40 Biggles Works It Out

by Captain W E Johns

  GINGER, checking lists of Douglas D.C.3 registration marks in the Operations Room at Gatwick, was browned off, and made no secret of it. "It isn't like you to sit here and let other people do the work," he told Biggles reproachfully. "Isn't it about time I did something, any-. way?"

  "I may need you here," Biggles told him serenely. "A commanding officer is entitled to an aide-de-camp to help him out with the odd jobs," he went on banteringly. "As for me, I can't be in several places at once. I have to be somewhere where I can be kept in touch with what's going on. To change the subject, it looks rather as if Marcel's mystery plane is one of the two D.C.3s that are supposed to have gone down in the Atlantic some time ago."

  Ginger was not to be put off. "To return to the subject," he persisted, "I can't imagine what everyone's doing. Not a word from any of them. I'd say they're all having a thundering good holiday in the sunshine, bathing, and all that."

  "If Bertie's at El Asile he won't be doing much bathing," averred Biggles sarcastically. "

  It'll probably take him all his time to get enough liquid to shave with. I'll admit there's something a bit queer about their silence. If we don't soon hear from one of them you'd better dash down to find out what's going on."

  The telephone rang. "Here's one of them now," said Ginger optimistically as he picked up the receiver. His face fell as he listened for a moment and then put a hand over the mouth-piece. "It's the Air Commodore," he told Biggles. "He wants to know if there are any fresh developments."

  "Tell him I've nothing fresh to report," requested Biggles. "I'll let him know as soon as I have any news myself."

  Ginger conveyed the message and hung up.

  Hardly had he done so than the bell jangled again. "Now what?" he muttered irritably, hand on the receiver. Then he stiffened and his eyes switched meaningly to Biggles. "

  Long distance," he said tersely. "Hello—yes?" he called. "Hang on, he's here." His attitude had changed when, holding out the instrument, he turned to Biggles. "Here we are at last. It's Marcel on the line. He's speaking from Marseilles. He sounds more on his toes than usual."

  Biggles took over the telephone. "Hello, Marcel," he greeted. "Yes, I'm listening. Go ahead."

  He sat for so long without speaking, with the instrument to his ear, that Ginger, without a clue as to what was being said, fidgeted with impatience.

  At last Biggles spoke. "Great work, Marcel. All right. I'll be there. I'll get off right away.

  Goodbye." He hung up and swung round in his chair. "You've got your wish," he told Ginger. "This is where we get mobile."

  "What on earth was all that about?" demanded Ginger.

  "Get a grip on yourself, and I'll tell you," answered Biggles. "Things are humming. Here'

  s the position as I understand it from Marcel. Bertie is at El Asile. Algy is on his way there to get him out, having pinched the mystery Douglas for the job. He got the machine at one of the enemy's secret refuelling stations in the South of France. Guess who was in charge of it? No—don't bother, I'll tell you. Von Stalhein."

  Ginger's eyes went round. "Then he is in it?"

  "Apparently. By a bit of bad luck he discovered that Bertie had got into El Asile. Canton was to go down in the Douglas and bump him off. Algy heard this and jumped the plane.

  It seems that he and Canton fought it out in the aircraft. Algy won, and Canton is in quod at Algiers. Algy told Marcel all about it at Maison Blanche. Then he went on to El Asile, leaving Marcel to give me the gen. The Villa Hirondelle seems to be the headquarters of the gang in Europe. The big boss is a German named Count von Horndorf. There's reason to suppose the swag is kept at El Asile and brought over to the villa as required. It'

  s unloaded near Marseilles and goes on to Eze by road. That's the gist of it. The job now becomes one for the French police, as the racket is being run from their territory; but as we've handled the thing so far they want our co-operation. We've an interest in the Australian gold, anyway. Marcel has told his chief in Paris how things stand, with the result that Captain Joudrier of the Sureté is flying straight down to Marseilles, where Marcel is to meet him. They're going to wait for us there. I've met Joudrier. He's efficient, and can be relied on to keep pace with any situation that arises. His idea is to make a quick raid on von Stalhein's dump first, and then go on to the villa at Eze. Having cleaned them up, he'll go straight on to El Asile. In this way he hopes to mop up the whole gang before they can re-organize. It seems to me that he's taking a bit of a risk, because if he doesn't find any stolen property at the villa it's hard to see what he can charge these people with, apart from trivial offences like using a government airfield without permission. Maybe he intends to grab them while he can, and hold them until we can produce evidence to prove what they were doing. Of course, if we can find some of that Australian gold, that'll be all the evidence he needs."

