52 Biggles In Australia

by Captain W E Johns

  'You know about that?'

  'Of course. By the way, did you fly a black in to Darwin recently?' 'I did. I wondered what that was for. I don't mind telling you I didn't think much of it.'

  'Neither did we. It may interest you to know that his job was to set fire to this machine.'

  Cozen's jaw sagged foolishly. 'Who — who are you,' he stammered.

  'British Security Police.'

  For a moment Cozens was speechless. Then he blurted: 'Stop! I'm in a spin.'

  'Nothing to the spin you'll be in, old boy, if your pals learn that you've been nattering with us,' put in Bertie.

  'Are you trying to put the wind up me?'

  Algy answered, 'No. Just trying to give you an idea of what may happen to you when your employers no longer have any need of your services.'

  'They wouldn't dare to touch me! I'm an Australian.'

  Algy smiled sadly. 'Listen, chum,' he said. 'It wouldn't matter if you were King of Australia. When these stiffs have finished with you they'll brush you off like this.' He squashed a mosquito that had landed on the back of his hand.

  'They're not likely to do that just yet,' stated Cozens confidently.

  'Why not?'

  'Because that'd leave 'em with an aircraft and no one to fly it; and they're in a hurry to get home.'

  'Where's home?'

  Again Cozens hesitated.

  'Daly Flats?' suggested Algy.

  Cozens started. 'Why ask me if you know?'

  'We know quite a lot but you could probably fill in some gaps. I advise you to do that, because when this story breaks in the papers your name's going to appear under some ugly headlines.'

  'Okay,' agreed Cozens soberly. 'I'll tell you what I know. Then what do I do?'

  'That's a ticklish question. It's up to you. Frankly, I think you'd better carry on as you are for the time being and pick up all the information you can. We'll clear you if you get caught in the net when your police get busy. But we're wasting time. Tell us what you know. How long have you been working for this gang?'

  'Just on a month.'

  'What on earth made them employ an Australian pilot — that's what beats me.'

  'They had another — a foreigner — but he killed himself trying to get into one of these outback landing fields that was too small. I gather they had some urgent business on and had to get a replacement on the spot.'

  'They'll replace you, I'll warrant, as soon as another arrives from the Iron Curtain,'

  declared Algy grimly. 'What have you been doing? Make it snappy. You'd better not stay here too long.'

  'I've done a lot of flying,' volunteered Cozens. 'Pretty sticky, some of it, too, landing in out of the way places. Headquarters in the Territory is at Daly Flats. As a result of a radio signal the boss sent me here to pick up a man I didn't know, but who knew I was coming. The other chap came with me to point him out to me — at least, that's what I was told.

  I'm flying them both to Daly Flats in the morning.'

  'Who do you call the boss.'

  'He goes by the name of Smith. Actually, he's a foreigner, probably a Russian. Anyhow, he talks a lot to Ivan in a language I don't understand, and Ivan's certainly a Russian. He's the fellow with me now. I didn't see anything strange in that because there are plenty of Russians in Australia. Most of 'ern are all right.'

  'Tell me more about Daly Flats.'

  'It was originally a peanut farm. The man who started it was speared by aborigines —

  they told me that. I believe Smith bought it cheap and cleared a strip so that he could keep in touch with the outside world by air. He certainly does that. The place is miles from anywhere, and the only other way he could get to and fro would be by river, about two miles away. He's got a lugger for dealing with heavy stuff. Oh yes, everything's laid on, radio and so on. Smith has quite an office there. He employs black labour. I don't know how he manages that because they can be a bad lot. An uncle of mine served in the North-West Mounted, and he told me all about 'em. But somehow Smith keeps in with '

  em. Plenty of weapons there in case of trouble.'

  'He has other places, I believe.'

  'Several. That's true, because I've been to some of them.' `Tarracooma, for instance.'

  'That's right. I was there the other day. Took up a chap from Perth to fix the wireless.

  Smith says that as a modern pioneer he must keep in touch with his estates. It's the only way in the outback.'

  'Would you like to make a sketch map for me showing just where this place, Daly Flats, is? It can only be a question of days before the place is raided and that may save us trouble.'

  'Certainly.'

  'Then let's go inside. I've pencil and paper there.'

  'I shall have to be quick. As it is they may be wondering what I'm doing.'

  'You've left it too late,' put in Ginger. 'Here they come now. Fasten your safety belts; we'

  re in for a spot of bumpy weather if I know anything.'

  There was no mistaking the two figures, one burly and the other slim and limping slightly, coming towards the machines.

  'Cozens, me lad, I'm afraid you're going to find this a bit difficult —

  if you know what I mean,' observed Bertie.

  'Difficult! Why? I'm still doing my job. They can't expect me never to speak to anyone.'

  'Can't they, by Jove!' answered Bertie warmly. 'You don't know these blighters.'

  'If they start chucking their weight about they'll find I can chuck mine,' declared Cozens.

