The Mysterious Ambassador (12 page)

By now, the doctors were in complete awe of their masked guide who cleared the way ahead like a tornado. And Diana rode with him in ecstasy, almost dreading each hour and mile that brought her closer to Trader Joe's and the end of their journey. He made her happy by saying he would take the river ride to town with them, to be certain they arrived safely. That only delayed the inevitable parting. This was a trip that neither Diana nor the doctors would ever forget, this steady trek through danger-filled, war-torn jungle, guided and defended by the powerful masked man who was revered by the people of the jungle as a living legend.

Suddenly, the sound of rippling water, the grassy banks of a wide river, and ahead a group of wooden shacks near a dock where a white launch was anchored: Waiting on a verandah was a slight man with a scruffy beard and broad straw sombrero hat—Trader Joe. The dangerous jungle trek was over. Unbelieveably, they'd come through in one piece, unharmed. They relaxed, laughing happily, relieved as they shook hands with the jovial Trader Joe, not knowing that greater danger was ahead.

The newly elected first Congress, which had not yet functioned, returned reluctantly and suspiciously to the capital at Bababu's command. They had no other choice, as soldiers found them and escorted them from their towns, villages, and farms. This first Congress of one hundred five men (no Women's Lib yet in Bangalla) was a mixed group: some professional men, some ex-cadre of the former colonial power, some illiterate leaders from the jungle villages. Now they waited anxiously for four hours in their makeshift hall until Colonel Mokata arrived with a squad of armed soldiers. Surrounding the hall, as the delegates could see through the open windows, was a circle of tanks and machine guns. Mokata walked quickly to the podium and looked at the anxious faces for a few moments, enjoying the suspense and his own sense of power. Then he made a brief announcement in staccato tones.

The congress had twenty-four hours in which to declare Bababu the new president. No one would leave until the decision was reached. No food, no water, no sleep.

One brave man, Oulatto of Oogaan and a follower of Luaga, stood up.

"How can we do this? Lamanda Luaga is president."

"Lamanda Luaga is dead," said the Colonel.

There was a stir among the delegates, and a hiss of disbelief. The soldiers at the wall tightened their grips on their rifles.

"We don't know that," said Oulatto.

"My word is enough," snapped Mokata. "I speak for the general." He started to leave, then paused. "Any more questions?"

"Yes," said Oulatto, who had remained standing.

"What if we do not reach a decision in twenty-four hours?"

No one stirred, waiting in anxious silence for the answer which came quickly.

"You have no choice. Bababu rules now. You have his order."

"Then why is our decision necessary?" persisted Oulatto.

"Because General Bababu has so ordered," was the curt answer. Mokata snapped his fingers. Two soldiers with pistols in hand came down the aisle and took the brave man's arms.

"We remember before when your men took Towanda from this hall and shot him dead in the corridor!" shouted Oulatto. "Is this what we can expect from would-be president Bababu?"

The husky jungle man shook himself loose and raced up the aisle toward the doors. The soldiers pointed their pistols and fired. Oulatto stumbled, half-turned, tumbled onto the laps of two horrified delegates, then collapsed into the aisle. No one moved. All stared at Mokata who was enjoying his role.

"Some of you may not get as far as the corridor. You have twenty-four hours," he said.

And he strode briskly out of the hall. Bangalla's first elected congress in its two-thousand-year history sat in confused silence. The body remained in the aisle.

The medical team spent several hours resting and refreshing themselves at the trading post of the eccentric Trader Joe. Joe, a former London banker, inspired by Gauguin, had left family, career, and civilization for the wilderness to become an artist. As he explained later, the only difference between him and Gauguin was a slight matter of talent; so he gave up painting and started a jungle store. Joe drank half a case of warm beer daily and was always inebriated. His capable Wambesi wife managed the store and their half-dozen happy children. Appearing in Joe's alcoholic haze from time to time was a friendly masked figure who became his friend. Joe was never completely certain whether this figure was real or part of the beer fog he lived in.

This visit, the masked man seemed reassuringly real, accompanied as he was by apparently normal people.

