Algy Goes Alone: Chapter 11. Biggles Gets His Men

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. 

Biggles, grim and tight-lipped, flung himself into an office chair and reached for the ashtray.

“It mightn't have been him,” said Eddie.

“I must admit, I find it hard to understand why the gang would have let their new pilot go off alone,” agreed Biggles, lighting a cigarette. “Although on the other hand, he might have been trying to escape for some reason. Dash it, this uncertainty is very trying. I wish we knew for sure one way or another.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Tea?” asked Ginger, after a moment.

Biggles half-shrugged without moving from his position.

Ginger got up to make the tea, just as a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” called Biggles. The door opened, and a familiar face appeared in the doorway. “Freddy!” exclaimed Biggles. “What brings you here?”

“Passing by,” said Freddy Tomkins, accepting a chair. “I did try ringing earlier, but no one answered.”

“We were out. How can I help you?”

“Well, actually, I’m here to help you, old boy. Brought a message from Algy. Says he’s off to the Ritz.”

Biggles jumped to his feet as if he had been shot. “What? Say that again.”

“Algy dropped by my office and said he was working with these plane crooks, and then he left, and I got the news about that exploding Auster business, so I went down to find him, and—”

“You actually spoke to him?” rapped out Biggles. “After the news of Auster came in?”

“Yes—isn’t that what I said?”

Biggles sat back down slowly. “Go on.”

“Not much more to say, old boy. He said he’d just taken a bit of a knock to the head and that he needed to get back to the Ritz where the crooks were. He asked me to give you the message.”

Biggles stubbed out his barely-smoked cigarette and got to his feet once more, this time reaching for his jacket.

“Where’re you going?” asked Eddie, with mild alarm.

“I’m going to see Father Christmas,” replied Biggles, with grim humor. “Coming?”

“Wait a minute, you can’t just go barging in. Clark’s still got his game to play out—”

“Eddie.” Biggles’ voice was firm and cold. “Frankly, I’m not in the mood to care about what I can and can’t do at the moment. I don’t know what sort of game Clark is playing, or whether or not it will pan out. Either way, I’m not really that interested. We know where the crooks are, we know that Algy’s hurt, and that’s enough for me. I’m going in, and I’m getting him out now, do you understand?”

&&&

“Now just wait a minute,” began Algy, attempting to take a tentative step away from the cold metal pressed to his stomach.

“You’re done talking, pal,” growled Konn, fingers tightening on the trigger.

“Wait!” snapped the Russian, striding forward. “I need to ask him about this exploding plane.”

“I already told you, we know nothin’ about your exploding plane,” retorted Konn. “Look, I’ll get you another Auster or whatever it is you want, okay? Just as soon as I get rid of this lying rat.”

Algy stood calmly in place and dared to give his shoulders half a shrug. “It’s going to be hard to steal a plane without a pilot,” he observed.

“You just shut up, you traitorous—”

“I’m sorry, I’m really lost here,” said Algy, adopting a nonchalant pose. “I’d heard you Americans were temperamental, but this is really overdoing it. What exactly am I supposed to have done?”

“I told you to kill a cop, and you told me you’d killed a cop,” grated Konn. “And now I see the dead cop walking around—you don’t think that’s suspicious at all?”

“It’s possible,” said Algy, still holding the nonchalant pose. “That the cop you were talking about and the cop I killed were…not the same cop.”

“Don’t play that game with me—”

Over Konn’s shoulder, Algy saw Clark move forward and give him a slight nod. Not knowing what, if anything, to expect, Algy braced himself.

“Uh, boss?” said Clark.

“What?” Momentarily distracted, Konn’s grip on the gun loosened as he turned to speak to Clark.

Algy took a step away from Konn and mentally calculated his chances of reaching the doorway without mortal injury. He decided that the odds were close to a million to one.

“Something’s happening,” said Clark, pointing to the window.

“What?” Exasperated, Konn turned to the window.

There was the sound of a gunshot, and the light overhead went out, plunging the room into complete darkness.

&&&

“How much longer until we get there?” asked Biggles, for what must have been the third time in as many minutes.

Inspector Gaskin, who was driving the police car, gave him a reproachful look. “Calm down, can’t you? We’re nearly there. Driving a car’s not like flying a plane, you know. Don’t suppose you have red lights up in the sky.”

“Only when I’m shooting someone,” returned Biggles, with a grim attempt at humor. He glanced nervously out of the window, one hand restlessly tapping against his leg.

The police radio inside the car buzzed to life. Gaskin listened, gave Biggles an unreadable glance, and then turned his attention back to the road.

“What is it?”

“Report of gunshots fired inside the Ritz,” muttered Gaskin. “It might be nothing.”

“It’s Algy,” declared Biggles. “No one else would be firing guns inside the Ritz.”

“Algy didn’t take a gun,” Ginger reminded him dully, from the back seat.

A silence fell over the occupants of the police car.

“Can’t you drive a little faster?” rasped Biggles.

“I’m going faster than I should as it is.”

Go to Chapter 12. Algy Goes Home

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