  'You still don't seem to understand that you're dealing with people to whom murder is all part of the day's work,' Algy told him impatiently.

  'Get that into your head and never forget it.'

  There was no time for more, as the two men were almost upon them.

  Von Stalhein spoke first. His voice, as cold and brittle as steel, was an indication of his anger, although he did not show it on his face. 'So here you are, Cozens. You said you were going to look at the machine.'

  'So I am. There's plenty of time, isn't there,' retorted the pilot. 'You should have told me where you were going.'

  Cozens flared up. 'I like that! Are you telling me who I'm allowed to speak to?'

  'While you're in my employ you'll do what you're told. I want to talk to you. Come on.'

  Cozens looked at von Stalhein. He looked at Algy. Clearly, he was in a quandary. For some seconds there was an uncomfortable silence. Then Algy said: 'As presumably they are paying your wages you'd better go with them. We all have to take orders — don't we, von Stalhein?'

  Von Stalhein didn't answer. What had upset him, and what he wanted to know, Ginger imagined, was how much Cozens had said. Certainly he had no intention of letting him say any more.

  'I suppose you're right,' muttered Cozens, answering Algy. 'But this being pushed around as if I was a lackey gets my goat. Be seeing you some time.' He strode away.

  Without another word von Stalhein and his companion followed him.

  Algy watched them all go. 'What worries me is, Cozens still hasn't grasped the fact that his life is in danger. My only consolation is they're not likely to do anything tonight as they need him to fly them home.'

  'We shouldn't have let him go,' asserted Ginger. 'They'll see that he does no more talking, and as soon as they've finished with him he'll disappear.'

  'We were in no position to stop him,' averred Algy. 'We set his clock right. The decision was up to him. I know I advised him to go but that was in his own interest. Had he refused, von Stalhein would have known that we'd put him wise, in which case, as he knows too much about them, they certainly would have liquidated him. As it is, von Stalhein has no idea of what was said here so he may hold his hand.'

  'Don't you think one of us ought to follow them,' suggested Ginger.

  'I don't think that's necessary. They're bound to stay here till daylight now. We'd do better to get some sleep while we can. I have a feeling that things are going to boil over presently.'

&
nbsp; Ginger resumed his guard. At midnight, when Algy took over, all was quiet; and so it was when at four o'clock Bertie came on for the dawn watch. Bertie gave the others until six-thirty and then made tea. By the time they had finished a cold breakfast it was broad daylight; but there was still no sign of the Auster's pilot and passengers. The machine remained in its hangar.

  'I'd have thought they would have been on the move by now,' said Algy, looking puzzled.

  'I can't think what could have happened. I hope they haven't pulled a fast one on us.'

  'I don't see how they could, old boy,' opined Bertie. The Auster is still in its shed.'

  Eight o'clock came. There was still no sign. Ginger walked over to the hangar and returned to report that the Auster was still there.

  By nine o'clock Algy was really worried. 'Something's happened. Von Stalhein has given us the slip,' he asserted. 'And I'll tell you why,' he went on. 'He knew that if he used the Auster we'd trail it to its hide-out.'

  The blighter couldn't walk home,' averred Bertie, polishing his eyeglass.

  'A horrible thought has just occurred to me,' said Algy, in an inspired tone of voice. '

  There's one way he could have got home without walking — or flying. If the Matilda brought von Stalhein here, and Biggles considered that possibility, they could have gone off in the lugger. Cozens told us that Daly Flats could be reached by the river.'

  'If that's the answer we can say good-bye to Cozens,' asserted Ginger.

  'They wouldn't leave him here to come back and talk to us. They'd see him dead first. And if they took him with them it would come to the same thing. They'd never trust him again after what happened last night, and if they didn't need his services to get home they'd have no further use for him. They could get another pilot to collect the Auster when it suited them.'

  'Here, I say, that's a grim thought,' said Bertie. 'How far away is this beastly river?'

  'The mouth is a hundred miles south-west of here,' answered Algy. 'I don't know the speed of the lugger and I don't know how far it is up the river to Daly Flats, but if they left here immediately after the row last night, and that's twelve hours ago, they could be on the river by now.

  Don't forget radio. Von Stalhein might have told Smith what happened here last night and he could have given orders that they were to leave the Auster and come home by the river.'

  'The next thing we shall hear is that Cozens's body has been found,'

  remarked Ginger gloomily. 'We shouldn't have let him go.'

  'It's no use talking about that now,' returned Algy. 'Let's do something.

  The first thing is to confirm what we suspect. Ginger, slip over to the office, ring the harbour master and ask him if the Matilda was in last night.'

  Ginger hurried off. He was away for twenty minutes and returned at the double. 'You were right,' he reported briefly. 'The Matilda came in. It left again just after ten last night.

  '

  'In that case I'd say poor Cozens has had it,' predicted Bertie, lugubriously.

  'He isn't in the town,' stated Ginger.

