Biggles on the Home Front, page 13
part #62 of Biggles Series
“Okay, laddie.” Bertie went off.
It wasn’t long before he was back.
“Have you been to the hotel in that time?” asked Algy, looking astonished, without waiting for Bertie to speak.
“I didn’t get as far as the hotel,” replied Bertie. “It wasn’t necessary. I’ve seen them. Shook me, too, I don’t mind telling you.”
“You’ve seen them! Where?”
“They were in the Daimler. With the bloke who I imagine is Laxter. He was sitting in the front seat with the chauffeur with Biggles and Ginger behind.”
Algy stared. “What happened, exactly.”
“I’d got to the corner of Gillingham Street when a black Daimler came round slowly into the main road. Naturally, as the car was a Daimler, I had a dekko at the number plate. It was the one. I looked in the car, and there were Biggles and Ginger.”
“Did they look as though they were being forced to go?”
“Not in the least. The car was going so slowly that they could have jumped out had they wanted to.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t think so. They were looking straight ahead as if to see which way they were going. A queer do, don’t you think?”
“Too thundering queer for my liking.”
“What do you make of it, laddie?”
Algy thought for a moment or two. “I don’t know quite what to make of it. But I have an uncomfortable feeling that this has thrown the spanner in the works.”
“Biggles knew we were waiting here. Why didn’t he let us know?”
“That’s easy to answer. Quite obviously he wasn’t given an opportunity. What I don’t understand is this. There has been no jewel robbery yet they’ve fetched him. Why? Laxter came himself, in the car. He couldn’t have ‘phoned to say he was coming or Biggles would have found some way of letting us know he wouldn’t be here. Laxter must have rolled up without warning and caught him unprepared. Why all the hurry if there has been no jewel robbery?”
“It may be that Laxter has taken him to Gortons merely for an interview with the big boss—this Count fellow.”
Algy nodded. “That could be the answer. If so, Laxter will no doubt bring him back. Biggles wouldn’t let slip any opportunity of meeting the Count. All the same, I don’t like the look of it. What happens if Laxter doesn’t bring him back?”
Bertie shrugged. “Don’t ask me, old boy. All I know is, Biggles didn’t reckon on going to Gortons until there was some reason for him to go—another jewel robbery, for instance. Well, he’s gone, so it looks as if the plan he arranged with Gaskin has gone adrift.”
“I’m afraid you’re right.”
“What are we going to do about it? Follow them to Gortons?”
“I don’t know, and that’s a fact,” replied Algy. “If we go to Gortons we might get in the way and make a mess of things. What could we do if we did go to Gortons, anyway? Sit and stare at the house?”
“We should hear a machine if it took off.”
“We might sit there for days before that happened. I feel inclined to get Gaskin’s opinion of this. He’ll have to know, anyhow, in view of what he was going to do.” Algy got up.
“Are you going to ‘phone Gaskin’s office to find out if he’s still there?”
“No. We can be there just as quickly. We might just catch him. Come on.”
They took a cab from the rank and arrived at the Inspector’s office as he was preparing to leave.
“Hello, you two, what’s gone wrong?” he queried, shrewdly.
“Biggles and Ginger are on their way to Gortons in the Daimler.”
“How did that happen?”
Algy explained the situation. “Has there been a jewel robbery?” he concluded.
“If there has it wasn’t in my division. I haven’t heard of one anywhere else. But it begins to look as if there might soon be one or they wouldn’t have taken Biggles down there—unless....”
“Unless what?”
“Unless they’ve rumbled who he is.”
Algy looked aghast. “I didn’t think of that. Even so, what about it? I’d have thought that would be the last place they’d take him if they knew who he was.”
“It’d be a good place to keep him out of the way.”
“They wouldn’t dare—”
“Wouldn’t they? You haven’t forgotten Reverley. He knew too much.”
“Then what do you suggest we do?”
