Biggles in the Underworld

by Captain W E Johns

  Why does the fool have to travel at such a rate, was Ginger’s thought as, furious at such inconsiderate driving, he snatched out his handkerchief and ran out into the road, waving his arms above his head in a reckless effort to stop the car in time. This might have cost him his life had not the driver been on the alert and in full control of his car which, with a grinding scream of brakes, came to a skidding stop within a yard of him, causing him to make a desperate leap to one side to save himself from being knocked down.

  The driver sprang out with an alacrity that indicated his anger, perhaps justifiable. ‘You fool! What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ he rasped.

  Ginger recognized Bertie’s voice. In his astonishment he could only stammer: ‘You — what are you doing here?’ Then he remembered something. Lazor. ‘Don’t stand here. Lazor’s close with a gun. Get behind the car and keep your head down.’ So saying he ducked round the car to put it between himself and the danger spot.

  Bertie, sensing the urgency from Ginger’s voice, lost no time in following. Naturally, he was equally surprised to see Ginger, and he voiced his amazement. ‘So it’s you! Sorry, laddie, but how was I to know? What the deuce are you doing? What’s going on? What’s this about Lazor? I had orders to come to the farm hot-foot, and believe me, chaps. I haven’t wasted any time getting here. Where’s Biggles?’

  Ginger groped for words. ‘Biggles! How should I know?’

  ‘Haven’t you seen him?’

  ‘No. Why should I?’

  ‘He’s here somewhere, or he should be.’

  ‘Why should he?’

  ‘He rang Algy to say he was on his way here in one of the Podbury Aiglets and wanted me to come along in case he needed an extra hand. Here I am.’

  Ginger began to see daylight. ‘So that’s it.’

  ‘What’s this about Lazor?’ ‘He’s here on the run with a gun.’

  ‘But I understood he’d crashed. You said so.’

  ‘So he did, but he was lucky and got away with it. He had a swipe at me with his razor when I went to help him. He came this way.’

  ‘The stinking polecat.’

  ‘He’s already shot one man, thinking, I can only suppose, it was me. There he is.’ Ginger indicated the prone body with a jerk of his thumb. ‘That’s why I stopped you as I did. I was afraid you might run over him.’

  Naturally, this conversation had been carried on in quick, short sentences, without wasting words.

  ‘I’m mighty glad to see you,’ went on Ginger. ‘It was no joke standing here with Lazor, as I had reason to believe, within yards of me, with a gun — and me without a weapon until a moment ago when I collected the twelve-bore this chap was carrying.’

  ‘I think we’d better try to find Biggles,’ Bertie said. ‘It’s time he took charge of this frolic.’

  ‘But what are we going to do about him?’ Again Ginger indicated the man lying in the gutter where he had dropped him.

  ‘Is he dead?’

  ‘I don’t know. He looks dead, but I wouldn’t be sure.’

  ‘What do you suggest we do?’

  ‘I don’t know. Obviously we can’t leave him lying here. I’ll tell you what. Let’s make a dash for the farm to see if Biggles is on the field. Let him decide what’s best to be done. There’s a phone in the farmhouse. It might be possible to get hold of the police or an ambulance. This unfortunate chap shouldn’t take any harm for a few minutes.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘Mind how you go. Keep low. Don’t forget Lazor’s got a gun and he’ll be ready to use it. The sooner Biggles knows about that the better.’ Ginger picked up the twelve-bore. He didn’t unload it but slipped on the safety catch.

  ‘What are you going to do with that blunderbuss?” Bertie wanted to know.

  ‘Bring it with me. I may need it. I’m certainly not going to leave it here for Lazor to snatch. He’s got enough weapons already.’

  ‘Be careful what you’re doing with it in the car,’ Bertie warned, a trifle anxiously.

  ‘Don’t worry. I shan’t shoot you,’ promised Ginger.

  ‘I hope you’re right, dear boy,’ concluded Bertie.

  There were a few anxious seconds as they piled into the car in full view of the danger area; but nothing happened.

  The starter whirred. Bertie put his foot down and the car raced on up the hill. Once clear Ginger drew a deep breath of relief as he relaxed. He had been under considerable strain for some time.

