nowhere. The only lead he could get out of it was the map. But it was no less than a puzzle itself. 'Does it carry any meaning after so many hundreds of years,' he wondered? The Phantom kept brooding over the piece of parchment.

The question in his mind was 'Can there be a land unknown to man today when every inch of the earth and so many planets have been mapped?'

Away from the Deep Woods, past the jungles of the interior, past the Misty Mountains, the sands further north, and over the emerald green of the Mediterranean, a research vessel alights from a Greek port. The head of the team aboard is a young English archaeologist, Dr. Simon Day. He follows in his grandfather’s footsteps and continues a search that began over sixty years earlier with the finding of an incomplete parchment, stories of Atlantis, a lost map, and of riches. Unbeknownst to Simon, the promise of riches was the motivation that drew his backers. Men of dubious means had outfitted the expedition and protected their investment with a crew of similar 'shady character'. What lay ahead was unknown, but as he stood at the bow of the ship, the wind in his hair, Simon was full of optimism. He had one other legacy from his grandfather, a strange pendant that he wore around his neck, the Phantom's Good Mark.

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Simon was a 7-foot tall, 240-pound giant, much like his grandfather. He was a well-educated gentleman and a good archaeologist. He did not know what the pendant was. The only thing he knew about it was that his grandfather believed it was a lucky pendant.

Even Simon's grandfather did not know much about the pendant. The only one in the family who knew what is was, was his great-great-grand father, who had worked next to the "unknown commander" of the Jungle Patrol. Only he knew that his commander was the 16th Phantom and that the Days, including Simon, were descendents of the ex-pirate Red Beard.

Fifteen years earlier Simon Day had had a college-cum-room mate named Kit Walker as his best friend. A good athlete, Simon practiced boxing with an equally adept Kit. He later became an Olympic champion but by profession, an archaeologist.

Although Simon and Kit had been close during their college days, in the intervening years they had had very little contact. Occasionally, short, cryptic notes from his old college friend would arrive at Simon's home announcing Kit's imminent arrival in England. The notes would be followed, usually quite late at night, by a knock on the door and the entry of his old friend. He would travel alone except for his large, fierce-looking but well-behaved canine (Simon could never be sure if it was a dog or a wolf).

An air of mystery and adventure had always surrounded Kit, and over the years it had grown deeper in Simon's mind, all the more so given his friend's mysterious, unplanned visits and equally unpredictable departures. As his research vessel pulled slowly out of port, Simon's thoughts turned to his old friend, wherever he was, "Well, Kit, you're not the only one running off on adventures now. Let's see what life has in store!"

Meanwhile, in Simon's cabin, a dark, shadowy figure was quietly, efficiently rummaging through Simon's files, taking careful note of a small piece of parchment, carefully preserved in a plastic envelope...

Still standing on the bow of the ship, Simon did not hear the approach of an unexpected visitor. He started when he felt a hand touch the middle of his back and half-spun about only to see the co-leader of the expedition, Dr. Rhea Crowley, the tall, dark-haired, beautiful woman who had followed Simon around the world on his many expeditions.

Simon smiled and instantly relaxed, “Oh, hi Rhea, I was just…”

“Just staring out at the sea dreaming of some great discovery, no doubt,” Rhea leaned in towards Simon and gazed out towards the horizon. “I swear Simon, you always seem to be looking out for the next great voyage or lost city. Some days it’s a wonder you remember to tie your shoes! You know, sometimes the great discoveries are so close you can reach out and touch them.” Rhea looked up at Simon, but his eyes were already scanning the horizon.

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“Simon, did you hear a word I said?”

“Oh, yes Rhea, I heard you. I was just wondering how Kit would handle a new adventure like this one.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, “Kit Walker. Again. Simon, you do know that you don’t need Kit Walker to lead you on this expedition. You’ve made more discoveries than archaeologists twice your age, and when THIS discovery comes through…”

“If, Rhea, if it comes through--if we can find Atlantis.”

“Alright Simon, have it your way--if we find Atlantis. I know we will. All of the research says it will be there. It has to be.”

“Well I hope so. The backers have put up a lot of money to launch this expedition and get us on this ship—“

Rhea interrupted, “Oh, Simon, I almost forgot. Captain Singh wants to see us up on the bridge. He has some questions about the new course you gave him before we left port.”

Simon and Rhea turned and made their way towards the bridge of the vessel, still talking about when or if Atlantis would be found and Simon’s never-ending pursuit of his old friend Kit.

Meanwhile, back in the Deep Woods, day had turned to night and the candles that burned in Skull Cave had grown short from the hours of burning the 21st Phantom had subjected them to. All around his desk, countless volumes of Phantom chronicles lay strewn about like so many dead leaves on a forest floor.

Diana approached her husband who was quietly turning pages in another volume, this one written by the 14th Phantom, more than a century before. Hearing Diana approach, the Phantom closed the great book and let out a sigh.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Diana asked.

“It’s this map fragment and this cryptic note written centuries ago. There’s just the one reference and not another mention of the war or Atlantis in any of the other Phantom chronicles. There are just a few paragraphs and then a dead end—very odd—especially for a Phantom.”

Diana draped her arms around her husband’s shoulders and looked at the many volumes that now littered the floor of Skull Cave. She could feel the tension and frustration growing in him as the muscles of his neck and shoulders flexed uncontrollably, almost like a cat ready to pounce.

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“Atlantis…hmmm. I think I know someone who could help you with that topic.”

Instantly the Phantom understood. Turning to face Diana, a broad smile broke out on his face. “Of course! How could I have been so blind! Simon! If anyone knows if Atlantis exists, he will.” Rising from his desk, the Phantom took Diana by the hand and led her deeper into Skull Cave, “Come on, we have a message to send!”

As Rhea and Simon entered the chart room, Captain Singh, a thin, dark-skinned, old sailor was standing over a pile of maps, peering intently. His first mate stood at his side and the two were having a loud discussion when Simon and Rhea joined them.

“Ah, Dr. Day, I’m glad you joined us.” The captain’s English was heavily accented from his years spent growing up in Madras before heading out to sea when he was a boy. “I have questions about the new heading you requested.”

Simon walked over to the charts with Rhea just a half-step behind him. As he reached the table he could see the maps spread before him—the western Mediterranean and northwest Africa.

“It’s very simple, captain. Sail due west until we’re past Dakar and then due south to the Walker Archipelago.”

“Dr. Day, I’ve sailed these waters for most of my life. My family has worked the seas along both coasts of Africa for hundreds of years. If you want Walker Archipelago, the best way, the shortest way, is to follow the coast after we pass Gibraltar and---“

Simon put up his hand, silencing Singh, “Captain, I know that as well as you, but you also need to know this. We’re not the only ones searching for Atlantis. Others seek the same prize as we do.”

Waving towards the map, Singh shouted, “All the more reason for us to get to Walker as fast as we can!”

Simon turned his head to one side and took a deep breath. Rhea knew he was about to dig in his heels, “Captain Singh, others are following our lead in this search. Still other parties are following their own trails. I want to be sure we are not followed—even at sea. If we follow common sea lanes, we will never know which ships are moving cargo and which ships are after us. Only be taking a due west course can we get ourselves far away from pursuers—or at least be able to see who they are before we make the turn south. Do you understand?”

Singh and his first mate shared a heated exchange in their native tongue, continually pointing at the charts and marking the map off western Africa as Simon had proposed.

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After a few minutes of hard conversation, Singh’s first mate trudged out of the chart room and onto the bridge of the ship.

Singh looked back at Simon and Rhea, “My first mate is my cousin, Suraj. We have made many voyages together over the years. He is at home on the sea, but does not like to take chances. That is why he argued to take the faster course to the Walkers.” Singh paced around his map table before tossing back his shoulders and looking Simon in the eye. “But I command this vessel Dr. Day; we will follow your course.”

Simon nodded to the captain, “Thank you, Captain Singh. Good day to you.”

As he and Rhea started to leave the chart room, Singh cleared his throat, “We will follow the course for now. Know this: This expedition is YOURS Dr. Day, but the ship and crew are MINE. They obey me. If I feel there is a risk to them, I will plot my own course and make my own decisions. Do you understand?”

Simon turned and took a half step toward the captain. Their eyes locked as the two men took each other’s measure. After what seemed like hours, Simon nodded in Singh’s direction. “I understand, Captain. Very well, indeed. But just remember that when we find what we seek, the rewards will be great—beyond your wildest dreams!”

“I have very large dreams, Dr. Day.”

“Even so. What we seek is the greatest lost treasure that remains. Egypt, Greece, Rome—all were beggars compared to Atlantis! And the treasure has never been found—bits and pieces perhaps—but never Atlantis itself.”

Simon paused, letting his words sink in. He moved closer to Singh until their eyes were just inches apart across the map table. “Think of it, Singh! The gold of the ages--there for the asking—and all to the men brave enough to take it!” Simon made a snatching motion with his hand. Singh followed it, transfixed.

“Of course there will be risks, but rewards as well. Now, I think you’re a man who can judge risk and reward—you wouldn’t be here otherwise. You steer the ship—I’ll get you Atlantis.”

The Captain was silent for a moment and began to walk around his chart table, “My family knows these waters. Too many of mine have died here by the ocean’s hand or that of…others. So yes, I know risk and danger…and reward. As long as the share is good, my ship will be there. Why you’ve chosen the Walker Archipelago, I have no idea. It’s nothing but a pile of rock. Why Bangalla holds on to that worthless outpost in the Atlantic is a mystery, but if you want the Walkers, you’ll have them—six days, best speed!”

Simon smiled, “Excellent! Six days and the adventure truly begins. Good day, Captain.” With that, Simon and Rhea left the chart room and began making their way back to their

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cabins. The ship was an old one, lacking well-appointed state rooms, but it was still quite serviceable; a non-descript, old cargo vessel making its way due west towards the Mediterranean and headed for the Atlantic.

“Simon?”

“Yes Rhea?”

“Some speech in there. Do you really think that Atlantis has that much gold?”

“Who knows Rhea? Who knows? But one this is certain.” Rhea looked up at Simon, curiously raising an eyebrow, “I had to make Singh believe that there IS enough treasure to get him on our side. You know this will be a long voyage with many stops along the way, but until we take the first step, we might as well just sit in London flipping through old maps!

“But Simon, what if there’s no gold? I mean, you’re not Indiana Jones stumbling onto treasures every time you go out on a dig.”

“I know Rhea, but all the legends speak of gold and riches. There has to be SOME truth to it somewhere.”

“Well let’s hope there’s enough in the Walker’s to satisfy the captain and his crew!”

At that very moment, in western Africa, a radio operator was receiving a message. Reading the transmitted letters and numbers revealed only gibberish, but when the message was carried to another, more powerful man, the decoded message quickly took form. “We make for the Walker Archipelago…six days…make your plans quickly.” The man sat back and his chair and smiled an evil smile.

Back on the ship, as Simon and Rhea neared their cabins, the ship’s radio operator approached them with a different message written hastily on a piece of paper. Simon read it quickly and turned to Rhea with a confused look on his face.

“Is something wrong, Simon?”

“Wrong, no. Just curious. Somehow or other Kit Walker sent us a message via radiophone. He wants to ask me a question about…Atlantis.”

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Meanwhile deep in the jungles of Bangalla, the Phantom was sending other messages and making plans. If what he had heard about his friend Simon’s voyage was true, he would have to move quickly. The old jungle saying says, ‘The Phantom moves faster than a lightning flash’. The question was, to where?

Simon and Rhea walked on in silence from the chartroom, thinking about the confrontation with Singh, the message from Kit, and everything that had led them up to this point.

The pair turned the last corner of the ship’s maze of cramped, steamy corridors and stood in front of Rhea’s cabin. Looking hopefully into Simon’s eyes, she spoke, “Well, here we are.”

“Yeah, here we are. I was going to sit down for a few minutes before dinner. It’s been a busy day Rhea.” Just then the ship lurched slightly in response to some passing ocean swell. Rhea fell into Simon and the two fell back against the corridor wall. “Ooh…sorry Simon”

For a moment the two stood there, holding onto each other. Simon braced himself for the next roll of the ship and while Rhea hoped it would come quickly. At just that moment, the dim lights over their head flickered and went dark.

Instantly, Rhea felt Simon’s body tense as his head swung about, eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. The ship rolled under them again and the sound of a loud crash, followed by a second thud came from behind the door to Simon’s cabin.

“What the--“ Simon pushed Rhea from him and moved towards his cabin door. As he pushed it open, Rhea saw a dark figure lunging towards Simon, striking the giant man in the midsection and pushing him into the wall, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. Rhea gasped but Simon’s instincts had already kicked in. His fists were clenched and moving, seeking out his opponent in the companionway of the ship as they had many times before in the boxing ring.

Fortunately for the dark figure who had hit him, the dim light and tight quarters worked to the attacker’s advantage. Simon’s heavy blows missed their mark, glancing off of his assailant’s head and body. In a moment, he was up and away from Simon, moving off into the darkness. After just a few seconds, Rhea could hear only footsteps fading off into the distance as Simon’s attacker ran down the hall.

“Simon! Are you all right?” Rhea exclaimed, rushing to his side.

Gathering himself, Simon rose to his feet. “Yeah. I’m okay Rhea. Just a blow to my pride—he was fast though! I could barely get a hand on him.”

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As the words left Simon’s lips, the lights flickered back to life, revealing…the chaos that was now Simon’s cabin. The room had been completely ransacked.

An hour later, Singh, his first mate, Simon, and Rhea all stood in the remains of Simon’s cabin. Simon glared at the captain.

“I thought you said your crew was trustworthy. How do you explain this? My cabin turned over! Me assaulted! This is bad Singh. We need to find who did this and who else may be involved.”

Singh again surveyed the room. “Dr. Day, who did this I do not know. My crew has been with me for years. This is a mystery to me.”

“Ah, a mystery. That’s all you can say, Singh? How do I know who to trust now? How can any of us know? I want a watch placed on the radio and radar. Our position and course MUST remain secret.”

“Dr. Day, we will do all we can; radio silence and a watch for any ships on the horizon. In the meantime, if you take care of your records and your files, I’ll manage the ship. I am most worried by this development as well.” Singh turned and left Simon’s cabin—now a mess of files, notebooks, photos, and maps scattered from wall to wall. Simon and Rhea stood in silence for a few minutes and slowly began to reconstruct the years of work that now lay around them; the papers that they hoped would lead them to Atlantis.

Meanwhile, in the Skull Cave, the Phantom was hard at work. On the radio-phone to President Luanga, Bangalla’s president, he had arranged for a cargo plane to land just north of the Deep Woods to pick up a rather large crate. From there the plane was to fly west across Africa to Bangalla’s western-most possession—the Walker Archipelago. Once there, the plane would circle the main island three times before returning to Matiwaan. Officially, it was listed as a “training flight” meant to help young pilots become familiar with touch-and-go landings and to help calibrate some of the navigation instruments left on the islands. What the official mission records would never record were the contents of the large crate picked up from a deserted runway on the edge of the jungle—one Phantom, ready for action!

Far away on the Walker Archipelago’s main island, all was quiet. The only sounds were the calls of sea birds and the gentle crashing of waves along the island’s rocky beaches, just like every other day on this empty, forgotten spit of land. But this day was soon to become very different. A small launch slowly made its way to shore, picking its way carefully through the rocks and coral that surrounded the island, ready to tear apart the hull of any boat foolish enough to come here, as it had done for centuries.

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The bones of many sailors littered the waters of these islands, but no more would be added today. The small boat chose an uncertain but steady course, but it eventually landed on a small beach, unloading ten large, well-muscled, well-armed men onto the island. By radio, the group’s leader signaled to a ship out at sea that they had landed safely. The ship quickly moved off so as not to attract any attention from an as yet distant freighter that was also steaming to the island. The men quickly moved guns, survival gear, and food off of the beach and disappeared into the jungle. All that remained were the calls of sea birds and the gentle crashing of waves along the beach. Just like any other day.

The cargo plane swept west over the expanse of Africa, loaded with one large crate picked up from a deserted African plain. Now half-way across the continent, the flight had been totally uneventful, and deadly dull. The young co-pilot turned to the older, more experienced flight commander.

“So how many of these missions have you been on?”

“More than I can tell you. The extra leave was always a great incentive to sign on for an extra flight.”

“Well that’s for sure. Two extra weeks off just for picking up a crate and flying off to the Walkers…good deal!”

The older pilot looked over at the junior officer and smiled. “Oh that’s true. But remember this: Never take a flight for granted. The no-brainers can get you. Clear air turbulence. Mechanical failure. Electrical problems. You can never be too careful.”