  "What about Algy and Bertie?"

  "They'll have to take care of themselves until we can get to them. I gather from Marcel that if Algy can get Bertie out of El Asile he'll make for Insalah and wait there until he hears from us. The sooner we're at Marseilles the better. We mustn't keep Joudrier waiting. Tell Smyth to pull out a Mosquito and get our small kit on board while I tell the Air Commodore what's cooking."

  "Okay." Ginger departed in some haste.

  Ten minutes later the Mosquito was in the air, heading south at top speed.

  It was five o'clock when its wheels touched the dusty airfield of Marignane, the big airport for Marseilles; and signs of police activity were evident even while the machine was running in. Two big cars were standing on the tarmac, and near them a little group of gendarmes. Two men, one in uniform, were standing a little apart, looking at a map.

  Ginger recognized Marcel. The other, he supposed—correctly—was Captain Joudrier.

  As the Mosquito switched off they put the map away and walked forward to meet the occupants. A minute later Biggles was shaking hands with Joudrier, to whom Ginger was introduced.

  Little time was lost, and none wasted, for the French s detective made it clear that he was anxious to -strike before the crooks, through their intelligence service, could get wind of the impending raid. The cars, he said, were waiting. Everything they were likely to want was in thein. The disused aerodrome on the Plaine de la Crau was the first objective.

  There would be no difficulty about finding it, because he had studied a map provided by the French Air Ministry.

  Joudrier went on to say that he had first considered making the raid by air; but there were difficulties that made this inadvisable, one being that he was anxious to catch the enemy unprepared, which would be impossible if aircraft were used. In any case, the Plaine de la Crau was no great distance away, so little time would be lost by using fast cars. With this Biggles was in full agreement. "I am ready when you are," he said.

  Captain Joudrier took the wheel of the leading car. With him went Biggles, Ginger, Marcel and two gendarmes. Eight more gendarmes packed themselves into the second car.

  Darkness was closing in as Joudrier set off at a speed that made Ginger push his feet into the floor. The direction was north-west, for Marignane Airport lies halfway between Marseilles and the Plaine de la Crau.

  Of the villages through which they flashed Ginger saw little. The country was flat, uninteresting, and unknown to him; but the driver obviously knew where he was going, for not once did he slacken speed until they left the main road, taking the track which, although Ginger was not to know it, was the same one taken by Algy when he had followed the van. All lights were now switched off, and eventually, when the track ended, the cars pulled in against the cypresses that guarded the ruins of the cottage. Here Algy's car was found. It was responsible for a short delay while guesses were made as to whom it belonged and what it was doing there. There was nothing, of course, to indicate that it had been put there by Algy; but Marcel, who knew more of the details of Algy's adventures than anybody, said he thought it must be his. They left it there, and
in deepening darkness went on quietly on foot.

  As soon as the dilapidated aerodrome buildings loomed up against the sky, Captain

  Joudrier deployed his men with the confidence born of experience. Two lines of gendarmes, pistols in hands, went out in an encircling movement. Ten minutes elapsed, and then all precautionary measures were abandoned. A single blast on a whistle and the men closed in swiftly.

  "Watch for von Stalhein," Biggles told Ginger tersely. "He's the man we want."

  What happened after that was not easy to see. There were shouts and the usual sounds of panic flight. A shot was fired. There was a babble of voices. When the cordon closed right up it was found that six men, protesting volubly, had been caught in the net. Von Stalhein was not among them.

