Emerald Death by Bill Craig Read Free Book Online Page A

He hadn’t thought it possible, but The Padre was crewing his boat better than his regular bunch.  The priest was almost machine-like in his movements and speech, like some sort of futuristic robot he had read about in the pulp magazines.
    Something told Morgan that The Padre had been in such tight spots before and had acquitted himself well.  The clergyman had a certain air of confidence about him, one that bespoke of a dangerous past.  Father McKenzie was a man of action, though he hid it well.  Some things were just apparent to those who had been there.  Morgan knew that sometimes, violent men chose the cloth as a way of atoning for past transgressions, but McKenzie didn't seem to fit that description.  Whatever his story, it was evident in the way he carried himself that the Padre was no stranger to danger.
     
    In their earlier acquaintances, the priest had never spoken of his life before the Mission, and Morgan hadn't asked.  A man's business was his own, a dictum the riverboat skipper accepted and appreciated.  But now his desire to fill in those blanks was stronger than his capacity for discretion.
    “Padre,” Morgan asked, “Where did you learn to run a boat like this?”
    “During the Great War, Captain Morgan.”  Father McKenzie replied, staring off into the jungle, but looking, it seemed, at something thousands of miles away.  “I learned a lot during that war,”
    “I’ll bet you did.”
     
                                        *****
     
    Although he was as secure as a man ever was, Mike Hannigan held on for dear life as the Grumman Duck began to accelerate along the surface of the Congo River, picking up speed with each second.  He had no idea if he would even survive the flight, let alone emerge as the hero he wanted to be, leading the charge against their foes - against the dogs that had tried to murder Bridget.
    Bridget.
    Hannigan liked Bridget Ellen O’Malley a lot, maybe even loved her a little bit. …Maybe even more than a little bit.
    He held his breath against the buffeting wind that was slamming him against the hull of the Grumman.  It wasn’t nearly as bad as he had imagined it would be, but it wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs either.  Fortunately, the curve of the fuselage kept the worst of the wind from battering him against the metal frame of the plane.
    Hannigan winced as he caught a glimpse of treetops whisking by just below his boots.  Bridget was way too low for his liking.  Still, he had to admit that she seemed to know what she was doing.
     
    A lot of things had happened since he left New York that fell into the category of things he never dreamed he'd do, but this took the cake: being tied to the side of an airplane flying over the wild jungles of Africa! 
    Of course he also wouldn't have believed he'd meet a gal like Bridget O’Malley!  She was nothing like the flappers and floozies back home - helpless and hapless girls who cared about nothing but themselves.  As corny as it sounded, Bridget was the embodiment of his dreams; 100% girl, yet able to hold her own with any guy she came across.  Bridget was what his dad would have called a ‘top hand’ back in the day.  He was starting to look forward to spending more time with her, getting to know her better, maybe even....
    Hannigan pushed the thought away.  She was easy on the eyes all right, but he had no time for romance.  And right now, he was not so much worried about whether she liked him, as he was that she was going to get him killed.
     
                                        *****
     
    Sturmscharfuhrer Hans Wessel hurried his men from the trucks that had carried them back to the airfield where the Valkyrie was moored.  The huge zeppelin dominated the airfield.  The big cigar-shaped hull towered above every other aircraft or structure in sight, and the bright African sun gleamed off the silvery-looking hull of the German