“I know, I know. We went down the checklist, twice. Remember?”

“Um-hum.”

“—and secured the cargo—“

“Uh-huh.”

“—and double-checked the weather forecast, fuel levels, and the compass heading.”

The copilot leaned back in his chair. Confident that this would be just another uneventful training flight, he began to plan out how to spend his leave when they returned to Bangalla.

While the flight progressed in the cockpit, in the cargo bay a small panel on the top of the crate flipped open. The unknown passenger flung two parachutes out of the box and then the Phantom lifted himself out of the crate. Amid the roar of the engines, he expertly positioned the crate near the back hatch of the plane, connecting the larger parachute to

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his crate of supplies. When he was satisfied that the crate should be able to land safely, he took up the second parachute and put it on himself. Then, checking his watch, he settled down to wait until the plane would be over the Walker Archipelago.

After some time, Simon and Rhea had made progress in repairing the notes of the Atlantis expedition, but Simon’s cabin was still a mess. Suspiciously, nothing appeared to be missing, but it was hard to tell; there was still so much to go through.

Exhausted, Simon hung his head and slumped down against the cabin wall. Rhea walked over and sat down next to him.

“Simon, let’s rest. We make the Walkers in two days and there will be plenty of work to do.”

“Rhea, I know we’re in trouble—I’ll bet someone’s already there, beating us to the dig site.”

“Maybe so, but there’s nothing we can do now.” Rising, she extended her hand to Simon, “Come sleep.”

Simon took her hand and rose from the floor. Rhea led him out of his wrecked cabin and into hers. He collapsed on her bed and was in a deep sleep when Rhea returned from locking his cabin door for the night. Shallow comfort, she thought. Whoever had broken in already had what they wanted, but still…

That night, for the first time in many, many months Rhea curled herself into bed with Simon. He was so driven during expeditions. Perhaps she would tell him it was to stay warm, but his slow steady breathing lulled her to sleep in moments. It was the best night’s sleep she had in some time.

Far away in a large sea-side mansion in western Africa, powerful figure sat at a table outside, watching the sun fall below the horizon. As night fell, he rose and walked towards the sea, stopping at the edge of the beach. Squinting, he imagined that he could just make out the slightest bump on the horizon—the easternmost island of the Walker Chain. “Soon Dr. Day, the treasures of Atlantis will be mine. We will have beaten you like we beat your grandfather and father before you. Once again my family will rule the seas and the name of Singh will be feared from the Sea of Japan to the shores of Spain—all thanks to your hard work.”

At that instant, a beeping sound came from the laptop computer that sat on the table where he had sat. When he arrived at the computer, the screen showed a map of the Walker island chain. With a few mouse clicks, the screen zoomed in on the main island of the group. The map showed it to be a rough circle of rocks with an elevated, rocky

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section on the western part of the island. The island sloped down to the east and was mostly jungle, except for a tall rocky promontory that towered over a rock-encircled bay. Eons before a large, ancient volcano stood here and had exploded, the bay being the remains of its crater. A flashing red “X” located at the bay marked the spot where Simon’s maps said the Atlantis dig would take place. It was on that spot that the ten men who recently landed on the island would start THEIR work.

A small boy walking on an unnamed beach on the western-most of the Cape Verde islands heard the drone far overhead and looked up into the clear, blue sky. Far above him he could just make out the shape of a single representative of Bangalla’s Air Force, far from home.

“Okay Cap, we’re just about there. A little further and we can turn this boat around.”

“You’re ready for that leave already, aren’t you?”

“Well, we do have several hours of flying to get us home…and of course one marvelously graceful turn over the Walker’s to execute first.”

Just then alarms rang out in the cabin and the plane shuddered noticeably. The copilot started manically checking gauges and dials. “What the—“

The captain’s grip on the controls tightened, but his eyes and face showed no panic. “It’s like I told you Jeremiah, you can never take these flights for granted. Anything can happen.”

“I’m showing a hull breach out back. It looks like the cargo door is open. I can’t override it from here. I’ll have to head back and close it manually.”

“I’ll hold her steady.” The pilot passed a glance at his friend, who was already moving towards the cabin door, “Be careful back there.”

The young copilot opened the cabin door and moved into the cargo section of the plane. Looking back towards the tail of the plane, he froze. The cargo had been shifted to the back of the plane, ready to be deployed. A large man, masked and dressed in purple was single-handedly pushing the crate out of the back of the plane.

Shouting at the top of his lungs, the copilot screamed, “Who are you? How did you get here!”

The man in purple turned and smiled. The old jungle saying says, ‘The voice of the Phantom turns blood into ice’. At that moment, the young pilots’ voice would have frozen solid in his veins.

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Shouting over the sound of the engines and the air rushing into the cargo hold, The Phantom called back to the copilot, “Thanks for the ride Lieutenant. It was a smooth flight. See you soon!”

Giving a salute to a very confused member of the plane’s flight crew, the Phantom then sprinted towards to open cargo door. Reaching the end of the ramp, he leapt into the air, leaving the plane behind and above him.

The cold wind rushed by his face and he spread his arms and legs wide, reveling in the free-fall. Below him, the main island of the Walker Archipelago hurtled towards him as he continued to gain speed. Tucking his legs, the Phantom made a playful forward roll, righted himself, and pulled the ripcord of his parachute. With a jerk, the canopy opened cleanly above his head. As he gazed up into the chute, he could see the cargo plane already making its turn. If its captain followed his orders, he would circle the island until his unknown passenger landed on the island and then head for home.

Slowed by the open parachute, the Phantom directed his descent towards a high bluff on the western edge of the island. While doing so, he noted where his load of supplies was headed…a bit to the east of the high bluff, but at least on the island…good.

From high in the air, the island was just a dull green and brown smudge, but as he fell to earth, more details came into view…first large rocks, trees, and then what looked like faint animal paths, low walls of rocks, and finally what appeared to be a rough pile of stones that looked out over the western edge of the island. It was on this point that the Phantom wished to land: From here that he would be able to survey the island and await Simon’s arrival.

As he neared the ground, the Phantom made a few last-minute adjustments and spotted a smooth, clear spot of ground on which to land. The ground rushed up to meet him, and with a few quick steps he was down—the first Phantom to touch the Walker Archipelago since the end of World War II!

In the rush of the freefall and landing, though, there was one thing that The Phantom didn’t see. On the southern shore of the island, a small boat sat on the beach. Several men were busily moving supplies into the forest just off the shore. But one man, with a machine gun strapped over his back had his eyes looking towards the sky. There he saw a lone plane circling this forgotten outcrop of land, and then he saw the parachutes.

An evil smile came across his lips when he saw a man floating towards the island. Reaching back into the boat, he lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes, catching a fleeting glimpse of a large man in purple nearing the island from above. Almost as soon as he saw him though, the man disappeared from his line of sight, somewhere on the other side of the island.

“Now this little game gets interesting.” A few moments later, he shouted to his men. In response they moved more quickly, emptying their boat of the last of its supplies and

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pulling it into the woods, leaving the beach deserted except for a few birds, the sand, and the waves.

Daybreak found Simon and Rhea collapsed, exhausted, over the remains of their research files. For all of the mess that their well-ordered papers had become, it still seemed that nothing had actually been taken. After hours of trying to reorganize the papers, the two had again fallen asleep to the rolling of the ship as it turned south to make for the Walker’s. The rhythmic throbbing of the engines slowly robbed them of their energy and they surrendered to a sleep brought on by the day’s stresses and worries and years of work in preparation for just this moment.

As they slept, dark forces were hard at work. The same powerful figure who commanded the force on the Walker’s now peered at an image on a computer screen. It was an image of an ancient text written in a language that was beyond his understanding. On the top part of the map was a drawing roughly the shape of the main island of the Archipelago – that much was clear. The rest, however, was unreadable. It was this document that Simon Day had sought to hide for so long and had struggled to translate for so many years. Its secret was what had driven Day so hard: The exact location of the lost treasure of Atlantis! And now, thanks to his agents on the ship, he had the document but still not the key to understanding its words!

His fist slammed the top of his desk and he reached for the phone. Several phone calls later he leaned back in his chair with a satisfied, evil grin on his face. The secret of Atlantis’s treasure would soon be his.

On the island, a small camp was now well established behind the tree line, just off the shore. The commander of the small force had sent out a scouting party and located a small cave that became the band’s base of operations. He had told his cohorts that they were not alone on the island and to prepare an unexpected (but not necessarily unwelcome) confrontation over the next few days. Eight of the men were hired mercenaries, special-forces veterans well-versed in survival and combat. The other two were mercenaries of a different sort.

The age of high-adventure in archaeology when a dig could ruthlessly plunder another nations riches had long since passed…for most. But the world was still full of lawless places and unscrupulous collectors who would pay great sums for another culture’s shiny pieces of gold or forgotten, ancient works of art. When the hunger for such riches became intense, these were the two men they would call. Men who would stop at nothing to gain the treasure they had been hired to steal and who would let no one stand in their way. These two were expert at their gruesome trade.

It was hard to say which set of men was the more dangerous. The mercenaries fought with guns and knives: to great and bloody effect. The archaeologists used different

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tactics when the need arose. When the complaints of grave-robbing had arisen, how many times had these men sealed new bodies in the tombs they had only recently opened? And how often had they closed the doors of ancient temples leaving terrified occupants inside staring out at the last vanishing wedges of daylight that passed through their quickly-closing escape route? To be sure, there were too many to count or be related in this chronicle.

The day after their arrival, their leader called his group together. Quickly, he and five of his trusted soldiers gathered their arms and made their way into the jungle, heading off with their leader to the western highlands of the island. It was there that they were to find and neutralize the threat posed by the mysterious visitor in purple who had dropped from the sky. In just a few seconds, any sign of their presence was gone, and only the noises of the jungle remained.

After landing, the Phantom had been busy as well. He landed just to the east of the westernmost point of the island. His supplies had landed several hundred yards into the jungle, so he had to spend most of the afternoon moving food, water, and other necessities to the exposed hilltop that would serve as his base of operations. The heights would provide him with an unobstructed view of the ocean surrounding the island, so he would be the first to see any arriving vessels. Surprise was an old friend of The Phantom.

After all of his supplies had been gathered, The Phantom surveyed the hilltop. Just as the Chronicles his father had written declared, the hilltop was covered with grass and large boulders including some that had been mysteriously stacked and positioned into the form of a crude hut. The 20th Phantom had used this hut as HIS headquarters on the island and had set up an observation and “listening post” here before World War II.

The positioning of the Walker’s allowed for easy observation of shipping going around the west coast of Africa. As part of the treaties that ended the war, Bangalla had been awarded this forgotten spit of rock as a thank you for certain services (which were never specified) provided by citizens of that country against the Nazis. Over the years, the electronics had been upgraded somewhat, but no one had visited here for any extended period.

The Phantom stood before the cabin door for a moment, as had his father before him. The relationship between Phantoms and their fathers was a strange one. Almost all spent little time with their fathers, who were off fighting evil in dark corners of the world. The young Phantoms-to-be would be raised by mothers or other surrogates, always training, always waiting for the day when THEY would be called upon to take the Oath of the Skull.

And then the word would come. The Phantom, their father, was dead. They now had to return to the Skull Cave to take their oath and step forward as part of living history…as the next Ghost Who Walks. The Man Who Cannot Die. Funny thing that…funny indeed. For the 21st Phantom, the story was little different. After being mortally

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wounded by Singh pirates, his father had died before Kit could return to the Skull Cave. He was late by a matter of hours.

He carried his father to his final rest in the crypt where nineteen generations of Phantoms found their rest. He removed the rings from his fingers, closed his tomb, and engraved the year of his death onto the stone covering. And then, as Phantoms have always done, he engraved the year of his birth on the next open space in the tomb where he would one day lie. How many times had he stood in front of his father’s final resting place?

When the work of sealing the tomb was done, the new Phantom returned to a waiting Guran, who was ready to help with the final task of that horrible day: Recording the death of a Phantom in the chronicles. It was Guran who had been present when the 20 th

Phantom returned to the shores of Bangalla, mortally wounded. It was Guran who had tried to nurse the Ghost Who Walks back to health. It was Guran who heard the fevered ramblings of the dying man. And now, it was Guran who told the story to the 21st

Phantom, who would now record the tale in the chronicles. The change in the handwriting on the pages marked the passing of one Phantom and the ascension of another.

As Kit’s hand opened the chronicle, he saw the last words written there by his father: “Singh river pirates menacing the Ganges…off to India!” To this day, after all the years, Kit could still hear Guran’s telling of his father’s last tale, word for word.

‘And so your father went to India and for months chased down the Singh. Slowly and methodically he beat them…made them run from the rivers and into the highlands. And then, as the monsoons came, they ran to the west. Travelling forgotten rivers, streams, and trails to escape your father’s wrath, they came close to eluding him. But they made one mistake that eventually led your father to them.’

‘In the last battle, your father swam out to a Singh boat that was anchored on the Sharavathi River. In the early morning hours, he pulled himself from the water, disabled its engine, and cut the anchor line. Then he fought off the last of the Singh until only their leader remained.

‘The two men fought as the boat moved down the rain-swollen river. They grappled with each other until your father heard the roar of the great Jog Falls. Your father looked away then for just one moment. And it was then that the knife found its mark. Your father fell to his knees but was still able to deliver one mighty blow worthy of a Phantom. He knocked the Singh down and leapt from the boat.’

‘Using all his strength, he swam for shore, reaching land just in time to see the Singh boat go over the falls. From there, how your father got to the coast, even he did not know. He wandered for days. The knife wound was not deep, but in the jungle, walking day and night during the monsoon season, it became infected. By the time he arrived in Hannovar he was fevered and delirious.’

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‘It was then that a young first mate on a trading vessel took pity on him. He brought your father aboard his ship and made him comfortable. Your father never told me his full name. He only called him Nikhil. As his ship sailed, the young man tried to heal your father’s wound. But by the time the vessel made Bangalla, there was little that could be done. I tried all of my medicines, but the damage was too great, the infection too widespread. That was when we sent for you, Kit.’

‘Mozz and I kept the vigil here in Skull Cave. We never left him, Kit. After four days, he breathed his last. You arrived just two hours later.’

Kit wrote Guran’s words into the chronicle; his first entry as the Phantom. He closed the great book and placed it carefully on the shelf that contained the deeds of his ancestors. Standing in silence, he could feel the eyes of twenty Phantoms staring down upon him expectantly. It was then that the young Kit Walker, the 21st Phantom, holstered his father’s guns and assumed his seat on the throne of the Skull Cave. Evil, cruelty, and injustice would never find a place to hide.

All of these thoughts passed through the Phantom’s brain in the blink of an eye. The years had passed so quickly but now, he stood in his father’s footsteps…literally. His hand reached for the door of the stone hut and pushed it open.

The ship plowed steadily southward towards the Walker’s. The situation between Captain Singh and Simon had remained tense since the ransacking of his quarters and the attack. Captain Singh had reported that all of his crew had been accounted for…none of them could have been Simon’s attacker! Simon and Rhea were able to secure their files and assure themselves that, indeed, nothing had been taken. But the feeling of being watched; the feeling of being spied upon was with them all of the time.

From his villa on the west coast of Africa, the leader of the Singh Brotherhood sat silently. The cameras that had been placed in Simon and Rhea’s quarters were proving to be most helpful. Knowledge of his prey’s habits made the hunter more confident of his ability to make the kill. He chuckled when he had heard of Simon’s demand for radio silence. In the satellite age, that meant nothing…nothing at all. As for the text that had been photographed and sent to him, its secrets were still a mystery, but that was about to change.

A red light flashed on his computer screen. A large powerful hand tapped a key on the computer and picked up the handset of the desk phone. “Bring Dr. Harlan in to see me now.” He placed the receiver back on the phone.

Almost instantly, the door to the room opened and two very large men ‘escorted’ a much smaller, tired looking man into the room, depositing him into a chair opposite the large

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man behind the desk. As Dr. Harlan was being led into the room, a large desk light was turned to the chair he was about to occupy.

Harlan sat there, the two large men by his side. Blinking at the bright light, the man behind the desk was only a dark outline…

“Who are you? Why am I here? How dare…”

The man behind the desk bellowed at him, “I ASK THE QUESTIONS HERE!!!”

Harlan fell silent. “Dr. Harlan, I have brought you here because I require your knowledge of ancient languages. You will translate something for me. Immediately.”

