Algy and the Rescue Flight: Chapter 10. Algy Hatches A Plan

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.

For several minutes, Algy remained frozen in place, struggling to get over the shock of seeing Von Stalhein. Finally, with an effort, he pulled himself together. His first instinct was to run into the prison and tear down the place brick by brick until he found Biggles and Ginger, but he soon realized that this was not much of a plan.

“Better try and find out whether they’re in there or not before we do anything,” he decided, voicing his thoughts aloud for the benefit of Dusty and Barnes.

“And if they are in there, what next?” questioned Barnes.

“If they are in there, the obvious thing to do is rescue them,” replied Algy. “We’ll have to provide some sort of distraction to get the guards away from their posts, and then perhaps we’ll have a chance of getting in unseen.”

“But what are we going to use to make the distraction?” queried Dusty. “The only thing I’ve got on me is a box of matches.”

“Under some circumstances, that would be more than enough,” said Algy, with a grin. “Now—” His voice trailed off. On the far end of the prison enclosure, he could see something being wheeled out of a shed. A bomber. A Lancaster bomber.

Barnes gave him a curious look. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” said Algy slowly. “I’m all right.” The beginnings of an idea was forming in his mind.

“What are you looking at?”

“See that plane they’re moving out over there?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a Lancaster bomber.”

Barnes shrugged. “Okay. I’ve no experience of aircraft. I’ll take your word for it. What if it is?”

“It might just a way to get home.” Algy stared at the bomber some more, working out the final details of his plan before saying briskly, “All right. Let’s get started. I’m going to find out whether or not my friends are actually in there.”

Dusty looked skeptical. “And how are you going to do that?”

“Well,” said Algy, thinking it over. “I did think of whistling, but that might be a tad obvious. I don’t want to alert the guards that I’m here. Let’s try a spot of Morse. I used to be quite good at owl imitations as a boy.”

Putting his hands to his mouth, he proceeded to send out an SOS in owl hoots.

“Okay,” said Dusty, as the sound of the hoots died away into the night. “Nothing.”

“Give it time,” said Algy, starting to send his signal again.

This state of affairs went on for about five minutes, until even Algy had started to think that perhaps Biggles and Ginger were not there. “Or perhaps Von Stalhein’s killed them,” was the unspoken thought in his mind. Aloud he said, “All right, last time.”

He sent the SOS again, and this time, to his surprise, there were a series of answering hoots. SOS.

“It’s them!” he said, almost tripping over himself in his excitement.

“Maybe,” said Barnes. “Or maybe not. Could be anyone. Another owl, even.”

“Hang on,” said Algy. “I’ll send something else.” Cupping his hands around his mouth, he sent out a series of hoots that spelled out his own name in Morse.

The reply was instantaneous: O-K-O-K.

“It’s them,” declared Algy, with satisfaction, noting down the position from whence the hoots ensued. “Good. Now we can see about getting them out. Let’s start with the distraction.”

“How are you planning to make one?”

A devilish twinkle appeared in Algy’s eye. “Dusty, why don’t you go back and get the car?”

“You wouldn’t,” said Dusty, slow horror spreading across his face.

“Why not? It’ll make a lovely crash when it runs into something, and that’s all you really need for a distraction anyway.”

“What about the person who’s in the driver’s seat when it runs into something?” demanded Dusty.

“Keep your voice down. There doesn’t have to be anyone in the driver’s seat. Just aim the car at some part of the fence, use something to jam the accelerator down, and then open the door and get out. It’s not as difficult as it sounds.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to destroy the car?” put in Barnes. “We might need it to get away.”

“No, we won’t,” said Algy promptly. “We’ll be getting away in the Lanky, because I’m going to go off and steal it when everyone’s distracted by the big crash.”

“What if something goes wrong? Wouldn’t it be a good idea to keep the car just in case?”