  CHAPTER 16

  MORE QUESTIONS WITHOUT ANSWERS

  When they arrived at the top end of the track Ginger and Bertie found Biggles pacing up and down between the Aiglet and the Auster. Recognizing them he stopped, and greeted them with a hint of sarcasm that revealed his impatience. ‘I’m glad to see someone is doing some work besides me.’

  ‘I like that!’ protested Ginger. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing? Having a nap in the bracken? Had you been through what I’ve just had, your hair would be white.’

  ‘Dash it all, old boy, I came here like a bomb as soon as I got your message,’ put in Bertie.

  ‘Sorry, but stuck here without a clue as to what’s happening I’m all on edge,’ Biggles said contritely.

  ‘Why are you stuck here, anyway?’ Ginger asked.

  ‘I brought Thompson with me. He’s gone up to the house to see if there’s anything going on there,’ explained Biggles. ‘That left me here on my own to keep an eye on the machines. What’s your news? Have you seen anything of Lazor?’

  Ginger answered, grimly. ‘I saw enough of that son of a jackal for him to make a swipe at me with his razor when I went to help him out of the mess he’d made of Thompson’s Moth. Then he bolted into the wood. I went after him and nearly ran into a bullet coming the other way. I haven’t seen him since, but I found signs of where he’d been busy.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘He shot a man on the road a little way below here.’

  ‘Shot a man? What man?’

  ‘A stranger to me. A gamekeeper, I think. I heard him walking up the track. There were shots. I can only conclude Lazor mistook him for me. The keeper fired back at whoever shot him.’

  ‘Where’s this man now?’

  ‘Lying beside the track.’

  ‘Why leave him there?’

  ‘What else could I do, with Lazor skulking in the bushes panting to have a crack at me? Have a heart. It was no joke, believe you me, standing there in the dark expecting every second that Lazor would jump on me with his cursed razor.’

  ‘Is this keeper badly hurt?’

  ‘I think he’s dead. He looked dead.’

  ‘Great grief!’

  ‘I’ll admit I didn’t examine the body for wounds, so I couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t the time or place for that. It took me all my time to drag him clear before Bertie came up the hill as if he was trying to break the sound barrier. He told me you were here, which was something I didn’t know, and we decided the first thing to do was let you know how things stood. We thought maybe you could use the phone at the farm to call an ambulance.’

  ‘Unfortunately it won’t work.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because Lazor, the ham-fisted twit, took the wires with him when he tried to put the Moth on the carpet. Luck was with him. Had he hit the pole—’

  ‘Pity he didn’t.’

  ‘We shall have to do something about this keeper chap. Bertie, could you find your way to Repford hospital — you know, the place where Caine went?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Then you’d better take him there.’

  ‘I’d have done that right away had I known the phone was out of action.’

  ‘You’d better take Ginger with you — you might have a job to get the fellow into your car single-handed. He needn’t go all the way. When you’ve got the man on board he can come back here to me and tell me more about this business.’

  ‘You realize Lazor is on the prowl. He can’t be far away,
’ put in Ginger.

  ‘I can’t help that. Let’s do one thing at a time. We’ll deal with Lazor when we’ve got things sorted out. I can’t leave here or I’d go myself: but I told Thompson I’d wait here in case he ran into trouble. He doesn’t know anything about Lazor. He might bump into him. Anyhow, I’ve got his machine; one of the club Aiglets. We can’t just abandon him.’

  Ginger shrugged. ‘Okay, if that’s how you want it. I’ve got the keeper’s gun. That track is about as healthy as a jungle path with a man-eater on the rampage.’

  Biggles turned to Bertie. ‘Listen. This is the drill. Collect this body and press on to the hospital. Having done that, make for the police station and report what’s happened, or they’ll be sore with us. They’ve a right to know. Besides, we may need help. If they feel like rounding up Lazor themselves they’re welcome to the job. Having done that, come back here as fast as you can. Got that?’

  ‘Absolutely, old boy. No trouble at all.’