“I will do no such thing! You can’t just grab someone off the street, bring them God knows where and expect…”

“I expect you to translate for me. To begin Dr. Harlan, I did grab you off of the street. I have brought you here, and I will hold you here until you do my bidding. After that, you can go about your petty business, but until then, you are doing MY work.”

“I will do no such thing! You can’t force me to….”

“Oh yes I can. Please be so kind as to look at the image on my computer screen Doctor.” The man behind the desk turned the laptop towards Dr. Harlan. As he looked at the screen, his face turned ashen with horror. The screen showed his wife and children in a small stone cell. Worry and fear marked their faces and Harlan’s wife had an ugly bruise near her left temple.

“Your wife and children are being held…safely for now…at an ‘undisclosed location’. So long as you successfully translate a document for me, they will remain safe. Your refusal to do this work, however, will have dire consequences. Most dire.

“The only question in my mind is where to begin, with the little ones, or with your wife? Hmmm…I’ll consider that depending on the speed of your work. For you see Dr. Harlan, time IS of the essence.”

The doctor sat silently, assessing his situation and weighing the few options he had. “But I’ve no books…”

“You’ll have all that you need. Instantly. Dr. Harlan, I snatched you and brought you here in a day. I gathered up your wife and children in mere minutes. Do not think me so incapable or so dense that I would not make sure you had the tools at your disposal to do this job.

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“We believe the language is a root tongue of that eventually evolved into Aramaic and Greek. It does not survive today, and all of my resources thus far have failed to tell me what it says. I would suggest that you begin your work immediately.”

“But what if I fail?”

“For you Dr. Harlan, failure is not an allowable option,” a long figure pointed menacingly towards the images on the computer screen, “or for them. Take him.”

The two large men lifted Harlan from the chair and ‘escorted’ him to the cell that would serve as his work room while he tried to translate the ancient Atlantean document...and perhaps as his home for the remainder of his days if he failed.

The six men moved silently through the jungle and quickly made their way towards the western hilltop of the island. Their keen warrior senses told them that the only enemies they currently faced were the snakes and lizards that lived here. Soon, though, that would change.

As they approached the hilltop, the leader raised his hand, bringing the men to a stop. Ahead of them, the men could see the grassy clearing littered with rocks and the crude hut that stood at the crest of the hill. Next to the hut, however, was something very unexpected: A large, neatly stacked pile of supplies…the ones that their leader had seen dropping to the island when the men themselves had been arriving. All else was silence.

Using hand signals, the leader ordered his men to make their way around the hut, surveying the entire clearing. Several minutes later, they returned.

“No other entrance to the hut.”

“Surrounded by rocks on all sides.”

“Around the back, the hilltop falls off…sheer drop 300 feet to the ocean.”

“No one moving around…no noise…totally silent.”

“No smoke…no fires.”

The leader nodded. The supplies bothered him. Water. Okay. Food. Okay. Munitions. Not okay. Whoever was here was armed as well. That was trouble.

“Okay. Fan out so we can focus our fire on the door. We wait. If he comes out, take him down.”

“But don’t we want to know who’s here? Or if anyone else is coming? I don’t want to start dealing with the whole Bangallan army…they’re not Black Ops but they can still shoot straight.”

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“There were only two chutes; one with supplies, and one with the guy. Hell, no one’s supposed to be here at all. This is a forgotten listening post that Bangalla hasn’t used for decades. Whoever this guy is, we kill him and get on with the work. There’s too many dollars at stake to take any chances with this clown.”

“Yeah, but we can’t be sure he’s even in there.”

Manx, the leader, looked at the hut and thought for a minute, surveying the scene before him. “If it was me, I’d want to get supplies stowed fast in case the weather turns. Look at those crates, he hasn’t cracked them yet. He’s here. Just wait.”

Far out at sea, a lone ship closed in on the Walker Archipelago. As the islands appeared over the horizon, the crew was hard at work loading supplies onto the small boats that would ferry them and the archaeologists to the shore. The smudges of color that appeared on the horizon slowly grew into islands, gaining shape and color and size as the ship drew closer. Simon and Rhea stood near the bow of the ship watching their long awaited goal come into view.

“Twenty-two islands Simon.”

“…and only one with the treasure of Atlantis. ‘Into the teeth of the dragon’ or so the inscriptions say.” Simon’s eyes were locked on the Walker’s, growing larger with each passing moment. “Into the teeth of the dragon.”

The cabin was empty. A bank of electronic gear hummed in a corner of the room sending occasional signals off to a distant Bangalla, but the room was empty. Along the far wall a tattered, rotting curtain hung in a doorway. The Phantom moved forward and carefully ducked through the doorway, barely brushing the remains of the curtain. An old cot stood in one corner of the room next to a small table that had collapsed some decades ago. What looked like an old medicine cabinet hung stubbornly on the wall. A dusty cabinet stood in the far corner of the room. Opening the door the Phantom examined the dust and the unused shelf inside the cabinet.

Moving to the medicine cabinet, he opened the door. To his surprise, there were two boxes wrapped in oil cloth. The cloth had been drying out for years, but somehow the inner layers were still supple. The unwrapped package contained two boxes of ammunition…45 caliber.

With a practiced hand, the Phantom opened one of the boxes and a smile came to his face. The cartridges bore the mark of a skull on their base: A Phantom’s bullets left here long ago by the 20th Phantom. Fingering one of the rounds, the Phantom walked back into the main room of the hut, absently slipping the cartridge boxes into his gunbelt. For

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a few moments he was lost in memory, thinking of the last time he had seen his father alive.

Boarding a steamer bound for England, he looked back to see his father in street clothes (a rare site, indeed!) giving him a salute from the pier. Then the whistle blew and the young man who would be Phantom was jostled by the crowd on the foredeck and lost sight of his father. With the speed of a jungle cat, the 20th Phantom was gone, quickly and quietly returning to the jungles of Bangalla.

Turning towards the door of the hut, the 21st Phantom reached for the door of the hut, just catching the reflection of sunlight gleaming off of metal out of the corner of his eye…

As the door began to move a loud voice called out, “There he is! Fire! Fire!”

Dozens of gunshots rang out, all focused on the hut’s thick wooden door and windows. Bullets poured into the hut and bits of stone ricocheted through the inside of the building. After a minute of continuous fire, the island fell silent. The shock of the sudden violence left the forest canopy quiet. An evil smile came across Manx’s face.

Carefully moving forward from his position, Manx turned to his men, “And that’s how we take care of that little problem. Forward. Let’s see who had come to visit this lovely island.”

Dr. Harlan tossed another book across the room. Yet another dead end. None of his researches had put a dent into this language. The characters had the appearance of being vaguely Greek, but also had certain touches that resembled any number of ancient Asian languages. He’d even seen traces of ancient Indian languages that he had studied long ago in Peru.

Was this the mother-tongue of all languages? What was this thing? Where could he turn if all of his books and experience couldn’t open the door? With no Rosetta Stone to guide him, how could he be expected to translate this beast from scratch?

At that moment, the large flat-screen television mounted into the wall of his cell came to life. Harlan looked up to see the face of his captor and tormentor. Sitting behind his desk, he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, fingertips of each hand touching their mate and slowly tapping each other in a nervous rhythm.

“Ah, Dr. Harlan I’m so glad to see you’re still working hard. I’m sure by now, you’ve made significant headway, yes?”

Harlan sighed, dropping his head to his chest. “No, Singh. I’ve had no success yet. None at all. This language is so complicated and obscure…hopeless.”

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Singh raised his left eyebrow. “Really. Such a shame. I had hoped you would prove more competent than this…or more cooperative.” Singh fell silent for a moment. “I had been told that there were no other linguists of your ability. Perhaps this job just cannot be done after all.”

Harlan looked up at the screen. “You see Harlan, you are not the first person to attempt this assignment. Several of your betters have preceded you…without success.”

Harlan’s mind raced. At least half a dozen of his colleagues had been away on unexpected sabbaticals over the past several months. Not unusual, but…

“You came so highly recommended. I was told that once you found a project that interested you, there would be no stopping you! And here you tell me the situation is hopeless after just a week of studies”

Singh leaned back in his chair for a moment and then snapped his fingers. A confident, knowing smile came across his face. It was not a pleasant smile. “I have it Harlan. You simply aren’t interested enough yet…but I have a solution.”

Singh’s finger reached across to his desk and pressed a button. The video monitor shifted its scene. The image of Singh was replaced by that of Harlan’s wife bound to what looked like an operating table that had been wheeled into a cell much like Harlan’s. Recognizing her instantly, Harlan sprang to his feet.

“How dare you…I’m working as hard as I can. This isn’t her fault!”

“SILENCE!!” Singh thundered.

On the screen, Harlan watched his wife struggle against the restraints that held her down. He could see that she was screaming for help, screaming for him to save her. Then a look of fear came over her face as a shadow moved across the room, just outside of the range of the camera. Her eyes followed it and grew wide in horror. Tears began to roll down the sides of her face.

A gloved hand came into the picture, touching Mrs. Harlan’s foot. Slowly it moved up the inside of her thigh as Mrs. Harlan screamed and writhed on the table. Then the screen went black.

The image of Singh reappeared, still smiling evilly. “Doctor, for a very short time, I will be able to control my associates who are caring for your wife, but I fear that as I will be traveling very soon, my control will be, shall we say, very limited in the coming days. I cannot say just what might happen in my absence.

“Anything, anything could happen. At any time.”

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Singh leaned back in his chair. “Perhaps now you will be a little more interested in our little project. The stakes are most high. Most high, indeed.”

Singh placed his hands back on the arms of his chair and placed his hands and fingers back together, resuming their nervous tapping.

That was when it hit him: The shape of Singh’s fingers, the double characters in the manuscript…Akkadian, Minoan, Hurrian…the common root! He had it!

Harlan raced to the pile of books he had thrown across the room, digging desperately for the one he knew would lead him to the first answers…if only there was time.

“Good, Doctor. Good. Pity it took you so long to realize just how critical this project is to me. I pray you will have results prior to my departure…or perhaps that is what Mrs. Harlan prays for.” Singh let loose a maniacal laugh and turned off the monitors, but Harlan was already too busy to notice.

Manx and his men moved quietly towards the hut, ready to examine the bullet-riddled remains of their prey. Not a sound came from the hut. But as the old jungle saying says, ‘The Phantom moves more quietly than a tiger on the prowl’. Standing with his back to the wall next to the door, the Phantom’s hands gripped the handles of his pistols. Pulling the guns towards his chest, his lips moved silently, counting.

“Five. Four. Three. Two. One!” Turning with lightning speed, the Phantom spun on his heels and shattered the door with a mighty blow from his boot. Before the wood could hit the ground, the sound of his gunfire filled the air. Manx’s men instantly scattered, but not before three of them had dropped their weapons, their hands bleeding from new wounds created by the Phantom’s bullets.

“Cover!” Manx screamed. “Fire, fire, fire! Get him!”

More bullets filled the air, pouring into the door and windows of the hut. But the Phantom was gone; vanished back into the darkness of the stone hut. Retreating into the back room, the Phantom quickly reloaded. He would need closer quarters to disarm those six. Thugs were one thing, but trained mercenaries required different tactics.

Outside of the hut, Manx had already regrouped his men. The wounds were minor. An angry Manx quickly reorganized his men to ready an assault on the hut. This mission was too important to waste any more time on this intruder. It was time to kill him and find this island’s treasure. With a nod to his men, Manx led his soldiers on an assault against the Phantom and entered the hut, guns at the ready.

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In the bow of the launch, Simon was talking excitedly to the teams that had landed on the other islands. The reports were all coming back the same. Islands were deserted. Islands were too small to hold any possible treasure. Islands that were just bare rock. Nothing, nothing, nothing! Only two islands remained, one that Rhea was about to land on and the main island that Simon and his crew were fast approaching. He would never admit it, but Simon was growing more nervous with each passing moment. It was one thing to set up a proper dig, but given the nature of Singh’s crew, there would be little time for that. All they wanted was gold. All they wanted was plunder.

Simon’s fine speech on the ship was enough to buy the time to get here, but they’d have to find something…and soon. Just then, the radio crackled to life.

“Simon! It’s Rhea, are you there?”

Fingering the mike, Simon answered, “Rhea, I’m here. What have you got?”

“Another dead end Simon. This island’s too small to have any treasure trove.”

A disappointed look came over his face, “Okay Rhea, get over to the main island so we can search it together. How far out are you?”

“We should be there in about fifteen minutes. What about the rest of the boats?”

“We’ll send them back to the ship for now. We don’t need too many people scouting around just yet.” And we certainly don’t need a bunch of angry sailors getting especially frustrated if there was no treasure to be found on the main island.

Simon called into the mike again, “Captain Singh. Are you listening?”

Singh’s voice came over the radio, “I’m here Dr. Day.”

“Singh, I’m sending all of the boats back except mine and Rhea’s…for now. Whatever’s on the main island, she and I can find it with the help of the boat crews. For now, I don’t want all of your men all over that island until we know exactly where we need them to go. Understood?”

“I hear you Dr. Day. I’ll call back the boats. The men will be anxious but they’ll wait on your orders…for now. Just watch the daylight. You’ve been out searching islands all day and it will be dark soon. You’ll either need to get back to the ship or I’ll have to send you supplies to stay out overnight.”

“Roger that, Captain. Roger that. Day out.”

Simon put down the microphone and sat down in the boat. In the distance off the port bow he could see a small speck approaching…Rhea’s boat. Looking off to starboard,

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near the horizon but closing fast was Singh’s ship. And dead ahead was the main island of the Walker Archipelago – and Simon Day’s destiny.

Inside a stone hut, another destiny was about to be met. In the back room, the Phantom quickly took stock of his situation. Multiple mercenaries armed to the teeth were about to come bursting through the door of the hut and find…nothing. But it would only take a moment for their instincts to tell them that their prey was in the back room, hiding behind a curtain.

He guessed that a flash-bang device would come rolling into the room and as soon as a stunned Phantom would stumble from his hiding place, there would be a short burst of gunfire and then the 22nd Phantom would be left to avenge his father’s demise. It was certainly a good plan, except for one thing.

The 21st Phantom had no intention of playing his part. The room was empty except for the bed, the empty cabinet, and the mirror on the wall. Moving across the room, the Phantom’s boot caught the end of the bed, jerking it across the room and exposing a small trap door in the floor.

“Well, well.” Bending down, the Phantom quickly jerked open the trap door. From the main room, the Phantom heard the sound of the remains of the hut’s door splintering to sawdust as the mercenaries poured into the building. Just seconds now!

Moving by instinct, the Phantom leapt through the trap door. His boots hit the floor in a small room below, perhaps eight feet square and about five feet tall. Reaching back into the room above, the Phantom moved the bed back into place. Turning his face to the door, he saw the expected flash-bang come rolling into the room as he ducked down and slammed the trap door shut.

As the flash-bang went off, the Phantom examined his new hiding place. The trap door filtered out much of the light, so he had to feel his way carefully. The walls were smooth; no doors, no exits. From up above he could hear the men moving into the room.

“Where is he? Manx, he’s gone!”

“He can’t be gone. Rip that room apart!” The Phantom could hear the men moving the bed around.

“We’ve got him! There’s a trap door here!!”

The Phantom drew his guns and moved slowly across his hiding place, eyes glued to the trap door and guns at the ready. Likely a grenade would soon follow. This wasn’t working out well. His only hope would be to move fast as soon as the trap door was cracked open. After Manx’s men dropped their grenade, they’d retreat out of the room fast to avoid the blast. That would be his chance. He could either grab at the grenade

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and toss it back out or leap out of his hole ahead of the blast and fight it out against six well-trained mercenaries. Six against one? Perhaps not great odds, but they might have a chance against an equally well-trained Phantom. He set his plan in his mind and waited for his moment.

The trap door began to move and a single hand carrying a grenade moved into the Phantom’s hiding spot. Quickly moving his feet to the left, the Phantom grabbed for the hand of his would-be assailant, ready to pull him into the pit with him. Just then, the floor gave way, and the Phantom vanished into blackness.

Singh stood in the doorway of Harlan’s cell, his bodyguards standing just behind him, “So Doctor, I understand you have finally achieved some results.”

A tired looking Harlan looked across his cell at his captor. Slowly he dragged himself out of his chair. He weaved his way through the piles of books that he had thrown across the room over the last two days. “Oh, yes. Yes. I have found something.”

Singh expectantly inched forward into the room, his eyes glowing in anticipation.