The normal people used Joe's shower, a bucket with holes in the bottom hanging from a tree, had a bottle or so of his warm beer, then went to Joe's little motor- launch,
The Belch,
docked on the riverbank. Ahead was a six-hour boat trip to Mawitaan. They waited patiently in the boat for their masked friend who was inside die post with Joe. Joe came to the dock, at length with someone who appeared to be a stranger. A tall man, wearing a felt hat, a top coat (in this jungle heat), sunglasses, trousers. Devil the wolf-dog trotted at his side. It took them (except Diana) a moment to realize this was their masked friend, dressed for travel. If he still wore his strange costume beneath the outer clothes, it was not visible. Joe's handyman and boatman, a young nephew of Joe's, would go with them. His wife, and six children waved good-bye to them, Joe with the inevitable bottle of beer tilted to his lips. In their short visit, all had quickly learned to love this lazy, smiling ex-banker.

"What a character," commented Alec Kirk, expressing what all the group felt. "I'm sorry we didn't have more time with him."

"There are many such characters in the jungle," said the Phantom. "Refugees from the tensions of the outside world that they can no longer cope with."

The doctors looked at their protector with a new interest. It seemed surprising that a man who could hit so hard could speak with such insight.

For the first four hours, the trip down the river was uneventful. This was a wide, deep river, no rapids or falls. The current was strong, as was their motor, and they sped along at a good pace. They passed women washing their laundry at the shore, pounding the colorful cloth on rocks and hanging it on bushes and trees. An occasional fisherman, knee-deep in the shallows with a hand net, waved to them. The shores were alive with birds, fish leaped in the wake of the boat, and now and then, the beady eyes of a crocodile peered at them, then sank into the muddy water.

It was a pleasant trip after the tensions of the jungle.

Sitting in the stern of the boat with the Phantom's arm around her, Diana was in Nirvana. Trader Joe had assured them the river was free of guerillas and Bababu's army, and there was nothing to worry about. The doctors felt Bababu's army no longer concerned them since they'd accomplished their mission for Bangalla and would leave Mawitaan at once upon arrival there. If the Phantom had any qualms he didn't express them. As it turned out, both Trader Joe and the doctors were wrong. There was something to worry about.

Two hours from Mawitaan, a loud voice suddenly roared at them from the banks. The voice was coming through an amplified bullhorn, the voice of an army officer standing on the bank with a squad of soldiers. Two machine guns were pointed at the boat, and the big voice ordered them to come into shore at once. All on the boat looked at the Phantom. There was an unmistakable threat in this order. What to do? Make a run for it? No, the Phantom told them. They had no chance against the machine guns. There was no alternative. They went into shore.

The squad was one of the hundreds of teams sent out by Bababu to find Lamanda Luaga. With the guns of the squad pointed at them, the doctors looked anxiously at the disguised Phantom. He remained silent. The doctors identified themselves, and the officer shouted with delight. He knew he'd made a big catch. He grabbed the field phone at his feet and reported excitedly to his headquarters. The message was relayed at once to Bababu at the palace. They'd caught the medical team. Was Luaga with them? No. Where was he? They said they didn't know. Bring them in the fastest way possible. The fastest way was by boat. Then bring them in by boat to the army dock just outside Mawitaan. Done! The officer and three armed soldiers leaped into the boat, one of them took the wheel, and they continued downstream with their prisoners. The soldiers were happy. This meant a handsome reward from their general—cash, medals, promotions.

If the soldiers were happy^Bababu was jubilant. After all the frustrations—the missing pilots, the lost gun crew, the disappearing medical team—at least here was the answer to the maddening will-o'-the-wisp, his enemy Lamanda Luaga. True, the report said he was not with the team. But they would know where he was. And Bababu meant to find out. Aware of the dignity of his position, he restrained his impulse to rush to the dock to meet the captured team. Instead, he sent his faithful Colonel Mokata to await their arrival.

On the launch, the doctors pondered their dilemma. They believed they had nothing to fear from General Bababu. But they knew he searched for their former colleague, Luaga. They knew they would be asked about him. How far would the questioning go? They asked the Phantom, who remained unperturbed behind his sunglasses. He did not answer but sat quietly, watching the water.

