Biggles and Son: Chapter 11.

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. 

Ginger glanced anxiously at his watch, and then exchanged a look with Bertie. “They’ve been gone a long time,” he remarked, not for the first time.

Bertie grimaced in agreement. “Should have heard something by now, what?” he murmured, polishing a monocle that did not need it. “Would have expected Algy to be back, if not Biggles.”

“I know,” said Ginger, once again checking his watch. “I wonder if something’s come unstuck.”

Bertie said nothing.

The silence that followed stretched on for a good five minutes. Desperately, Ginger cast about for something to say. He glanced around the flat, and then something oddly out of place struck him, and he sad, “Have you seen Sebastian anywhere about? He’s been awfully quiet.”

Bertie raised his shoulders in a resigned shrug. “Isn’t he in Biggles’ room?”

Ginger crossed to the door of Biggles and Algy’s bedroom, gently opening the door and peering inside. “He’s not in here,” he announced, after a quick look around.

Bertie got to his feet. “So where is he, then?”

&&&

Algy stood by the door of the rundown house, staring desperately after Biggles, wondering when would be the best time to start off after him—for he was by no means prepared to let Biggles go off on his own, no matter how adamant Biggles himself was on the subject.

He was so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he all but forgot about the other man, the man who had let the two of them into the house.

Therefore, it is perhaps not surprising that he nearly jumped a foot into the air when a quiet voice at his elbow asked, “Are they gone?”

“Good gracious, you scared me!” muttered Algy, once he had got his nerves under control. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” said the man, in a tone that implied no apology. “Are they gone yet?”

“Pretty much,” admitted Algy reluctantly.

“Good,” said the man calmly. Algy abruptly noticed that the man’s slight American accent had vanished, and that his demeanor was now brisk and businesslike. “We’d better push on, then.”

“Push on where?”

“To the real rendezvous point, of course. You are Lacey, aren’t you? MI5’s been busy—Raymond in particular. He thought something like this might happen, so he asked us to take a hand.”

Algy felt bewildered. “So where’s Biggles going?” he demanded, automatically reaching for his automatic.

“He’ll be all right. They’ve got something set up to make him think he’s doing what he thinks he’s doing. His wife won’t be there, that’s all.”

“But—”

“Come on, are we doing this or not?”

Algy sighed. “Lead on,” he invited wearily. “I can’t think anymore. I don’t know why I even try, really.”

&&&

The pub smelt of stale beer, an unpleasant sourness that hit Biggles as he walked in through the front door, following close on the heels of his companion. The two of them pushed their way through to the bar and the man with him ordered two drinks with a quick gesture of his hand.

Biggles accepted the drink that was handed to him but did not even sip it, instead taking the first possible opportunity to abandon it. “Where is she?” he asked curtly, scanning the sea of faces around him, hoping to find one that looked familiar.

“We’re meeting with Brechovich, and if he doesn’t show up within the next ten minutes, that probably means he won’t be coming, so sit tight and wait it out, okay?”

“But what about Jane?”

The man grunted and sipped his beer. “What about her?”

Biggles fell silent.

Abruptly, the man beside him put down the drink in his hand and got to his feet in one fluid movement. “Here he comes,” he murmured, in a low tone that was meant for Biggles’ ears only. “Come on.”

Go to Chapter 12. 

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