“What you have shown me is the most amazing document I have ever seen.” Harlan shook his head in disbelief and ran his fingers through his hair, “It’s, it’s the mother of all languages…every single one of them.”

Turning back to the desk in the corner of the room, Harlan grabbed a pad that was scribbled over with notes. “It took me a while to see it…to understand why it looked so familiar but so alien at the same time. First it was Greek, then Egyptian, then Mayan, elements of Chinese, Thai—it was too confusing.

“And then it hit me.”

“What Doctor Harlan? What hit you?”

“The reason it seemed so familiar…it’s the root of all the languages, everywhere! I don’t know how, but it’s the start of everything.”

“And what does it say Doctor. What does it say?”

“I don’t know all that it says…not yet…but it’s a story, Singh. It’s THE story. The story of Atlantis! The story of its power and its riches and its rulers!” Harlan held up his papers; his hands shaking, his eyes almost feverish. “…and it all began a very long time ago when Atlantis was still attached to the west coast of Africa…”

Harlan held court for well over an hour, telling Singh what he had translated. How Atlantis started as a small fishing village on the western coast of Africa, but over time had grown to be a center of learning and wisdom in the ancient world. How its reputation

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grew over time, drawing people and riches to it as the city grew. How its kings grew mighty and strong, spreading justice and mercy as they traveled. How its ships plied the seas, discovering continents and primitive peoples around the globe.

Finally, the story told of how the great kingdom, after centuries of dominance, began to suffer the ravages of natural disasters--tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, earthquakes---that weakened it. Its land fell away into the sea. Soon it became clear that Atlantis would no longer be a part of the great continent as the string of disasters continued year after year. And then, one day, after one great volcanic eruption, the last land bridge to the continent fell, leaving what we now call the Cape Verde Islands and the Walker Archipelago as the last remaining part of what was once mighty Atlantis.

As Harlan told his tale, Singh’s eyes were afire with thoughts of treasure. He sat on the edge of his seat listening intently to the secrets that had been hidden for so long in the ancient manuscript. Now all of his plans were coming to fruition: The funding of Day’s researches, the vessel that was carrying him on his journey, sending Manx to the Walker Archipelago. All of the pieces of the puzzle were in place for him…for the Singh Brotherhood…to claim the lost riches of Atlantis from the world.

Harlan moved closer to Singh, squatting in front of him to tell the last part of the story. “And then Singh, in the end, Atlantis’s last king had the greatest treasures of the kingdom gathered to him – all brought to one place, at one time. Seeing the once great kingdom humbled by the forces of nature; seeing his land destroyed and a many thousands year old kingdom destroyed, the great king laid down and he died.”

Harlan stood up, silent. He walked back to the chair on the far side of his cell and fell back into his chair, spent. He had no words left to say.

Singh sat for several minutes in silence, staring straight ahead. “And then what, Dr. Harlan?”

Harlan looked back to Singh. “And then nothing. That is where your manuscript ends.” He paused. “There is nothing else that I can tell you. My work here is done. Now let me and my family go.”

Singh leaned back in his chair and looked in the eyes of Dr. Harlan. For a moment, the professor saw Singh’s humanity. But then, the moment was gone. “Actually Dr. Harlan, now we know what Dr. Day knows. The manuscript you translated was taken from his files. He had translated this document some time ago and kept the results secret from the world. We had acquired pieces of it over the years, but never enough to understand much about Atlantis and its treasures. I commend you on your efforts to date, but there is still work to do.”

Looking to one of his henchman, Singh nodded. “Give him the final page.”

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As the hulking brute of a man walked across the cell, Singh spoke on. “There is one additional page that Dr. Day has never seen. I acquired it from an old seller of rare manuscripts in southeast Asia some years ago. You will now tell me what it says.”

Harlan took the manuscript in his hands and stared at Singh. “Wait a minute…Dr. Day? Dr. Simon Day? The archaeologist? Why he’s nothing but a crazy man who’s been chasing rumors and stories around the planet for decades. This is HIS quest? But, but, that’s just insane!”

“Insane or not Doctor, your own translation says that what he is seeking IS Atlantis. And now we are just one sheet of paper away from locating the final resting place of Atlantis’s final king and his treasure. You will translate Dr. Harlan! You will finish your work and let me start mine! Do you understand!”

Without waiting for a reply, Singh rose and left Harlan in his cell, slamming the heavy wooden door behind him as he went. When Harlan looked up, he saw Singh’s face framed in the small window of the door. “Work quickly Harlan. I need answers and I need them quickly.”

After the dust from the exploding grenade settled, Manx and his men moved in to the now destroyed room. The bed, desk, and cabinet were destroyed and the force of the grenade had collapsed the floor over the room where the Phantom had been hidden just moments before.

Manx’s lieutenant moved over to the hole and poked at the rocks with his foot. “We got him, Manx.”

Manx walked to the edge of the hole. “Yes. Yes we did.”

Another of the fighters moved across the room. Manx glanced across the room at his man. “What’s up, Wolf?

Wolf pointed up at the wall where the cabinet had once hung on the wall. “What’s that?”

There, carved into the wall where the mirror had once hung, was the image of a skull.

Simon’s boat pulled around the eastern corner of the island. He looked over at the first mate of Singh’s ship who had been piloting him around the rocky shores, “Nowhere to land here. I hope Rhea’s having more luck.”

At that moment, the radio crackled to life. “Simon! Rhea here”

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“Well, you’re a sound for sore ears. Please tell me you’ve found someplace to land on this pile of rocks.”

“Well, there is a wonderful little beach on the south side of the island. Should be easy enough to land, but nothing remarkable. The jungle comes right down to the beach.”

“Okay, you stay there. We’ll sweep around to…”

As Simon spoke, he had been idly scanning the shoreline. Rocks and rocks and rocks. And then the rocks along the shore grew tall and jagged, looking more like needles that grew out of the sea. They grew into tall spires surrounding a roughly circular bay on the extreme eastern side of the island. Tall spires of rock jutting out from the island in a circular…no, a long, oval shaped bay. Tall spires of rock that looked like…teeth. Dragon’s teeth! Outlining the jaw and leading to…the Teeth of the Dragon.

“Rhea! Rhea I’ve found it! I’ve found the dragon’s teeth! Get over to the eastern side of the island. Now! Hurry, hurry!!”

Hearing the radio chatter, Captain Singh spoke quietly to his helmsman. Moments later, his ship began to edge closer to the westernmost island of the Walker Archipelago.

The Phantom fell uncontrolled for what seemed like several seconds. He hit the rocky ground hard and struggled to right himself. Trying to pull himself upright, he immediately started to slide down, down, down, on some kind of super slick rock surface. The blackness grew deeper as he slid further down the tunnel and continued to pick up speed. The slick rocks gave way to wetness. Somewhere far behind him, the Phantom heard a muffled explosion, but in just seconds it was already faint and far away.

Water came in from somewhere; first just a bit, but then what seemed like a small river of water was flowing down the rock tube with the Phantom. Carrying him down, but to where?

It was some hours later that Harlan had called out to his jailers, asking to be brought to Singh. The document was a short one and the work, though very technical, requiring every bit of knowledge and experience that he had, was now just a matter of mechanics. The message it held, however, was not one that Singh would want to hear.

Being led into Singh’s office, Harlan dejectedly took his seat opposite the large man’s desk.

“Well Doctor. So good to see you again. You have something to report?”

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“Yes, Singh. I, uh, I’ve finished the translation.” Harlan’s voice was flat, almost dead in tone.

“Yes. And what does it say? What does it say about the treasure of Atlantis?”

“I’ll read it to you.” Harlan picked up his notes and began to read, “’But before his death, King Boryn-El ordered that all of the treasures of Atlantis be gathered to the capital. And knowing that his kingdom was soon to be destroyed, he ordered that the golden treasures be sent to the far corners of the kingdom so that, while Atlantis might perish, its culture and history and riches would live on around the world.

“And after the great fleets departed, but one ship remained. And I asked my king, ‘To where will you go, my king?’ And my king looked at me and said, ‘The ship is yours. When you have finished your work, go to your family in the north.’ And I said to my king, ‘You are my work, sire.’ Just then the earth shook violently. The king looked at me and said, ‘Good, Aydin-Or, one last task to perform and your work here is done, as am I.’

“With that, the king collapsed in my arms and died. My duties towards Atlantis done, I performed the last duties for my king. I ran through the palace to find the queen only to discover that she, too, had died. In her hand was a note from my king. I picked it up and read it: ‘Good Aydin-Or, my last command for you is this. Take this good woman, my love, my queen, and my greatest treasure, to my tomb by the bay. Place us there and seal us together there for all eternity. My greatest treasure and I, together, forever. Forever. By my hand, King Boryn-El.’

I buried him in his tomb with his greatest treasure and left Atlantis forever.’”

Singh sat at his desk without saying a word. Seconds passed, then minutes. Finally he looked to Harlan. “So there is no…”

“treasure…”

“…no treasure. The wealth of Atlantis spread around the world to…everywhere. To everywhere but the Walker Archipelago where Simon Day and my own team are searching desperately for something that they cannot find!” Shaking his head, Singh turned his chair and faced out to the sea and the slowly darkening sky. “Amazing. Unbelievable.”

“And there is nothing else Dr. Harlan?”

“No, Singh. That’s every word. There’s nothing more for me to do…nothing at all.”

Sitting for a moment, an idea seemed to dawn in Harlan’s mind. “Then you won’t be needing me here anymore. You can release me and my family now…it’s time to let us go home…”

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Singh turned quickly in his chair to face his translator. “Let you go, Doctor? Let you go? Surely you jest. Your time here is done, Doctor. But by successfully completing your task, all you have done is succeeded in signing the death warrant for you and your family.” Looking to his henchman, Singh motioned to Doctor Harlan. “Take him away. Throw him into the cell with his family. He is useless to me now.”

As the shocked Harlan was being dragged from Singh’s office. The radio on Singh’s desk came to life. “Singh, Singh…come in. Manx here. We’ve found something. Something you’ll want to hear about.”

When Rhea’s boat arrived, she followed Simon between two of the rocks and entered the bay. It was perhaps one hundred yards long by fifty yards wide. The teeth had the effect of eliminating most of the wave action, making the surface of the bay almost mirror smooth. Simon ordered that the engine to his boat be turned off. Rhea immediately followed suit and the two boats drifted in together. The bay was silent.

The dragon’s “teeth” ringed the bay for its first sixty yards or so, giving way to a low line of rocks that led to the shore. On its far end, there was a small beach perhaps thirty yards across from end to end. Beyond the beach there was a narrow tree line that backed up to a sheer rock face that rose up five or six hundred feed from the beach. The only other interesting feature on the beach was a large cave that opened right up into the surf. Oddly, a small river seemed to flow out of the mouth of the cave right into the bay. As the two boats drew even, Simon looked over to Rhea, “Look at that! The teeth of the dragon! Just like the legends all said.”

Slowly, the boats drifted across the bay, eventually running aground on the beach. Rhea, Simon, and the boat crews stepped ashore, surveying the beach. When the boats were secured, Simon ordered that lights, rope, picks, pry bars, and shovels be broken out. An expectant hush fell over the intrepid group as they readied to enter the cave. Simon surveyed the position of the sun for a moment and looked to the first mate.

“There won’t be much daylight left. You’d better tell Singh that we’ve come ashore. I know there’s enough food and water for tonight and I don’t want him to risk getting through those rocks at night. We’ll explore the cave a bit tonight and stay here. Singh can provision us in the morning. The secrets of Atlantis have waited thousands of years; one more night won’t make much difference.”

The mate nodded in agreement. “You head in Dr. Day. I’ll radio back to the ship and have the men set up camp. I’ll join you in a moment.” With that, Simon, Rhea and six of Singh’s men started into the cave. The first mate sent three of his men out to gather firewood and set up the camp while he talked eagerly to Singh on the radio.

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“So let me understand, Manx,” Singh was pacing quickly behind his desk while talking into the radio. “You saw a lone figure parachuting onto the island and tracked him to the Bangallan station on the west end of the island. After a gun battle with him in which half of your men were wounded, you trapped him in a back room of the station in some kind of hidden room beneath the floor and dropped a hand grenade on him. And then, then, with the room destroyed you happen on a strange skull marking on the wall? This man—describe him to me! Now!!”

“Big. He’s big, Singh. And fast, very, very fast. Reflexes like lightning and he’s about the best shot I’ve ever run across. He was wearing some weird, purple costume with some kind of hood over his head, so we never got a look at his face.”

“No, Manx, you wouldn’t have. Let me tell you who it is you’ve come across.” Singh sat down in his chair and readied himself to tell a tale that he had heard since he was a boy. It was a story that every member of the Singh Brotherhood could recite by heart: The story of the Phantom; Singh’s story of the Phantom.

“Decades ago, this Phantom carried on a one-man war against the Singh when we worked the rivers of India. He cost us dearly and me more than anyone else in the Brotherhood. This Phantom chased my father and fought with him. Then, he left him to die; alone on his boat as it went over the Jog Falls. While my father plummeted to his death, the Phantom swam for shore and slinked off into the jungle.

“Manx, you are tracking a ghost. The man has been the nemesis of the Singh for hundreds of years. We have killed him, or so we thought, a dozen times, but he continues to live—and haunt us. It can be no coincidence that he landed on the island when you did. Somehow he knew of our plans.”

“Singh, you do know that he’s not the same man; no one lives for hundreds of years. Besides, we just dropped a hand grenade in his lap. No man can survive that.”

“You don’t know the Phantom, Manx. He is not a man. He is a ghost! I am no superstitious fool, Manx. I have personally seen this man rise from the dead more times than I could ever tell you!” Singh sat back in his chair for a moment, his mind racing. His dreams of treasure were now gone, but if the Phantom was on the island, perhaps this situation could be salvaged after all. “I have new orders for you and your men, Manx.

“The treasure is not in the Walker Archipelago. It doesn’t exist at all. Far more valuable for the Singh Brotherhood, though, is the Phantom. If he is dead, then no one will be able to stop us ever again. Stop at nothing, Manx. Track him down. I want him. This is personal, Manx. Get me the Phantom and I will kill him with my own hands. It is time that I settled this score—once and for all.”

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Knowing how easy this task would be, Manx smiled. “Crystal clear, Mr. Singh. You’ll be seeing this Phantom—whoever he is—very soon. Believe me, he’s not going anywhere. Manx out.”

Singh reached across his desk and turned off his radio. He took a deep breath and slowly turned his chair to face the sea. “I hope you’re right, Manx. I hope you’re right.”

Simon, Rhea, and the members of Singh’s crew cautiously entered the cave, flashlights peering into the darkness as the beach fell further and further behind them. The small stream of water that they had seen from the bay continued into the cave. Simon reached down, touched the surface of the water and raised his fingers to lips.

“Fresh. I wonder where it’s coming from?”

Rhea responded absently, her eyes trained ahead into the darkness, “Underground river…”

“Hmm, more powerful once, look how the walls of the cave are worn away.” The cave walls did show signs of erosion. At one time the waters must have flowed with much more power than they did today.

The explorers marched on, the tunnel twisting ahead of them until the beach was completely out of sight. Then, after one last turn in the cave, the tunnel they had been walking through opened up into a huge cavern. What from the outside was a mountain of rock, was actually a hollow cathedral of pale, almost opaque stone that let in enough outside light to make the group’s flashlights unnecessary.

The group stopped in their tracks, marveling at the sight before them. In the massive, open space the people of Atlantis had built a broad pavilion surrounding a large, circular pool of water, perhaps two hundred feet across. It was surrounded by an aqueduct some forty feet above their heads ran around the pavilion, supported by columns every ten feet. The pool was fed by a steam of water that flowed from a central tube carved out of the rock high above the water’s surface on the far side of the pavilion.

The level of the water in the pool was now several feet lower than it had once been, but there was still enough water flowing to feed the stream that led to the beach. At intervals, stairs swept down from aqueduct to the level of the pool, and additional stairs led up in the direction of the tunnel that supplied the water to the pool. The group moved forward into the chamber, bathed in its strange half-light. The group was speechless, staring up into vast empty space above their heads.

It was Simon who first noticed the door. “Rhea! There.” Pointing to one side of the chamber, Simon began to move, all eyes following his progress. To one side of the chamber, set back under the aqueduct was a massive door, inscribed with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer in the low light of the chamber.

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The group approached the massive door and began examining it closely. Singh’s mate approached Simon. “Dr. Day, we’re losing light quickly.”

“I know, but look!” His hands ran quickly along the seams of the door. “Hmm…sealed with some kind of resin…I think we can clean out these cracks and open this up fairly easily…hurry! It will be completely dark soon!”

