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.
“I’m doing all right,” asserted Ginger. “A
bit browned off, to be honest, but all right otherwise. The doctor came by
earlier and said I was recovering nicely. I should be able to leave today.”
Bertie settled himself down on a chair. “So
what’s our next move, old warrior?” he inquired, turning to Biggles.
“I must say I’m at something of a loss,”
confessed Biggles. “One of Marcel’s men has just been in to say that the crooks
have left the hotel. They tried to follow them, but somehow the gang managed to
shake them off. So now we’re back to square one again until Algy or Clark make
contact with us.”
“Do you think they won’t be coming back to
the hotel then?” asked Ginger.
“I don’t see why they would, although I
must say that everything they’ve done up to now has been out of character, so
there’s no telling what their next move will be. It seems that they haven’t paid
their hotel bill, but I doubt that something like that would bother them. The
biggest problem right now is Algy. I don’t like the idea of him out there with
no one to watch his back.”
“Clark’s there.”
“Yes, he is, but while I’m sure that he’d
try his best to make sure nothing happened to Algy, there is a limit to what he
can do without revealing his own identity.”
Marcel strolled in at this point and flung
himself carelessly into a chair. “We lost them,” he growled to Biggles. ‘But
you know this, yes?”
“One of your men told me, yes.”
“They are like ghosts, these men,” muttered
Marcel. “Anyway,” he added, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “Your
plane is now fixed and I have had it sent to the aerodrome for you.”
“The Auster?” said Biggles, in surprise.
“That was quick. Good work, Marcel. Thanks.”
“So what do you do now, mon ami?”
“I don’t know. We were just discussing it
ourselves, as a matter of fact. The way I see it, there’s not much to be done
here, unless the crooks come back. And with no way of knowing whether or not
they’re coming back, we’re wasting our time staying here. For all we know, they
could be on the other side of the world by now. I’m rather inclined to get in
the Auster and go back home until we know what their next move is. Ginger
should go back in any case. With a broken arm, he’s in no condition to go up
against the crooks even if we did run into them.”
“That’s nonsense!” protested Ginger, but he
knew Biggles too well to really argue.
“Well,” said Biggles, rising. “I’d better
get the hospital paperwork sorted out, and then we can make our way to the
aerodrome, I think. If Algy rings, will you let him know we’ve gone home?” This
last to Marcel, who nodded.
&&&
Biggles looked at the empty hanger and
frowned. “Are you sure this is the
right hanger, Marcel?”
Marcel, looking puzzled, nodded
emphatically. “Yes. I bring her here myself.”
“Well, it’s not here now,” said Ginger,
stating the obvious. “D’you think someone might have moved it for some reason?”
“But why would anyone move it?” A glint
from something lying on the ground at the back of the hanger caught Biggles’
eye, and he walked forward to retrieve it. The others saw him bend down, pick
up the object in question, and then suddenly smile. “Well, well, well,” he
murmured, walking back to them. “Would you believe it?” He held out the object
with a curious smile on his face.
They recognized it at once. It was Algy’s
cigarette case. His initials were engraved on the lid.
“Of all the coincidences, that’s got to
take the cake,” declared Ginger. “So that’s where the Auster’s gone. It’s been
stolen by Algy!”
“Any more of this and I shall be left
wondering just whose side he’s on,” said Biggles lightly. “Why pick this plane,
though, out of all the other planes? Not that it matters very much; no doubt
Algy will be able to enlighten us when he sees us.”
“But what do you do now, mon ami?” inquired Marcel.
“I suppose we’ll just have to buy three
tickets for the London plane. Who knows, the way things are going, we might
just run into Algy there.”
&&&
Several hours later, tired and somewhat
disheveled, the three of them walked into Air Police Headquarters to find Eddie
Ross slumped in a chair with his feet up on a desk. “Fellas,” he said, by way
of greeting.
“Any news from Algy?”
“Not a peep. And my chief keeps calling to
ask me what I’m doing about Konn and the gang. I told him about Clark, but he
says hunches are bad things to work on. He wants me to pull the operation.
Which I would do, only I don’t know where
the operation is.”
“What a kettle of fish this is turning out
to be,” groaned Ginger, dropping limply into a chair.
“You’re lucky not to be in Algy’s shoes,”
Biggles reminded him. “He’s right in the middle of all the fish.”
“What are we going to do about it, old
warrior?”
“I don’t know. We don’t even know where
they are right now, and we –”
The radio on the desk squawked to life and
Eddie swung his feet down so he could lean in and listen to what was being
said. A minute later, he turned back to Biggles. “You know how you said we
don’t know where they are?”
“Yes?”
“We do now,” Eddie had jumped to his feet
and was reaching for his jacket. “Someone’s just seen your Auster cruising the
skies of London.”
&&&
Biggles, at the controls of the spare Air
Police Auster, glanced back at the others and said, “We should be seeing it
soon. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“What are you going to do once we’ve found
it?” queried Ginger anxiously.
“Well, as there’s a chance that Algy might
be in it, I’m not going to do anything too drastic. The best thing to do would
be to follow it and see where it goes, although frankly if it goes over the
Iron Curtain again, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it.”
“It’s going to be dark in half an hour.”
“I know.”
“I can see a plane at two o’clock, old
boy.”
Biggles looked, and changed direction ever
so slightly. “I see it.”
Ginger squinted. “It looks like an Auster.”
Biggles smiled grimly. “I’d say that’s
because it is an Auster.”
“Shall we try to establish radio contact?”
“Not on your life. It wouldn’t accomplish
anything, in any case. Konn isn’t likely to be interested in a conversation
with us, and even if we got hold of Algy he won’t be able to tell us anything
useful, not with the others listening in. The way I see it, the only thing it
would do is tell them that we’re here, and that’s the one thing I’d rather they
didn’t know.”
‘But what if we—”
Ginger never finished the question on his
lips, because at that moment the most unexpected thing that could have
happened, happened.
In front of four pairs of horrified eyes,
the Auster exploded in an orange ball of flame.
&&&
Biggles surveyed the scene before him with
frosty eyes as firemen rushed to and fro in all directions, shouting orders.
His hands shook as he lit his third or fourth cigarette in ten minutes.
A few feet away from him, Bertie and Ginger
exchanged glances. There was no need to put into words what each knew the other
was thinking. Eddie, looking embarrassed, stood next to them, also saying
nothing.
One of the firemen approached Biggles
cautiously. “Looks like there was just one person in there, sir. Can’t tell too
much about him, obviously. Charred to a wreck.” He was about to say more, but a
warning look from Ginger stopped him.
“Any idea how the explosion came about?”
“Too early to tell, sir.”
Biggles took a breath and dropped his
half-finished cigarette to the ground, putting it out with the heel of his
shoe. “I see.” His voice was calm, almost too calm. “Here’s my card. Let me
know if your people find out anything, will you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Biggles lit another cigarette. “Come on,”
he said shortly, beckoning to the others. “I think we could all use a drink.”
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