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.
Biggles, whistling softly, strode into Air Police headquarters to find Bertie and Ginger deep in earnest conversation. “Hullo, chaps!” he greeted cheerfully. “Why the long faces? And where’s Algy?”
A tense silence followed his words.
Biggles paused in the act of removing his overcoat. “Where’s Algy?” he repeated, a little louder this time. “Did he go back to the flat?”
Ginger cleared his throat. “He’s probably halfway to Latvia by now.”
All traces of humor faded out of Biggles’ face. “Latvia?” he said. “What are you talking about, Latvia? Why on earth would Algy be halfway there? It’s behind the Iron Curtain, isn’t it?”
“He was kidnapped by some bally fellows from the jolly Secret Service, don’t you know,” explained Bertie, taking out his monocle and beginning to polish it with great industry.
“Kidnapped? Secret Service?” echoed Biggles, incredulously. “What are you blathering on about? Are you crazy, or am I?”
“The coastguards said they’d seen a plane crash, and they asked one of us to help them with the rescue, so Algy went,” said Ginger.
“Coastguard?” said Biggles. “So he’s in this story too, is he?” He sunk wearily into a chair. “All right, let’s see if we can’t get this sorted out. You say Algy went out to help the coastguards?”
Between them, it took Bertie and Ginger all of ten minutes to explain the whole situation in detail to Biggles.
“And d’you mean to tell me that he simply went haring off to the wrong side of the Iron Curtain just like that?” demanded Biggles, in a voice stiff with astonishment.
“That’s where he said he was going, when he rung up from France.”
“He must be out of his mind,” declared Biggles.
“What should we do now?” asked Ginger, in a dull voice.
“I’m going to ring up Marcel and see if he can tell us any more than we already know.” This he did, and after a quick terse conversation with his French counterpart, he hung up and turned to the others, shaking his head. “He doesn’t know any more than we do. But I know someone who will.”
“Who’s that, old boy?”
“Air Commodore Raymond,” replied Biggles grimly.
&&&
It took them the better part of an hour before they managed to get an audience with the Air Commodore, but Biggles stood his ground firmly throughout all attempts to deter him.
Eventually, the three of them were ushered into the Air Commodore’s office to find a rather flustered Raymond waiting for them. “Bigglesworth. What on earth is this about? It’s not really done to barge in like this. I was in a meeting with some members of the cabinet.”
Biggles wasted no time. “I need to know everything you know about a mission involving three men who were sent to Latvia to deliver a message.”
The Air Commodore’s eyes narrowed. “And just how do you know anything about that?” he demanded sharply.
“I know because Algy happens to be the new pilot flying your men to Latvia.”
“Lacey? How did he get mixed up in all of this?”
“Let’s stop talking in circles around each other,” suggested Biggles. “We don’t have much time. The plane flying your men was shot down near the coast. The pilot was killed in the crash, and now Algy is flying your men to Latvia. That’s how the situation stands at present. I’m here to ask you where their exact destination is.”
“Why would you need to know that?” asked the Air Commodore.
“Why else?” said Biggles. “I’m going after Algy. He might be in trouble.”
The Air Commodore stared. “That’s insane! We’re talking about the Iron Curtain here, Bigglesworth, not Monte Carlo. One doesn’t simply waltz in.”
“That’s as may be,” replied Biggles grimly. “But with all due respect, sir, I’m going in after him, with or without your permission.”
Raymond sighed. “All right. Sit down a minute. I’ll get you what you need.”
&&&
“I can’t tell you too much about the details of this mission,” began the Air Commodore. “The Home Secretary would have my head if he even knew I was talking to you about this. Let’s just say that an…important event will be taking place in Riga in a few days.
“Riga, as you may know, is the capital city of Latvia, which is right here.” He pointed to a spot on the Eastern European map spread out in front of them. “Major Barnes, who is in charge of the operation, was asked to deliver a certain document to the…er…leader of an organization that…er…operates in Riga. Failing that, the document would have to be delivered to the organization’s headquarters.”
“And where exactly--?”
“I’m coming to that.” The Air Commodore slid a thin file over his desk. “You’ll find everything you need to know in there. That file is highly confidential. I suggest you read it through now and memorize its contents, because I have strict orders to burn it the minute you leave this room. I am having your papers put in order as we speak. I’m going to be frank with you, Bigglesworth, there isn’t very much we can do to help you. Latvia is behind the Iron Curtain, and I am sure that you are aware of the consequences should you be discovered to be British, and a member of our Air Police.”
“That doesn’t worry me, sir,” Biggles assured him, taking the file and opening it. “With luck we’ll be on our way to Latvia as soon as we’re done here. Perhaps we can make up for some of the lost time.”
“Well,” said the Air Commodore, holding out a hand. “Good luck.”
Of course Biggles is going after his Algy. Now they can both get into trouble.
ReplyDeleteWell..."trouble" is such a strong word...
ReplyDeleteBy who’s definition? I’m glad Biggles is on the case now it seems as if Algy needs all the help he can get.
ReplyDeleteEveryone is going to need help soon :)
ReplyDeleteyou need to put Gimlet King and the commandos in the story....
ReplyDelete