Emerald Death (14 page)

 He could still remember it vividly.  They had gone to stay at a remote village just a few kilometers from Delhi.  His mother, how beautiful she had been, her long blonde hair streaming down her back, her blues eyes bright with laughter.  His father had been a dour man with dark hair and dark eyes.  His sister had been left with the housekeeper back in Delhi.  They had settled into the grass-thatched hut where they would be spending the night, the small fire in the center of the hut providing the only illumination.  McKenzie had been almost asleep when the shadows had thickened and taken shape, attacking his parents and savaging them.  He had curled into a fetal ball, hearing their screams long after their voices had fallen silent.  On that night Niles McKenzie had vowed to fight Evil in all of its forms!

He knew that someday, the demons that had killed his parents would come after him.  So Niles McKenzie had prepared himself, studying not only Christianity but magic as well, becoming acquainted not only with white, but dark magic as well. He had been better versed in the days when he had fought beside Dane Hawkins and Mad Dog Davis during the Great Wars, but he could still summon it if the need arose.

He had killed too often in his past and his dreams were often haunted by the faces of the men he had killed during the Great War, haunted as well by the faces of friends who had died fighting as part of the Fighting Hawks.

            McKenzie wondered again what had ever become of Dane Hawkins himself.  The leader of the Fighting Hawks, what had happened to him after the war?  The last he had heard, Hawkins was hiring himself out to go on expeditions into dangerous areas of the world; areas that any sane man would avoid like the plague.  Still, that was Hawkins’ choice.

            Hawkins seemed to be trying to prove something, as if the man’s war record wasn’t enough.  He was forcing himself to live up to an ideal that was so far above realistic it wasn’t funny.  McKenzie had tried on more than one occasion to counsel his former leader, but Hawkins had no desire to listen.  He was a man beset with inner demons, ones that could only be conquered by his own will.  Except McKenzie wasn’t sure that Hawkins’ will was strong enough.

            Towards the end of the Great War, Dane Hawkins had become more and more reclusive. More standoffish to those who had been his closest companions.  Dane Hawkins was a man on the edge of insanity.  Niles McKenzie could only hope that his former commander had not finally succumbed to the madness.

            McKenzie pushed away the thoughts of the past.  He had to concentrate on the present.  Protecting Bridget was at the forefront of his thoughts.  Saving her from the fury of Prester John was his most immediate concern.  Because there would be fury when the Priest King found that they had invaded his domain, no matter what the cause.

He would kill them all without a second thought if it suited his purpose.  Prester John had the idea that the Church had abandoned him.  He felt threatened by the Church, felt like they were out to assassinate him.  The sad part was that he was right-- it did want to assassinate him.

He was a threat to them, especially given his prolonged life.  It was a secret that they coveted and condemned at the same time.  Putting an end to the Priest King and recovering The Emerald of Eternity would do much to enhance his own reputation in The Church, removing the blight on his record from his war years and his use of dark magic to help vanquish Evil.

            McKenzie had long ago decided that sometimes using the methods of evil to defeat evil worked the best.  That had certainly proven the case with Doctor Ragnarok and other assorted villains that the Fighting Hawks had faced over the years.  He opened the safe in his sanctuary and removed a small amulet.  It was made of moonstone and silver and held a great deal of power.  He had acquired it many years before from a Druid Priest in Ireland.  It had been instrumental in defeating Doctor Ragnarok, and he hoped it would work as well against Prester John.

                                    *****

            Mike Hannigan grinned as he spied the Grumman Duck dropping out of the blue sky towards the river.  Rhino Hayes walked up beside him to watch the silver floatplane come in for a landing.  “Is that your girl?” Hayes asked.

            “Yeah, she is,” Hannigan grinned.  He looked over his shoulder towards where the Italian sat slumped against the bulkhead of the cabin.  “Hey, Degiorno, get your sorry butt moving.  Our ride is here,” Hannigan yelled, his tone commanding.

            “That one is gonna give you trouble, Hardluck,” Hayes said looking back at the soaking wet and hopelessly rumpled Italian.  The former crime boss looked more like a wartime refugee at the moment.

