by W E Johns
“Why did you look so hard at that man?” asked Anna curiously.
“In my work one gets in the habit of looking hard at anything that doesn’t entirely add up to normal,” answered Ginger casually as he allowed the car to slow down.
“Was there anything about the man that didn’t quite add up, as you call it?”
“Nothing worth talking about. Maybe as things are I’m inclined to be a bit sensitive and over-suspicious. That fellow’s suit was made of a cloth few Englishmen would wear. I’ve nothing against it but I doubt if it was made in this country.”
“But many foreigners come here.”
“True enough. But that car looked like a brand new Triumph Herald. Why should the engine be giving trouble? And if there’s something seriously wrong why didn’t the man stop me to ask if I could help, or leave a message at the next garage? That would be usual.”
Anna looked at Ginger sideways. “How you notice little things.”
“I wouldn’t be much good at my job if I didn’t. Often it’s the little things that count.”
“You don’t think—the man—could be watching— the house we’re going to?”
“I wouldn’t think so.”
“Those nasty people who have been following me couldn’t possibly know that Doctor Jacobs lives here. That’s impossible.”
“I used to talk like that but after one or two sharp lessons I’m careful how I use the word impossible.”
By this time the Jaguar was crawling up a badly rutted gravel drive between an area of overgrown flowering shrubs, rhododendrons and the like, to a house of some size, obviously old although of no particular period. An attempt had been made to tidy up the garden but it was still largely a jungle of weeds.
Ginger pulled up at the front door. “You might as well sit where you are until I’ve made sure the Doctor is at home,” he told Anna, as he got out. There was no bell so he knocked.
There was no answer.
“I’m afraid there’s no one at home,” he said as he knocked again.
“There’s someone in the house,” advised Anna. “I saw a curtain move at one of the upstairs windows.”
“Then get out and show yourself. The Doctor should recognize you. Perhaps he doesn’t like strangers.”
Anna stepped out and looked up at the window. Ginger knocked again.
Presently there came the sounds of a lock being turned and bolts being drawn. The door was opened a few inches and a middle-aged woman in a nurse’s uniform regarded them coldly. “What do you want?” she asked.
“I believe Doctor Jacobs lives here,” answered Ginger somewhat disconcerted by this uncivil reception. “I’ve brought a friend to see him. I hope he isn’t ill.”
“Tell him it’s Anna Lowenhardt,” put in Anna,
“I will tell him,” said the woman, closing the door and locking it.
Ginger shrugged. “Looks as if the Doctor is nervous about something,” he observed.
The woman came back. Looking at Anna she said: “Come with me.” To Ginger she added: “You can wait here.”
Anna went in. The door was closed and again locked. Ginger strolled to the car and leaned against it prepared to wait. He had no alternative and could only hope he wouldn’t be kept hanging about for too long. Knowing Biggles would be anxious to have his report he wanted to get back to London, but he could hardly leave things as they were. Anna’s case was still in the car, anyway.
He had stood there for some time thinking of nothing in particular when a slight movement, where everything else was still, drew his eyes to the spot, some twenty yards or so down the drive. As it occurred in some evergreen shrubs it might have been a bird, and that was what he thought had caused the movement of the leaves at a spot five to six feet from the ground. His nerves twitched when he made out a face looking at him from between some twigs. Even as he looked there was another slight movement as the leaves, which had evidently been drawn aside, were allowed to settle back into their proper position, hiding the face.
Ginger gave no indication that he had seen what he had seen. His gaze wandered away from the spot, his elbow on the bonnet of the car and his chin in his hand. He yawned, and presently half turned his back. But his brain was racing. Clearly, someone was watching him, or the house; it didn’t matter which. Either way it was something he had not reckoned on, or even imagined might happen. His first sensation was shock. Then, as this passed, he began to wonder what he should do about it. He would have to do something. He couldn’t go back to London and leave things like this. All his plans, such as they were, collapsed.
How long had this been going on? was one of the first thoughts to occur to him. Did Doctor Jacobs know his house was being watched? Was that why the woman who had answered the door had been so offhand? Possibly. In fact, very probably. Biggles would have to know about it and the sooner the better. How could he do that? If there was a telephone in the house it should be easy. If not... how? What on earth was Anna doing, keeping him waiting all this time? The sooner she knew what was going on—
The door was opened and Anna appeared. “The Doctor would like to talk to you,” she announced cheerfully.