Gaskin sat down and began filling his pipe. “Nothing in a hurry,” he advised. “There is this about it. I don’t think the Count can know about you two. Laxter doesn’t know that you saw him leave Gillingham Street with Biggles and Ginger in his car. And none of ‘em can know that I’m in this, too. So even if they’ve found out who Biggles really is, by taking him away they’ll think they’re sitting pretty.”
“But if they think that they’re liable to do anything,” protested Algy.
“If they think they’re safe they’re more likely to carry on with their own schemes and maybe get a bit careless. I can tell you this. Gus Norman has gone to Hertford. So has Darkie Brown and his team. Dusty Brace isn’t at his usual haunts. I know the signs. All this is working up to something.”
“How do you know these crooks have gone there?”
The Inspector smiled sadly. “On my job the first thing you have to do is grow a few extra pairs of eyes. Mine have been on this bunch ever since Biggles took over.”
“Are you still watching them?”
“Too true I am. I’ve a man planted behind the hedge opposite the Gortons drive. He has a walkie-talkie radio. While I hear nothing from him I shall know this gathering of crooks is still in the house. The moment they leave I shall also know about it.”
“And if they leave you’ll reckon they’ve gone out on a job?”
“That’s it.”
“This man of yours will know if Biggles and Ginger do actually arrive at Gortons,” put in Bertie.
“I wouldn’t swear to that. If they arrive in daylight, yes, but maybe not if it’s after dark. I knew the Daimler had gone out with Laxter but I haven’t heard anything since. I shall know when the Daimler comes back.”
“Are you going to grab these crooks when they go out?” asked Algy.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s no use picking ‘em up till they’ve done something. Besides, it might not be possible. These lads are wonders at losing themselves in the back doubles, as they call the side streets. That wasn’t the idea, anyway. The scheme was to let ‘em do the job, wait for ‘em to go back to Gortons with the swag and then collect the whole bunch, which would then include the Count, who’s the man I really want, the fence who has been giving me sleepless nights. If I arrest the others in London, and caught them with the stuff on them, that would leave the Count in the clear. I couldn’t pin anything on him unless one of the crooks squealed, and I wouldn’t care to rely on that. No. I want the Count with the stuff in his possession, either in the house, in his pocket or in the plane. That’s how Biggles understands it, so he’ll stick to the scheme as long as it’s possible. If that plane tries to leave we’ll jump it when the engine starts, whether he’s in it or not.”
“What if the plane doesn’t leave?”
“Then we’ll take a chance and close in on the house.” The Inspector looked up as a messenger walked in. “They may have started,” he said, reaching for the message slip. “No,” he corrected himself. “This is to say the Daimler has returned to Gortons with some passengers. We know who they are.”
“Biggles and Ginger.”
“Who else? They’ve just about had time to get there. Well, now. What do you want to do?”
“I’m prepared to do whatever you think’s best, but I must say I’m worried about Biggles.”
“Do you think you’d do any good by tearing off to Gortons and setting the place buzzing, bearing in mind that the thing might be working up to the sort of showdown Biggles planned?”
“I can see we might do more harm than good,” conceded Algy.
“That’s what I think,” returned the Inspector. “I’ll tell you my idea. If any of the gang leave Gortons I shall know it. Let’s leave things as they are until that happens. When it does, we’ll go down quietly with enough men to surround the place.”
“That could happen at any moment.”
“Of course it could. But if nobody leaves the house this side of midnight I’d say that nothing’s going to happen tonight.”
“Why do you think that?”
“I know how these beauties work. After midnight the roads are pretty clear and they don’t like that, because they know that on an open road the Flying Squad cars are faster than they are. They’d rather have some traffic to hide ‘em in the back doubles.”
“All right,” agreed Algy. “Are you going to stay here to see if any messages come in?”
“After what you’ve told me, yes. I shall stay until after midnight, anyway. I’ve plenty to do—alert the Flying Squad and detail some men to stand by in fast cars in case we have to move in a hurry.”