After all the narrow escapes and dangers in the jungle, their heroic guide had unhappily led them into this trap.

"Why did we have to come by river?" ventured Alec Kirk. "It seemed faster, simpler, safer," said the Phantom. "But as it turned out, it wasn't," he added, looking at the armed soldiers. Then he turned back to look at the passing river. Disappointed and nervous, the team settled back in silence. Diana looked at them unhappily. They avoided her glance. The boat sped on. The soldiers smoked, chatted and laughed, their rifles in their hands as they watched their prisoners. They looked at Diana, made obvious ribald comments, and roared with laughter. The doctors did not understand, but the Phantom's fist tightened on the gunwale. He said nothing.

They were nearing the capital now. The jungle on either side was replaced by open fields and huts, small farms on the outskirts, with occasional stands of trees. People could be seen plowing and planting in the fields. Tension mounted among the doctors. Whatever would happen to them was now only an hour away. The soldiers were in a happy mood, already visualizing their rewards. They relaxed their vigil. The doctors and the girl seemed a harmless cowardly group, nothing to worry about. It was at this moment that the Phantom struck.

One moment he was seated at the stern, one hand idly playing in the passing stream. In the next split-second he was among the soldiers, his fist crashing on their jaws so fast that his movements were a blur. The seated soldiers had no time to move their rifles or get to their feet. They collapsed like rag dolls where they were. The officer was near the bow, the only one of them standing. He turned at the first crunching sound and yelled, reaching for the pistol in his belt holster. But his hand never touched the gunbutt. The hard fist caught him square in the face and he collapsed over the side of the boat. The soldier at the wheel threw up his hands to protect himself. The fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him sideways. With his other hand, the Phantom grabbed the wheel and steered the boat into the nearby bank. He shut off the motor, and jumped ashore taking the bow rope with him. Devil leaped after him. The team stared at him, at the boat. There was a moment of stunned silence.

It had all happened so fast. One moment, quietly, worriedly moving downstream with the happy chatter of the soldiers. Then, as if a whirlwind had hit the little boat, the scene changed. Changed like magic. Four men lying at the bottom of the boat, unconscious or dead. No, they weren't dead. They breathed as if in a deep sleep. And on the shore, the Phantom stood, his hat and sunglasses undisturbed, holding the tope tied to the boat. There is an old jungle saying:
the Phantom strikes quicker than the lightning from the sky.

"All ashore," he said.

Dazed and amazed, Diana and the team and the young Wambesi boatsman leaped onto the bank. Then the Phantom threw the rope onto the boat, and shoved the craft away from the bank with his feet. The boat moved out into the stream where the current caught it, and it floated down the river, with the four soldiers lying in the bottom. As Alec Kirk leaped from the boat, he noticed something in a fleeting glance. On each jaw of the fallen soldiers, there was a mark he had seen before, a skull mark. ^

They followed the Phantom and Devil across a plowed field, walking rapidly.

"That was wonderful," said Diana, almost running at his side to keep up.

"Did you plan it that way?" asked Kirk, on the other side.

"No. I waited for the chance. I couldn't have waited much longer. The army dock is only a short distance away," he said.

"Where now?" asked George Schwartz.

"A friend lives near here. We're going there."

The friend was a middle-aged farmer who owned the field they were walking on, and who lived in a neat farmhouse. He greeted the Phantom with mixed pleasure and awe. The Phantom introduced him to the team as Jotando, a follower of Lamanda Luaga. He was dark-skinned with a bright humorous face, the most prosperous farmer in the region. They went inside the farmhouse, which was furnished simply, but which had a wooden floor, rare for this district. In the center of the floor, a large hand-woven rug. The Phantom nodded. The team watched, puzzled. The farmer Jotando lifted a board, revealing a small handle. With this, he raised a whole section of the floor, a trapdoor. Beneath it was a wooden ladder leading into a dark cellar. The Phantom explained that during the war of liberation against the colonial power, this had been used as a hideout by the freedom fighters. Lamanda Luaga himself had once hidden here.