Far above Simon Day and his team on the other side of the island, Manx’s men were pulling rocks out of the pit in the stone hut. Wounded men do not lift rocks quickly, but within an hour most of the rocks had been removed from the hollow that had held that Phantom just a short time before. All that remained was a yawning hole that led to…darkness.

Manx glared into the darkness, frustration and anger written on his face. “How could he have known?” Shaking his head, Manx jumped down into the pit, “Alright Phantom, wherever you’ve gone, we’re coming after you!”

“That’s it Dr. Day! We’ve cleaned out all of the seams around the door.”

“Pry bars! Now!” Bars flew into the cracks of the door and after several minutes of hard effort, the massive stone door inched outwards, ever so slowly. Reaching his hand into the widening gap, Simon pulled the door towards him until the gap was just wide enough for a person to pass through. Shining his flashlight inside, he inched his way through the door.

Rhea inched closer, “Simon, what do you see?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Simon’s voice called back, “Another chamber…and another door.”

Singh’s mate called in, “Dr. Day, we’ve lost all the light here. We must return tomorrow, with more men, and more gear from the ship.”

Again there was silence. Then Simon’s head emerged from behind the door. “You’re right. I want to get in there, but I don’t want to ruin a pristine site like this.” Simon pulled himself from behind the door, “Close it up for tonight.” Smiling, he patted the door with his large hand, “Ten thousand years will just have to wait one more night.”

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Simon and the men closed the door to the tomb and the group made their way out of the cave and back to the beach. As they reached the mouth of the cave, they made their way to the camp that had been set up on the beach.

Meanwhile, somewhere inside of the mountain, the Phantom continued to gain speed as he slid down the wet tunnel. More and more water seeped in through the tunnel walls, making the going slicker with each passing moment. As the tunnel turned, the Phantom moved from side to side, struggling to keep himself feet-first in the tunnel. And then, just as suddenly as the ride began, his feet seemed to blast through a small stone wall at the end of the tunnel and the rocks fell away. For a moment, he flew through the air and gently arched down, down into a deep pool carved into the middle of a mountain.

As Manx and his men lowered themselves into the hole, they noticed that what looked like a small series of steps had been carved into the rock like a ladder. Stepping down, they saw the mouth of a tunnel that led to darkness. They also discovered what looked like a second tunnel had been carved out of the rock. Instead of the closed tunnel that Phantom had slid down, this tunnel was a long series of stairs that led down into the darkness.

Calling up to their wounded comrades, Manx took a moment to start reloading his rifle and pistol, “Take the men and get back to the camp! Double time!! Get ready…I don’t know for what, but get ready!”

Manx, his lieutenant, and Wolf exchanged glances, pulled out their rifles, and ran down the stairs as fast as they could.

In the gathering darkness, Singh gently moved his ship closer to the island, stopping it just outside the jagged rocks of the Dragon’s Teeth. In a few hours, Dr. Day would have the extra hands he would need to pry open the doors of the tomb and the secrets of Atlantis would be discovered at last.

The Phantom pulled himself out of the water, his eyes rising up to the ceiling of the chamber. He was bruised and cut from the ride down the tunnel, but he was alive. Instinctively his hands went to his gunbelt. It was reassuringly heavy. The Phantom was ready for whatever would come next.

Making his way out of the pool, he surveyed the cavern, marveling at the intricacy of the stonework that had been laid so long ago. The daylight had almost completely faded, but there was still enough light to make out the aqueduct, pillars, and arcades that surrounded the pool. Quickly, the Phantom moved towards the one tunnel that led out of the huge cavern. In moments, he found his way to the beach, where he silently moved from the

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mouth of the cave back into the trees where he would remain unseen. Neither Day nor Singh’s men had posted a guard, making it that much easier for the Phantom to move unnoticed in the night.

Sometime later, Manx and his men came to the last series of steps in their tunnel. The low ceiling gave way, opening into a massive cavern. They were greeted by the sound of water draining into the pool and nothing else. They quickly surveyed the space around them, noting the most strategic spots on the aqueduct that would allow them to command the entire space. Their quarry, the Phantom, was gone, but they followed the tracks in the sand down to the beach. Seeing the party from the ship and knowing that a nighttime search for the Phantom would be fruitless, the three men retreated back into the cave. The following morning, everyone, Phantom included, would surely be back to discover whatever secrets this place held. All Manx had to do was wait for them.

Stopping for water, the mercenaries broke out rations they had carried with them and ate a warrior’s meal. Then, setting their watch, they men alternated their sleep for the night. Manx knew they would need their rest for tomorrow—the day that the Phantom would die!

When the morning dawned, the sun’s first rays roused the Phantom from a watchful sleep before there was any motion in the camp. He saw why the Atlanteans had chosen this spot. The bay was certainly beautiful in the morning. Unfortunately, for the Phantom this was not a time enjoy the scenery. Moving quickly towards the mouth of the cave, the Phantom moved quietly into the cave, following the stream of water back to its source: the grand arcade and its deep pool.

Stopping for a drink of water as he reached the pool, the Phantom did not notice the three motionless, hidden mercenaries high above him. But they had noticed him. The old jungle saying says ‘Never take aim at the Phantom’. As Manx and his men did, the Phantom stood up, looking carefully around the cavern, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary; yet something wasn’t quite right. Something was different from the night before. He was about to investigate when the first sounds of footsteps could be heard entering the cave. Quickly, the Phantom hid himself in a dark recess of the arcade. The audience for Simon’s explorations was growing larger.

Simon and Rhea came into the cavern alone and moved into the chamber that they had opened the previous day. The first door opened into a smaller cave whose walls were decorated with strangely beautiful artwork: drawings of ancient, long-destroyed Atlantean cities and gardens, paintings of long-forgotten kings and queens whose bones were now dust, massive ocean-going vessels bearing never-before-seen flags and sails.

The cave was roughly circular in shape and about fifty feet across. Its ceiling rose high above them, vanishing into the darkness above. Even the lights that Simon had been set up to illuminate the room failed to pierce the blackness of the room’s high ceiling. Simon and Rhea moved across the space together, drawn by an inner door some nine feet

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tall on the opposite side of the chamber. The door was made of some type of iridescent blue mineral carved in intricate patterns. The aqueduct that had circled the arcade of the outer chamber was run into this chamber as well, circling the room and ending near the top of the blue door. A large slab of rock appeared to hang over the top part of the door, like a giant bar across the door.

Simon moved to the door, pressing his hands to it, feeling its age and workmanship. “Amazing work, Rhea. Look at it!”

Rhea let out a low whistle. “…text, Simon.”

“I know. It’s a message.”

“Can you read it?”

“Yes…a few minutes.” Simon stepped back, gazing at the door, silently moving his lips as he scanned the text on the massive door.

Stepping back, he put his hands on his hips and smiled.

“What is it, Simon? What does it say?”

Simon looked to Rhea and then back at the door. He started reading. “Here lies Boryn-El, the last king of Atlantis and his queen and great treasure, Shafan-El. I, Aydin-Or, laid their bodies here on the final days of his kingdom and sealed their remains inside this tomb by my own hand. Let it be known that any who desecrate this space will suffer the rain of death upon their heads. They will be followed on this earth by ghosts who will walk with them for all of their days.”

Simon and Rhea stood before the door in silence for some minutes. Then Rhea’s face crinkled. “Simon. Something is strange about this door.”

After Simon and Rhea left for the cave a small boat entered the bay, passing quickly through the Dragon’s Teeth. Standing in the bow, Captain Singh peered ahead, eyes riveted on the mouth of the cave and the small stream of water running into the bay. Behind him, another six members of the crew stood behind Singh, who was bringing in the requested provisions required at the camp. Not wanting his men to risk the dangerous rocks alone, the Captain carefully guided the boat to safety.

After landing, Singh ordered the crew who had assisted Simon the previous day back into the cave. In moments, they stood behind Simon and Rhea as the two continued to examine the massive door. Simon and Rhea nodded to the first mate as he led crew members into the cavern.

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Glancing back to the door, Simon ran his hand along the edge of the door. “You’re right, Rhea. This door is different than the outer door. It opens inward. The outer door opened out…that’s odd. You’d think they would have built them both the same way…and the rock on top of the door.”

“The aqueduct, Simon! They drew in water from the outside to force down that massive piece of stone…as a lock!”

Simon’s eyes moved to the top of the door, following the lines of the massive piece of stone that held the door shut. “Yes, the water was the counter-weight to hold it in place. But there’s not enough water now…” Simon’s hand reached up to the top of the door. Even with his great height, he could just reach the bottom edge of the massive stone. Gently touching it, the stone seemed to jump off of his hand, pivoting high up into the cavern, the weight of the water that once held it in place long since having evaporated away.

“Well, well, well.”

“Simon, look. Around the edges of the door…the same resin that sealed the outer door.”

Looking back at his men, Simon yelled excitedly, “Get those pry bars in here! We’re about to make history!”

Several minutes later, the massive door’s seals having been broken, the tomb of Atlantis’ final king lay before them. Simon, Rhea, and Singh’s first mate stood in the doorway together, the rest of the crew waiting behind them in the antechamber. A short passageway gave way to another chamber roughly sixty feet square that had been carved out of the rock. In its center were two sets of human remains resting on stone platforms. Both skulls still bore crowns and a sword rested on one set of the remains.

Between the two bodies was another platform, smaller than the two that held the remains of the king and queen and bearing some type of inscription. The three platforms were configured roughly in the shape of the letter “V”; the larger pieces of stone bearing the remains forming the ‘arms’ of the letter. Simon and Rhea stood motionless, taking in the scene before them. The first mate stepped forward, his mouth wide open, amazed at the site of the tomb.

Simon spoke quietly, “Don’t touch anything…”

As the words left his lips, the stones beneath the mate’s right foot shifted, sinking deeper into the floor. Suddenly from high up in the outer chamber a loud popping sound echoed through the air. Turning on their heels, Simon, Rhea, and the first mate looked back in horror to see hundreds of long, sharpened metal spikes plummeting from the ceiling above down to the floor of the outer chamber, piercing the bodies of Singh’s crewmen, pinning them to the floor of the chamber and killing them where they stood!

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Rhea let out a loud scream and threw herself against Simon, who pulled her towards him. Gazing at the horror, the first mate fell to his knees in shock. Tears streamed down Rhea’s face as she turned away from the horror. “Simon!”

Staring ahead, Simon shook his head. “…Rain of death…just like the door said.”

Hearing Rhea’s scream, the Phantom sprang across the chamber. The old jungle saying says ‘The Phantom moves faster than the eye can see’. So fast in fact that Manx and his men could not draw a bead on him as he raced into the antechamber. Making his way through the outer door, the site of the metal spikes and the dead men stopped him for a moment…but just for a moment.

Quickly he surveyed what had happened and knew exactly what the trap must have been. Noting the dead bodies, he moved quickly past them, closing the distance between him and Simon and Rhea in seconds.

Seeing that his old friend was uninjured, the Phantom neared the shocked explorers and stopped, standing before them.

It was Simon who spoke first, as Singh’s mate regained his feet, joining the two archaeologists at the door to the inner chamber. “Who are you?”

Smiling, the Phantom looked out from behind his mask. “They call me the Phantom…the Ghost Who Walks.”

Simon stared the masked figure in purple. “…a ghost who will walk…oh, my Lord.”

The four stood in silence in the chamber for a moment. It was then that the sound of a rifle bolt being slammed home swung all of their heads around. Standing at the entrance to the outer chamber were Manx and his men, their rifles trained on the center of the Phantom’s chest.

Several minutes later, the Phantom, Simon, and Rhea had been herded to the far end of the tomb, beyond the remains of the king and queen of Atlantis…and far from the door that led to freedom. Simon’s lights had been brought into the chamber while Singh’s first mate and Manx stood over the two sets of remains. Examining them, they passed their eyes around the chamber. After several minutes in silence, they turned and walked towards the Phantom.

But before they could speak, the voice of Captain Singh suddenly filled the chamber. “I heard the scream! What has happened?” Looking about him, he asked other questions, “What is this place? The crew told me of the cave, but not of this!” Singh paused, then noticed the strangers being held in the far side of the chamber. “What is going on here!” Then he saw the Phantom, his eyes opened wide and jaw dropped. Staggering forward, he stammered, “Phantom…after all these years. But you were as good as dead when I left you in Banga—“

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As the words left his lips, a single gunshot ripped across the chamber, striking the Captain in the middle of his forehead. Without making another sound, he dropped to the floor, dying instantly. All eyes turned towards the man whose hand held a small pistol, the Captain’s cousin and first mate, Suraj Singh!

“The old fool would have ruined everything. His time was done.”

Simon and Rhea looked to him in confusion. Instantly the mate’s English was perfect; its thick accent vanished. Turning, he faced Simon, Rhea, and the Phantom and smiled.

Simon pointed at him, “You…you were the one responsible for the problems on the ship!”

“Yes, Dr. Day. That was my doing.”

“You’re a spy…meant to betray us to…”

“Actually Dr. Day, it was my dear cousin, Nikhil who was the betrayer.” Instantly the Phantom’s head swung towards Singh, his eyes suddenly burning with anger. Not noticing, Singh kept speaking, “Though a Singh in name, he long ago turned from the ways of the Brotherhood, choosing the life of an honest sea captain. While he piloted the ship, the rest of us smuggled goods from port to port, trafficking any manner of cargo that we carried right under his nose!”

“The Singh Brotherhood? What the devil is that?”

“Why, your backers, Dr. Day.”

“I don’t understand…”

“It is simple Doctor. We wanted the gold. We wanted the treasure of Atlantis. Manx and his men were our insurance policy that we would get it. Now that there is no treasure, we seek a different prize.” The mate turned to face the Phantom.

“So Ghost, it ends here.”

Sounding every bit like the voice of doom, the Phantom glared at Singh, “You WILL pay for this. I promise you, you will pay.”

Singh said nothing, merely smiling back at the Phantom. “I think not, oh Ghost.” Singh turned his back on the Phantom and walked to face Simon, “For your benefit Dr. Day, I’ll tell you the whole story. Some years ago, we learned of your family’s search for this tomb--the hunt for Atlantis.” Singh began to pace slowly before his prisoners, hands clasped behind his back. “We monitored your progress, provided you with assistance

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when needed.” Singh stopped in front of Simon, looking up into the tall man’s eyes, “And helped you to come here.”

“But one thing we didn’t tell you, Dr. Day, was about the final piece of the puzzle: The last page of the manuscript that led you here.”

Simon’s eyes grew wide, “You found it? You have the last page?”

“Oh, indeed, Dr. Day, oh indeed we do. And we read it. And we knew that there was no treasure here…at least not a golden one.”

“But how? No one, not in any university, anywhere, was able to read the text except me.”

“Oh that. With the help of one of your close colleagues, a Dr. Harlan—“

“Harlan? He would never work for you!”

“No, he wouldn’t, voluntarily. We…convinced him to assist us some weeks ago. He was most motivated once his wife and children were under our ‘protection’.”

“Wait a minute…weeks ago? Harlan’s sabbatical…”

“…was not a sabbatical at all, Dr. Day. He told us what we would find in this tomb and then, when he heard that the Phantom had arrived here, we decided to change our goal. We no longer were here to seek treasure, but to hunt down an ancient adversary…the Phantom!”

Singh moved to face the Phantom, who remained silent. Singh continued, “You see, Dr. Day, this man has bedeviled my people for hundreds of years. For all that time, he has been just beyond our reach. He has been beyond the reach of everything, even Death itself…until today.”

Then it was Rhea’s turn to speak, “But who are you? You keep speaking of ‘your people’; what are you? What is the Singh Brotherhood?” Turning to the Phantom, she motioned to the man in purple, “And who is he?”

Singh stood before her and smiled. “I am one of the leaders of the Brotherhood. We are what you might call a business organization…”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, the voice of the Phantom sounded like thunder, rumbling loudly in the chamber. “You’re pirates! You’re nothing but bloodthirsty criminals; killers…”

Holding up his hand, Singh screamed back at him, “SILENCE!” Pointing to the Phantom, Singh spoke on, “This one; this one is our ancient enemy. He is known as the

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Phantom, the Ghost Who Walks, the Guardian of the Eastern Dark, and a hundred other names---“

“No, no.” Simon spoke up, “He’s no Phantom. Now I know the voice, he’s K—“

Instantly, the Phantom turned on his heel and landed a mighty blow from his left hand on the jaw of his old friend, Simon Day. In an instant, the huge man crumpled to the floor of the cave, unconscious…and silent.

