04 Gimlet Mops Up

by Captain W E Johns

  They lay still with their hands clasped over the backs of their heads while debris rained down. As the clash and clatter died away Cub looked up to see a great pile of rubble where the chapel had been. The others, of course, were also looking at it, but several seconds elapsed before anyone spoke.

  Then it was Copper who ejaculated. "Phew! Swipe me with a blanket! What a wowser."

  They all got to their feet—the General holding a pair of flying boots. From all sides came shouts of alarm. A police whistle shrilled.

  Gimlet looked at Cub. "What was it?" he asked.

  Cub told him what he had seen, and done. "I had a feeling that something of the sort was going to happen," he concluded. "There must have been a delayed action fuse in the bomb to give the Wolf a chance to get out—which he would have done I suppose, if my bullet hadn't stopped him. He's inside under the wreckage. I hadn't time to think of getting him out—I was in too much of a hurry to get out myself."

  The General looked at Gimlet and shrugged. "I suppose we should have taken precautions against such a thing happening," he said wearily. "But there, it isn't easy to think of everything when you are dealing with madmen. Let's get back to headquarters.

  We can leave the local police to deal with this mess. I have at least saved the boots.

  Luckily I had them in my hand at the time."

  Just what the General meant by this was not clear to Cub, but he understood later.

  The police car, which had been standing by the front door, was, of course, a complete wreck, but they hired a taxi which, under the General's instructions, took them, not to Brummel Square as Cub expected, but to Scotland Yard. Asking the others to wait the General went inside, taking the flying boots with him. He was away about five minutes.

  When he returned it was without the boots, but he made no reference to them. The taxi went on to Brummel Square.

  CHAPTER XM

  DEAD MEN'S BOOTS

  AFTER lunch, as they sat over their coffee discussing the situation that had arisen, Cub'

  s curiosity regarding the flying boots was satisfied. He had a feeling that the General was waiting for something, and because of the reference to the boots at the time of the explosion he suspected that it had some connection with them, although he could not imagine what.

  The telephone rang. The General answered it and had a long conversation with someone, although the person at the other end did most of the talking. The General's comments were confined to an occasional "Yes . . . quite so," Having rung off he returned to his seat.

  With a ghost of a smile hovering about his lips he said: "I shall now have to let you into one of our little back-stage secrets. We have quite a number of departments at the Yard about which the public knows nothing, departments where the latest scientific knowledge is applied to the detection of crime. One such department would, I think, win the warm approval of that redoubtable sleuth, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who, you may remember, had a wonderful eye for detail. He could tell, or he pretended to be able to tell, where a man came from by the colour of the mud on his boots. But that was before the era of fast transport. Nowadays, with travel made easy, colour is hardly enough. We prefer to rely on chemical analysis. Just before the explosion occurred in the chapel I was pleased to come across a pair of flying boots. It was not so much the boots that pleased me as the fact that there was a good quantity of mud on them. This was the most promising clue I had struck. It was interesting to note in the

  first place that the man who had used them, whom we must presume was an air pilot, found it necessary to operate from a small airfield—or from a place that was not, in fact, a regulation airfield. Most modern airfields are provided not only with a concrete or macadam apron in front of the hangars, but with concrete runways, for which reason pilots, air crews and passengers, are able to keep their footwear reasonably clean. The pilot in this case, however, had obviously been walking about a very muddy field. That was the first clue—a slender one, of course, because mud alone could not have given us even an inkling of the locality of this particular field." The General sipped his coffee.

  "In the department of the Yard to which I referred a moment ago there are filed several thousand analyses covering every type of soil found in Great Britain. This has enabled the officer in charge of the department, who just rang me up, to state definitely that the mud on the boots is peculiar to the eastern side of the county of Norfolk. He can be even more specific than that. The mud was picked up on the edge of one of the lakes, known locally as broads, or from one of the canals that sometimes connect them."

  "How did he work that out?" asked Gimlet.