“If something goes wrong, we’ll be in the prison, in which case it won’t matter two hoots whether we have a car or not,” replied Algy breezily. “Now go on, Dusty. Get the car. Once it hits, I shall make for the Lanc. You two will have to get inside the prison and get my friends out. Here’s my automatic. You may find it useful for getting the guards to hand over the keys. Once they’re freed, make for the bomber. I shall be in it, ready for an immediate take off. Everybody clear? All right; let’s get moving.”

&&&

Algy did not wait for the inevitable impact. Even as Dusty dove out of the driver’s seat of the car, he was already running towards the opposite end of the enclosure where the bomber stood.

He felt a twinge of worry, wondering how he would deal with any guards that had stayed behind to look after the machine, assuming that there were any. He had no weapons on him, of course, for he had given his automatic to Barnes.

“Oh, well,” he murmured to himself. “Time enough to worry about the guards when I see ‘em. They might all have gone.”

He was almost at the bomber now; a few more steps should see him close enough to touch it.

And then, most unexpectedly, something howled in the darkness, and a heavy weight dropped onto him from behind, causing him to fall and collide violently with the ground underneath him.

For a moment, Algy genuinely thought that he had been attacked by some sort of animal. But the mutterings made by his assailant soon brushed away his doubts—it was a human, all right, and by the sounds of it, someone not quite stable.

The next few minutes were a wild blur of waving limbs. At some point, Algy thought he saw an automatic being swung around, and quick as thought he thrust out an arm and gripped grimly onto the hand that held it before the butt end of the weapon could connect with his head.

“Here,” he gasped, still winded somewhat from the impact with the ground. “What d’you think—”

The weight on his chest disappeared with the speed of light. The next thing he knew, a torch had been switched on, and a beam of light shone in his face.

“I say,” said a familiar voice. “Chase Aunt Sally round the jolly gasworks, what!”

“Bertie,” growled Algy, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to steal that bally Lanky, what? But what are you doing here, old boy?”

“I’m trying to steal the Lanc so I can rescue Biggles and Ginger from that prison building over there.”

“But I say, I thought they were supposed to be rescuing you, don’t you know?”

“Change of plans,” retorted Algy, with grim humor. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here after all. You can go on stealing the Lanc while I go back to the prison and see about helping the others.”

“Bally confusing state of affairs, what?” murmured Bertie sadly, as he turned in the direction of the Lancaster once more.

“Hang on a minute,” Algy called after him. “Do you have a spare automatic, by any chance? I’ve given mine to someone else.”

Bertie handed him the weapon in his hand without a word.

“Get inside and start her up,” said Algy, getting to his feet. “We should be along in a few minutes. If anyone tries to stop you taking the bomber, well, you’ll just have to stop them, but perhaps you’d better try something other than yowling like a cat and jumping on them.”

&&&

With Bertie’s automatic clutched tightly in his hand, Algy raced towards the prison building. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dull orange glow from the section of fence that had been hit by the car. It looked like the crash had triggered a fire, which was all the better for his plans, for it kept the guards occupied for a little longer.

The entrance was unguarded and the doors left wide open. There was no one to stop him as he ran through the deserted corridors. “Dusty!” he hissed. “Barnes! Where are you?”

He jumped as he rounded a corner and caught sight of them, just a few paces ahead of him.

“What are you doing here?” growled Dusty. “Aren’t you supposed to be stealing the plane?”

“Someone else is stealing it for me. We’d better buck up; the guards will be back in a minute. Did you find out where the prisoners are?”

Dusty pointed to a row of closed doors further down the corridor. “They’re down there. But we can’t find the keys to the cells. I suppose the guards keep the keys on them.”

Algy eyed the doors. There was a noticeable commotion from within the cells. Clearly the occupants had heard the crash earlier and were wondering what was going on.

“Should we go back?” asked Barnes.

“And do what?” demanded Algy. “Knock every guard you see over the head until you find one with the keys? Not likely.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Algy opened his mouth to answer but before he could say a word, a cold voice behind him said, “Well, Lacey. I am glad to see that you have lived up to my expectations of your very predictable behavior. Don’t move. I have a gun pointed at your back, and I can assure you, I will not hesitate to use it.”

Go to Chapter 11.

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