The Ghost and the Peril of the Changing Times

In the glare of the Colorado sun, four men trudged through the snow. The only sounds in evidence were the sucking noises their boots made as their legs lifted out of the slush. Clad in heavy mackinaws and expensive-looking jodphurs, they could have been business men on a sporting vacation, but there was an air of menace about them that dispelled this impression. The tallest figure was out in front. He would have stood out in any crowd. He was impressively tall and well-proportioned enough to discourage any skinny jokes. His hair was completely white and matched the terrain. A close observer would have noted his unusually grey eyes. The newsreels never really did justice to those eyes. Nor would technicolor if one had wished to spend the money on that expensive print to photograph this man. And any newsphotographer would have given his eyeteeth for a photo of him, for he was famous in his own way as Gable or Garbo. He was Dr. Johnathan Silver, known to the tabloids as "The Ghost."

The second figure in front was skeletal thin. Occasionally, he would have to take his glasses off because they would fog up. He looked like a professor forced on a hike against his will; he was Montgomery Ravens.

The third figure, Kidfast, was almost as large as the first one. His hair was cut shorter than the fashion and he had a beard. The manner in which he carried a rifle slung over his shoulder revealed his military background.

The final figure, Lewinsky, was black-haired and hawk nosed. His eyes burned with a fiery magnetism. These eyes had burned on many a professor who incurred his wrath.

The silver-haired figure held up his hand and the others immediately crouched down, pistols drawn. The weapons they carried were unusual enough to make them stand out even in that gun-drenched period.

"It's a cabin," the silver-haired figure said. "Probably selected on purpose. They want a setting out of the American Revolution to legitimize theirs."

The four men moved silently toward the building. Out front there were parked cars--all bearing license plates from numerous states. Two men stood out front holding rifles.

"Wait for my signal," the silver-haired man said. Remembering his lessons at the hands of Ana-Guis, the silver haired man became the panther, gliding slowly across the snow. He made no detectable noise. He emerged close to the first sentry and hit him in the back of the neck. The man tried to scream, but could not, and would have pitched forward onto his face if the silver-haired man had not caught him. The other guard collapsed when the blow dart hit him in the side.

Silver stood up, made a fist in the air--a sign that looked like the communist salute that was popular on college campuses of the period. The three men came forward.

"Remember. We are here to capture, not kill. We want exhibits. Agreed?," he said, looking at all, but especially the man with the sniper rifle. All three nodded. From a pocket in his vest, the man took a small globe and attached it to door. He stepped back and snapped his fingers. The door flew off its hinges.

The four men burst into the doorway, guns drawn.

Confronting them in the cabin was a who's who of the American Right circa 1936. Seated, his arms gripping the chair was William Dudley Pelley, leader of the Silver Shirts. By the fireplace was Waldo Donovan, head of the White Christian Flower Unit of St. Paul, Minnesota and a man who called the President of the United States a "traitor." Seated behind a large oak table was Roscoe Masterricht Von Garn. The silver-haired man had seen Von Garn's file, courtesy of a contact in the State Department but he mentally reviewed it now:

Born Stuttgart 1899. Emigrated to Britain 1919. Educated at Oxford. PhD in Biology 1928. Returned to Germany 1933. Believed to have been recruited by SS intelligence, one year later. He was the most dangerous foe the silver-haired man had ever faced.

"Well, well, the gang's all here. Planning a little night of long knives are we?"

Von Garn rose. He was impressively tall as well as being completely bald. "Jonathan Morgan Silver aka `The Ghost.' Chemist. Microbiologist. Explorer. Criminologist. Defender of the voiceless--re the Jewish," the other men laughed. "did I leave anything out?"

"Manhunter," the silver-haired man said.

"Captain, you were right," Lewinsky said,holding a bundle of papers. "These are War Department plans. They are traitors."

"Patriots," Von Garn said, holding up a hand to correct.

The silver-haired man smiled. "You must acquaint me with your definition."