  ‘Good. Then get on with it. Ginger, when you’ve got the body in the car hoof it back here.’

  ‘I shall not linger to pick flowers on the way, you can bet your sweet life on that,’ rejoined Ginger succinctly. ‘That track has already put years on me.’

  ‘All right, then. Push off, you two.’

  Ginger went to the car with Bertie, who, having reversed it, set off down the track, again leaving Biggles alone.

  Biggles waited until the sound of the car had faded and then turned his attention to the house. He was puzzled. What could Thompson be doing? He had been away a long time, longer, he thought, than was necessary for him simply to check if there was anyone there. He was beginning to feel uneasy. He could only hope Thompson hadn’t run into trouble; but in that case, he told himself, surely he would have heard some sound of it. He half regretted having sent him, and would not have done so had he known that Lazor was running wild, apparently having escaped injury in the crash. As a matter of detail, at the back of his mind he had thought it not unlikely that a constable had been left on duty at the house pending investigation of the bloodstains. But this, evidently, was not so, or Thompson would have returned at once to report it.

  Biggles’ difficulty now was this. His very instinct was to go to the house to make sure nothing had happened to Thompson. Having sent him there he felt responsible for his safety. But with Lazor free, unhurt, and probably close, he dare not leave the two serviceable aircraft for fear he made off in one of them. Given a chance, this would be an easy way out for him. Once in the air he could go anywhere. He might even leave the country.

  So Biggles could only stand there, torn by doubts although with eyes and ears alert, for he did not lose sight of the fact that he himself was in some danger. Conditions were ideal for Lazor to make a stealthy approach to within close range and take a shot at him, either out of spite, or with the idea of securing one of the aircraft.

  For this reason he stood close to the dark background provided by the fuselage of the Auster. He dare not ease his anxiety with a cigarette, for this would mean striking a light, which would betray his presence and position: as would the glowing end of a cigarette. He knew only too well how far even a spark can be seen on a dark night. So he could only await Ginger’s return with all the patience he could muster. With two of them there the present difficulty could be overcome.

  How long Biggles waited in these uncertain conditions he did not know. He had not checked the actual time; but it must have been a long while even taking into account that standing alone in the dead of night waiting for something to happen can seem an eternity. What on earth could Ginger be doing, he thought, over and over again. The same with Thompson. Why hadn’t he come back? What reason could he have found to keep him so long at the house?

  It may be that he did not fully appreciate the nervous character of the task Ginger had been set to do, following closely on the strain of what had already happened. He estimated it would only take the car a matter of a few minutes to reach the dead or unconscious gamekeeper. Another minute to get him into the car. After that he would simply have to run back up the hill. That is what Biggles, understandably, supposed. He imagined the sinister state of the track would serve to expedite Ginger’s return.

  Actually, this might have been sound reasoning, but there was cause for Ginger’s delayed return, a cause he certainly could not have imagined.

  The car had gone down the hill at a safe speed, Bertie at the wheel and Ginger sitting beside him holding the twelve-bore gun in the manner of the ‘scatter gun’ escort on the box of a stage-coach, as depicted on some Western films. Bertie brought the car to a stop at the place where the body had been left. Ginger looked but couldn’t see it. ‘We’ve come too far,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Bertie answered. ‘I’m sure this is the place.’

  ‘It couldn’t have been.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the man isn’t here.’

  ‘He must be,’ stated Bertie definitely. ‘I know I’m right. I can see my skid marks on the track when I stopped on the way up.’

  For a moment Ginger did not answer. He didn’t know what to say. When the truth of Bertie’s argument did penetrate, all he could say was: ‘Well, he isn’t here. We must have come past him. Go back a bit.’ It seemed too incredible that the body could have disappeared. That didn’t make sense. How could it have disappeared? Who would move it?

  Bertie obediently went into reverse for twenty or thirty yards, with Ginger leaning out looking at the gutter. ‘It wasn’t as far up the hill as this, I’m quite sure,’ Bertie stated, again coming to a halt.

  ‘What on earth... he can’t have gone,’ declared Ginger in a dazed voice. ‘The place must be farther on. Go on for a bit.’

