Biggles Married III Chapter 8.

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. 

After leaving Biggles at the warehouse, Algy drove on and left the cab close to the entrance of the warehouse as promised before getting out and making his way stealthily towards the warehouse, looking nervously from left to right as he went.

He reached the warehouse without incident and proceeded to walk around the perimeter. The building was a flimsy one and there were patches in the framework in many places. Through one of these Algy was able to see, and hear, Biggles speaking with a man dressed in a suit.

His lips went dry as he heard Smith’s proposal. “Oh no,” he muttered to himself, desperately wishing that he could speak to Biggles. There was no doubt in his mind as to what the small object Smith handed to Biggles was. It had to be a bomb. Algy’s mind reeled as he mentally recalled the list of names on the guest list of the aviation conference. There were high-ranking officials from almost every country in the world. The consequences of throwing a bomb into their midst did not bear thinking about.

Would Biggles think the same? Or would he risk everything for his wife?

A murmur of voices came to his ears, and he turned quickly, one hand going to his pocket, drawing his gun. A glance around the corner of the warehouse showed him two men, holding guns, apparently arguing with each other.

Algy hurried away from the men as silently as he could. Smith had told Biggles all he needed to know; he had given him the bomb. Surely there was nothing more to be done. Biggles should be coming out at any minute.

It took him a minute or two to get back to the cab. He was opening the door, somewhat awkwardly because of the gun in one hand, when a voice from behind him said, “Mr. Lacey?”

Algy spun round and found himself face to face with a policeman in uniform. “Yes?”

“All right,” said the policeman, in a soothing voice. “Just put the gun down now, sir.”

“What?” said Algy. His life seemed to be getting all sorts of surreal. Where had the policeman come from, how did he know his name, and why was he asking him to put the gun down?

“You’re under arrest for charges of attempted murder, theft, and kidnapping, sir. Don’t make things any worse for yourself. Just put the gun down. Everything will be all right.”

“But—” Algy was staggered. Attempted murder? Theft? Kidnapping? Who had he kidnapped and tried to murder? And theft? What had he stolen?

“Just put the gun down, sir.”

Algy held onto the gun. He took a step back.

And then, to his horror, he saw, coming up behind the policeman, the two armed men that he had seen before. The man in the lead raised his gun and took aim. “No!” snapped Algy, raising his own gun.

“Stop!” came a new voice. Another policeman, gun in hand, was running towards the scene from the other side of the black cab. Algy groaned inwardly. Of course there was another policeman about, and of course he had to come up now. Due to the angle the new policeman was at, and the taxi cab in front of him, he probably couldn’t even see the two armed men. To him, it must have looked as if Algy was preparing to shoot his colleague. “Police! Drop your weapon!”

There was no time to explain. Algy fired at the armed man just as the man also fired at him. The two shots rang out simultaneously. The first policeman crumpled to the ground just as the second policeman opened fire on Algy. Algy flinched as a bullet barely missed his cheek. The two armed men were both shooting at him as well now, and with no other option open to him, Algy turned and fled as bullets rained down around him.

Algy rounded a corner and dove behind a large tree. Without thinking, his fingers took a firm grip on the lower branches and before he had had time to think it through he was hauling himself up hand over hand. The armed men rounded the corner just a half-minute behind him, but it was more than enough. Algy was well-hidden among the thick leaves. The men hurried past without so much as a glance in his direction.

Pandemonium reigned for several minutes. Algy could hear shouting and shooting all around him, but none of it seemed to make any sense. What on earth was going on? And where was Biggles? What had the policeman meant? Kidnapping? Attempted murder?

The noise below gradually died down as time passed, and about a quarter of an hour later, Algy heard Smith’s voice, tinged with anger. “He’s gone. And so are those policemen. How many of them were there? TWO? Two policemen? His wife is kidnapped and he brings two policemen? Bah! These English, they disgust me. Come, we should go.”

Another voice, a very familiar one, whined out, “Where are my sunglasses? They’re my favorite—”

“Shut up,” snapped Smith. “Get her inside the car.”

Algy heard the sound of engines starting, and he gave the men a good head start before climbing down from the tree. It sounded as though Biggles had managed to get away, and apparently Jane was still alive and well enough to complain. Algy stuffed his gun back into his pocket, but kept his hand close to it in case some of the men had been left behind.

He ran to the place where he had left the cab.

It was no longer there.