“And if nothing happens tonight can I take it that you’ve no objection to me and Bertie making our own way to Gortons tomorrow to keep an eye on things— on the hangar at any rate, to see if it shows signs of activity?”
“Don’t let ‘em see you. And don’t forget those dogs.”
“We’ll take care of that,” promised Algy. “We’ll find a hideout in the wood, probably in a tree.”
“Please yourselves. But don’t forget these men are dangerous, or that Dusty Brace carries knuckle-dusters. They can make a terrible mess of a man’s jaw.”
“If he tries to get close enough to me to use them he’ll be sorry,” declared Bertie. “I’ve no time for thugs who play that game.”
“In the meantime,” went on Algy, “do you mind if we stay here with you in case the balloon goes up tonight?”
“Make yourselves at home,” invited the Inspector. “Don’t worry too much. Nobody’s been murdered yet or that bunch wouldn’t still be there. Not on your life. If they’re scared of anything it’s that. Take it from me, I know ‘em. If the Count has any ideas of that sort it’ll be the last thing he does before he flits.”
“That won’t help Biggles,” muttered Algy.
“It’s a chance we all have to take,” said Gaskin soberly. “Biggles knows that as well as I do, and that was the chance he took when he went to Gortons. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ll get busy.” The Inspector went out, leaving Algy and Bertie alone.
For a long time they talked of the situation that had arisen, examining it from every possible angle, without drawing any fresh conclusions. From time to time Inspector Gaskin looked in to ascertain if there were any messages, but there was none.
Finally, just after midnight, he announced that he was going home. “If they haven’t left Gortons, and they haven’t or I’d know about it, they won’t be coming out tonight,” he announced confidently. “We’re all set if anything should happen, so if anything should turn up all you have to do is call me and I’ll be along in a few minutes. I have to get some sleep when I can, which means when things are quiet. If you’re not here in the morning when I come in I shall reckon you’re somewhere near Gortons.”
“That’s it,” confirmed Algy.
Gaskin put on his bowler and departed.
Algy and Bertie settled down to their vigil, Algy remarking that he was not in the mood to sleep, anyway.
The night wore on. After a while, however, they took it in turns to sleep. The telephone remained silent. No radio messages were brought in.
At six o’clock, with the traffic beginning to move outside, Algy yawned, stretched and got up. “Let’s get mobile,” he said wearily. “This sort of waiting to no purpose kills me.”
“What’s the drill?” asked Bertie.
“We’ll slip home for some breakfast, a bath and a shave, and then waffle down to Gortons,” decided Algy. “And as we’re likely to be there all day, and maybe all night, we’d better put some sandwiches in our pockets,” he added. “We’ll leave word for Gaskin to say we’ve gone on.”
“As you say, old boy,” agreed Bertie.
CHAPTER XIV
WEARY WORK
IT was nearly ten o’clock when Algy and Bertie cruised in their car into the quiet county town of Hertford. Without stopping they went on to Waterford, and deciding that it would look odd to abandon the car by the side of the road—it was obviously out of the question to leave it in the narrow lane that led to Gortons—parked it under the big tree outside the village cafe. From there they proceeded on foot.
It was another perfect spring day, with the sun hard at work in a sky of cloudless blue. Birds sang. Rooks drifted lazily overhead. An occasional car or tradesman’s van passed them on the road. A cowman took his herd across to its pasture. Apart from these innocent wayfarers they appeared to have this corner of rural England to themselves.
They did not take the lane that led to Gortons but went on past it, the main reason being the risk, however slight, of meeting the Daimler with someone in it who would remember seeing one of them before and wonder what he was doing. Laxter, for instance, would certainly remember Algy. He had seen him, and spoken with him, at the crash. The chauffeur must have seen Algy at the same time. Bertie had been seen by most of the people at Gortons when he had been treed by the Alsadans. Wherefore they went on a little way. Later, they left the road, and following the hedgerows made for the far end of the landing ground with the object of approaching the hangar from inside the wood, from the point farthest from the house.
