by W E Johns
‘That’s an idea,’ Biggles said. ‘I’ll do that. What about you? What are you going to do?’
‘If it’s all the same to you I’ll come with you in the spare seat.’
‘With what object? You don’t want to get mixed up in this.’
‘I’m mixed up enough as it is. I was thinking, I could fly my machine back here when you’ve finished with it. That would save you time and trouble.’
Biggles hesitated for a moment. ‘Very well,’ he said slowly. ‘But no tricks, or it’ll be the worse for you,’ he added sternly. ‘You’re sure I can trust you not to change your mind and take sides with Lazor if we should find him?’
‘You needn’t worry about that,’ answered Thompson trenchantly. ‘Knowing what I know now, I’ve finished with him. He’s got me into enough trouble already.’
‘Good. Now you’re talking sense. Is the Aiglet all right for petrol?’
‘Yes. Plenty. I saw her refuelled myself.’
‘Fine. I’ll warn my office what we’re doing and we’ll get away.’ Biggles picked up the phone.
Presently they went out into the night. Biggles cast a critical eye on the sky. ‘It seems to be clearing,’ he remarked, as they walked quickly to the hangar.
In five minutes they were on their way, Biggles at the controls, with Thompson occupying the second seat. Biggles flew a straight course to his objective. He had flown over the country so often that he did not even have to refer to the map which he saw tucked into the side pocket of the cockpit. The clouds became more broken as they headed west, wide gaps allowing the moon to come through, improving the general visibility enough for easily recognizable landmarks to be picked up. This, of course, was where air experience was such an advantage.
In half an hour he was circling over the region of Twotrees Farm. The big field on the high ground, with its isolated farmhouse on the boundary, lay open to the sky. No light showed from the house. In fact, there were no lights of any sort within some distance of it. The nearest were car headlights moving on a distant main road. Losing height he continued to circle, his eyes probing the dim scene below. What he was looking for was Ginger’s Auster which he felt sure must be somewhere on the field. He did not want to risk collision with it when he touched down. He had assumed that it would be there, having made a safe landing. The Moth, according to Ginger, had overshot the field and crashed, so there was no cause to worry about that.
It took him a few minutes to spot the Auster. Then he spotted it tucked in tight against the track, near the trees, where the cars had been parked on their previous visit. Strangely, he thought, there was no sign of Ginger. Ginger was not to know, had no means of knowing, that he had been followed by one of the club Aiglets; but he would hear it circling, and that should have brought him into the open to see who it was: unless he thought it might be a friend of Lazor, in which case he would take care not to show himself too readily.
Had Lazor been injured in the crash, and Ginger gone to find help, as naturally he would? Was that the answer? It was a possibility.
It took Biggles some time to locate the Moth, or, rather, the wreckage of it, the reason being, as Ginger had reported, it had overshot and crashed into the wood, to disappear almost completely under the trees. The Auster, as would be expected, had stopped as close to it as it could get.
The picture was now fairly clear. Ginger had seen the Moth crash. He had landed, and taxied on to get as near as he could to the place where it had ended its career in order to lose no time getting to it should it take fire. Then what? What would he do next? Where had he gone? That, obviously, would depend on what he found in the wreck. If Lazor had been killed in the crash, as was possible but by no means certain, it seemed Ginger’s most likely course would be to go to the farm to use the phone to call the police or an ambulance. In that case there would be a light in the house. But there was no light, so apparently he wasn’t there.
Biggles wasted no more time in speculation. Satisfied there was no obstruction in the field, he made his approach, giving himself plenty of room and landed. As soon as the Aiglet had run to a stop he gave the engine another burst of throttle which took it on to the stationary Auster. There he stopped, jumped out and walked quickly to Ginger’s aircraft. It only took a moment to confirm that there was no one with it.
‘Ginger!’ Biggles said sharply.
There was no answer.
‘We’d better have a look at your Moth,’ he said to Thompson, who had lost no time in following him. ‘From what I can see of it from here it won’t be doing any more flying.’
