river to land on.
She had to know if Mike Hannigan was okay.
*****
Hannigan nearly lost his grip on the Colt as the Duck went into a roll and looped. His stomach was in his throat as Bridget took the plane through a dizzying dance of evasive maneuvers. Her antics succeeded in sparing them from the fighter’s machine guns, but had the unfortunate side-effect of alternately slamming Hannigan against the hard outer skin of the Grumman and throwing him against the ropes, so that he could almost feel the fibers cutting into his skin. He hoped that Gregor had done a really good job of tying those knots; his life depended on it.
Suddenly the Duck slipped left, putting the cockpit of the attacking Messerschmitt in his sights. Hannigan fired out the magazine, and was amazed to see one of the propeller blades snap off. The cockpit’s windscreen shattered and suddenly the fighter was a ball of flames plummeting like a fiery meteor into the green carpet below.
Hannigan breathed a sigh of relief. It was only then that he realized that the slide of his Colt was locked open over an empty chamber. With shaking hands he drew a full magazine from his pocket and buttoned out the empty, carefully catching and stowing it, before sliding the fresh magazine into place. He hit the slide release to chamber the top round so that the weapon would be ready for the next crisis. Upping the safety, Hannigan shoved the pistol back into his waistband. His movements were very methodical and deliberate, as if to prove to himself that he wasn’t rattled by the near death experience.
Nevertheless, as the Duck dropped towards the river, he wondered if Bridget would think it unmanly if he were to faint.
*****
Wessel watched in shock as the second fighter trailed a plume of smoke down into the jungle and a fireball erupted into the air from the emerald jungle below. He lowered the binoculars, shock evident on his face.
“Launch more fighters,” he told his aide, in a hoarse whisper. “Launch the whole squadron.”
Although the fighter pilots were not directly under his command, their loss was a stunning blow. Worse, he could feel Ragnarok standing nearby, the sorcerer-scientist’s eyes burning into him.
“What has happened?”
“They shot down the fighters,” Wessel announced, numb with shock.
“You said that their ship wasn’t armed,” Ragnarok reminded him, his voice hard edged. “How then is this possible?”
“I don’t know!” Wessel was almost frantic. “Perhaps they are very lucky. Why don’t you use your magic to find an answer?”
“Are you raising your voice to me?” Ragnarok’s voice sounded all the more deadly for its calm quiet.
“Nein, Herr Doktor,” Wessel answered quickly, fearfully. He secretly wished that he could just draw the Lugar 9mm from his belt and shoot the man in the head. But as tempting as the idea seemed, he wasn’t sure if it would actually kill Ragnarok, or what the Fuhrer would do when he learned of it.
Wessel shook his head in frustration at this second defeat in a day’s time, and returned to scanning the horizon to watch their enemies’ progress. Suddenly the floatplane disappeared from view, dropping into the embrace of the jungle somewhere ahead.
“They have gone to ground,” Wessel announced.
“Tell the squadron to stand down,” Ragnarok directed. “We cannot afford to waste time chasing after this rabble. But I warn you, do not make the mistake of underestimating them again, Herr Sturmscharfuhrer. You and your countrymen are too arrogant by far. The tiniest insect may kill a strong man with a single bite.
“It has been a long time since I have faced such adversaries. Not since Captain Dane Hawkins and the Fighting Hawks have I faced such adversaries. They had the luck of the gods
She had to know if Mike Hannigan was okay.
*****
Hannigan nearly lost his grip on the Colt as the Duck went into a roll and looped. His stomach was in his throat as Bridget took the plane through a dizzying dance of evasive maneuvers. Her antics succeeded in sparing them from the fighter’s machine guns, but had the unfortunate side-effect of alternately slamming Hannigan against the hard outer skin of the Grumman and throwing him against the ropes, so that he could almost feel the fibers cutting into his skin. He hoped that Gregor had done a really good job of tying those knots; his life depended on it.
Suddenly the Duck slipped left, putting the cockpit of the attacking Messerschmitt in his sights. Hannigan fired out the magazine, and was amazed to see one of the propeller blades snap off. The cockpit’s windscreen shattered and suddenly the fighter was a ball of flames plummeting like a fiery meteor into the green carpet below.
Hannigan breathed a sigh of relief. It was only then that he realized that the slide of his Colt was locked open over an empty chamber. With shaking hands he drew a full magazine from his pocket and buttoned out the empty, carefully catching and stowing it, before sliding the fresh magazine into place. He hit the slide release to chamber the top round so that the weapon would be ready for the next crisis. Upping the safety, Hannigan shoved the pistol back into his waistband. His movements were very methodical and deliberate, as if to prove to himself that he wasn’t rattled by the near death experience.
Nevertheless, as the Duck dropped towards the river, he wondered if Bridget would think it unmanly if he were to faint.
*****
Wessel watched in shock as the second fighter trailed a plume of smoke down into the jungle and a fireball erupted into the air from the emerald jungle below. He lowered the binoculars, shock evident on his face.
“Launch more fighters,” he told his aide, in a hoarse whisper. “Launch the whole squadron.”
Although the fighter pilots were not directly under his command, their loss was a stunning blow. Worse, he could feel Ragnarok standing nearby, the sorcerer-scientist’s eyes burning into him.
“What has happened?”
“They shot down the fighters,” Wessel announced, numb with shock.
“You said that their ship wasn’t armed,” Ragnarok reminded him, his voice hard edged. “How then is this possible?”
“I don’t know!” Wessel was almost frantic. “Perhaps they are very lucky. Why don’t you use your magic to find an answer?”
“Are you raising your voice to me?” Ragnarok’s voice sounded all the more deadly for its calm quiet.
“Nein, Herr Doktor,” Wessel answered quickly, fearfully. He secretly wished that he could just draw the Lugar 9mm from his belt and shoot the man in the head. But as tempting as the idea seemed, he wasn’t sure if it would actually kill Ragnarok, or what the Fuhrer would do when he learned of it.
Wessel shook his head in frustration at this second defeat in a day’s time, and returned to scanning the horizon to watch their enemies’ progress. Suddenly the floatplane disappeared from view, dropping into the embrace of the jungle somewhere ahead.
“They have gone to ground,” Wessel announced.
“Tell the squadron to stand down,” Ragnarok directed. “We cannot afford to waste time chasing after this rabble. But I warn you, do not make the mistake of underestimating them again, Herr Sturmscharfuhrer. You and your countrymen are too arrogant by far. The tiniest insect may kill a strong man with a single bite.
“It has been a long time since I have faced such adversaries. Not since Captain Dane Hawkins and the Fighting Hawks have I faced such adversaries. They had the luck of the gods
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