            “I’m counting on it, Rhino.  I don’t trust him as far as I could toss this boat.  He’s a weasel, but at the moment, he holds the clues to something I want,” Hannigan replied.

            “Well good luck, Hardluck.  Hopefully things go your way.  One day we will meet again, I think,” Rhino Hayes said, taking Hannigan’s hand in his massive paw and shaking it.

            “I hope you’re right, pal,” Hannigan release his hand and then raised it to wave at Bridget as she taxied the Duck up close to Captain Morgan’s riverboat.

Hannigan glanced over his shoulder.  Degiorno was still slumped against the bulkhead glaring at him defiantly.  Hannigan whirled and crossed the space between them with five long strides his hands reaching down and gathering in the material of the Italian’s jacket.  Hannigan yanked the man to his feet and bodily propelled him towards Rhino Hayes. 

            Hayes caught Degiorno’s staggering form and flung him through the air the distance to crash down atop the fuselage of the Duck.  Hannigan ran towards Hayes and the man lifted him, tossing him through the air like he was nothing.  Hannigan had been expecting it, however, and was able to get his feet under him and made a catlike landing on the wing.

            As nimbly as a tightrope walker in a circus, Hannigan skipped up the wing and grabbed Degiorno’s collar.  With seemingly very little effort he lifted the Italian off the fuselage and dangled him over the muddy waters of the Congo.

Hannigan’s blue eyes stared deep into the Italian’s brown fear-filled eyes.  “Are you going to cooperate better or do I just drop you into the river for the crocs?” Hannigan asked his tone as cold and bleak as an arctic winter.

            “Yes, I’ll cooperate!” Degiorno screamed his voice very high-pitched with fear.

            “Good, cause the crocs on this side of the waterfall haven’t eaten as well as their cousins downstream,” Hannigan replied, shoving the man into the cockpit.  Hannigan climbed in as well and pulled the hatch closed above him.

            “That was quite a display, Hardluck.  Sure you aren’t using too much luck up?” Bridget asked teasingly.

            “Only time will tell,” Hannigan grinned back at her.  Bridget flashed him a smile and turned back to the controls, taxiing the Duck away from the riverboat and turning it around to have a better longer stretch of river to use for takeoff.  She engaged the throttle and the plane leaped forward, the pontoon landing gear sending up huge sprays of water from each side, then the plane was skipping over the surface and finally lifting up into the air, climbing into the bright blue sky.

Chapter Sixteen

Niles McKenzie and Gregor Shotsky were both waiting at the dock when Bridget brought the Duck in for a landing.  The two men had struck up a brief if grudging friendship, especially when Shotsky had shown McKenzie some of his makeshift creations.  Even McKenzie had been impressed by both the practicality and the innovativeness of the devices.  The fact that they were fairly concealable in their true purposes by their appearance was also impressive.

            McKenzie felt a grimness settle over him.   It was a familiar sensation, one he had felt many times over the years.  He was girding himself for battle with forces that he knew were capable of destroying not only his life but his soul as well.  His normally dour demeanor became even more so.  McKenzie checked his vest and the pockets sewn into it.  The vest was of a special design that he had come up with during the Great War and his time with the Fighting Hawks.  Vials of holy water were secured in canvas loops sewn across the chest pockets; other mystical talismans were carried in select pockets as well as both a small prayer book and a book of both offensive and defensive spells.  It had been many years since McKenzie had actually practiced magic, but he hoped that it was a skill he hadn’t forgotten.

            Fighting Evil during the Great War had been more than just facing the Huns.  There had been so many different faces worn by Satan’s agents over the years.  Some had been conquered by mortal means, others through spiritual or magical means.  Somehow, the Fighting Hawks had managed to defeat them all.  But it had come at a great cost, not only physically and mentally, but spiritually as well.

            McKenzie himself had fled to darkest Africa to work for the redemption of his own soul.  Mad Dog Davis had retreated to the coast of Maine and the North woods, and Captain Dane Hawkins had become an explorer and vanished off the face of the Earth.