  "Had the mud been picked up from agricultural land—that is, arable land—analysis would reveal traces of organic or chemical manure, which in fact, it does not. Had the man been walking over grass land the question would not have arisen, because the boots could hardly have picked up so much mud. The mud on the boots is river mud. A further proof of that is, the mud contains only one sort of seed—stinging nettles. All earth contains a certain number of seeds, mostly grasses. But in damp earth they either grow or they rot—all except stinging nettle seeds. The seeds of the nettle will last under water for twenty years or more, which is why, when a river has been dredged, you will always find a good crop of nettles springing up on the bank. So the fact that the mud on the boots carries a number of stinging nettle seeds suggests, if it does not actually prove, that the wearer picked up the mud on the banks of a recently dredged waterway."

  "That fits in with what we already know," asserted Gimlet. "I'm thinking of the type of aircraft we know the Wolves are using. A flying-boat or amphibian could land easily on one of the Norfolk Broads, which, when you come to think about it, are one of the few places where such an aircraft could land, outside marine airports. Moreover, some of the broads are very lonely, certainly at this time of the year. Another point worth taking into consideration too, is the fact that Norfolk is on the east coast, the most convenient point for flying to and from Germany."

  "Quite so. The General sat back in his chair. "Well, gentlemen, there you are. I think you will agree that the Norfolk Broads should be given the onceover. It does not necessarily follow, of course, that the Wolves have made their headquarters there; but if we can locate the enemy's air base we might get a line on it."

  "The only snag about that I can see is this: it's going to take some time to cover all that ground," observed Gimlet.

  "We can save a lot of time by using aircraft ourselves," the General pointed out. "I wasn't thinking of exploring Norfolk on foot. We needn't take to the air to do it. We can leave that to the Special Air Police, who have already helped us, and I am sure will be pleased to do so again. I'm all in favour of using up-to-date methods, particularly as the enemy is doing that. We must not forget too, that it takes a trained eye to pick out from the air objects on the ground."

  "Even if the Air Police had to reconnoitre the whole of the Broads area it wouldn't take them very long," put in Cub. "They carry cameras. They could photograph all likely spots, anything that might indicate an aircraft landing station.

  "Exactly," agreed the General. "That is obviously the most expeditious way of setting about it. If everyone is agreed, I'll

  ring up Bigglesworth, who is in charge of the air squad, to see what he can do about it."

  The General went to the telephone, put through the call on the private wire and had a long conversation. When he came back he said: "That's fixed. Biggles—that's what they call him —doesn't let grass grow under his tyres, so to speak, when he takes on a job. He'

  s putting four machines in the air right away; in fact, he says he'll go out himself.

  Visibility is good along the east coast so each machine will take on a zone and photograph any likely spots. He'll have the photographs developed right away and bring the prints round this evening. That seems to be all we can do for the moment. You fellows had better get in a few hours rest while the opportunity offers. You can't go on witho
ut sleep. If Bigglesworth should happen to spot anything you may have a busy time ahead of you. We must keep going if it is humanly possible, to prevent these fiends from resuming their programme of murder in their own time."

  This was agreed and the meeting adjourned.

  Cub went to his room. He needed no rocking. Throwing off his jacket he fell on his bed and slept like a log for four hours, although he disputed the time hotly when, after what seemed like ten minutes he was awakened by Copper to be told that it was nearly six o'

  clock and that Sergeant Bigglesworth of the Air Police was below with a batch of photos.

  Cub lost no time in getting into his jacket and joining the others in the conference room.

  Photographs, still damp, were lying all over the table, and the Chief of the Air Police, with a large magnifying glass in his hand, was talking about them. As Cub joined the parry he smiled a greeting and went on with what he was saying.

