Emerald Death (13 page)

            The plan was for Bridget to fly her father and Gregor to the mission where she would refuel and then fly back down to the rendezvous in Leopoldville to pick up Hannigan and the Italian.  Once they were all at the Mission, the quest for the Emerald of Eternity would begin in earnest.

            Morgan stood by, Tommy gun in hand, watching as they made their approach.  He kept an eye on Degiorno as the Italian heaved himself over the gunwale, but did not offer a helping hand.  Evidently, Degiorno’s reputation had preceded him.  Hannigan set about securing the rowboat as Morgan sent Degiorno forward to haul in the anchor.  A few minutes later, the Congo Ruby was moving upriver towards the falls.

The journey to the rail depot was brief.  It was mid-morning when they tied off at the pier and commenced offloading cargo.  Hannigan stripped off his shirt as he began the sweaty job of transferring crates onto the rail flats that would eventually be taken on a short journey around the tumbling falls.  Time spent under the African sun was bleaching his brown hair blond as well; already thick blond streaks mixed with the reddish-brown.  Sunlight glistened off the thin sheen of perspiration that painted his sun-bronzed flesh, accentuating the wiry cords of his physique.

Hannigan wasn’t muscle-bound in any sense of the word, but his visible musculature was whipcord tough and had a quality of strength beyond the size of the muscles themselves.

            Where Degiorno was gasping and wheezing for breath, unaccustomed to hard labor, Hannigan was seasoned from his labors aboard the African Queen.

            There were several other riverboat captains gathered on the dock, helping secure other loads bound for other destinations to boats of their own.  Hannigan caught a snatch of a conversation as he hauled the last load onto the dock.  The silver zeppelin had created quite a stir as it flew overhead the day before, following the course of river, then abruptly turning to the northwest, as if looking for something.

            He concealed his pleasure at the news.  The Nazis had bought Degiorno’s bogus map directions.  He eased the crate to the dock and tried to catch more details of the exchange, but instead heard a rough voice from behind.

            “Hey Skinny, what tree did they break you off of?”

             Calmly, Hannigan turned around to face the man.

             “I mean a little branch like you, don’t you think you should leave the work to the real men?”  The speaker was an impressive looking man.  His dark hair was cut in a bristly flat top that reminded Hannigan of porcupine quills, and he was tall, well over the six-foot mark.  His shoulders were more than three feet wide and his upper arms were bulging so much that his arms were pushed away from his body.  His fists were big and meaty and looked like they could easily fill a gallon bucket.  There was a lot of power in those arms, and Hannigan knew he would have to be careful to stay out of their reach.

            “You talking to me?” Hannigan asked letting some of the accent he had learned in Brooklyn creep into his voice, along with the attitude that usually accompanied it.

            “I sure am, little boy.  What gives you the right to come here and take work away from me?” The big man asked.

            “I’d think you got enough work at the zoo, or don’t they pay the gorillas over here?” Hannigan grinned at the man, but the humor was not evident in his blue eyes, which were cold and calculating as he measured the man, waiting for him to make the first move.

            The man’s face went red. “You don’t know who you’re talking to, do you little boy?”

            “Have we ever met before?  No, I don’t think so.  So obviously we’ve never met and I don’t know who you are.  How long did it take you to figure it out?” Hannigan snorted derisively.

            “Nobody talks to Rhino Hayes that way,” the man growled, his voice rumbling out from deep in his chest.

            “Rhino?  What kind of first name is that?  Didn’t your parents like you very much?”

            “I’m gonna break you in half for that, little boy,” Hayes growled, starting forward.  He threw a looping left at Hannigan.  The latter easily ducked under the swing and shot out with fists to strike two nerve plexus’ on Hayes’ exposed flank.  The big man let out a yowl of pain.

            “Tsk tsk, now, you’re gonna frighten all the wildlife,” Hannigan said, ducking under another lunge and swinging out his leg to trip the bigger man.  Hayes crashed to the dock, causing the wooden pier to ripple like an earthquake.