“And I want to talk to him,” returned Ginger grimly.
“Will you bring my case, please? I’m going to stay here.”
Ginger collected the case and followed Anna into the house.
CHAPTER X
A SHOCK FOR BIGGLES
As soon as Ginger and Anna were away in Bertie’s car Biggles instructed the driver of his taxi to take him to the house at Hampstead where Doctor Jacobs had once lived. Exactly what he would do and say he did not know; that, he had decided, could be left until he had seen the officer in charge of the investigations into the attack on Mrs. Smith. He was prepared for a difficult situation, at all events until he had explained his interest, because he was not known in that particular Police Division, and local officers might resent interference from Scotland Yard unless its assistance had been called for. Tact would be needed.
Actually, Biggles would have preferred to keep away from the house, but dare not take the risk of missing Professor Lowenhardt should he return to it. Aside from that he was anxious to know what the police had made of the case, if they had found any clues. And, of course, he felt bound to tell them what he knew.
In the event, however, any early objections to his intrusion were soon ironed out.
Telling his taxi to wait he found a police constable on duty at the door with orders to admit no one, this applying particularly to newspaper reporters. Inside, he was told on showing his credentials, conducting the inquiry were Chief Superintendent Lowe and the station sergeant. He sent in his name with the result that he was admitted.
The Chief Superintendent regarded him, if not with disapproval, then without enthusiasm. “What brings you here?” he inquired. “I’ll send for the Yard when I’m ready. I can handle this.”
“I’m sure you can, Chief,” returned Biggles evenly. “I don’t want to barge in, believe me, but I had to come along because I’m sure I can help you.”
“You mean you’ve got a theory about what’s happened here?” The Chief was still slightly cynical.
“I’ve more than a theory. I have some facts which, when you’ve heard them, you’ll agree I could hardly have withheld.”
“What sort of facts?”
“For instance, I know who broke in here, and why.”
The Chief stared. “How the hell—”
“To save you time I’ve come to tell you what I know. That’s all. It’s a queer business and involves factors you couldn’t possibly suspect. If you’ll listen I’ll tell you what they are, afterwards leaving it to your discretion what you do about them. Before I start I want you to tell me one thing. Has a man named Professor Lowenhardt been here this morning?”
“Not to my knowledge. Who’s he? I’ve never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t, unless he had been here. I’m desperately anxious to get in touch with h
im. He came here about midnight and would have been murdered had I not had a man watching the house. But I’ll come to that presently. Where Mrs. Smith is concerned I have no interest. The attack on her was a case of mistaken identity.”
“That could explain why I’m not making much progress,” admitted the Chief. “Nothing appears to have been touched so I was stuck for a motive.”
“Any finger-prints?”
“Not so far.”
“All right. This is the story. It’ll take a minute or two to tell so we might as well sit down.” Biggles lit a cigarette.
“Do you really mean you know the name of the man who broke in here and coshed Mrs. Smith?” asked the Chief, almost incredulously.
“There were probably two men at least, since they came to commit murder—probably a triple murder.”
“For God’s sake! Would I be likely to know them?”
“No. They’re professional killers who recently came to this country with orders to bump off certain people. Mrs. Smith was not one of them. The wretched woman must have got in the way. What I’m going to tell you is strictly under the hat. If one squeak gets out these murdering hounds may still get away with what they came to do, and then slip out of the country without us being able to do anything about it.”
“I’d see about that,” swore the Chief.
Biggles shook his head sadly. “Why do you suppose I haven’t done anything about it? This is a political job, and these swine are in the happy position of being able to take cover under diplomatic immunity. You’ll see more clearly what I mean in a minute.”
Biggles went on to explain the escape of the Roth family from Germany, how they were being hunted by East German agents and why it was thought they were in the house supposedly occupied by Doctor Jacobs. He touched on the arrival of Professor Lowenhardt who had come to warn them, how he had been followed and had managed to escape. “Karkoff’s killers must have come back here afterwards, imagining the Roths were inside, to finish the job,” he concluded. “Frankly, I wasn’t prepared for them to strike again so quickly as that or I’d have been here. As I see it now perhaps I should have warned Mrs. Smith of what might happen, but I couldn’t see the immediate necessity of upsetting her.”
“She must have heard a noise as the devils broke in and came down to see what was going on.”
