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Ragnarok, the scientist that had been dispatched as the Fuhrer's personal agent in the search, no doubt at Himmler's urging.  Or perhaps it was the other way around.
     
    Scientist … the word seemed inappropriate when applied to the masked mystic who seemed to have an almost obsessive interest in finding the stone.  Wessel wondered if the good doctor wasn't more interested in finding the gem for his own dark purposes, rather than the glory of the Reich.
    Such superstition… it bothered him that so many important decisions - life and death decisions - were being made by men who consulted oracles and the stars.  Men like Himmler and Ragnarok, and even Hitler himself.  Was the Nazi party truly being led by a madman?
     
    Wessel pushed the thought away as soon as it formed.  Such thoughts were the seeds of treason, and the Gestapo had a way of hearing even the faintest whispers of discontent.
    Wessel shook his head again.  It was time to get back to the Valkyrie. He started back down the stairs but as he passed a shadowy corner, he had the strangest feeling that he was being watched. 
     
                                        *****
     
    “I'll bet they came in on the zeppelin I saw last night from the ship,” Hannigan told the others as they reached the ground floor of the building.
    “What zeppelin?” Shotsky asked.          
    “The one I spotted last night from The African Queen.  It flew over right after you went below.”
    “It has to be Wessel,” Degiorno groaned from behind them.
    “Who’s Wessel?” Bridget asked, turning to face the Italian.
    “The German officer who hired me to find The Emerald of Eternity,” Degiorno replied with a groan.  His white suit now soaked with sweat.
    “What is this Emerald of Eternity?” Bridget asked--her innate curiosity obviously aroused.
    “Wessel never told me, but I did some discreet digging.  It is a magnificent gemstone, said to have belonged to the most powerful wizard to have ever walked in ancient Atlantis.  He used it to see into the future, and with certain rituals, was said to be able to change the future.  …If you believe that sort of thing of course.”
    “And Hitler believes this mumbo-jumbo?” Hannigan asked.  
    Degiorno shrugged and drew a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to mop his brow. “If it gives him the power to rule the world, I suppose it's just too tempting to pass up.”         
    “You said you just wanted it for the money,” Hannigan accused.  “Now you're saying this emerald could give him that much power?”
    “It could,” Degiorno replied, his head hanging low.  “He certainly seems to think so.”
    “You believe in the stone’s power,” Bridget said, but it wasn’t a question.
    “Yes,” the Italian admitted, guiltily.  “I've... heard things.”            
    “Then we have to get to it before they do,” Hannigan said, his tone grim.             
    “Yes,” Degiorno replied, his voice almost too faint to hear.
     
                                        *****
     
    Captain Morgan raised his cap at the sound of distant gunfire.  Damned town was getting too lively for his taste.  Getting so a decent riverboat captain can’t get no rest when he's in homeport no more.  At that moment, a man appeared in front of him. 
    Morgan’s eyes widened in shock.  It was McKenzie, the priest from the mission way up on the Congo River.  Morgan had loaded his boat up earlier in the day with supplies bound for the Mission, a journey of about two days.  He had been planning to leave the following morning.
    “Father, what the bleedin’ Hell... beg pardon, but what are ye doin’ here?”
    “Riding with you to the Mission, My Son,” Niles McKenzie replied in a solemn voice.          
    “Bloody Hell you say.”  Morgan winced again at his use of profanity in the priest's presence, but stood his