They were agreed that it would be better to watch the hangar than the house itself, for if Biggles and Ginger were still there, and free to move about, they would, without the slightest doubt, walk along to the hangar to inspect the aircraft, if not to test it. If they were not free to move about it was hard to see what could be done about it. The guard dogs made a near approach to the house a risky if not dangerous undertaking. They were against doing anything, at this juncture, that might put the Count on the alert.
“We can be pretty sure of this,” said Algy. “If neither Biggles nor Ginger shows up at the hangar all day we can reckon that they’re under restraint.”
“In that case shouldn’t we try to get them out?”
“We don’t know yet that it is so,” Algy pointed out. “We can talk about that later. For the time being we’d better stick to the plan; stick to it for as long as possible, in fact. According to Gaskin there are more men in that house than we could take on single-handed and hope to get away with it.”
With frequent halts to look and listen they reached the area of the wood they had chosen without seeing a living creature apart from the wild life to be expected. The problem now was to find a spot that commanded a view of the hangar and that part of the field adjacent to the rear premises of the house, some seventy or eighty yards farther on. This, they thought, was close enough to be handy, yet far enough away to make the risk of discovery negligible. They had less to fear from the men, Bertie remarked, than from the dogs, with their ever-questing noses.
After hunting around for a little while they came upon what Bertie described as “just the job”. A tree—an oak, to be precise—had been wind-blown against another to form a tangle of interlacing branches to which the sloping trunk gave easy access. It was rather closer to the hangar than they would have wished, but in view of the elevated position offered by the branches they decided that it was reasonably safe, even from the dogs, which for the most part kept their noses to the ground.
Bertie went up to investigate, and was soon able to announce that he had an uninterrupted picture of the objective, due to the fact that the fallen tree was dead and the other not yet in full leaf. Upon receiving this information Algy joined him, and having found perches that were more or less comfortable they settled down for what they thought might be a long wait. However, for this they were prepared. Which was just as well, for thus it turned out to be.
The wild life of the wood resumed its interrupted occupations. Pigeons cooed. A dove continued its melodious monotone. A hen pheasant returned cautiously to her nest. A cuckoo told the world she was there. A rabbit that had escaped the deadly disease of myxomatosis ambled past, eyes watchful, ears twitching. Had it not been for the anxiety on Biggles’ account it would all have been very pleasant.
The morning wore on. The conditions remained unchanged. With the scene losing its novelty time began to drag.
However, at about twelve noon the two men in overalls, presumably air mechanics, whom Bertie had seen on his previous visit, appeared from the direction of the house. With them was the gardener type with the Alsatians. The mechanics made for the hangar, and from the casual manner in which they sauntered Algy concluded they had no particular task before them. They went into the hangar. The gardener stopped with them for a little while. Then, with his charges, began a tour of the field, he remaining on the grass while the dogs explored the fringe of the wood. Algy was glad it was only the fringe, or the animals might have picked up their taint.
Even as things were there was an uncomfortable moment when one of the dogs stopped, staring in their direction, nose held high, as if a suspicious scent had reached its nostrils. This was more than the rabbit, which had squatted, could stand; it bolted, and the dog went after it for some distance before obeying the command to come back. By that time the gardener, who had walked on, was fifty yards away, so the danger passed.
Algy looked at Bertie and grimaced. “Those confounded dogs are a menace,” he muttered.
“Are you telling me?” returned Bertie, with some warmth. “Jolly good thing we weren’t on the ground.”
Algy looked at the gardener. He was still striding on, the dogs working ahead of him as if he had no intention of returning for some time. It struck Algy that this might be the moment to look at the house, and he made a remark to that effect.
“I wouldn’t go too close, old boy,” warned Bertie. “If you do, when those dogs come back they’ll know someone has been around.”