  "On the whole the reconnaissance would appear to be rather disappointing; but then, we could hardly expect these people to be so foolish, so ill-advised, as to litter the area with obvious signs of their presence. We were able to save a lot of time by ignoring the larger broads which, as they are over looked by roads, hotels and houses, would hardly suit their purpose. As far as the lesser-known sheets of water are concerned we pin-pointed three places, one of which might turn out to be what you are looking for. The one which looks most promising came into Hebblethwaite's zone. He called me on his radio to look at it, which I did. I daren't go too low for fear of alarming the Wolves if they were there, but I had a good look and took several photos, both vertical and oblique, from different angles. Of course, there was no aircraft on view, but we could hardly expect that. Here are the prints. This particular piece of water is known locally as Grimston Broad. For reference purposes I have called it Objective A." Biggles picked up half a dozen enlarged photographs and arranged them in line on the table.

  Taking a magnifying glass the General examined each one in turn. 'There doesn't seem to be much here," he observed in a voice that held a suspicion of disappointment.

  "Actually, there is more than you might suppose," returned Biggles. "Suppose I read the picture for you as I see it." "Please do, invited the General.

  "The first thing that might strike you is, the actual water area seems to be on the small side," began Biggles. "So it is, but the shape is important. As you can see, the water is in the shape of a letter T. Admittedly, the two arms are narrow, but arranged as they are they would enable a pilot to take off no matter in what direction the wind was blowing.

  In other words you can take it from me that an efficient pilot, in normal weather conditions, could put a marine aircraft down on that water and take it off again. The very fact that by reason of its shape no one in the ordinary way would imagine an aircraft landing on it, would all be in favour of these Nazis if, in fact, they are using it. The next point is this. It is just about as lonely a spot as you could find in England. There isn't a house within four miles. The nearest village is Reedsholm, and that's a good five miles away."

  The General pointed with his pencil to a small black mark not far from the water. "What'

  s this thing?" he inquired.

  "I'm just coming to that," answered Biggles. "The nearest road, a second class road, is nearly three miles away, although from it there is what appears to be an overgrown track, originally an accommodation road, no doubt, leading to the building you just put your finger on. That is a windmill. As you probably know, windmills are a common feature in Nor-. folk. In passing I might mention—although it hasn't much bearing on our case—

  that the land near the windmill was once under cultivation. If you examine the photograph closely you can just see faint lines marking out what seem to be squares.

  Originally those lines were dykes. Apparently the land didn't pay for farming, or it may have been ruined by flood water—but we needn't bother about that." Biggles lit a cigarette.

  "Originally, too, I suspect that Grimston Broad was connected by a waterway to the River Yare," he continued. "You can see the line of rushes following the old river bed—

  or it may have been a canal. That interests us because it means that the windmill could, if it wished, employ water transport, and that is borne out by what seems to be the remains of a large boathouse—here." Biggles pointed to a dark spot at the extreme end of the broad, where the water approached nearest to the windmill. "The place is a ruin, or it appears to be," he went on. "I looked at it very closely. It appears small in the photo, but when it was in order it could have accommodated a barge; and even now, assuming that it isn't an absolute ruin, it could easily accommodate an aircraft of the folding-wing type.

  "

  "Aren't you drawing rather a long bow?" queried the General dubiously. "I mean, aren't you rather trying to make the place fit what we would like it to be?"

  Biggles smiled. "Possibly. But I'm only telling you what I see; and that is supported by my final observation, which is this. On the face of it, these buildings--the windmill and the boathouse—haven't been used for years. As a matter of fact, they are both in use now, or they were until recently. There is no actual track leading from the windmill to the boathouse. Doubtless there was one years ago, but it is now overgrown with long grass; but from topsides long grass can tell quite a story. For instance, I can tell you that the grass was disturbed as recently as this morning. It was wet early on, and foggy, you remember? Fog or mist leaves grass loaded with water. If you disturb the grass the water falls off, so that from the air it shows up as a different colour. You can often see that on the grounds if you walk across a field of wet grass; from the air one sees an unmistakable track. This morning somebody walked from that windmill to the boathouse, or vice versa. My final point is, perhaps, the most important. There is, in that old boathouse, a piece of machinery of some sort. For a distance of thirty or forty yards in front of it the water is of a slightly different shade to the rest. That is caused by oil on the water. If there is oil there then we may take it that a machine of some sort isn't far away."