Singh’s men rushed towards the Phantom, and despite having the strength of ten tigers, the Phantom could not free himself from the combined efforts of Singh’s crew. Without wasting another moment, Singh ordered the Phantom bound, and then pronounced his sentence.

“Boldly done. But frankly, a misplaced effort, Ghost. For now, I have my desire. You, the Phantom, are in my grasp, and so you shall remain. In several days, we will return for a meeting. You will have the pleasure of meeting Aryan Singh, the head of our organization. It seems that you and he have quite the history.”

The Phantom cocked his head slightly, “Aah, you don’t recognize the name? Pity; he surely knows who you are. Perhaps you will recognize the face. I’m told that Aryan bears quite a resemblance to his father—the man whose death you caused at the Jog Falls so many years ago.”

Singh paused, savoring the moment. “Aah, yes, now you remember. Aryan will be here to personally avenge his father’s death at your hands.” Singh looked around the tomb, “It does seem to be a fitting place for a ghost to die--here, in a tomb.” Reaching for the Phantom’s guns, Singh went on, “And I’ll just take these from you. We won’t need any of your legendary heroics. Besides, it will give Aryan such great pleasure to shoot you with your own guns,” Singh pointed one of the guns at the middle of the Phantom’s forehead, “right between the eyes.”

Lowering the gun from the Phantom’s head, Singh backed up, letting out a sigh. “I would kill you now myself, but Aryan has given me very strict orders. He wants you for himself. So it shall be.”

Turning from the Phantom, Singh gave an order to his men, “Tie her up as well. We seal them in here now, then take the ship to Dakar to gather the others. And then we will return to prove that even a Ghost can die!”

Singh stalked out of the cave while his men tied up Rhea and placed her next to the Phantom. He paused only long enough to gaze down at the remains of King Boryn-El. Reaching down, he picked up the sword that had rested on his chest for thousands of years, marveling at its light weight, he swung it gracefully in the air several times.

Manx called to Singh, “What about Dr. Day?”

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Dismissing him with a wave of his hand, Singh answered, calling over his shoulder as he continued across the chamber, “Leave him. By the time he wakes up, the chamber will be sealed.” Then, speaking to other members of his crew Singh gave orders, “Gather those spikes, we’ll use them to prop the outer door shut. Get the shovels…we need to move sand in front of the door to lock it down.”

Then, turning his head towards Manx, Singh gave a final order, “Manx, rig the doors of the chamber with grenades. I want the doors to blow if they try to get out.”

His voice faded and silence filled the chamber. Within seconds, Rhea and the Phantom heard the outer door close. The metal spikes that had killed part of Singh’s crew were then propped against the door, and the prisoners could hear the sounds of shoveling as sand was steadily piled against the door, sealing this ancient tomb once again.

Rhea struggled against the ropes that bound her. The Phantom spoke, “Don’t waste your strength. Those men are skilled sailors; they’re very good at tying knots. Besides, Simon will be awake soon. I didn’t hit him THAT hard.”

Rhea turned on the Phantom in anger, “…and why did you have to hit him, anyway!? The three of us might have had a chance…”

The Phantom shook his head, “Not against all those guns. By the way, I hit him because Simon recognized my voice, and he was about to give away some very valuable information. I couldn’t allow that to happen. There are too many innocent lives at stake.”

Rhea looked at him, confused. “What do you mean? What was he about to say?”

“He was about to say my real name, and that, I could not allow.”

“Your name? Who ARE you?”

“Rhea, this isn’t quite the way I thought we would be introduced, but…I am Kit Walker, also known as the Phantom.”

In the time before Simon began to stir, Rhea and the Phantom shared what they knew of Atlantis. Rhea told of the years of painstaking research that had led her and Simon here. The Phantom shared the tale of the small map fragment that he had possessed and told the story of how the Walker Archipelago got its name. It was then that Simon began to move.

Rhea called to him, “Simon! Simon, wake up. We’re over here.” In the half-light of the tomb, they saw Simon struggle to sit up, holding his jaw in his hand and trying to shake the cobwebs from his head. He let out a low groan. “Simon, over here! Singh and his men tied us up. Come over here. Help us!”

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Simon crawled to Rhea and looked into her eyes. “Oh, Rhea, I’m so sorry.” Hugging her, Simon moved quickly to untie her, not even noticing the Phantom sitting in the darkness. “I should have known…”

The Phantom gently cleared his throat. Simon’s head swung towards the masked man leaning back against the cave wall, “Kit, is that you in there? What’s going on? Why did you slug me?”

“All in good time, Simon. But first, it is me. Get me untied and I’ll fill you in on who it is you’ve been dealing with. Oh, as to why I had to hit you…sorry about that…but you were about to reveal my identity to some very dangerous people. If they find out who I am, a lot of people will be in great danger. I can’t let that happen. Knocking you out was the easiest and quickest solution. Besides, I knew I could take you with a short left cross.” As Simon moved to untie the Phantom, the two shared a knowing smile.

It was then that first of the lights that Singh had left failed. The cave grew ominously darker. The three looked at each other nervously, knowing that soon they would be plunged into a complete and never-ending darkness. The Phantom spoke quickly. “Simon, tell me everything you know of this place…quickly.”

Simon relayed the story of the last king of Atlantis. How, following great battles and years of expanding a glorious land, the forces of nature began to destroy all that had been so carefully built up over time. He told the Phantom how the last king had finally ordered all of his ships and people to leave the kingdom, and how his final order, when the time came, was to bury him hear.

Simon told how the parchments that he had seen indicated that the king would be surrounded by his greatest treasures, the things most dear to his heart. How he never realized that that thing was not a golden treasure, but was actually his beloved queen. It was only when they had entered the tomb that the truth became clear. The king had lain with his queen for almost ten thousand years; the ultimate story of love. The Phantom interrupted his friend, “But the Singh knew that Simon. Somehow they found some piece of the puzzle that had eluded you. That was when they changed their quest from a search for gold to a hunt for me.” At that moment, the second of the lights flickered and went dark, drawing a glance from the Phantom. “Hurry Simon, what else do you know!”

“The script on the inner door was written by the king’s minister. He said that he himself had laid the king and queen here and sealed the doors of the tomb, locking the world outside to secure his king.” Simon gave a confused look, “But why does that matter? We have to get out of here before the last light gives out…the outer door!” Simon started to run towards the outer door of the chamber.

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“Simon, stop! The Singh propped the door shut with those spikes and sand from the outer chamber and rigged it with grenades. We’ll need to find another way!” Then the Phantom paused. “Simon, you said that the king’s minister sealed the tomb himself, but the inner door closed from the inside, right?”

Simon nodded, “Yes…unusual to have one door open outwards and one open inwards.”

Rhea interrupted, “Wait a minute! That means he must have been inside when he sealed the tomb.”

Looking around, the Phantom spoke quickly, “Right; and we know he’s not here now. He must have had an escape route. We have to find it…and fast! Simon, maybe the inscription on the last platform will give us a clue. Translate it, fast, while Rhea and I search for a way out!”

Those words began a frantic search for the way out of the tomb. Rhea and the Phantom searched every inch of the cave walls but could find nothing. Meanwhile, Simon labored in the low light of the chamber to translate the ancient inscription. Finally, tired and frustrated, the Phantom and Rhea joined Simon at the stone platform where he was working on reading the inscription.

Looking up at them, Simon shook his head. “Nothing here. The inscription just says that they’re the king and queen, that they’re the last rulers of Atlantis, that they were a great comfort and strength to the people, an epitaph…nothing about a way out.”

The three sat down between the stone platforms. The final light flickered ominously. Looking at the engraved platform that bore the epitaph of the monarchs, the Phantom asked a question.

“Simon, how were the doors of the tomb sealed?”

“With some kind of black resin, Kit. Hard as cement by now, we had to chip it away with pry bars and chisels. Why do you ask?”

“Was it anything like the black resin along the edge of the platform with the engraving?”

The threesome scrambled to the platform, their fingers trying to scratch at the resin. Rhea screamed, “That’s it! It was here all along, but we couldn’t see it when we were standing over it! How can we get at it?”

Simon shot back to her, “You know we can’t do this by hand. Remember how hard it was when we had the chisels and tools…if we only had them now…hell, I’d even take dynamite!”

The Phantom pulled back from the platform, and his hand slowly made its way down to his gunbelt. Slowly and steadily, he drew out the boxes of his father’s .45 caliber

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cartridges that he had placed there in the stone hut far above them. “Would gunpowder do?”

Working quickly and methodically, the Phantom opened most of the shells in the boxes and poured the gunpowder into a small pile on the ground. Carefully, he and Simon laid a thin line of powder leading up to the small platform and packed as much gunpowder into the edges as they could.

It was Rhea who asked the obvious question, “But how do we light it?”

Moving back from the explosive powder, the Phantom grew silent, glancing around the chamber. Instinctively he reached for his guns, only to remember that Singh had taken them. “All we need is one spark…”

The Phantom stared at the remaining light that still glowed in the chamber and then at Simon. “Simon, what is your shirt made of?”

Within minutes, the sleeves of Simon’s shirt had been torn off and the last remaining light had been moved close to the pile of gunpowder on the floor. Carefully, the Phantom shredded the edges of the strips of fabric and moved them close to the burning hot halogen bulb of the light. The three looked on in silence, hoping to see the first wisps of smoke that could mean their freedom. The light flickered, going dark for a fraction of a second.

Rhea gasped, “Simon!”

“I know, Rhea. I know.”

“Easy you two, we just need a few seconds…” The light came back on and a few ragged shirt threads began to glow.

“There we go. There we go.” Carefully, the Phantom moved his lips close to the threads, gently breathing onto the glowing ember. Seconds later, a tiny flame appeared. Cupping his hand around the fire, the Phantom slowly moved it towards the gunpowder.

“You two had better take cover behind the pedestals. If this works…”

“Never mind ‘if’, Kit. It has to work.”

“You two just take cover. Here we go!”

As Simon and Rhea moved to safety, the Phantom put the burning fabric onto the gunpowder. For a moment, all was silent as the flame appeared to die out. And then a spark, one lone spark, appeared to jump onto the pile of gunpowder. It caught and started along the trail of gunpowder leading to the pedestal. Moving quickly out of the way, the Phantom took cover, waiting for the explosion that might just free them all.

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Seconds later, the cave shook with the force of the explosion just a few feet away. As the sound faded, three sets of eyes gazed expectedly over the top of the stone pedestals. When the dust settled, Simon and Rhea let out triumphant “Whoops!” and Kit allowed himself a smile. The end of the platform had fallen away revealing a small opening that led down into the darkness.

The sound of the explosion echoed through the cave and out onto the beach. The guards that Suraj Singh had left behind heard the noise as well. In a split second the three men were on their feet, rifles in hand. Falak, the leader of the three men, ran for the cave, screaming as he went, “Get into that cave! Make sure the Phantom does not walk out alive!

The prisoners of the tomb wasted no time making their way down the hole, which was actually the end of a tight, narrow, twisting staircase. Although Rhea could move through it easily, Simon and the Phantom had several tight squeezes as the tunnel descended into the earth. Eventually though, the passage leveled out, only slowly climbing as the three made their way through the passage, blindly feeling their way. Without light to guide them, they could never sure if their next step would lead them forward or plunging down into some unknown depth. After what seemed like hours, they came to an intersection where the tunnel split off in four directions.

Simon spoke into the darkness, voicing the question that they all thought, “Which way now?”

It was the Phantom who broke the silence. “Listen. Do any of you hear that?”

They strained their ears and were able to pick up the very faint sound of running water. If there had been light, Simon and Rhea would have seen a beaming Phantom smiling at them, “We go left. Now I know where we’re headed.”

After several more minutes and blind turns, the sound of the running water grew louder. The Phantom’s strides grew quicker and longer as he could now sense that his goal, freedom, was at hand. Finally, the utter blackness through which they had been walking gave way to a tiny smudge of grey which grew brighter with each step. Finally, the light took on the shape of a doorway and Simon, Rhea, and the Phantom found themselves stepping onto the aqueduct that overlooked the pool in the central cavern of the Atlantis cave complex. They were free from the tomb!

As they stood looking over the pool, the Phantom realized they were standing at the point where he had entered the cavern; the water-filled tunnel that had taken him from the stone hut high overhead on the far western side of the island down to the beach level on the eastern end of the island in a matter of minutes. Examining the tunnel carefully, he

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knew there would be no way to climb back up. It was then that he saw the end of another tunnel; and this one had stairs.

While the Phantom had been examining the tunnels, Simon and Rhea had been examining the chamber. “But what do we do now, Rhea? We have no way off the island. Even if Singh was still here, we’d just be going back as prisoners.”

Overhearing Simon’s question, the Phantom had the answer. Motioning to the stairs, he called out to his friends, “Doctors, follow me. The stairs await!”

Before anyone could move, gunshots rang out as Singh’s guards opened fire. Pushing Simon and Rhea into the tunnel, the Phantom yelled to his cohorts, “Start climbing! I’ll take care of them…don’t look back! Just go!”

Then the Phantom turned towards the Singh gunmen, who were already moving up the stairs to the aqueduct, closing in on their prey. Shooting as they ran, their shots were wild, ricocheting off of the stonework that surrounded the Phantom. As the three men reached the top of the stairs, the Phantom was surrounded: Two gunmen on the aqueduct to his left and one to his right. It was then that the Phantom executed a perfect dive down into the pool, disappearing into the depths of the dark waters below.

On the aqueduct above, the leader of the guards ordered one of his men back down the stairs. “Omrao, get down there! When he comes up for air, we’ll fire from above, you fire from below. Remember Singh’s orders! The Phantom does not get past us!”

The third man quickly made his way down the stairs and positioned himself at the far side of the pool. All three men scanned the surface of the water waiting for any sign of the Phantom. Thirty seconds…then forty…then fifty…a full minute.

“Where is he? Come on now, even a ghost must breathe!”

Beneath the water, the Phantom moved quickly to the one spot where he knew he could surface without being seen; where the water from the tunnel that kept the pool filled cascaded down from the arcade. Once there, he slowly surfaced, drawing a cautious breath of badly needed air. The only sound was that of falling water; no gunshots. So far, so good. Through the falling water, the Phantom could just make out one of the gunman standing across from him at the exit of the pool, intently scanning the water in the middle of the pool. He started to form his plan.

After several minutes of running up the stairs, Simon and Rhea paused to catch their breath. The gunfire had stopped and there was no sign of pursuit from the Singh…yet.

“What do you think happened down there, Simon?”

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“I don’t know, Rhea, but the fact that they’re not after us tells me that they haven’t found Kit yet.”

“But he’s not here either.”

“I know. We’ll just have to keep climbing and put some distance between us and them.”

“Where are we going, though?”

“I don’t know. But I trust Kit. He wouldn’t have sent us up these stairs without a good reason. We’ll just have to keep going…and hope.”

Drawing a deep breath, the Phantom dove beneath the surface of the water and swam for the edge of the pool nearest the gunman. Reaching the edge, the Phantom stayed as low in the water as possible, working to remove one of his boots.

Meanwhile, the Singh were getting nervous.

“It’s been almost two minutes…no one can stay under that long! Where is he?”

“He’s there; just wait.” The leader called to his man below, “Look to the dark corners underneath where we’re standing. He’ll try to stay under cover!” Shifting his gaze, the man tried to make out any movement in the distant shadows. His eyes started to play tricks on him when a dull thud echoed from across the pool.

“There! Underneath Timir!” Instantly he raised his rifle and started firing in the direction of the noise. The men on the aqueduct leaned precariously over the edge of the stonework and started firing blindly into the darkness below. None of them saw a very angry Phantom rising quickly up from the water to grab the gunman at the edge of the pool.

With lightning speed, the Phantom positioned himself behind the gunman who let out a low scream as the Phantom’s arms wrapped tightly around him like bands of steel. Somehow hearing him over the gunshots, the men on the aqueduct pointed and turned their fire towards the Phantom.

He could feel the bullets entering the Singh’s body, and the gunman went limp in the Phantom’s arms. Grabbing at the man’s rifle, the Phantom fired off several rounds, forcing the remaining Singh to duck for cover as the Phantom disappeared into the darkness.

After the gunfire stopped, Falak carefully raised his head above the stonework and scanned the area below. Except for the body of his now dead comrade, all appeared just as it had for centuries: Quiet. Still. Nothing moved. The Phantom had vanished.

