Chapter Fourteen

Mike Hannigan waved at Bridget as the Duck lifted off.  She dipped her wings in response, then lifted the nose into the bright blue morning sky.  Hannigan returned his attention to Degiorno. 

            “Time to do some honest work for a change.”  He shoved the Italian towards the rowboat.

            “The priest is up to something,” Degiorno stated as he took a seat.   “You know that don’t you?”

            “Why should he be any different?  Listen Pal, I know you altered the map, and I know the Padre knows the territory up there.  Do you honestly think he didn’t spot the changes you made?   I don’t trust him any more than I trust you, which is why I sent Gregor with him.”

            “You trust the Russian?” Degiorno replied in evident surprise.

            “Unlike the rest of you jerks, Gregor has never given me a reason not to trust him.  Now start rowing.”  Hannigan shoved the rowboat out into the river and clambered aboard.

            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.”