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.
How long he was unconscious Algy did not know. He was acutely aware of a searing pain in his head, and then his eyes opened and he found himself staring into the anxious eyes of Dusty and Barnes.
“Are you all right?”
Algy winced. He could taste blood in his mouth, and there seemed to be a strong scent of petrol all around him. Despite being awake he still felt very groggy and it took him a minute or so to remember what had happened. “Where are we?” he croaked, when he had finally gathered the strength to speak.
“We’re still in the plane,” replied Dusty, exchanging a look with Barnes. “We weren’t sure whether or not to move you.”
Algy sat up slowly, blinking in an attempt to adjust his eyes to the dim light. “I should be all right to move,” he said, with more enthusiasm than he felt. He was so tired that he would have liked nothing more than to sleep for a week, preferably in some London hospital. “I can smell petrol, so we’d best get out of this as soon as we can. She might go up at any moment at this rate.”
It took the three of them the better part of a quarter of an hour to hack a hole in the side of the aircraft, using what few tools they had. Algy let Dusty and Barnes go out first. To tell the truth, he needed some time to recover from the blow on his head, but loathed to show weakness at such a critical moment.
He crawled out of the Auster and stood, slightly unsteady. One glance at the machine told him all that he needed to know. “Got a match?” he asked, feeling about in his own pockets.
Dusty produced a slightly battered book of matches. “What are you going to do?” he queried, wide-eyed.
“Burn her up,” replied Algy shortly.
“What? Why?”
“Look at it,” invited Algy. “That plane’s never going to fly again, and we can’t just leave it here, it’s too conspicuous a target. Besides which, they might be able to trace it to my headquarters in London. We might as well set up the firing squad for them if they find out who we are. You two had better get ready to make a dash for it. She’ll go up quicker than you think. Mind the wires; there might be more about.”
After he was sure that the others had retreated to a safe distance, Algy lit a match, and, aided by some petrol-soaked newspapers he found in the plane, set the Auster alight. Without looking back, he sped for the spot where the others were waiting. “Come on,” he panted. “All eyes will be on that plane in a minute, and when that happens we need to be as far away from it as possible.”
His head ached unmercifully as he ran, but he forced himself to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. There was no time to stop. The sound of his own breathing sounded unnaturally loud in his ears. From time to time, he had to wipe the sleeve of his shirt across his forehead to keep the cut from bleeding into his eyes.
Behind them, the plane exploded with a deafening roar. It sounded like the end of the world.
&&&
“We’d better do something about that head wound of yours,” panted Barnes, after they had run for perhaps ten or fifteen minutes.
“I’m all right,” lied Algy weakly, though nothing could be further from the truth.
“Here.” Barnes halted by a tree. “Sit down a minute and have a rest. I’ll have a look at that cut. It’s been bleeding for a jolly long time now.”
“But I’m—”
“No buts. You’d look thunderingly suspicious running about like a madman with a whooping great cut on your head, anyway. We’d get arrested in a heartbeat.”
“Perhaps you’re right.” Algy was glad of the rest. For the first time, he realized how cold it was; he hadn’t noticed that he had been shivering, so preoccupied had he been. He had not dressed for cold weather when he had left Air Police headquarters in London, not expecting to be away for long. He hunched down forlornly into his coat and wished that there were some way to stop his teeth from chattering.
He said nothing to the others; they had enough to worry about as it was.
Barnes and Dusty, who had come equipped for their mission, were soon tending to Algy’s head wound with the first-aid materials they had brought with them. “It doesn’t look too bad,” concluded Barnes, as he stepped back to examine their handiwork. “But the best thing to do now is get you to somewhere warm. You shouldn’t be wandering about with a cut like that, not to mention the possibility of concussion creeping up on you.”
“Where’re we going to find somewhere warm?” asked Algy. “Three British agents like us? We don’t even speak the language.”
“I do,” said Dusty promptly. “I’m half-Latvian.”