"Give me time." Suddenly, without warning, the bald man straightened his arm by his side. A cylindrical object rolled down his sleeve and hit the floor. Vapor arose when it hit.

"Time for a nap," said Von Garn.

"Gas," Silver yelled and pitched out of the window.

Silver had expected some kind of under-handed trick from Von Garn and he was ready. After leaping out of the window, he waited. Von Garn soon appeared, running with a machine gun and holding a mask over his face. He saw the Ghost, tossed his mask away, and fired. Metal-jacketed doom would have pierced the Ghost had he not dived forward into the snow. Silver fired once, knocking the machine gun out of Von Garn's hands. Von Garn raced into the woods. Silver soon followed. Silver smiled. He knew he would catch him. He came to the edge of a cliff. He knew Von Garn was in the vicinity somewhere; he could smell the German's fear. He heard a twig crunch and turned. Death was racing toward him with an axe. Von Garn was grinning; he pictured the Fuehrer's face when he presented him with the head of the Ghost. Silver also smiled, for he had prepared all of his life for this moment. Here was the enemy! He must not fail! Silver ran toward him and chopped him in the neck before the German could swing the axe.

Von Garn lay on the ground, gagging while Silver covered him with his pistol. "You think you've won, don't you?" he sneered. "Well, you haven't. My time will come. I know this country. My mother was American." He pointed at the Ghost emblem on Silver's jacket. "One day that symbol will be reviled by every school-boy in America. It will be on wanted posters throughout the land. Your government will hunt you down and I will help them."

Von Garn stood up. "Prepare for it, my friend. It is coming."

Suddenly, before Silver could stop him, Von Garn ran and jumped off the cliff.

Silver looked down the cliff's edge grimly, straining his ears for the scream that never came.

The silver-haired man always hated press conferences. Having the gruff general at his side didn't help either. He hoped to get this over with quickly.

"Dr. Silver, precisely what is the nature of your work on this project?"

Before Silver could answer, the general stepped in his way at the poduim and said, "That is classified, boys. You know that."

Silver moved in front of the general. The air of dislike between the two men was evident to all in the room. "It is part of the war effort. Of a scientific nature."

"Why aren't you in uniform?"

Silver grinned faintly. "Ask General Blakenship."

Everyone laughed. Red faced, the general said, "Dr. Silver is more valuable to the war effort as a scientist than as a soldier."

Silver stepped in his way again. "Let me just say that I am eager to get this project overwith so that I can meet the Nazi menace personally."

* * *

"Sir?"

The co-pilot's voice brought Silver out of his day-dreaming. Night-dreaming would be more like it, he thought, looking out of the bomber window into the Polish sky.

"No need to call me that, Lieutenant. I'm not army."

"Sorry, sir. Would you like a cigarette?"

"No thank you. Lung cancer. Did research on it in 34."

"Sir. I know we are not supposed to talk to you. But did you really capture an entire arm of the SS?"

Silver smiled.

"Afraid not, Lieutenant. Some pulp writer's imagination got away from him I suppose. Actually I've been stateside for most of the war. This is my maiden jump."

"Green light."

Silver got up. He was clad entirely in black. He clasped his jump ring onto the cord.

"Good luck, sir."

Silver stood outlined against the night. "Thank you, lieutenant. Quit smoking."

Silver disappeared into the night.

* * *

It was there just like the OSS said it would be. It still works, Silver thought, watching the guard drop after the blow dart hit him.

Silver moved silently among the barracks. He stopped in front of the doors of one and brought out a machine pistol of his own design. He had to fight Donovan to keep his own equipment.

In the barrack, a white-coated figure leaned over a bunsen-burner. "Working late, Manfred?"

"What? Jonathan. What are you doing here?"

"Getting you out."

"My God. The last time I saw you was--"

"At the Leipzig conference. 1938."

"Enough reminiscing, my friend. Do you have any idea what they have me working on? Here look, " he said, handing him a sheaf of papers.