‘Damn the fellow,’ muttered Thompson angrily. ‘I’d become quite attached to that old kite.’
Biggles did not answer, and together, going through the gap in the fence where it had been torn up by the overshooting Moth, they hurried on to the machine in question. It was only a distance of a few yards. When they got to it they found it in the condition that might been expected in view of what had happened, provided it hadn’t gone into the tree directly head-on. In this respect the old machine had been lucky. Probably more by luck than judgment, having torn through the fence and crossed the track, it had passed between two stout trees. This had resulted in the wings being sheared off and hurled back almost flat against the fuselage. The wings had therefore taken most of the shock of impact, and the fuselage, while tilted on its nose, was not seriously damaged beyond having most of the fabric ripped off by the sharp ends of low branches that had been snapped off short.
‘It looks to me as if Lazor might have been lucky and got away with it,’ observed Biggles, again speaking from experience. He had seen this sort of crash before.
With some difficulty he scrambled up the mutilated wing until he could see in the rear seat. It was empty. As Lazor was presumably flying solo that was to be expected, so he made his way forward to the cockpit. There was no one there, either. The safety-belt hung loose, having been torn out by the roots by the weight of the pilot’s body as it had been thrown forward against the instrument panel. His head or face must have struck the altimeter, for the glass had been splintered. But he could find no sign of blood, although in the dark he could not be sure of that.
‘Nobody here,’ he told Thompson tersely as he clambered back to the ground.
‘How do you account for that?’ asked Thompson.
‘I can’t,’ returned Biggles succinctly. ‘Let’s have a look round.’
They searched the ground on all sides of the wrecked machine as far as this was possible in the dark. Still not entirely satisfied, Biggles went back to the Auster to collect the torch which was always carried. It was not in its usual place. The reason was not hard to find. ‘The torch has gone,’ he told Thompson. ‘Ginger must have taken it.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t ask me. To look at something, or for something, I suppose.’
They made another search in the tangle of torn twigs and branches round the wreck, but it was without result.
‘What do you make of it?’ Thompson asked Biggles.
Biggles answered thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know what to think, and that’s a fact. It looks as if Lazor couldn’t have been seriously hurt or he’d still be here, and, in all probability, Ginger with him. He wouldn’t attempt to carry a helpless, perhaps unconscious man, for any distance. Had that been the case, the natural thing would be to make him as comfortable as possible and then go off for assistance.’
‘Where would he go for help? There’s nowhere near.’
‘The obvious place would be the farm, to get on the telephone.’
‘That wouldn’t have been any use.’
‘Why not?’
‘The phone’s out of action. The wires are down. Didn’t you notice?’
‘No. I didn’t see that. I was in too much of a hurry to get to the planes.’
‘The Moth must have taken the wires with it as it overshot the field. Pulled over one of the posts at the same time.’
‘Pity about that,’ Biggles
said. ‘It means we’re out of touch with anyone. No, wait a minute,’ he corrected himself. ‘We’ve still got the Auster. I could use the radio to call the Yard. That would mean taking it into the air. I’d rather not do that yet — in case Ginger is somewhere not far away. Lazor may still be on his feet, in which case I hope Ginger has more sense than to tackle him single-handed.’ He raised his voice and called: ‘Ginger!’
There was no answer.
He shouted again. ‘Ginger!’
Still no reply.
He looked at Thompson. ‘Where the devil can he have gone?’
Thompson answered. ‘He’s nowhere near, that’s certain, or he must have heard you. So what are you going to do?’
‘What can we do? I don’t like leaving here in case Ginger comes back to collect his machine. For that matter, Lazor might try to grab it, if he’s still able to move about.’
‘How about trying the house, to see if there’s anyone there?’ suggested Thompson.
‘We might as well; but it won’t take two of us to do that,’ Biggles said reflectively. ‘You go. I’ll wait here in case Ginger comes back. Matter of fact the police were in the house when I was last here, so there’s just a chance that a constable may have been left to keep an eye on the place. Shout if you want me. I should hear you from here.’