            “You’re gonna die for that!” Hayes roared, scrambling toward Hannigan. 

            But the wiry adventurer was quicker.  He bounded over Hayes, planting his hands on the man’s shoulders as he propelled himself into the air to land directly behind the big longshoreman.  Hayes sprawled forward and slammed into a thick piling.  The impact snapped it in half. 

            Hannigan was on him in a flash, steel hard fingers searching out different nerve clusters, pressing hard into them to totally disable the larger man.  Howling in frustration, Hayes crumpled to the dock in a heap.

            Hannigan looked at the other men.  “Anybody else?” he asked, not even breathing hard.  The other laborers just looked at him then shook their heads and went back to work.  Hannigan retrieved a bucket full of water and tossed it onto his vanquished foe.

            Hayes reared up sputtering.  “What the bloody hell?”

            “You lost, Hayes.”  Hannigan said softly.  “Want a rematch?”

            “Not bloody likely, Mate.” Hayes rumbled.  “You pack a helluva wallop for a little feller.”

            Hannigan grinned.  “Dynamite comes in small packages my friend.  You need to be more careful about who you bully.”

            “I’ll take that advice, I think.” Hayes extended his hand.  “Didn’t catch your name.”

            “Hardluck Hannigan,” Hannigan said, using the nickname Bridget had hung on him.

            “Rhino Meriwether Hayes,” the big man replied, shaking Hannigan’s hand.  Much to Hannigan’s surprise, Hayes didn’t try to use a bone-crusher grip on him.

            Hannigan thought about his earlier taunt.  With a name like Meriwether, no wonder he favored the nickname Rhino.  “Who are you working for, Rhino?”

            “Nobody at the moment.”  Hayes responded honestly.  “That’s why I was picking on you.”

            “Maybe I can set something up with Captain Morgan.  He’s a good man and an honest fellow who only expects an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay.”

            “Sounds like a square deal,” Hayes replied with a grin.  “You hook me up here and you got a friend for life, Hardluck.  You ever need me, you just holler real loud.”

            Hannigan was about to elaborate on the planned upriver journey when, from the corner of his eye, he spotted Degiorno making a couple new friends.  Hannigan stopped and Hayes stopped with him.  When Degiorno looked over his shoulder and saw Hannigan, he blanched with fear.  He quickly said something to the two tough looking laborers with whom he had been speaking, and the men started towards Hannigan, while the weasely Italian tried to slip away.

            “I got them,” Rhino Hayes growled, stepping forward.  A massive fist swung out and the first of the two went flying through the air.  Hannigan darted after the slippery Degiorno as Rhino descended on the second bruiser.

            The Italian ran for all he was worth, but Hardluck Hannigan was in better shape and a whole lot younger.  Hannigan easily caught him, digging his hands deep into the Italian’s shoulders and hauling him backwards. 

            “That wasn’t very nice, Francisco.  Do I need to take steps to make sure you don’t run again, like shooting your kneecaps?”

            “No,” Degiorno replied, quavering.

            “Good, because I would hate to have to push you through the jungle in a wheelchair.  We had a deal to find that damned emerald, right?  I expect you to hold up your end of it.”

            “Yes,” Degiorno gasped.  “This was just a misunderstanding.”

            “Let’s not misunderstand each other any more.  Otherwise I might have to go ahead and kill you.  As it stands, I may yet,” Hannigan told him, dragging him by the collar back towards the boat. 

            Rhino Hayes was standing and waiting, grinning.  The local toughs were sprawled senseless on the dock.  “So Hardluck, is life always this interesting around you?”

“You have no idea.”

Chapter Fifteen

The humidity had risen with the sun and actually gotten worse as the day progressed.  By the time Bridget had landed the Duck at the Mission her clothing was sticking to her, as was McKenzie and Shotsky’s.  She knew Hannigan and especially Degiorno had to be miserable in the heat and humidity.