"Rockets. Germ warfare. An atomic bomb. How far along are they?"

Another voice interrupted. "You should have left when you had the chance, Silver. Reminiscing was always your weakness." Von Garn stepped out of the shadows, luger drawn.

Silver's eyes narrowed as he dropped his gun to the floor.

"Yes, " Von Garn smiled. "Back from the dead. Not unlike Moriarity at Reinbach."

"Nice uniform."

Von Garn was clad entirely in a black SS uniform with an American flag on his chest.

"Thank you. You should be honored, Jonathan. You are standing in the presence of the leader of the George Washington Brigade."

"Heresy."

"Heres-? Oh yes. The Abraham Lincoln Brigade. Ours is a bit more racially pure, I assure you. Goodbye Dr. Langstrom."

Von Garn shot the man standing by Silver in the head. "You cold-blooded bastard."

"Temper, Jonathan. My, the war has loosened that superb self-control hasn't it?

Silver smiled. He waited for Von Garn to get in position. A close observer would have noticed the Ghost's boots move closer together.

"Allow me to salute you, Von Garn." He brought his heels together and there was a tremendous burst of light. Von Garn cursed. Blinded, he fired everywhere. By the time his eyes cleared, his pistol was empty and Silver was in front of him.

Silver slammed Von Garn across the room. Von Garn lay on the ground, watching the pale-eyed giant slowly advance on him.

"Not a cliff edge this time. Something infinitely worse--" Silver drew back his hand in the kill position. "Me."

"I think not."

Silver whirled as he heard the safety catch click, but he was too late. The bullet from the major's luger hit him in the shoulder. Silver dove across the room as the bullets flew and out the window.

"I can still get him," said the major.

"Forget it," Von Garn said. "Your men will never find him. He is the Ghost."

Lewinsky checked the man at the elevator entrance to make sure he really was from the government. According to his credentials he was.

"Security division. Don't think I know that one."

"We're new."

"Ah well, come this way. Would you like the speech that goes with the grand tour?"

"No thanks, the agency has the basic story. Skilled in numerous and obscure martial arts. Chemistry degree Harvard. Microbiology degree Princeton. Inventor of Blandings x. 1935, discovered the fabled Maple White Land of Professor Challenger fame. Bought it and then sold it back to the natives in order to prevent poaching. 1935 captured Gottfried Hoessel of the White Legion. 1938, unknown mission into Spain. Practices a form of Oriental philosophy. Has 2 associates beside yourself: Evans Kidfast, former marine sniper, and Montgomery Ravens, professor of literature. He sometimes collaborated with Terence Rafael, a.k.a Dr. Escape."

"Well done. Here is the man himself."

Silver had aged little since his mission in 1943. He looked up from his microscope.

"Went to Hartford. Security division. I'm here at the request of the President, Sir. Do you have a projector?" Silver gestured toward the corner.

"For the last year, the Russians have been stealing as many German scientists as they can get their hands on. They even have a special unit called 'Grab' that advances into enemy territory for this purpose. Their leader is a former White Russian called Lzun. This photo you are seeing is the only identification we have on him. Many of the scientists they are after worked on the rocket program. I don't think I have to tell you what would happen if Uncle Joe grabbed one with atomic knowledge. Right now, they are after several of Germany's atomic scientists in Berlin."

Silver took off his glasses as the lights came on. "Before we accept, I want to make something absolutely clear: I do not want Silver and Associates used to rescue war criminals."

"They are scientists, I assure you. The American government will never use war criminals."

* * *

"This is outrageous. You are fascists."

"Easy does it, Ivan. You were trying to steal him too."

The Russian held his head as he came out of the crashed plane. Kidfast covered him with his pistol. A small bespactled man followed out of the plane door.

"Amerikaner? I'll go with you."

Silver heard a gasp from behind and saw Lewinsky rush forward and strike the small man.

Silver held Lewinsky back. "Whoa horsey. We're supposed to retrieve him, not mutilate him."