‘I’ll do that,’ agreed Thompson, and set off across the field in the direction of the farmhouse.
Biggles, looking worried, more on Ginger’s account than about Lazor, made his way slowly to the Aiglet, lit a cigarette and prepared to wait for something to happen. He had not long to wait. Within a minute something did happen; something that brought him to attention with stiffened muscles. Gunshots. Three. One, and a moment later, two more. They were some distance off, but close enough to increase his anxiety for Ginger. Who was shooting? Lazor, he knew, carried a gun. Had Ginger put one in his pocket? He couldn’t remember. He thought not.
He did not move. There were reasons against it. Lazor was on the loose. He might make off in the plane if he left it. Then there was Thompson. He had told him he would wait. He might run into trouble at the farmhouse. So all he could do was stand there, feeling worried and frustrated.
CHAPTER 14
THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS
When Ginger took off in the Auster from the Podbury Flying Club ground he had acted on impulse, without thinking seriously of what he was doing and the possible consequences. He had seen the Moth taxiing out, clearly intending to take off. He knew who was in the cockpit. He heard Thompson say there was only half an hour’s petrol in it, so in the first instance his immediate idea was no more than to see the direction taken by Lazor. This would give a general idea of where he might come down when he ran out of fuel. Of course, he was by no means sure that he himself would get airborne in time to pick him up; but if he could do that it might be possible to follow him a little way, even though it was doubtful if he would be able to keep contact with him for very long.
That would depend to a great extent on Lazor’s ability as a pilot; that is, how clever he was at evading tactics when he realized he was being followed when he saw, should he look back, another aircraft close behind him. Obviously, if he did see he was being tracked, and took cover in the clouds, that would be the end of it, no harm having been done.
The Moth had not switched on its navigation lights, leaving Ginger to wonder if it was equipped with them. Probably not, as in the ordinary way the machine would not be used for night flying. The Auster of course had lights, but Ginger did not switch them on because this would at once make him conspicuous. It was taking a chance, but he decided to risk it.
As it turned out, having noted the direction of the Moth’s take-off he had no difficulty in spotting it against the sky before it could turn. It was well below the clouds and on a course practically due south. Having once marked it, his own machine being the faster, it was a simple matter to close in on it, keeping a comfortable distance just behind and below its tail, a position where he was not likely to be seen unless Lazor thought he might be shadowed; and he could have no reason to suppose this might happen.
More than this there was nothing Ginger could do. He had no means of interfering with the Moth and would not have dared to do so if he had. In peace-time flying, anything of that sort could not have been justified and would only end in trouble for himself. The best he could do, therefore, was to watch his quarry, wait for him to land and, if outside an official aerodrome, mark the spot.
The Moth flew on. Where could Lazor be going? Had he decided on an objective, and if so where was it? Sussex now lay below, so the Channel could not be far ahead. Could he be making for France? If he did that the situation would be awkward, to say the least. Lazor probably wouldn’t care what became of the Moth. It wasn’t his. Once on the ground he could abandon it. But could he reach France? That was another question. The Moth had barely enough petrol for such a trip; but it might just manage it. If Lazor looked at his fuel gauge, and unless he was a complete fool sooner or later he was bound to do that, he would hardly risk a forced landing in the sea. In his haste to get away, Ginger pondered, it might be some time before he realized that he was low in petrol.
It was at this stage of the operation that Ginger remembered his radio. If everything was in order this should make it possible for him to get in touch with Headquarters at Scotland Yard. He would not be able to speak directly to Biggles, of course, but he could get Algy or Bertie, whoever was on duty, and one of them certainly would be because Biggles had given orders to that effect, a message could be relayed over the phone to Podbury club-house, assuming Biggles had remained there. So he got busy and tried his luck. It was in. He was soon in touch with Algy, with what result we know. He reported what he was doing, his position, the course he was on, and asked that the information be passed on to Biggles at Podbury.