&&&

Bertie and Ginger were in the air police office attempting to file some paperwork when the phone rang. Bertie answered it. “Hullo. Air police headquarters. Yes…yes…oh, you found him, old boy, that’s splend—what? I say, are you serious?”

He fell silent for a minute or two, listening to the caller on the other end, then finally concluded with, “I see. Well, many thanks, old boy, and all that sort of thing. Let us know if anything else happens, will you?”

“Well?” demanded Ginger impatiently, as Bertie put the instrument back into its cradle with irritating deliberation.

“Gaskin.”

“What did he say?”

Bertie turned slowly to face Ginger. “They found Algy.”

“And?”

Bertie swallowed. “Algy shot a policeman.”

Ginger stared, aghast. “What? Is he all right?”

“They don’t know. He ran away after he shot the—”

“Not Algy, the policeman. Is he all right?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“And Biggles?”

Wordlessly, Bertie shook his head.

Ginger sunk into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands with a low groan.

&&&

All was chaos in the warehouse as Smith, his voice shrill with anger, began barking orders to his men. Biggles was for the moment forgotten in the confusion as everyone rushed about, getting in each other’s way and shouting.

A flash of pink caught Biggles’ eye as he was making for the entrance to the warehouse. “Jane!” he cried, in relief. “Jane!” She was too far away to hear him, and two armed men were escorting her in the opposite direction, further and further away from Biggles. With an effort Biggles pushed his way past several of Smith’s armed guards, desperate not to lose his wife. “Jane!”

Someone grabbed at his injured arm, and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out in pain. Turning, he saw Smith at his elbow. “You will be made to feel very sorry for this, Major Bigglesworth,” he growled. “It was a mistake to underestimate me.”

“I didn’t bring the police here!” shouted Biggles. “Why would I risk my wife’s life? Speaking of which, I’d rather like her back, if you don’t mind. This charade has gone on long enough.”

“Oh, you will have her back, Major Bigglesworth.” The sudden smile on Smith’s face chilled Biggles to the bone, although he did not know why. “I’m a reasonable man. Here are my terms. I will overlook this foolish decision of yours to lead the police here—”

“I’ve already told you, I—”

Smith held up a hand. “As I was saying, I will overlook this for the moment, as long as you keep your end of the bargain. Place my little present at the conference and your wife will be returned safely to you. Otherwise, she will be returned to you…in little pieces.”

Before Biggles could say another word, two of Smith’s men came running into the warehouse. “The police have gone,” reported one of them, “but they called for more policemen to come here.”

Smith cursed in a language Biggles did not know. “We must go,” he snapped to his men. “Come.” Ignoring Biggles, the three of them moved off.

Biggles lost no time in getting out of the warehouse. A quick glance showed him the black taxi cab that Algy had acquired, parked carelessly near the front of the warehouse. Biggles got in and started the engine. It was a struggle to turn the car around with his broken arm, but somehow he managed it.

It took him almost three quarters of an hour to get home. He was met at the door by a distraught Mrs. Symes. “Oh, sir, isn’t it terrible? Mr. Lacey, all over the news, gave me quite a turn it did—”

Biggles was in no mood to hear anything concerned with Mr. Lacey. “Just bring up some tea, will you, Mrs. Symes?” he asked wearily.

“Yes, sir.”

Biggles went into his flat and sank into the armchair facing the fireplace. His first move was to ring up Air Commodore Raymond and ask if there really was an aviation conference taking place. After all, he only had Smith’s word that there was one.

“Aviation conference? Yes, of course there is. I’ve been up to my eyes in preparation work for it. You wouldn’t believe the security measures we’ve put in place. But anyway, you needn’t worry about that; Lacey already promised to speak on your behalf.”

“There’s no need,” said Biggles curtly. “I’ve decided to go myself.”

He noted down the time and place of the conference, then hung up the phone and sat brooding in his chair, trying to make sense of the situation. Should he risk the lives of dozens of people? Or should he sacrifice Jane? “I could start a war if anything happened to all those people,” he realized. “What would Jane say if she were here? Would she want me to kill all those people to save her?”

His eye fell upon a photograph on the mantelpiece. It had been taken shortly after the war. He himself stood in the middle, with Bertie, Ginger, and the other members of 666 around him. To his right stood Algy, lounging casually against the wall behind him, grinning in his usual irrepressible manner.

In a fit of rage, Biggles got to his feet, stalked to the fireplace, and smashed the photograph face down into the empty fireplace, feeling nothing but hollow satisfaction as glass shattered and flew everywhere.

Go to Chapter 9. 

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