  A quick search was made. It concentrated, of course, on the bungalow, which was found to be furnished comfortably and showed signs of recent occupation. But von Stalhein was not in it. Nor had he been in it when the raid was launched, Joudrier asserted, for it would have been impossible for anyone to get through the cordon without being seen.

  "We will soon settle the matter," declared the detective, and ordered the captured men, now in handcuffs, to be brought before him. At first they were inclined to be surly, and refused to speak; but when Joudrier recognized two of them as felons wanted by the police, the nerve of one Of them, a Polish ex-taxi driver of Paris, broke, and under Joudrier's brittle interrogation he said he was ready to talk—presumably in the hope of improving his position.

  Actually, he hadn't much to tell, for the simple reason, as soon became evident, that he knew little about the real business of the gang, for which he worked as a mechanic. One thing he did reveal, however, was highly important, for it answered a pressing question.

  Von Stalhein,

  he alleged, had gone "over the other side", earlier in the day, although for what purpose he did not know. He had gone in a Mosquito. He knew where he had gone, said the inan, on account of the quantity of petrol carried.

  Ginger realized that this, in view of what he knew, was probably the truth. Anyway, it accounted for von Stalhein's absence.

  On being further questioned the Pole admitted reluctantly that by "the other side" he meant El Asile. He knew about the place because he had spent some time there.

  With that, for the moment, Joudrier was satisfied. He ordered the men to be taken to Marseilles, detailing four of his men for the purpose. Two others were ordered to take charge of the landing-ground and arrest anyone landing on it.

  Captain Joudrier and Biggles now had a quick conference, with Ginger and Marcel standing by. No change of plan was proposed. The Villa Hirondelle remained next on Joudrier's list for investigation, and with this Biggles was in accord. There was, however, no need for him to go there, he pointed out. There was nothing he could do. Joudrier did not need his help. He was, he said, worried by the significance of von Stalhein's sudden departure for El Asile. It might have something to do with Algy and Bertie, on whose account he was therefore rather worried. He would, if Joudrier had no objection, return to Marseilles with Ginger, and go straight on to Insalah. If he found Algy and Bertie there he would wait for Joudrier and his men to join them. The raid on El Asile could then be made.

  Joudrier thought this was a good arrangement.

  The question of Marcel then arose, and he himself suggested the answer. It was that he should fly on to Nice and wait there for Joudrier to pick him up. After the raid on the villa he would be able to fly out to Insalah straight away and inform Biggles of any discovery that might have an effect on the situation.

  This was so obviously a practical and useful way of employing him that it was agreed to without argument.

  Joudrier said he would go on to Eze by road. He was not equipped for transporting by air the large number of men he would need to surround the grounds of the Villa Hirondelle.

  He would be able to fly only as far as Nice anyway, and from there employ road transport. So the loss of time in going by road would be very little, and unlikely to make any difference to the result.

  These arrangements having been agreed, steps were taken forthwith to put them into action.

  XIII

  SMOKE IN THE SAHARA

  ANOTHER day was being born in a blaze of colour when Biggles and Ginger, weary after their long flight, landed at Insalah.

  After the decisions reached with Joudrier and Marcel on the Plaine de la Crau they had returned to Marignane, where, while the tanks of their Mosquito were being topped up, they took the opportunity to snatch a. ineal. A night flight across the Mediterranean followed, and as Biggles had no intention of being caught in the desert short of fuel, the tanks were again topped up at Maison Blanche airport. There was a little delay here, as although Biggles's police credentials smoothed the way, there were certain formalities that could not be brushed aside. However, the Mosquito was soon on its way again, kicking the cool night air behind it as it headed south for the Equator. Ginger took a turn at the controls, giving Biggles a rest; then Biggles took over again, and Ginger slept the rest of the way. He was, in fact, asleep. when Biggles nudged him to announce that Insalah was below and he was going down.

  Yawning, Ginger saw that another day had dawned,

  although from the position of the sun, which was still low, it was not very old. A glance at the watch on the instrument panel told him that it was a few minutes after six o'clock.