"This man--this thing--was the doctor in my camp in 37. I saw him kill three of my comrades."

"It is a lie. I was at the university in 37. I--"

"Save it." Silver said. "1100 miles to save this."

The Russian smiled. "I suppose we can have him,now?"

Silver took out his pistol.

"Take a hike, Ivan." He fired at the russian's feet.

"Are you going to kill me?" the small man said.

"No. We never do that. You, my friend, are going on a little trip--to Palestine. And we are retiring from government work. But what I want to know is: who else is the government getting out?"

* * *

The OSS man felt uncomfortable in the presence of the bald prisoner. For the past year, he had interrogated all kinds--guards, commandants, even a spy or two. But this one carried something evil into the interrogation room with him.

"Save it, Roscoe. I've got everything here. Your party card, your activities in America, in Peru, in Poland. We've got enough to keep you in a cage for the rest of your life."

"I was a farmer for the first three years of the war. I was called up into the infantry in late 44."

"Where's the rest of your brigade, Von Garn?"

"What brigade?"

"Can it, Roscoe. We've got you. Don't try to squirm out. By 7:00 o'clock tonight you'll either be in a cell in Paris or Tel-Aviv."

Von Garn leaned back in his chair and smiled.

"Dismiss the guard and give me a cigarette."

He took a deep drag, supreme confidence in every gesture.

"I'm not allowing any jews to get their hands on me and I hate french food. So--"

The OSS man reached for his notebook and pen.

"What is it worth to you to know about Soviet intelligence activities in sector 5?"

Enclosed Sir is the information you requested on Silver, Jonathan.

Born Gabon, Africa 1909. Little information on his parents other than his mother died in a missionary settlement in 1914 and his father was killed in a raid on IWW headquarters in 1918. After that, Jonathan traveled abroad. Graduated from Harvard 1929 and Princeton 1931. Independently wealthy. We have looked into this and do not know where he gets his money from. Perhaps some Soviet slush fund. Begins his man-hunting in the late 1920s, mostly against Mussolini sympathizers and criminals. Graduates into Nazi-hunting in the early-to-mid 1930s.

Unknown number of missions with the OSS during World War II. Political profile: Although no party card has been procured, it is believed that Silver is a Party member. He fought with the Abraham Lincoln Brigade in Spain in 1936 where he met another of his associates, Dante Lewinsky. In 1941, he publicly defended the labor leader Harry Bridges. Signed numerous petitions in the post-war period against the atomic bomb.

Conclusions: Silver is the worst kind of propaganda for the Russians. A veritable super-hero for the Left. He is obviously pink if not red. Advise investigation and possible arrest.

Today, federal officers seized the headquarters of Jonathan Silver, better known to the underworld as the Ghost. Silver himself was not at his office. Federal officer J.P. Macginley had this to say about the fugitive: "Wherever he's hiding, we'll get him. You can be sure of that. Unless he has already made it to the Kremlin."

Suspected Soviet agent Jonathan Silver is still at large. Agencies now report that he is probably no longer in the country. His assistants, now in federal custody, refuse to tell where he is.

"In the last three months, several of our retrieval operations have suffered serious setbacks. Request investigation."

"Retrieval of Karnsky upset. Several agents on the scene in hospital. No description of assailant."

"He's back."

None of the younger generation will remember the exploits of a man who gave many of us inspiration in the dark and fascist-ridden thirties. Jonathan Silver, aka the Ghost, was more than a criminologist, a scientist, an explorer. He was a defender of the defenseless, and the most relentless foe the fascists, both American and foreign, have ever known. From 1932 to 1939, he tracked down some of the most insidious enemies of freedom in the world. Silver-shirters, Bundists, Klansmen, Nazis--all feared the appearance of the Ghost and his men.

During World War Two, he inspired us as a protector of the homefront. Pulp magazines, usually the repositories of racism and exploitation, printed his adventures on a regular basis. A 1943 movie serial starring Kane Richmond flashed across the silver screen.