Taking his eyes off the Moth for a moment in order to concentrate on the radio, he nearly lost it. In fact, he did lose it for a few seconds; but after a brief period of anxiety he was able to pick it up, now on a new course. He was soon on its tail again, and lost no time in reporting to Algy the change in the situation.
What had happened? Why had Lazor suddenly changed direction? Was it because he had spotted the Auster behind him and was trying to shake it off his tail? Thinking fast, Ginger did not think that was the answer. He thought it more likely that Lazor had originally started for France, but suddenly realizing the petrol position he had changed his mind, as would be understandable, fearing he would not be able to make a landfall on the opposite side of the Channel.
Where was he making for now? If anywhere in particular? He was on the borders of Hampshire. Did he know of an aerodrome where it would be safe for him to land, or was he looking for some open country, anywhere, where it would be reasonably safe to get back on the ground, the machine being of no consequence? If that was the idea he would soon have to make up his mind. As a qualified pilot he would not be so stupid as to go on until his petrol ran out and the engine packed up on him, in which event he would have to land willy-nilly regardless of what happened to be below. Both machines were by now well inside Hampshire, with the clouds breaking and visibility improving as they travelled westwards.
It may have been the word Hampshire that rang a bell in Ginger’s memory. Hampshire, he reflected. Twotrees Farm, with its big field that had been Caine’s private landing ground, was in Hampshire. Lazor knew about that. Was the field his new objective? It seemed possible. In fact, probable. Why not?
Ginger thought he would soon know, for if Thompson had been right about the Moth’s petrol supply, Lazor would not be able to remain airborne for much longer. Already the needle of his petrol gauge must be nearly on the pin marked Empty, and causing him anxiety. In broad daylight the thought of having to make a forced landing might not worry him overmuch, but after dark, maybe over unfamiliar country, such an operation is a very different matter. There were such hazards as overhead power cables, which are almost impo
ssible to see, to bring an aircraft to grief. Actually, Ginger was by no means sure that he would have been able to pinpoint Twotrees Farm, never having landed there.
As things worked out, Lazor must have known the landscape very well, for he took him to the farm. Ginger saw the Moth make a sharp turn and begin losing height. Looking down he was able to make out the isolated farm with its two conspicuous trees. So that’s it, he thought. If Lazor could get down on the field so could he. It did not occur to him to do otherwise. What would happen when they were both on the ground could not be foreseen. That would depend on what Lazor did and where he went. Ginger resolved to see the Moth did no more flying that night, even if Lazor knew of a secret supply of petrol hidden somewhere by Caine. One thing was certain. Lazor would be on the field first. As soon as his own engine stopped he would hear the Auster and see it land. That would tell him he had been pursued. What would he do then? One thing he could be relied on not to do was take off again with practically no petrol. The probability was he would make a run for it, perhaps seek cover in the wooded country around.
Not being a fool, Ginger realized that to hunt the man in such conditions, single-handed, would be asking for trouble. He hadn’t a weapon, whereas Lazor would almost certainly carry a gun; the gun he had used when he had been cornered in the dummy hay barn. Still, he resolved to follow the Moth down when it landed. There might be an emergency supply of petrol hidden in one of the farm outbuildings and Lazor might know about it. This would enable him, if nothing was done to prevent it, to refuel the Moth and take off again. He would see to it that this did not happen. Once Lazor left his machine on the ground, it would be a simple matter to put it out of action.
In the event it did not come to this. What did happen was something quite outside his calculations. Maintaining his altitude in order to have a clear view, he watched the Moth circle as if preparing to land. At least he was right in that respect. We know what happened. It overshot the field and had to go up again for another circuit. Ginger now cut his engine to reduce the chance of Lazor hearing him when, on the ground, he switched off. But again the Moth overshot the field and had to go round again. This time Ginger lost sight of the machine for a moment or two against the dark background; but he soon picked it up again as it came back.