  'How do you know that?' asked Algy quickly.

  'Because a general order has gone out from Sydney grounding the Auster pending a check on its Certificate of Airworthiness. West had gone off, but the duty officer told me they'd rung up every hotel in the town, looking for Cozens, to warn him that he couldn't leave until lunchtime at the earliest. Biggles must have been responsible for that order.

  No doubt it struck him as a bright idea to gain time. He wasn't to know that the enemy also

  had a bright idea, which was to abandon the machine, go home by water, and so give us the slip.'

  'If the order was issued by Sydney, the Security man Biggles went to see must have had something to do with it,' averred Algy. 'And his idea, I fancy, was to deprive Smith of his private transport until other orders could be put into effect. It certainly wasn't a coincidence that the Auster had been grounded. Unfortunately it doesn't help us, and it doesn't help Cozens. Incidentally, the order might have been issued to keep him here until Security officers arrived to question him. If that was the scheme it's misfired. He's gone.'

  'And gone for good, if I know anything,' murmured Bertie.

  Algy paced up and down. 'This is awful. What are we going to do about it?'

  'There's a chance that Cozens may not be dead yet. At least, no one has yet reported finding the body, or we'd have heard of it,' remarked Ginger hopefully.

  'If he isn't dead he jolly soon will be,' declared Algy. 'Smith won't be the type to keep a man who's no more use to him. Cozens knows too much for them to let him go.'

  'How about waffling to Daly Flats and giving it a crack — if you see what I mean,'

  suggested Bertie.

  `Biggles said we were to be here when he got back,' Algy pointed out. 'If we go to Daly Flats, and he gets here before we're back, he'll be completely in the dark as to what's happened.'

  'He also said that if a situation arose we were to act on our own initiative,' reminded Ginger.

  'You seem to be forgetting that we don't know where this place Daly Flats is!' exclaimed Algy. 'That's my fault, and I ought to be kicked,' he went on savagely. 'Instead of doing so much talking last night when Cozens was here I should have got him to give us the gen right away. He was just going to do it when von Stalhein rolled up. But there, it's easy to be wise after the event. How was I to know that he'd have the brass face to come here?'

  'That was a bit of a corker, I must say,' conceded Bertie. 'It's going to be a ghastly bind sitting here all day doing nothing. Biggles won't be back here for hours. We shall have to do something about Cozens.'

  'Of course we shall have to do something,' cried Algy desperately. 'Even supposing he's still alive, which I doubt, he'll be on that lugger. How are we going to get hold of him?

  Luggers don't have landing decks!'

  'We don't know for certain where the lugger is, if it comes to that,'

  contended Ginger. '

  For a start we could run down to the Daly to confirm that the Matilda's on her way up.'

  And then what?' requested Algy.

  'It'd let the blighters know we're wise to their dirty game,' urged Bertie. 'If we saw Cozens on deck, still alive, that'd be a load off our minds — if you get what I'm driving at.'

  'I don't,' rejoined Algy bluntly. 'What I do see is, if that happened, they'd probably knock him on the head and throw him to the crocodiles. I don't want to be responsible for the man's death.'

  'We're already responsible for the position he's in, if it comes to that,' argued Ginger critically. 'The one thing that's quite certain is, we shan't save him by standing here yammering about it.'

  Algy made up his mind suddenly. 'All right,' he said. 'Let's locate the lugger. Ginger, slip over to the control room and leave word for Biggles about what we're doing in case he gets here before we're back.' Ginger went off at a run.

  CHAPTER XIII

  Desperate Measures

  The Otter was soon in the air, heading south-west for the river which, while of no great size as continental rivers go, has a notorious record of death and disaster out of proportion with its length. The ferocity of its native population, its crocodiles and mosquitoes and its sudden spates, combined for years to discourage visitors.

  Algy, at the controls, struck the Daly at its broad mouth, where the muddy water meets the sea between slimy banks sometimes fringed with mangroves; for as he had said, they knew neither the speed of the current against which the lugger would have to force a passage, or of the vessel itself. Anyway, seeing nothing of a ship that looked like the lugger on the sea or in the estuary he turned inland.

  For ten miles or so there was no break in the flat, reedy shore, often skirted by mudbanks on which crocodiles in startling numbers lay sunning themselves; but thereafter the river began to narrow, winding sometimes between steep, densely-wooded banks. An occasional wisp of smoke revealed the position of a native village or peanut farm.


  Waterfowl, white herons, pink cranes, black and white jabiru, geese and ducks, stood in the shallows or flighted up and down in clouds of hundreds.

  For another twenty minutes, flying low, the Otter droned on at cruising speed. Then Ginger, who was watching ahead, cried: 'There she is. At all events that looks like her. I'

  m afraid they'll have heard us.'

  'Not necessarily,' answered Algy. 'They themselves will be making a certain amount of noise. I can't see that it matters much if they do spot us. Well, that settles that question.