But soon the political tide turned. With the war economy in danger of being converted for peace, the capitalist war-mongers soon turned their attention to scapegoating. They needed to deprive the Left of their one true hero. Soon they began the character assassination of Silver and associates. His books were burned in the street. Theatres refused to show his serial. And on June 18, 1949, federal agents raided his headquarters in Manhattan. But they were greeted with a surprise. The ghost no longer lived there. He had escaped. He had lived up to his name.

For the past 13 years, no one has heard from him.

Where are you, Ghost? In these days of saber rattling, the nuclear threat, of nuclear war, and blacklists, we need you more than ever.

-- Dawson Crando

In the old days, he would have chartered his own plane. That would have enabled him to carry all of weapons in with him. But these were not the old days and he was a hunted figure. It would not do to alert the airline security to any irregularities. So he came into the enemy camp unarmed and in disguise.

His passport worked and he was soon on his way to the destination.

He approached an old garage where a mechanic was bent over a table.

"Still tinkering, Dr. Escape?"

In the old days, Terence Rafael would have heard the man coming from thirty yards. Now he whipped around startled.

"That voice.... Jonathan?"

"Back from exile."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Evil is afoot again, my friend. Our kind is needed."

"Geez, I wondered what happened to you."

"What happened with you?"

"Oh, the usual rigamorale for our kind. Called up before HUAC. Told to play ball or else. Hell, the Security Division even offered me a clean slate if I would help track you down. Told 'em to stick it, of course. So now Dr. Escape works on cars."

Silver looked at a picture.

"My God, I had forgotten about this! Us against the Death Merchant. 1935."

"36. The good old days."

"Up for a reunion?"

"Always."

Dante Lewinsky only appears old. He still carries with him all the youthful verve that he had as a member of Silver and Associates. We are in his New York apartment.

Interviewer: What was it like being a member of the Silver organization?

Lewinsky: never a dull moment. But it wasn't exactly like the pulp magazines made it. By 1939, we were dodging Hollywood more than bullets.

Interviewer: Do you keep in touch with any of the old members?

Lewinsky: No. What would be the point? Jonathan was the glue that held us together. When he left, the organization fell apart. Besides there were certain political differences between some of us.

Interviewer: For instance?

Lewinsky: Well, I won't name names (laughter).. That's not my province. And there were only three of us, so it should not be too hard for you to figure out who. It was just--well, let me put it this way: they were more against the German version than the American one. Jonathan didn't think it mattered that much during the war years so he never really argued much with the one in question.

Interviewer: What were Jonathan's politics?

Lewinsky: (laughter) here we go! Well, he certainly wasn't a communist. Jonathan was horrified by many of the things that went on in the Soviet Union. I guess t=he best way to classify Jonathan politically is that he was against totalitarianism--in any nation. But such a view got drowned out when those McCarthyite bastards took over.

Interviewer: What precisely were the charges against him?

Lewinsky: Premature anti-fascism! Having the wrong kind of friends! Serving your country in the wrong agencies! Basically, it was his associations. Jonathan was friends with Steve Nelson--you know the Communist leader. They had met in Spain and disagreed politically--mainly over Stalin, but they did not let that affect their friendship. And then there was Jonathan's service for the OSS.

Interviewer: What was wrong with serving with the OSS?

Lewinsky: Boy, you are a youngster! Well, Donovan--the head of the OSS--recruited people who were multi-lingual and had guerilla training. So naturally, he got a lot of Spanish Civil War vetereans in tow. Hoover knew about the political makeup of some of the agents and had a fit. He called the OSS the "red unit." Well, because of Jonathan's scientific abilities, the War Department was determined to keep him in the laboratory. About the only place he could evade this batch was the OSS. When the climate changed, or worsened, the OSS was viewed as an American NKVD. His membership in this group, however brief it was, was an additional nail in Jonathan's coffin. But what you have to understand, young man, is that almost every pulp hero from the Depression was being called up in those days--Dr. Escape, the Silver Eagle, Captain Thunder. The government didn't like the independence of our kind so they replaced us. Soon the landscape was dotted with the likes of The True American, Captain Eagle-government-sanctioned flag-wavers.