  "Ah," breathed the General, "That makes a difference.

  It begins to look as if this might be the place we're looking for." "It's the most likely place I could find in the short time at

  my disposal," replied Biggles.

  "You didn't see anybody moving about near the windmill?"

  "Had I done so I should have dismissed the place from my mind instantly," answered Biggles, smiling faintly. "Wolves don't walk about in the open when hunters are on the trail."

  "True enough," agreed the General. "Then you saw no sign of life at all?"

  "None, which again is a factor on our side," returned Biggles. "I am taking the expression

  'signs of life' literally. On or around most of the broads you will see a certain amount of wild life, particularly birds. The fact that there was not a single bird, not even a gull, near the windmill or the boathouse, supports my argument that someone is there, or has been there. Whoever it was disturbed the birds. It is quite possible that someone was moving about right up to the time of my arrival; but as soon as he heard aircraft approaching he would take cover, naturally--or we can assume he woul d if he was up to no good. If the windmill was occupied by a miller it would seem reasonable to suppose that the sails would be revolving, as there was quite a fair breeze; but they were not. The place looked abandoned, but in my opinion someone is there, or had been there this morning. I needn't remind you that during the war a lot of places looked abandoned when, in fact, they were far from it. Well, sir, there it is. I think that's all I have to say."

  "In your opinion, this place is worth exploring?"

  "Definitely. If you like I'll keep an eye on the place from the air for a day or two, but it doesn't necessarily follow that I should get results because even if the Wolves are there they would be most unlikely to show themselves. In all probability they operate only after dark."

  "In view of what has
happened during the past twenty-four hours I imagine the Wolves must be pretty busy," murmured the General. He thought for a moment."I'll tell you what I think is the best plan, Bigglesworth. I'll get Captain King to go and have a look round this place right away. It shouldn't take him long to ascertain if there is anyone there or not. If we find we are on a false scent get in touch with you in the morning and you can resume the reconnaissance. If we tackle every possible place in turn sooner or later we ought to find what we're looking for. Naturally, we will start at Objective A, as it is the most promising."

  Biggles got up. "I think that's your best line, sir. I'll leave the photographs with you. You can study them, and so get the lay-out of the place at your finger-tips before you start operations. I may fly over to have a look round as soon as it gets daylight, otherwise I won't take any further action until I hear from you."

  "Very well—we'll leave it at that," agreed the General. "Thanks, Bigglesworth, I'm much obliged for your co-operation."

  "That's what we're here for, sir," returned Biggles, taking Ins departure.

  As soon as the door had closed behind him the General turned to Gimlet. "Well, how do you feel about having a look at this place?" he suggested.

  "I think the sooner I'm on my way the better."

  "Good. I'd better stay here where you can get in touch with me should it become necessary. If you need anything, let me know."

  "We'll see how it pans out," asserted Gimlet.

  The General looked at his watch. "The time is now seven o'clock. By taking one of the fast cars you ought to be on the spot somewhere about ten."

  'Unless anything goes wrong, or if we draw a blank, we ought to be back by daybreak,' said Gimlet. "If the Wolves are there—well, if we do nothing else we'll stir the devils up and keep them on the move. What do you say, corporal?"

  Copper grinned. "Every time a coconut, sir."

  Gimlet rose. "All right. We'll see about putting our stuff together."

  Just one last reminder," said the General quietly. "There is no need for me to tell you what you are taking on. If you should run into a pack of Wolves don't hesitate to use your guns. Regard the operation as a military one rather than a police job. I'll go so far as to suggest that you imagine the war is still on, and that your task, as commandos, is to take a Nazi military post. Whatever happens you can rely on my support. Any Wolves you find will not submit to arrest, you may be sure of that.