            McKenzie waited patiently as Bridget taxied the Duck to the dock.  He almost smiled at the thought.  Duck to the dock, it was amusing.  He and the Russian moved quickly to toss ropes from the dock to the plane and quickly had the craft moored almost before the hatch slid back and Bridget and the others got out.  Bridget and Hannigan both looked almost way too happy.  The Italian, however, looked totally miserable.  He actually even looked thinner, his clothing now hanging much more loosely than it had a couple of days before.

            “He looks a little worse for wear,” McKenzie nodded, indicating Degiorno.

            “He wasn’t really prepared for honest work,” Hannigan replied, his hand finding Bridget’s and their fingers entwined.

            “He was pretty tame on the flight from the boat.  But then I imagine flying through the air without a plane can have that effect,” Bridget said mischievously

“How did that happen?”  McKenzie asked, curious.

“While boarding,” Bridget explained, deliberately being vague. 

McKenzie shook his head in wonder.  It seemed a lot was going on without his knowledge.  Maybe even more than he wanted to know.

“Yeah the Italian got his first flying lesson,” Hannigan deadpanned. 

“We have most of the supplies loaded onto the old floatplane, but we need to put a few in the Duck,” McKenzie said.

“Then let’s get moving,” Hardluck Hannigan growled.

                                    *****

The silver zeppelin hung in the air, barely obscured by clouds, waiting and watching like some great predatory bird, searching for some sign of the others seeking its treasure.  The Valkyrie was ready to attack, poised and waiting for a sign of the others seeking the treasure that had thus far been denied it. 

The waiting was the hardest part for the crew, who were growing more nervous around Ragnarok with each passing minute.  It was evident to everyone that Doctor Ragnarok was quickly descending into some sort of strange madness as they waited for some sign of the Italian who had stolen the real map to the temple where The Emerald of Eternity rested.

Hans Wessel hated waiting, especially with a madman loose aboard his ship, and that is what he considered The Valkyrie: his ship.  She was the new flagship of the Luftwaffe’s new lighter than air class.  He had heard rumors from the men aboard from the famed Condor Squadron that an even larger vessel was being secretly constructed--a true floating airbase that could deliver entire armies to any point on the globe. 
If the rumors were true, Germany would truly be masters of the skies!

For who would be able to stop the formidable might of the Nazi war machine if they could deliver an entire army anywhere on the globe in two days time?  Not the British, and certainly not their poor upstart cousins the Americans.  The Americans were too frightened to even join in the war effort!  They made a lot of noise, but even the bloody Brits couldn’t talk them into sending men or materials to combat the growing Nazi presence in Europe or their growing conquests.

It would only be a matter of time before Germany ruled the world.  And when Germany did, it would be through military might, not through some silly religious hoodoo.

“Wessel,” he heard his name spoken in long sibilant snake-like fashion.  Hans Wessel turned to see Doctor Ragnarok standing in the doorway of his command room.

“What do you want, Herr Doktor?” Wessel asked sternly, much more sternly than he felt, because the madman before him still frightened him intensely.  He had felt the man’s power and could sense what sort of evil he was capable of.

“They are coming, Wessel.  Soon they will be within our grasp, and when they are, we will force them to lead us to our prize!  They shall lead us to The Emerald of Eternity.  Once we have it, no one will stand in our way!” Ragnarok cackled madly, rubbing his gloved hands together.

“How do you know this?” Wessel asked, humoring the mad creature.

“I can feel them, drawing nearer.  And He is with them.  One I have faced before.  This time he shall pay for what he did to me, and he shall pay as no other has by dancing naked in the flames of Hell!” Ragnarok raged.

“Let me know when they are close enough, Herr Doktor, and I will make sure we capture them this time so they will have no choice but to lead us to your precious emerald,” Wessel replied with a smile that never touched his eyes.

“Yesssss!” Ragnarok hissed as he moved away from the doorway.  Wessel felt a shudder of revulsion pass through him.  He almost pitied Ragnarok, who had slid from being a terrifying being to a jabbering madman in just a few hours. 

Wessel found himself wondering if the doctor might not just die and save him the trouble of having to kill him once the silly jewel was recovered.