* * *

He still watched the newsreels. It was his only link to him now. As he sat and watched the black and white figures, he could almost distinguish the real battles from the fictionalized ones. He saw himself on screen with Silver and the president. "My God, we were that close," he thought. "We could have changed the world! Why didn't we?"

He had to blink twice when the screen turned to color, or at least a figure did, twenty years too early. It was the figure of Captain Victory, but the figure was real and spoke as the newsreel reflected off of him. "Where is the Bolshevik?"

"Lenin? He's been dead for forty years. Try Moscow. I believe he is on display and the tickets are cheap."

"You know who I am talking about, Lewinsky."

"Yes, and I know who you are. Spare the heroic threats, boy. I was facing your kind across a gun barrel when you were still itching your father's flag-draped underwear."

Victory drew his two trademark 45s. "Again, where is Silver? Is he back in the country? Has he contacted you?"

"My friend, if he was, you would know it." Lewinsky rose. "Believe me you would."

Bullets drove Lewinsky back to the wall. His chest convulsed once and he died.

Captain Eagle turned on the lights. "The instructions were not to kill him. They were to shake the tree and see who falls out," said the observer.

"Well, someone has fallen," replied Victory. "He won't be getting up."

Victory looked at the movie screen just as Silver appeared riding on the running board of a car.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are."

* * *

"This is a reunion?"

Silver smiled in the darkness. "Of sorts. We are once again surronded by armed men."

Both Dr. Escape and Silver were looking through binoculars at several tents.

"My God, Jonathan. They even have rocket launchers brought in," Dr. Escape said, pointing at several crates.

"A regular army. Sanctioned by the Agency. Imagine having this unleased on dissent."

"Ok, what are we doing here?"

"What we always do when we find the enemy's camp: capture a stray."

"How?"

"Remember, my invention from 1934?"

"The snapper-two?"

Silver smiled and snapped his fingers. A tent lifted off the ground and burst into flame. Men wearing fatigues rushed out the other tents brandishing rifles. One man, weighing at least 250 pounds, ran by where Silver and Dr. Escape were situated. Silver grabbed him and slammed him into a tree as if he weighed nothing. He carried the soldier over his shoulder.

"To the sanctum?" Dr. Escape said.

Silver smiled.

* * *

* * *

The soldier awoke and was instantly disoriented. He was surrounded by silver. He seemed to be trapped in a cloud. He wandered around the room trying to find some sense of perspective, some wall, some ceiling. He found none. A voice spoke.

"Sit down."

The soldier complied.

"How many and when?"

"What?"

"I'll use surgery if I have to."

"Three teams. The 22nd."

"How?"

"One man gets the guard looking the other way. The umbrella man signals and the building sniper begans firing. After that, the two men at the fence close the coffin door."

"Escape routes?"

"I don't know. I really don't."

Silver now appeared before him. It was really an old trick, but an effective one. He merely doused the room in a silver light and then wore an all silver uniform to blend in. Taking off his mask made it appear to the soldier that a head was levitating in front of him.

"Sleep. You will remember nothing. Upon awakening you will present yourself to the police and confess to burglary."

The soldier went into a trance.

Outside the room, Dr. Escape was waiting.

"Not the old sanctum. A bit make-shift."

"Still effective though. You heard?"

"Yes and I still can't believe it. My God, Jonathan, they are going to overthrow the country."

"My friend, they overthrew it years ago. What is taking place next week is merely the eradication of a symbol."

* * *

* * *

For the fifth time, Silver had to straighten his legs out because of the cramp. "I never got these in the old days," he thought: "I'd better hurry and push history in the right direction."