  Bertie took his foot off the brake and allowed the car to crawl forward. When it had covered about a hundred yards in this manner he again put his foot on the brake. ‘It wasn’t as far down the hill as this,’ he argued. ‘We’re nearly at the corner.’

  ‘This beats me,’ muttered Ginger. ‘All I can say is, it must have gone.’

  Bertie replied with a short laugh. ‘That’s a lark. Now what do we do? Go back and tell Biggles the corpse has walked out on us? He’ll think we’re off our rockers.’

  Ginger did not answer that question. ‘Somebody must have come along and picked him up,’ he decided.

  ‘Who? Picked him up — how? Under his arm? Who would come here at this hour? No. Don’t give me that.’

  ‘Could Lazor have moved him?’

  ‘Not unless he’s completely round the twist. A man who kills somebody doesn’t come back.’ Ginger thought hard. ‘The body’s gone — let’s face it,’ he said. ‘If nobody has moved it then obviously it must have moved itself.’

  ‘What you’re saying is, the chap couldn’t have been dead after all.’

  ‘If he’s moved off on his own account it doesn’t need a wizard to work out that he couldn’t have been dead,’ averred Ginger pithily. ‘Go on a bit. He can’t have got far.’

  Bertie allowed the car to move forward again. It had covered perhaps a quarter of a mile when Ginger cried: ‘Look out! What’s that on the road in front?’

  ‘Looks like an old sack.’

  ‘It’s alive. It’s moving.’

  As the car drew close, the truth was revealed when a human face was turned towards them to show white in the headlights.

  ‘It’s him,’ shouted Ginger. ‘Stop!’

  Bertie stopped. Ginger sprang out. He ran to a kneeling figure. ‘Let’s give you a hand,’ he said. ‘Come on. In the car.’

  The man said only two words. ‘I’m shot,’ he gasped.

  ‘Who shot you?’

  The man did not answer. He had collapsed. Ginger, after one close look at his face, snapped: ‘Help me, Bertie.’

  Bertie went to Ginger’s assistance, and together — for a heavy helpless man is not an easy thing to load — they managed to get the unconscious keeper on board.

/>   ‘You press on,’ Ginger told Bertie crisply. ‘Get him to the hospital. I’ll go back and tell Biggles what’s happened.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ll keep this.’ Ginger collected the gun.

  ‘See you later,’ Bertie said, and continued on down the track.

  Ginger watched him out of sight; then, with the gun held ready for action as he remembered Lazor, he set off up the hill.

  It will now be understood why, by the time he got back to Biggles, his mission had taken longer, much longer, than had been anticipated.

  ‘What the devil have you been doing all this time?’ demanded Biggles irritably.

  ‘He’s alive,’ panted Ginger, who had been running.

  ‘Who’s alive? Talk sense.’

  ‘The man I thought was dead. When we got to the place where we’d left him he wasn’t there. After hunting high and low we eventually found him crawling down the track.’

  ‘Was he able to tell you what had happened?’

  ‘No. He simply said “I’m shot.” Then he passed out. Bertie is taking him on to the hospital.’

  ‘See anything of Lazor?’

  ‘Not a sign. Where’s Thompson?’

  ‘He hasn’t come back from the farm. I was waiting for you to mount guard over the planes, so that I could go up to see what has become of him. I don’t think he can be in trouble, or I’d have heard something. You stand fast here while—’ Biggles broke off, staring in the direction of the house. ‘What was that?’

  ‘Sounded like somebody hammering.’

  ‘Wait here,’ ordered Biggles, and went off at a run.

  CHAPTER 17

  HOW IT ALL ENDED

  The sound which Ginger had described as hammering became louder as Biggles drew near the house. When he got to the door he found it shut and locked. He banged on it with his fist, shouting: ‘Thompson! Are you in there?’

  A voice inside uttered an inarticulate cry.

  Biggles did not hesitate. He charged the door, full weight on his shoulder. It flew open and he burst in, nearly to fall over Thompson who was on his knees just inside the hall. The lamp was alight. The face that looked up was streaked with blood.