            As the Duck descended over the river, several of the children from the Mission came running out to the dock to watch the floatplane land, clapping and cheering at the waves made as the floats touched down in the water.  They gathered at the dock to greet her and Father McKenzie.  Bridget knew most of the kids, having acted as their teacher much of the time.  She had nursed many of their parents after various wounds had been received from the overseers on the rubber plantations.

            So many were maimed over small slights or made examples of.  It sickened her.  Especially since they were starting to force the young children to work as well.  All for profits.  She hated that the children could suffer the same mutilations as their parents, all because some corporation wanted to make a profit.

            It ignited a fire within her, one that made her want to fight against the injustices she saw.  Except her adopted father refused to let her.  “Let it rest Bridget, it’s the way things are,” McKenzie had told her on more than one occasion.  Bridget refused to believe it.  Whatever her adopted father had suffered through in the Great War, it still affected him to the point where at times he seemed almost spineless, yet at other times he was as ferocious as a lioness protecting a cub.  She wondered if she would ever figure him out.  Somehow, a part deep inside her doubted it.

            Bridget threw back the hatch and climbed out of the plane, easily clambering down onto the dock ahead of her adoptive father and Gregor Shotsky.  The children surrounded her immediately, calling her name.  Bridget smiled and knelt down, hugging as many of them as she could.  Some of the children called excitedly to her adopted father in their native language and he responded kindly in the same.  They asked questions about Gregor Shotsky but she noted that Niles McKenzie shrugged those off without answering.  Bridget waved the kids off and settled into the task of refueling the plane so she could go after Hannigan and Degiorno.

                                   *****

            Father Niles McKenzie quickly dismissed the children and then gave Gregor Shotsky a tour of the Mission, including the small machine shop that he had built for fashioning parts that they couldn’t buy for the older floatplane and farm machinery that was used on the Mission grounds.

Gregor thanked the Padre and set to work building the devices that he thought might come in handy for the upcoming expedition.  One of the items looked like a steel rod except that when you twisted it, four prongs snapped out of one end to create a grappling hook.  The other end twisted off to become a club.  Overall it measured about twenty inches in length and was nearly an inch thick.  It would make a good truncheon. 

Shotsky already had a spool of thin, nearly unbreakable line he had created some time before.  He attached it to the grapple and then concealed it in the truncheon end of the club.  With practiced moves he screwed the ends together, effectively concealing its purpose.  He then set to work on building a second one.

            Gregor had also been giving some thought to Hannigan’s .45.  There might come a time when a need for silence was required, even when a shot needed to be made.  He had an idea for creating a small suppressor for the gun, but he would need to wait on Hannigan to fit it properly.

            *****

            It didn’t take long for Bridget to have the Duck refueled and to get her airborne again.  The children waved from the riverbanks as the Duck took to the air once more.  Bridget dipped her wings in response.  She was on her way back downriver to pick up Mike Hannigan.

            Bridget’s thoughts drifted to the time they had spent alone in the jungle, the thrills that had raced through her body as Mike Hannigan had made her feel a woman.  She ached for the sensation again, hoping that the opportunity would arise before they went after The Emerald of Eternity.  Mike Hannigan had taught her much about the arts of love in a short time, and she was now a very eager student!  Bridget knew she had pleased him as well, and looked forward to doing so again.  She knew that Hannigan could teach her a lot, given the chance.  Of course with her adopted father dogging their steps, they might not ever get that chance!  Bridget shook the thoughts out of her head and scanned the air around the Duck, making sure that there were no unwelcome visitors coming after her beloved airplane again.

                                    *****

            Father Niles McKenzie walked to his small office at the rear of the Mission.  As he walked, he fished a key from his pocket.  His office, Bridget’s room, and the storage area were the only doors in the Mission that had locks.  McKenzie reached his office, unlocked the door and stepped inside.  He took a quick breath and shut the door behind him, shutting out the noise.  Without thinking, his fingers turned the lock; he didn’t even notice the protective symbols painted on the walls and door and around the windows.  They were as much a part of him as his skin.

            He had hoped that they would protect him from the demon that had murdered his parents when he was a child.  They had been missionaries in India when it had happened.