He looked out of the tree at the teams. He smiled at the simplicity of the operation. Three snipers. One in a building where the fall guy works. The others disguised as cops behind the fence. Silver cocked his pistol and was about to spring from the bushes when a gloved hand grabbed his wrist and yanked him out. Somebody hit him in the head and he went down. Silver looked up from the ground and saw a cloaked figure with stars all over the cloak. The other figure was dressed as a thirties aviator with two pistols hanging at his sides.

"Hello bolshevik," the cloaked one said. "You're too late. He'll be dead before you get up, and by night you'll be strung up by your thumbs begging for mercy."

Over their shoulders Silver saw Dr. Escape come out of the bushes. To distract them he said, "Arno Vaslo, formerly of the White Legion, now known as Captain Eagle." Silver felt for the acid globe in his pocket. "...and Bennet Houston, once of Pedley's Silver Shirts. Now you've exchanged silver for a flag shirt."

"And you are dead," Victory said.

Escape hit Victory in the back of his head. Silver threw the acid globe at Eagle and came off the ground yelling at Dr. Escape: "Watch them!" The limousine was rounding the corner as Silver picked up his pistol and ran toward the grassy knoll.

Silver cocked his pistol and took aim at the man in the window with a rifle. It was a long shot but he had his specially modified .38 with the extra long barrel. Before he could get off a shot, his air was suddenly cut off. He grew dizzy. Someone was strangling him from behind with piano wire. The president was clutching his throat as well. Dizzy, Silver saw a leg up against his and fired into it. The cord loosened.

The president was falling forward. The cops had their rifles out. I'll kill the strangler later, Silver thought, turning toward the limousine..

Silver gasped in horror as the president's head exploded. On the ground, Von Garn only smiled and said, "Reunion again, my friend." Silver screamed and ran toward the cops. He received the second shock of the day when he saw Kidfast toss the smoking rifle to the other cop. Kidfast was turning to leave when he saw Silver.

"Backup!" Kidfast screamed.

Three cops came out of the car and begin firing at the silver-haired giant. Silver barely had time to lift the sewer lid and drop down. As he fled, he considered Kidfast's betrayal and began to revise his plans.

* * *

It is a scene of celebration. Old flags are unfurled. Toasts are made. Spanish slogans are heard. Kidfast will have none of it. He tries to calm the team down but it is useless. Typical latinos, he thinks.

He walks over to where Von Garn is bandaging his leg.

"You should have assumed, Kidfast."

"You as well."

"Ah well, one of the joys of life is a challenge."

"You saw him in battle. You know that he lives for this kind of thing."

"As do I."

"They have the bait?"

"Yes, got him in a movie theater before our man could silence him. It does not matter. We'll get him before he talks."

The red light on the radio began flashing.

"Probably the other team reporting in," Kidfast said, switching on the intercom.

Silver's voice issued forth from the radio. "What did they dangle in front of you, Evans? What did they appeal to?" It could not have been your pocketbook. You always had enough money in the old days. What was it?"

"Jonathan, you cannot possibly think you make any difference."

"You're dead, Evans. You have to know that. And you too, Von Garn. I know you're sitting there beside him, drinking schnapps."

Von Garn merely smiled as if he expected Silver to contact them all along.

"You're a relic, Jonathan," Kidfast said, "Do you honestly think that this is the thirties and the Ghost is going to jump on a running board and save the day? Do you honestly know what you're up against?"

"Yes. You and Von Garn. And whoever else you've got on your side. It really does not matter how many. The Ghost always fought the best against a big organization. In the thirties it was the underworld ; in the forties it was the Nazis. Just remember this, my old comrade. I'll show up on your doorstep. It might be ten years, it might be ten minutes and then retribution for today will occur. Silver out."

Blueprint for the future

By Jonathan Silver

"We stand posed for action. We have just won a war. Opportunities like this are few, but we now have the power to affect destinies. We only need the will.