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Again Simon and Rhea paused on their way up the stairs. They had heard the gunfire echoing up through the tunnel from the arcade below.

“Simon, theses stairs don’t end…”

“Keep going, and hope that Kit comes out on the right side of this one. It’s our only hope.”

The Singh stood on the aqueduct, nervously scanning the area below. Looking to Falak, Timir asked the obvious question, “Now what?”

Reloading his rifle, Falak had the obvious answer, “We head down. You on the right. Me on the left.”

The two men started down the stairs on opposite sides of the cavern, not knowing when or where the Phantom would strike next. As they neared the bottom of the stairs, they heard a loud splash in the middle of the pool. Both men turned instantly, Timir opening fire at the source of the noise.

“No! Don’t waste your---“

Before he could say another word, a large explosion ripped up from the bottom of the pool, spraying water throughout the cavern. Instinctively, Falak closed his eyes for a split second, and it was then that the Phantom struck. Flying up at his adversary from the bottom of the stairs, the Phantom caught the surprised Singh in the midsection, knocking him to the ground. In seconds, he delivered a series of blows to the stunned man’s head, knocking him unconscious.

Timir called out to his leader, “Falak, where are you? What happened?”

Again, silence filled the chamber. Timir scanned the cavern, the look of fear on his face, “Oh, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Time to get out of here and call for help!”

Racing down the last steps, Timir ran for the exit of the cave, only to feel a hand as hard and strong as steel grab him from behind, lifting his feet from the ground.

“Leaving so soon? This was just starting to get fun!”

Grabbing the man’s rifle, the Phantom roughly set Timir down in the sand. He did not move a muscle, sitting where he was placed.

“Now, what do we do with you two?” The Phantom glanced up the stairway to where Falak was lying unconscious, “Your associate won’t be waking up for some time, but I’ll

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need you two to behave nicely when I’m not here. Tell me, you mentioned a radio. Where might that be?” Timir led the Phantom back to his camp on the beach.

Turning to the Phantom, he shook his head in disbelief, “But, but how, you were unarmed?”

The Phantom smiled. “The Phantom is NEVER unarmed.” With that, the Phantom’s right hand connected with Timir’s jaw and the man fell unconscious onto the beach.

Working quickly, the Phantom smashed the radio with a kick of his boot. The ammunition was thrown far out into the bay, and the guns were thrown deep into the jungle. Walking up to the small boat that had been left for the three men, the Phantom pulled the pin out of the second of Manx’s grenades, dropped it into the boat, and calmly walked back towards the entrance of the cave.

As he neared the cave, Manx’s grenade exploded, lifting the small boat into the air and breaking it into hundreds of pieces. The Phantom paused to survey the beach, slowly nodding his head. His eyes moved to the sheer rock face that rose up from the beach and the ring of rocks that surrounded the sheltered bay, “This will do for now. No way off of this beach, and enough supplies to last them for a few days until I come back for them.”

It was a long, hard climb up the stairs, but eventually Simon and Rhea made their way into the ruined back room of the stone hut, now abandoned by Manx and his men.

“Simon, could Kit have survived that explosion and all of that gunfire?

“I don’t know Rhea, but we have to assume that he didn’t and the Singh will be coming up those stairs for us at any moment! Is there anything here we can use as weapons?

Looking around, Simon and Rhea could only see pieces of rock and broken furniture. “We’ll need to seal off that hole. Rhea, check out what’s on the other side of the doorway and I’ll start moving some of the bigger pieces. That will buy us time!”

“But Kit—“

“We’ll have to let Kit take care of himself for now.”

Simon started to move some of the larger pieces of rock, attempting to seal the exit from the stairs as best he could. If they could only slow down the Singh long enough—then he heard it.

It was faint at first, but the sound of quickly moving footsteps was coming up from the stairs beneath was unmistakable. Someone was climbing the stairs, and he was doing it very, very fast.

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“Rhea! They’re coming!”

Rhea looked back into the room, fear marking her features. “What do we do?”

“I’m not sure. Could we run?”

“Simon, they’ll track us down out there in no time! We don’t have any guns or supplies!”

The sounds from the stairway were growing louder. Reaching down, Simon grabbed onto a medium sized rock and stood above the opening of the tunnel, ready to smash the head of the next person to come out of the opening.

He looked to Rhea, “Not much, but it’s all we have. There are only three of them and if we can take down one here…then, maybe…” Simon left the sentence unfinished.

Rhea nodded silently as the sounds from the tunnel grew louder. Then they stopped. Next came the sound of someone climbing and a head started to appear in the hole. Simon raised his rock, ready to strike.

“Hold!” The Phantom’s voice rang out, freezing Simon and Rhea as they stood. Raising his head slowly from the hole, the Phantom looked up at Simon and Rhea, a smile spreading across his face. “Is that a way to greet a friend?”

Simon threw down the rock and instantly helped Kit from the hole. “Kit! We thought you…we thought they had…the shots, the explosion!”

“Not this time, Simon. Not this time. The gunfire was theirs. The explosion was mine.”

“Are they…”

“One of the Singh is dead…killed by his own people’s bullets. The other two are unconscious down below.” Looking at the hole and how Simon had repositioned some of the stones, the Phantom nodded. “Good idea to block this off. They can’t get off of the beach down there…I saw to that…but they might eventually try to climb out here. Come on, let’s move those large stones.” Together, he and Simon moved the heavier stones over the hole, making sure that once the Singh woke up they would not be able to follow.

When the job was done, the trio made their way back to the radio room. Fortunately the rock walls had sheltered the Bangallan radio equipment from the effects of the hand grenade. Manx’s bullets had also failed to find their mark, and the Phantom quickly connected and keyed a radio microphone. “Simon, back in the cave you asked how we’d get off the island. Cross your fingers. Now we just need a bit of luck.”

Keying the microphone, he changed the preset distress frequency and called out on the radio. “This is the Bangallan station on the Walker Archipelago. Can anyone hear me?”

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He paused, but no reply came. “Walker Archipelago calling to the India Voyager II; can you hear me? Over.”

After a moment the speaker crackled to life, the voice coming over only faintly. “India Voyager here, responding.”

“Captain Savarna! It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Walker?! Is that you? Yes, Savarna here. What are you doing on the Walker’s? After our last adventure, I thought you’d be home spending time with your lovely wife and children.”

“Long story Savarna. I’m glad you’re still in range. I thought you’d be half way to Brazil by now.”

“Well, not quite half, but I’ll need to get there soon...rush cargo. But you still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing on the Walker’s?”

“Savarna, I need a favor. Can you double-back and pick up three passengers bound for Dakar? We need to get there fast.”

The radio was silent for a moment. “I can get there, Walker…but it will have to be fast. I really do have to get to Brazil.”

“We can be quick…meet us on the south beach of the western island.”

“Best speed…I can be there mid-day tomorrow. See you then. Savarna out!” The radio fell silent.

Simon shook his head and looked to his friend, “Just like that you pick up the radio and intercept a ship bound for Brazil? You call that just a little luck?”

The Phantom nodded, chuckling. “For me, yes.”

“You must live some life, Kit.”

“It has its moments, Simon.”

Rhea chimed in, “Kit, how did you escape from the three Singh?”

The Phantom paused and took a breath. He usually only recorded his exploits for the chronicle, so he took a moment to choose his words. “Well, when I pushed you two to the stairs, I dove for the pool to buy time. The Singh split up the catch me in a crossfire, and I swam for the one closest to me. Then I created a distraction.”

Simon and Rhea looked confused.

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A chagrined Phantom continued his tale, “I threw my boot to the far side of the pool. They fired at the noise. That gave me the moment I needed to grab the Singh closest to me and get out of the line of fire.”

“That was when they shot their own man?”

Kit nodded, “Correct, Rhea. Unfortunate. I would have preferred to bring all three to justice. But it did give me a chance to steal away and recover Manx’s grenades. Remember how they rigged the outer door to explode if we tried to escape?”

Simon snapped his fingers, “You used the grenade to cause the explosion—“

“and that let me attack the other Singh.”

“So you left them down there?”

Rhea, you know that beach. There’s no way to walk out. I scuttled their boat, so no way to sail out. I destroyed their radio, so no way to call for help. We’ve sealed the stairs, so they can’t come this way. They have enough supplies to keep them alive for a few days, so they’ll survive until we can get back for them.”

Rhea nodded approvingly, “Very nice, Mr. Ghost Who Walks.”

“It was a little rough around the edges,” Kit looked down to his boot, “and my boot is a bit spongy just now, but it did work out alright.”

The three fell silent for a moment and the Phantom let out a deep breath.

Simon leaned back against the wall next to the bank of communications gear with a smug smile on his face. “Oh, Kit; one other question from your friend on the radio. Wife? Children?”

Knowing where his friend’s questions would lead, the Phantom let out another sigh. Simon continued, “We really do have a bit of catching up to do, old friend.”

It was then that Simon caught Rhea staring at him. “Rhea, what’s wrong?”

“Simon, on your jaw…”

Simon’s hand went to his jaw where Kit had hit him earlier, “What is it?”

“A mark! It’s the same one that’s on your pendant!”

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Simon began to look confused as Kit walked over to him. Holding up his left hand, he showed Simon his ring bearing the Phantom’s Good Mark—four cutlasses arranged point to point.

“Don’t worry Simon. That mark will fade. If I had hit you with this one,” Kit held up his right hand, bearing the Skull Ring, “the mark would stay with you forever.”

Simon shook his head. “Kit, you really do have to tell me just what’s going on, and what this,” holding his great-grandfather’s pendant next to the Phantom’s ring, “is all about.”

“I owe you an explanation, Simon. There’s a lot you don’t know about your family’s history, and a lot that I can tell you. We’ll talk as we walk: We have to move!”

Daylight was growing short as the trio left the hut. Stopping at one of the supply crates, the Phantom opened the crate that carried his munitions and pulled out his two reserve pistols. Once the guns were loaded and holstered, the Phantom nodded to Simon and Rhea and the trio made their way through the forest and down to the beach. Carrying some of the Phantom’s supplies, the three moved quickly and made their way towards the beach. As soon as they made camp for the night, the three quickly fell asleep to the sound of the waves crashing onto the beach.

Meanwhile, the man who was the new Captain Singh piloted his ship towards Dakar. As the sun set and the sky grew dark, members of the Singh Brotherhood were hastily packing all of the contents of the villa north of Dakar. It had served well as a temporary base, but now that the Phantom was sealed in an ancient tomb, dying a slow death, the compound would no longer be necessary.

Aryan Singh’s men were practiced at making speedy departures and were removing all traces of their presence. As soon as they could dock the ship, they would move the crates into the hold and quickly make their way back towards India, towards home. The Atlantis project had taken up considerable time and required a significant investment of Brotherhood resources. Aryan would have to answer for the lack of a return on the ‘investment’, but the death of the Phantom might just be enough to tilt the scales in his favor. In the meantime, there was still much packing to do and the loose end of Dr. Harlan and his family to resolve. Singh smiled to himself, realizing that it really had been a good day after all.

After the sun set the following evening, Savarna expertly brought the India Voyager II into the port of Dakar. Running without lights, she relied on her own expertise and the sharp eyes of the Phantom to help her guide her vessel silently alongside an empty dock. As Simon and Rhea made their way down the ladder that had been thrown over the rail, Savarna caught the Phantom by the arm.

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“Walker, you’re sure I can’t help you on this?”

“You’ve done enough Savarna, but thank you. Besides, you have to get to Brazil.”

Savarna nodded, “I do have to get to Brazil. But how will you know where the Singh have gone? Or even that they are here at all?”

“Their ship is still docked…two slips over…and there aren’t many wharf rats who don’t like to talk to the Phantom.” With a wry smile, the Phantom flipped over the ship’s rail and vanished into the night.

Moving quietly, the Phantom motioned to Simon and Rhea to remain under cover until he returned. Traveling without documents in Senegal, or any country, was risky business and the Phantom wanted to keep his friends safe. Dakar was like many of the places visited by Phantoms over the years, and it took only a few minutes for our Phantom to find someone who was able to provide information as to the whereabouts of the Singh.

The strong arms of the Phantom pulled the denizen of the wharf into a dark alley. The Phantom demanded to know where the Singh had gone after the ship had docked. All of the activity at the Singh ship had been the talk of the dock. The old jungle saying says, ‘When the Phantom asks, you answer’. In a matter of moments, the Phantom had all the information he needed. Releasing his informer, the Phantom vanished into the night.

Returning to Simon and Rhea, the Phantom told the story he had heard. The Singh had been moving all manner of crates and cargo down from a well-known, old villa north of the port that overlooked the ocean. The ship was supposed to pull out sometime the following day. “Now all I have to do is get us some transport and figure out exactly where it is we have to get to.”

Simon spoke up, “Kit, I think we can help you there.” Kit turned to his friend, his head tilted in curiosity.

Rhea smiled at the Phantom, “My parents were missionaries in Senegal. I spent the first fifteen years of my life around this city. I know Dakar like the back of my hand.”

“Okay. Then let’s get moving!”

Borrowing a truck that had been parked on the wharf, the Phantom, Simon, and Rhea made their way out of the port area. Rhea was at the wheel, driving quickly through the dark streets of Dakar, on their way to the stronghold of the Singh Brotherhood.

Less than an hour after leaving the docks, Rhea brought the truck to a stop a short distance from the Singh’s villa. “It’s just ahead, right around that bend. If I remember the compound correctly, it’s gated. Most of the big estates up here are.”

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Opening the passenger side door, the Phantom leapt out of the truck, “Excellent. Pull up to the gate and ask to be let in. I’ll handle the rest.” The Phantom closed the door and vanished into the night.

As Rhea started the truck, she asked, “Simon, was Kit always so good at making quick exits?”

“Yes, but he has gotten much better at it. Practice I guess.”

When Rhea steered the truck around the bend in the road, the expected gatehouse came into view. Despite the late hour, a lone guard stepped out of the house and held up a hand, beckoning the truck to stop. With the exception of the automatic weapon slung around his shoulder, he seemed to be a normal security guard just doing his job on a quiet evening.

Looking up into the cab of the truck, he spoke gruffly in broken English, “What you want?”

Rhea looked down and him and smiled nervously, “Uh, a late delivery from the dock.”

The guard shook his head and scowled, “Wrong answer. No delivery! Only pickups: Get out of the truck. NOW!” Reaching for the gun, he was about to reach for the door of the truck when an ominous voice sounded behind him.

“Now that’s not a polite way to speak to a lady!” Spinning to see the source of the sound, the Singh guard did not even see the right hand of the Phantom that connected with his jaw. In a heartbeat he was down on the ground, sleeping peacefully.

The Phantom pulled the unconscious guard out of sight and hopped into the truck. “Rhea, pull this truck up alongside the main house. There’s a blind spot up there where we won’t be seen. We’ve got to get inside to find the Harlans and stop the Singh. Let’s move!”

When the truck was parked well out of sight, the Phantom gathered with Simon and Rhea in the darkness. “This place is awfully quiet…my friend at the docks told me that a lot of people came down to the ship after sunset. My guess is that there’s only a few left…that’s why there was only one guard at the gate. That means the Harlans won’t have much time—if they’re even still alive.”

Simon gulped involuntarily as the Phantom continued, “I know this isn’t what either of you are trained to do, but this is my job. I can get in there alone while you two stay put here.”

Simon looked at his old friend, “Kit, we’ve come this far together. We need to finish this. Besides, it’s my obsession with Atlantis that has landed Harlan and his family here to begin with. I need to help.”

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Kit took stock of his friend for just a moment before his decision was made. “Okay.” Taking his guns from their holsters, he gave one each to Simon and Rhea. “I’ll take care of myself. You two will need protection. Simon, I know you can shoot. Rhea?”

“I may be the daughter of a missionary, but I grew up in Africa. It’s been awhile, but I know which end of a gun is which.” With that, she opened the breach of the Phantom’s weapon. Seeing that it was loaded and ready for action, she nodded and looked back at Kit.

“What now?”

“Hmm. Very good. Actually, we need this truck. You’re staying here. Simon’s with me.”

“…but”

“Rhea. Archaeology is your domain. The Singh are mine. If we can get the Harlans out of there, we’ll need to make a quick exit. And you know Dakar. You stay with the transportation. Just remember, the Singh are practiced killers. If they find you, don’t hesitate; shoot to kill. You can bet that they will. We’ll be back.” Without another word, Simon and the Phantom started off into the night, Simon looking back over his shoulder as the two men disappeared into the night.