Algy stared at him, too tired and cold to react to this startling piece of news. “I wondered why they sent a kid like you along,” he murmured, trying to muster a grin.
“I’m not a kid!” retorted Dusty indignantly.
“All right, all right,” broke in Barnes. “Let’s not stand around talking nonsense. Is there anywhere we can go for now, Dusty?”
The younger man nodded. “I know a place. Come on.”
Barnes eyed Algy. “Can you walk?”
“I’ll have to,” replied Algy grimly. “I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Still got that perishing paper of yours that we came to deliver?”
Barnes’ hand went to his pocket. “Of course.”
“Good.” With a sigh, Algy got his feet and trudged on after Dusty.
&&&
With his collar pulled up against the cold and his hands buried in his pockets, Algy concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore both the gnawing hunger in his stomach and the cold biting into his bones with every step he took.
“You doing all right?” asked Dusty anxiously, for what must have been the third or fourth time.
“Yes, thanks.”
“Nearly there now,” said the younger man encouragingly.
Algy grunted in reply. It wasn’t the first time Dusty had promised that they were nearly there—wherever “there” was. “I’ll believe it when I see it. Where are we going anyway?”
“It’s a sort of cottage. I don’t think anyone lives in it anymore.”
Algy stared at him. “How long is it since you last saw this cottage of yours?” he asked slowly.
“A few years. Why?”
“I don’t want to be a wet blanket, but are you sure that it’s still there? It might have been knocked down or something, you know.”
“It hasn’t,” Dusty assured him. “I would know if it had.”
“All right.” Privately, Algy’s hopes were dwindling fast. But he realized that they really had no other choice than to make for the cottage in the hopes that it was still there. If it wasn’t—well, they would just have to find somewhere else to go. “If the worst comes to the worst I’ve got a pistol in my pocket,” he decided to himself. “The two of them will have more chance of finding shelter on their own.” He knew that Dusty had deliberately slowed the pace so as not to tire him, and although he was grateful for the consideration, he also knew that it heightened their chances of being caught by the Latvian authorities.
“There it is!” Dusty said excitedly, pointing ahead.
Algy looked, and saw a rundown cottage in front of them. The rusty gate swung idly from one hinge. Weeds littered the path from the gate to the front door. “It’s not Buckingham Palace, but I suppose it’ll have to do,” he remarked, the relief evident in his voice.
“You chaps stay here a minute,” said Dusty. “I’ll go and see if anyone’s about.” Light-footed as a hare he scurried to the cottage and made a quick circuit of the premises. “Looks all right,” he concluded, running back to them. “There’s dust everywhere. I’d say no one’s been here for ages.”
“How were you planning to get in?” inquired Barnes.
“Key under the back doorstep,” replied Dusty promptly, producing a rusty key with the air of a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. “One of my aunts used to live here. That’s why I know so much about it.”
They made their way to the cottage and let themselves in. Despite Algy’s protests, Barnes set to work lighting a fire in the fireplace. “It’s a bit risky, but it’s better than freezing to death. According to Dusty the nearest house is several miles off, so we should be all right.”
“We don’t have much in the way of grub, I’m afraid,” said Dusty. “I’ve found a kettle, though, so we can heat up some water, at least.”
At that moment, light flooded through the front windows. Algy turned sharply and saw a small black car approaching the house. “What do you think he wants?” he asked grimly.
“Perhaps he’s just passing through?” suggested Dusty hopefully.
“Or perhaps he’s not.” The car made its way slowly to the rusty gate and came to a halt just in front of it.
The driver’s door opened, and a man stepped out.
How lucky that Barnes did have the papers in his pocket as Algy had already set fire to the machine!
ReplyDeleteYes, very remiss of him not to ask first. But that's Algy, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteI'm sure if Barnes didn't have the papers on him he would have said something when Algy said he was going to burn the plane up.
I’m a bit worrried about Algy and his pistol to be honest.
ReplyDeleteWell, they did get to safety, so hopefully he won't be using it anytime soon...or will he?
ReplyDelete