Biggles and Son: Chapter 18.

by Sopwith

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.

Warning: Non canon type fan fiction works may contain severe time mix-ups and character deviations.

Algy debated with himself whether or not he should draw attention to the fact that Biggles was following them. On the one hand, he wanted Biggles to stay as far away from the scene as possible—and Raymond had also ordered him, Algy, to make sure that Biggles was not involved; on the other hand, if he drew attention to the car behind them, there was every chance that the unpredictable Brechovich would do something to hurt Biggles, a risk that he did not feel willing to take.

Unfortunately, the choice was soon taken out of his hands. Jane, perhaps noticing something in his behavior, twisted in her seat to see what was behind them. Algy, looking at her face, saw instantly the change in expression that crossed her features. There could be no doubt that she had recognized the driver of the car behind them.

Algy saw sudden interest in Jane’s face, chased away almost immediately by a self-satisfied smirk. She turned back to face forward and murmured something to Brechovich in Russian.

Algy, not knowing what had been said, was completely unprepared for what happened next. Brechovich yanked the wheel violently to the left, throwing Algy against the door, and then reached into a jacket pocket and produced a gun.

“Here, what’s the big idea?” protested Algy, but his words fell on deaf ears and the Russian simply stuck the gun out of the open window, and, without even taking his eyes off of the road ahead, began squeezing out bullet after bullet at the car behind me.

Bullets fired in such a careless manner, were, obviously, unlikely to hit the target except through the most incredible stroke of luck. Algy, risking a peek at the car behind them, was relieved to see that it appeared to be unharmed, for it was still following them.

Brechovich, perhaps sensing that his efforts were not doing much, suddenly turned to Algy, gesturing towards the steering wheel with a curt nod of his head. “You,” he said. “Drive. I shoot.” And with that, the Russian let go of the wheel and, to Algy’s everlasting astonishment, stuck his head and both arms out of the window, taking careful aim with his gun at the car behind them.

Algy tried desperately to come up with a plan and failed. If he deliberately drove the car into something, he would most likely end up causing an accident that damaged both the cars, not to mention the people inside them. If he held the car steady, Brechovich was likely to shoot Biggles.

In sheer desperation he placed his hands on the wheel and held it, his mind racing to come up with some sort of miraculous solution.

Something hard and cold dug into the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” came Jane’s voice, coldly. “Just so you know, I don’t like you very much, so I don’t have trouble with shooting you if I have to.”

“So what are you going to do?” countered Algy. “Let your precious boyfriend shoot Biggles?”

“His name is James!” screeched Jane. “And so what if Stefan shoots James? It’s not like I care.”

The car jumped as it went over an uneven bit in the road, and Algy felt the pressure on his neck tighten. “All right, all right” he growled. “I’m not trying anything.”

“You’d better not be.”

“If he does get shot, he won’t be able to see you and how happy you are with your new boyfriend,” remarked Algy casually. Even though he felt anything but calm, he realized that trying to do anything violent to Jane or to Brechovich was unlikely to end well for either himself or Biggles.

The pressure on his neck shifted slightly. Algy could sense Jane’s hesitation. “So that’ll be a pity,” she concluded, after a pause. “But so what? Why should I care what James thinks—or doesn’t think, seeing as how he’ll be dead.”

“I’m not saying you should care,” said Algy, forcing himself to keep his voice even as Brechovich fired some more bullets. He risked a peep at the car behind them and saw it swerve to avoid the shots. “I just thought you’d want Biggles to see how much better off you are without him and make him feel sorry that he chose me over you fourteen years ago. That’s what you said earlier, isn’t it?”

There was another pause, broken only by Brechovich swearing in Russian. Abruptly, the pressure on Algy’s neck disappeared. He turned, startled, just in time to see Jane lean out her own window and open fire on the car behind.

Biggles’ car jumped like a frightened horse, swerving violently to one side. Jane fired again, and then again. The car’s windshield shattered.

Algy winced, watching helplessly as smoke began coming from somewhere inside the car. If he had had a weapon of some sort on him, he would have considered putting up some sort of a fight, but as it was, there was nothing that he could do. He wondered if Biggles had a gun. Judging from the lack of answering fire, he guessed that Biggles, too, was weaponless.

The car behind them had slowed and was pulling itself over to the side of the road. Algy strained his eyes, trying to find some sign that Biggles was unharmed.

Brechovich dropped back into the driver’s seat with a triumphant cry of, “Ha!” Tucking the gun away into his pocket, he once again took control of the wheel. “Good,” he said to Algy, and then said something rapidly in Russian to Jane, who smiled in response.

“Good,” echoed Algy dully. Well, he thought glumly to himself, at least Biggles wasn’t dead. That was something.

&&&

“Did Uncle Algy just shoot at us?” demanded Sebastian, sounding shocked and somewhat hurt. “Why would Uncle Algy shoot at us?”

“I don’t think it was Uncle Algy,” said Biggles absently, surveying what had, a few minutes ago, been a perfectly working car. “Well, it doesn’t look like this old girl’s going to be taking us anywhere in a hurry. We’d better start walking—don’t want to spend all day here.” Suiting the action to the word, he removed a few items from the car and nodded to his son. “Come on. Once we get to a phone I’ll see about sending someone back for the car.”

They walked for the best part of an hour before they reached a cluster of houses. One of the first houses they came to was a garage, and Biggles spent some minutes arranging for the mechanic to bring in his car.

Having finished the lengthy conversation, he walked back outside the garage to where Sebastian was standing, apparently transfixed, staring at something. “What’s the matter?” he asked, as he approached the boy. “Are you all right? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sebastian said nothing. Biggles, frowning, turned to see for himself what his son was staring at. His eye soon fell on a familiar figure: Algy, standing at the doorway of what appeared to be a restaurant, and beside him, a woman in sunglasses, a shockingly pink dress, heels to match, and long blond hair.

“Jane?” The word was out of his mouth before Biggles could stop himself. His voice came out in a croak.

Almost as though she had heard him, the woman half-turned. The sunglasses made it impossible for Biggles to see whether or not she had actually seen him, but in the next minute all that went out of his mind as Algy and Jane embraced and exchanged what appeared to be a highly passionate kiss.

Go to Chapter 19.

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