"In the last war, we had similar aspirations, but they were thwarted. In ten years, the Weimar Constitution would be shredded by the eagle of fascism. Russia would degenerate into barbarism. We did not know then what we know now: we must change ourselves.

"It is not technology that holds the key to happiness; it is man's capacity for good that does. We can become better than we have been. But we must first abandon force as an option. We must not become so callous as to think that only bloodshed can affect change. The moral man can."

"They're coming for you. You know that. Kidfast knows about this place."

Silver sprayed on the last of the skin adhesive to his wounds. The policemen were good shots. "I know. He helped me discover it."

"You could at least get the natives out of here."

"They won't leave. They'll fight to the last man for me."

"Then what do we do?"

"We fight, Dr. Escape! I built this place as a fortress. Well, that is what it is going to be. The jungle is dense. They can land with helicopter but it is still four miles of bush to this place. It took Challenger three weeks. I expect we will hear from them in about 2 days."

From the makers of the Benisol toothbrush, we bring you the adventures of the Ghost, the hard and relentless fight of one man against the enemies of his country.

Ghost: Well, I hear sirens. You are going to hang for being a traitor, Simonson.

Simonson: Never! I have riches. I will hire the best lawyers in the country. I've done it before. I'll do it again!

Ghost: Axis rat

(sound of a punch)

Acey: good left hook Boss! But we better be going, although I'd love to see the look on Commisioner Kirkgard's face when he sees your calling card on our friend here.

Ghost: As would I, Acey. Come let us away.

(music)

Ghost: Remember, kids--if you see someone doing something suspicious, report them to the FBI. They may be an Axis spy.

The show ended in 1947.

* * *

The helicopters landed. Von Garn had hoped for more special forces but they were becoming increasingly preoccupied with Asian affairs. As it was, he felt confident. For years, he had tried to find Silver's lair--that area where the Ghost would disappear from sight for months--but he had failed. Now thanks to Kidfast, they had him.

Kidfast had been pale and silent all through trek; now he spoke. "Be careful. He has sensors everywhere."

The team moved carefully through the bush, trying to disturb nothing. Dr. Escape's bamboo trap got three. Silver's snapper-two got three. Kidfast screamed for order, but the team began firing in all directions.

A shape came out of a tree.

Oh God, it's him, he has his battle vest on! Kidfast thought. Kidfast fired at Silver hitting him where he wasn't bullet-proofed--the legs. Silver went down.

"Move in!" Von Garn shouted to the remaining men.

Eight men, guns drawn, surronded Silver.

"Its over, Jonathan," Kidfast said, "You should have stayed here. I would have left you in peace. But you had to break cover. Don't move anything Jonathan. I know all of your tricks."

Silver smiled.

"I've adjusted with the times." The base of the tree behind them blew apart. The team tried to run but the falling trees got them. They were pinned. Only Kidfast and Von Garn had moved out of the way.

They shot Silver's other leg out from under him.

"Take his vest off," Von Garn said.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan," Kidfast said.

Silver lay on the ground, panting. "Me too."

Kidfast took off the vest. "I'll keep it as a remembrance."

Von Garn stepped forward and cocked his pistol. He heard Kidfast scream. Von Garn looked and saw the flesh falling off Kidfast's hands, his arms, and finally his face. Von Garn turned and fired at Silver but he was no longer there.

"Back again to square one, aren't we? From Colorado's woods to the jungles of the Maple white land. I think I will actually miss you, Von Garn."

Von Garn screamed and began firing in all directions. He screamed again when he heard the gun click.

Silver crawled out of the bushes. "I can't walk, Von Garn. It is fair now. An old man who can't walk."

Von Garn unsheathed his knife and dived at Silver. Silver suddenly stood up and hit Von Garn in the nose. Blood spurted in all directions. Von Garn stared in disbelief.

"You lied! You never lied!"

Silver assumed the kill position he started in 1943. "Times change," he said as he chopped the life out of Von Garn.

E-mail: KLewis2102@aol.com

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