The Phantom Read Online Free

it.
    “So, get out and push us before we sink down to the axle,” Quill barked. “Styles and Breen, wake up!” He shook his head, muttered a curse under his breath, then shoved the native kid who was sitting between him and Morgan. “What are you looking at, you little heathen? Out! Get out! You help, too. Pushy-push. Heave-ho.”
    Two men, one tall and lanky with a goatee, the other short and stocky with a flattened nose, climbed from the back of the truck and joined Morgan and the kid in the mud. The tall one, Styles, promptly slipped and fell, cursing as Quill turned over the engine. The truck growled to life, backfired, stalled again.
    The jungle erupted in squawks and squeals. A monkey dropped onto the hood, shook his arms, bared his teeth, and screeched. Quill pulled out his pistol and took aim, but the monkey leaped into the jungle before he fired. A moment later, a huge green seed pod was lobbed from where the monkey had disappeared. It banged hard against the windshield; a weblike crack spread soundlessly across the glass.
    “Monkeys. I hate monkeys,” Quill muttered, then cranked the ignition. The engine popped and growled to life. He stepped on the gas and ground the gears. The truck rocked forward and back, then forward again. The tires spun, splattering mud over the three men and the kid. Then, slowly, the rusted hulk found a footing and lumbered ahead.
    Morgan and the kid raced after the truck, leaped onto the sideboard, and crawled back inside as Breen and Styles dove into the cargo area.
    “You drive,” Morgan said, “I’ll navigate.” Then he leaned over, reaching for the map, but Quill swatted his hand away.
    “Problem is, the map’s all wrong.”
    Morgan made a futile effort to wipe the mud from his pants and shirt. “Naw, the map is good. Remember its source. That man is never wrong. You said it yourself. He’s the best there is.”
    Maybe, maybe not. That was yet to be seen. Morgan was good at taking orders, but he didn’t think things through, and that’s what had probably gotten him in trouble in the past. He was another ex-con exile. At least half of the guys in Zavia, Bangalla’s rough and tumble port town, were wanted for something somewhere, or they were here looking for trouble. The rest of the guys were part of the Brotherhood, a ruthless bunch who’d been around here a long time.
    “Then why does it show a bridge back there?” Quill stabbed a thumb in the air over his shoulder. “We never crossed no bridge.”
    The kid pointed at the map and said something in the local lingo. Quill didn’t understand a word of it. “What’s he saying, Morgan?”
    “Didn’t quite catch it all. Whadya say, Zak? Say it again.”
    The kid turned to Morgan and repeated the same words. Morgan was married to a native woman and had picked up some of the lingo. He frowned and nodded. “Ah, let’s see. Turn around. He says we better turn around.”
    Quill waved a hand. “Not a chance! And maybe the little quitter needs a lesson in positive thinking.”
    He swung the back of his hand at the kid’s face. But the truck hit a hole, bounced hard, and Zak ducked out of the way. He covered his face with his arms to shield off any more blows and spoke rapidly in his Bangallan dialect.
    “Wait, Quill!” Morgan yelled. “Now I get it! Turn the map around! That’s what he’s saying.” He laughed, slapped his knee. “You got it upside down, you big moron!”
    Quill glared at Morgan and Zak. This deal better work or he didn’t know what he was going to do. He couldn’t stand it any longer. If things didn’t improve soon, he was going to lose his mind.
    He rubbed the spider-web tattoo on his right forearm, as if to draw strength and patience from it. He was part of the Brotherhood, a low-level guy who’d worked his way into the outfit. Now he just wanted to use what he knew and work his way out of it.
    “If the map’s upside down, then there oughta be a bridge up ahead, and all I see is more