Neil Mallory was a member of that rare breed of men, the pioneer pilots of the thirties. He loved 'planes with a deep passion, and he was willing to fly anything. In Brazil in 1938, he found himself pushing ancient machinery over the densest jungle in the world but as long as he was flying, he was happy. He just hadn't reckoned on the River of Death - the Rio das Mortes - the last place God made where the Huna Indians killed outsiders on sight or Sam Hannah, the enigmatic American, ace of aces at twenty three years old and on a long slide to nowhere - and willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone, to get back on top.