  The officers and men stationed at the lonely outpost were already on the move, for in desert countries this is the only hour of daylight when it is possible to do any serious work without discomfort. Biggles and Ginger were greeted courteously by the Commandant, who informed them that he had heard something of what was going on from Marcel, who had been there making inquiries.

  As soon as the conventional formalities had been observed Biggles asked after Algy, and was disappointed to learn that nothing had been seen of him or Bertie. He had hoped—

  indeed, expected—to find them waiting there, and looked worried when he learned they had not arrived. These hopes were not based entirely on the matter of their personal safety : he was relying on their report to put him in a position to tell Joudrier what opposition might be expected at El Asile when the oasis was raided. He had reckoned on learning a good deal about the place. However, they were not there, so, as he told Ginger presently, all they could do was wait.

  "It looks as if they weren't able to get out last night, in which case they must still be at El Asile," he observed. "However, they might show up any minute now. It's no use going on to the oasis by ourselves; we should probably do more harm than good. Before we can tackle the place we shall have to wait for Joudrier to come."

  They were given the usual light French breakfast of coffee and rolls, after which there was nothing for them to do except try to keep cool and control their impatience.

  At noon Marcel arrived, having flown direct froin Nice, with news that he lost no time in narrating. It did nothing to raise the spirits of the listeners. The villa had been raided, with disappointing results. The Count must have been away at the time, or had a secret exit.

  At all events, he wasn't there. Some servants had been arrested and taken away for further questioning. No gold had been found, nor anything else of an incriminating nature. Nor did there appear anything in the way of a link with the Plaine de la Crau, for which reason Joudrier was upset, as unless something turned up he would have no charge against the men he had arrested. Among the people from the villa there was a deserter from the Army, but that was a trivial offence compared with what had been anticipated.

  The search was still going on when Marcel left. There was a safe; which, up to that time, it had not been possible to open. It was a small one, and Joudrier had little hope of finding any of the Australian gold in it. The van was there, but this was another disappointment. Marcel smiled wanly. "All that we found in it were some small bags of fertilizer."

  Biggles stared. "Fertilizer!"

  "Just d
irty black dust. The bags have the name printed on them—fertilizer." Marcel shrugged. "That is what they say. It is the stuff which you would call basic slag. It comes from iron furnaces. It is put on lawns to make the grass grow nicely."

  "That sounds a funny tale to me," said Biggles suspiciously.

  "You think it may be what you would call a blind-hein?"

  "You say Algy told you he saw some bags of stuff being unloaded from the Douglas at the Plaine de la Crau?" questioned Biggles.

  "That is what he told me."

  "And he saw these bags put in the van?"

  "Yes."

  "What would the Count want with fertilizer'? And even if he did want it, why should he haul it about in an aeroplane? Does that make sense to you?"

  "Nor me," asserted Biggles. "But never mind that for the moment. I'll think about it. Did you have any difficulty in getting into the villa?"

  "No. The dogs were thrown pieces of liver with something on it to make them sleep.

  Then we cut through the fence. We go to the house. Joudrier knocks on the door. When it is opened we rush in. Et is so simple."

  "And you've no other news?"

  "Only that Joudrier is coming here with many men, in a big transport which he requisitioned at Marignane. He is mad to capture El Asile, for there he hopes to find things which will put the gang into prison. He thinks perhaps the Count is there."

  "So after all that we've no evidence that these men did the job in Australia?" said Biggles moodily.

  "That is true," admitted Marcel, in a melancholy voice.

  "I can well believe that Joudrier is worried," said Biggles. "I'm worried too, if it comes to that, because it was on our information that the raids were made. Still, I'm sure he was right to strike when he did. Had he waited he might have lost sight of the whole bunch.

  When does Joudrier reckon to get here?"

  "He thinks he will be here before it is dark."

  Biggles nodded. "The sooner the better. I'm getting worried about Algy and Bertie. I can'