The doors and windows of the main building were no match for the practiced hand of a Phantom. Together with Simon, they entered the building, an aging remnant of Senegal’s colonial days. But now the building was mostly empty, hastily stripped of its contents. It took several minutes of cautious moving from room to room, but eventually the two came onto the room that now held Singh, Manx, and one of Singh’s henchmen. Listening outside the door, the Phantom heard Singh and his man talking.

“…very good. Who is left here?”

“Almost none, sir. We three, Rahesh at the gate, the Harlans, and one guard outside their cell.

“Then it is time to leave.” Reaching for the phone, Singh dialed a number and waited. “Damn! Where is Rahesh.” Slamming down the phone, he turned to Manx. “Take a car down to the gate and find out where the fool is. Then get back here. We drive to the docks now!”

“Right away, Mr. Singh!” Manx moved quickly towards the open french doors that led out into the night, turning towards the front of the house.

Singh turned to his henchman, “You, get downstairs and eliminate the Harlans. We’ll take their bodies down to the dock and load them on the ship. Once we’re well out to

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sea, we’ll dump them overboard.” Singh paused, glancing down at his desk. Picking up one of the Phantom’s pistols that lay there, he gazed at the sign of the skull carved into the grip. Pointing it across the room, he took aim at an imaginary enemy, “Then we get back to the Walker Archipelago where I will finally kill the Phantom and avenge my father’s death. No more loose ends.”

“Yes, Mr. Singh!”

As the would-be assassin started to move towards the door, the Phantom and Simon moved quickly back into a room that was across the hall from Singh’s office. The Phantom spoke quickly and quietly, “Not much time Simon. We have to follow to find out where the Harlans are and stop him before he can carry out that order.”

“Kit, what about Singh?”

“The Harlans come first. They’re the innocents here.” The two heard Singh’s henchman moving down the hall. After looking out carefully, the Phantom started to move, beckoning Simon to follow.”

Making their way through the house, Singh’s man eventually opened a door that led to a rough stone staircase leading down into the earth. Not expecting any interference, he walked on unconcerned, not noticing the Phantom or Simon, who remained just one turn behind him all of the way.

At the top of the stairs, the Phantom held out a hand, “Simon: Gun.” Knowing this was an order and not a request, Simon handed over the weapon to the Phantom.

The two could hear the conversation from the bottom of the stairs. “…and go out and get the car. After I shoot them, we’ll load the bodies and get out of here!”

“Got it…you’re okay on this?”

“Yup…Singh’s orders.” The Phantom shifted uneasily at the comment. Cold blooded murder was not to his liking. Standing on the stairs, he could hear the guard’s footsteps walking away across the stone floor. Obviously there was another exit somewhere down there. When the footsteps had faded, the Phantom heard the sound of keys being jangled and a door creaking open. He moved quickly down the remaining stairs and saw the guard standing before an large doorway.

He spoke to the still unseen occupants. “My apologies, Dr. Harlan. This does not come easy for me, but orders are orders.” The Phantom heard cries from inside the cell as the guard began to raise his gun. As he assumed a shooting position, the barrel of the gun began to lower slightly. The Phantom heard a voice cry out, “Children, get behind me!”

A single shot rang out.

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Singh’s henchman’s weapon flew across the air as the Phantom’s bullet had hit home, shattering his hand. In a moment the Phantom was upon the shocked killer. In a voice of steel, the Phantom spoke. “Killing my not come easy to you, but this comes easy to ME!” Again the Phantom’s right hand struck home and again, an evil criminal fell to the ground, bearing the sign of the Phantom on his jaw.

The Phantom looked into the cell, seeing Harlan, his wife, and two small children. “Harlans, if you want to be free come with me…but we have to move fast. There are more dangerous people still in this building and we’ll have to be careful. Let’s move!”

The four shocked Harlans stood and moved towards the door of their cell, the children being shepherded by their parents. As they passed into the corridor, the Phantom motioned Simon down to him and spoke quickly. “Simon, we’re going to find the door the other guard took when he left for the car. Take the Harlans out that way and then double back to Rhea in the truck. I can’t risk taking you back up into the main house in case we run into Manx. He’s too deadly and I don’t want to take chances with the children. Get them out of the compound as fast as you can and wait for me by the bend in the road.”

“What about you, K—“ The Phantom held up a warning finger to silence his friend, who was about to use his name in front of the Harlans, “What about you?”

“After I see you outside, I’m heading back upstairs. I want Singh. Oh, one more thing. Get down to the end of the hall. I have to fire off three more shots so Singh will think that his henchman carried out his orders to kill the Harlans.” The Phantom knelt before the children and gave his best, most magnetic smile to the terrified little ones.

“Don’t worry. This is just about over for you,” He looked up at the children’s parents, “for all of you. You have my word.” He looked to the children again, thinking of Kit and Heloise back in the Deep Woods, “There’s going to be some more loud noises, and then you’re going to go on a ride with my friend here.” Standing, the Phantom looked to his friend, “Get them towards the end of the hall.”

As they moved away, the Phantom squeezed off three more rounds into the now empty cell. If Singh was listening, he would now think the Harlans were dead. Pushing Singh’s unconscious henchman into the cell, he closed the door and quickly moved down the hall to where Simon was waiting.

Again he handed the big man his gun. “Remember Simon, these people are killers. Your job now is to keep the Harlans safe and get them out of here. Don’t hesitate to use this if you need to.” As the Phantom finished speaking, the sound of footsteps came from around a bend at the end of the corridor. The guard was returning. Motioning Simon and the Harlans back out of harm’s way, the unarmed Phantom stood in the hallway between the returning guard and his charges.

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“I heard those shots…you must be done. The car’s out back.” Turning the corner, the guard saw not the empty hallway he expected, but a crouching, angry Phantom who sprung instantly and unleashed a torrent of blows on the guard before he could reach for his sidearm. Falling to the ground, the Phantom disarmed him and dragged him back beyond the bend in the corridor, so there was no chance that he could be seen. He then motioned Simon and the Harlans forward, around the bend and up a small course of stairs that led them into the night. Once oriented, Simon began to move and looked back to his friend, “Good luck, Phantom,“ but the Phantom had already vanished back into the building.

Harlan looked up at Simon with curiosity, “Does he always leave that way.”

Simon smiled, thinking of all of Kit’s quiet, unannounced exits over the years, “All too often. All too often. Come on, we’ve got to get moving!”

In his office, Singh placed his last few papers in a, leather portfolio when he heard the sound of gunfire from beneath the building. He let out a cold smile. The loose end of the Harlans had just been tied up quite neatly. Opening the center drawer of the desk, Singh pulled out the Phantom’s guns that Suraj had delivered hours before. Imagining his adversary standing across the room, Singh took aim and let off an imaginary shot. Just then, the phone rang, pulling him out of his daydream, “Singh here!”

“Singh, it’s Manx! I’m at the gatehouse. Your guard is out cold and he’s got that same skull mark on his jaw that I saw on the island!”

“The Phantom! He can’t be here. We locked him in the tomb.” Wheels turned quickly in Singh’s head, “Get back here now, as fast as you can. We leave NOW!”

“What about the Harlans and the others?”

“Forget them. If the Phantom is in the compound, it’s already too late! Get moving.”

Singh quickly shoved the Phantom’s pistols into his portfolio and closed it. Picking it up from the desk, Singh left his office at top speed, heading for the front door. Throwing it open, he ran into the night in the direction of the gatehouse, where he could already see Manx’s headlights heading in his direction. It was time to leave this place.

Unaware that Manx had discovered the unconscious man in the gatehouse, the Phantom moved through the house back towards Singh’s office. The door was open and on entering the Phantom discovered that his quarry was gone. The office was empty.

About to leave in search of him, the Phantom suddenly snapped his fingers and walked to the desk. Sitting down, he rummaged through the drawers searching for pen and paper. Once he found it, he quickly penned a note and sealed it in an envelope. Then, picking

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up the telephone, he dialed a familiar number. There was one more detail to be taken care of.

Rhea brought the truck to a halt off to the side of the road where the adventure at the compound had started. She had seen Singh flee the house and get into the car with Manx, but otherwise her vigil had been a quiet one until Simon had brought the Harlans to the truck. Now they waited for Kit to return. The minutes passed like hours as the two kept an uneasy watch, hoping that no more of Singh’s men would happen by. And none did. Time passed. Then, out of the darkness came a now-familiar voice.

“I must say, you two are easy to sneak up on!” A smiling Phantom sat on the hood of the truck, looking almost playful. “They’re all gone. Come on, we have to get moving!”

Hopping into the truck, Rhea looked to the Phantom. “Where to? Do we go back to the docks?”

The Phantom shook his head. “No. We have to make sure the Harlans are safe first—then we go after the Singh. Drive to the Bangallan embassy. I have friends there.”

The truck rolled into the night, Rhea expertly navigating roads that she had learned in her childhood. When they neared the embassy, Kit motioned her to pull the truck to the side of the road and moved to the back of the truck where he spoke to the Harlans.

“We’re dropping you at the embassy of Bangalla. They’ll be expecting you.” Reaching into his gunbelt, the Phantom pulled out the envelope containing the letter he had written in Singh’s office. “This should explain everything to them, just hand it to the guard. I’m sorry we can’t stay, but we have to go after the people who did this to you. Don’t worry, we’ll wait to see that you get in.”

Simon and the Phantom helped the Harlans from the truck and watched as they approached the security checkpoint of Bangalla’s embassy in Dakar. As they spoke to the guard, Simon and the Phantom jumped back into the cab of the truck as Rhea started the engine.

The Bangallan security guard was clearly not used to late-night visitors. Moving out of his station, he snapped into formal military-mode. “Halt, please. What is your business here?”

As instructed Harlan handed the guard the Phantom’s letter. The guard opened it and read:

To: Bangallan Embassy Staff in Dakar, SenegalFrom: Commander, Jungle Patrol

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This letter is in the hands of the Harlan family of England. They are under my personal protection. I order you to admit them to the Bangallan embassy and provide every assistance in their journey back to England.

By my hand and authority,

CommanderJungle Patrol

The guard looked up and surveyed the Harlans. “What is this?! There’s no way you’re getting into this embassy with just a hand-written note---“

Just then the phone in the guard’s station rang. “Stay here…don’t move!”

As he picked up the phone, the voice of his commander from inside the embassy came over the line. “Sergeant, a call for you from the capital!”

“Captain, I, uh, might have a situation here. Can the call wait a moment?”

“The call is about your situation, Sergeant. Stay on the line.”

There was a clicking on the line and another voice came on. It was one the sergeant had heard before from his years on the security detail in the capital.

“Sergeant! This is President Luaga here in Mawitaan. I understand that the Harlans are with you. Show them every courtesy and bring them into the embassy. They are friends of Bangalla and of the Jungle Patrol!” The sergeant’s eyes grew wide at hearing the President’s orders. After a few words with his country’s commander-in-chief, he hung up the phone and ushered the Harlans into the embassy.

As the Harlans were moved into the Bangallan embassy, no one noticed as the truck that had been parked across the road turned on its lights and started to move towards the docks.

The pre-dawn traffic of Dakar was not heavy that day, but the trip still took longer than anyone wanted. Finally though, the truck carrying the Phantom, Simon, and Rhea pulled onto the dock and the three piled out, running after the Singh ship, but they were too late. The vessel was already free of the dock and was starting to pull out to sea. Simon and Rhea stopped when they saw the ship moving off, but the Phantom kept walking, following the large vessel. He looked up to the deck where Manx, Suraj Singh, and Aryan Singh were standing by the rail, looking down at him.

Instinctively, Manx started to reach for his sidearm. Aryan raised a hand in warning. “Not now, Manx. Before you could draw your gun, he would put a bullet in your chest. Don’t worry. We’ll see him again soon enough. We have something he wants—very badly.”

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Manx looked to Singh, “His guns. He’s going to come after them, isn’t he?”

Singh nodded. “Yes. Yes he will. And we will be ready.”

Not another word was spoken. The only sounds to be heard were the engines of the ship, the early-morning noises of the wharf, and the calls of seabirds that circling overhead.

The Phantom walked to the end of the dock; as far as he could go on this day. He stood there in silence and watched the ship as it continued to move away from Dakar. He watched it as it pulled further out into the bay. He watched it until its lights disappeared over the horizon. As the old jungle saying says, ‘Better to stare into the tiger’s eyes than into the cold eyes of the angry Phantom’. Seeing Kit’s cold eyes following the ship as it vanished from sight, Simon came to realize the character of the man that he had long called his friend; who had led them out of the cave; who had freed Harlan and his family from the Singh’s clutches. He realized then that although Singh and his cohorts had escaped on this night, the fight was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning.

As the three stood on the dock, Simon’s fingers rose to the pendant around his neck--the Phantom’s Good Mark. He and his family had been under the man’s protection for well over one hundred years now. Kit had provided some of the answers to Simon’s questions, but had left many more unanswered. He had known his friend for many years, but now Kit seemed to be even more of a mystery than ever. How could the man he had known in college and this man be one and the same? He was Kit, but at the same time he was so much more.

What he did know was that when he returned home, he would take his great-great-grandfather’s old journals out of storage to learn just what the Phantom and the time his ancestor had spent with him were all about. His family had carefully preserved the journals over the years, but they had always held secrets. There were rumors of the past; really just tall tales meant to help Simon and his brothers go to sleep at night, but nothing that ever seemed to be real—just old stories and fairy tales. But now, now Simon had begun to see that there was more to the old stories than he could ever have imagined. Now it was time to bring the old secrets out into the light. But that would have to wait for another day.

Epilogue

The Phantom quietly put down his pen and closed the latest chapter of the chronicle. The tale of Atlantis was now complete. He pushed himself back from the desk and into the throne that had been the seat of twenty generations of Phantoms before him. In the cool quiet of the Skull Cave he thought back over how close he had just come to death…from the hand grenade dropped into his hiding place to being sealed in an ancient tomb. All in a day’s work for the Phantom, perhaps, but certainly not for Simon and Rhea or for the Harlans.

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In the months since his first visit to the Walker Archipelago, The Phantom had returned to the island with Simon and Rhea. Together, they had resealed the tomb of king and queen of Atlantis and given Captain Nikhil Singh the burial that an honest and honorable man, and an old friend of the Phantom, deserved; in a chamber with the noble rulers of a forgotten kingdom. It was there that his sleep would be undisturbed for all eternity.

Over time, the Phantom had made good on his promise to avenge the death of Captain Singh and had made sure that the mercenary, Manx, and his men would never again serve as guns for hire for the Singh Brotherhood or for anyone else. There remained much work to be done, but for now, the Phantom was home in the Deep Woods.

Likewise, the Harlans were home now as well, the family having received an unexpected invitation from the government of Bangalla to spend a restful, extended holiday in Mawitaan. After leaving the Walker Archipelago for the last time, Simon and Rhea had also traveled together—to Scotland. Having seen the power of Boryn-El’s love for his queen, they were spending quiet days together reveling in a new-found closeness in their relationship.

Leaning back, the Phantom silently thought about the adventure, absent-mindedly fingering the single remaining .45 caliber bullet that his father had left on the island so many years ago. Lost in thought, he failed to hear Diana approaching from behind. As she gracefully sat on the arm of the throne, the Phantom was pulled from his reverie.

“Diana! Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming in.”

“Hmm…I’m now able to surprise a Phantom; better not make a habit of that Kit Walker!”

She kissed him gently on the lips and pulled back the mask from his head, gazing into his eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?”

The Phantom looked to the bullet in his hand. “Dad’s. I found it on the island. I was just thinking how even now, long after he’s gone, he still managed to be a part of the adventure. If it wasn’t for him leaving these bullets there…” He left the sentence unfinished.

Diana picked up the thought, “…but they were there, Kit, and you are here.” She slid into his lap and put her arms around his neck.

“I was just thinking that being away at school, I saw so little of him in the last years of his life. It would have been nice to have spent more time with him.”

“I know, darling.”

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Just then a burst of laughter could be heard outside of the cave—Kit and Heloise up to something—and Devil came loping in carrying a fair sized stick in his mouth. Walking up to his master, he quietly dropped the stick and settled at Kit’s feet.

“Speaking of spending time, Kit, it sounds like there are a couple of young people outside who might enjoy some time with their father. Besides, you’ve been cooped up in caves and tombs a bit too much for my liking. You need to get some color.”

Rising from the throne, Kit placed his father’s bullet on the edge of his desk. He and Diana made their way towards the entrance of the cave, with Devil right on their heels. “You’re right, Diana.” Walking slowly, Kit once again pulled on his mask, “But not too much color.”