“That’s what happened, without a doubt.”
“The silly woman should have dialled 999. We’d have been here inside five minutes.”
“Perhaps she couldn’t get to the phone. Anyway, there it is. My angle is simply to prevent these unfortunate German refugees from being murdered. Just that and no more. The girl Anna is now on her way to Doctor Jacobs where she should be safe. My next job is to find her father. He doesn’t know Jacobs has moved and must still be under the impression that he lives in this house. And, of course, I’m anxious to locate the Roths. They know Jacobs doesn’t live here any more but they can’t have any idea of where he’s living now.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Yes. Mrs. Smith told me, when I came here, that three people answering to the description of the Roths had called. She told them Jacobs no longer lived here; she knew nothing about him.”
“You say you know where these thugs hang out?” prompted the Chief.
“Yes. Anyhow, until yesterday they were living at the Cosmolite Hotel, in the Cromwell Road, Kensington.”
“And there’s nothing you can do about ‘em?”
“Not a thing as long as they behave themselves.”
“I wouldn’t call what they did here behaving themselves.”
“How are you going to prove they did it? You say you haven’t a clue, not even a finger-print. You get a line on them, hooking them up with what’s happened here, and I’ll see they don’t get into any more mischief —for a time, anyway.”
“Would it suit you to have ‘em picked up on suspicion?”
“Certainly. But what grounds have you for that?”
“A check on their papers might reveal a flaw. If they weren’t in order we might get ‘em out of the country on a deportation order, as dangerous aliens.”
“That could serve for the moment, but it wouldn’t solve my problem in the long run.”
“Why not?”
“Being what they are, professional agents in state employment, it’s a thousand to one they will have been provided with papers in perfect order. Even if we did find something wrong, and picked them up, they’d simply be replaced by another gang. You know the old saying, better the devil you know than one you don’t know.”
“Yes. I suppose you’re right. Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“Somehow, I don’t know how, I’ve got to find Professor Lowenhardt, and the Roths, and get them somewhere reasonably safe. The present situation has boiled up by the unfortunate circumstance of Doctor Jacobs having moved. I shall be interested to know what you decide to do about it. Don’t for heaven’s sake let a word of this get into the newspapers; that won’t make things any easier for either of us.”
“I’ll see that doesn’t happen,” promised the Chief. “I may still find something here. I haven’t finished yet.”
“All right. That suits me. You might let me know if Lowenhardt turns up, or anything else of importance. You’ll get me, or one of my assistants, at the Yard, or my home address. Here’s my number. I’ll tell you if anything happens at my end. I felt I had to tell you what I knew about this.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you did. Queer business. I knew Doctor Jacobs pretty well.”
Biggles looked surprised. “Oh. How did that come about?”
“As you know, he was a German by birth, naturalized British. He came here before the war. Naturally, when the war broke out, and the panic flared up about spies, he was put on the list of possible fifth columnists working for Hitler. I was a sergeant at the time and took part in the general round-up.”
“Was Jacobs arrested?”
“No. As a matter of fact he wasn’t. His record was good. As a top dental surgeon he was well known in the profession, doing a lot of useful work, some of it in military hospitals. Several of our doctors were prepared to stand guarantee for him, and he was, after all, a Jew who had left Germany to escape Nazi persecution. So we merely kept an eye on him and let it go at that. He was all right. I knew he had left the district but I had no idea where he went. I had no occasion to get in touch with him, but I could have got his address had I wanted it.”
Biggles looked up sharply. “You could?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
“As a Doctor of Dental Surgery no doubt the professional societies would be in contact with him if only to forward the latest papers and periodicals. Even after retirement I imagine he’d want to keep up to date with the work he’d been doing all his life. No doubt I could have got his address through them.”
Biggles bit his lip. “I didn’t think of that. I seem to have slipped up there. Not that I’ve had much time to think about it. You’ve got me worried. If you could have got Jacob’s address through his profession no doubt other people could have done it.”
“I suppose so.”
“Hm. That gives me another worry.” At this juncture the telephone rang. The Chief Superintendent answered it. He handed the receiver to Biggles saying: “It’s for you.”
Biggles took over and listened. All he said was: “All right. Stay where you are. I’m on my way.” Having replaced the receiver, speaking to the Chief Superintendent he went on: “I shall have to go. That call was from the Yard. It seems as if one of my lads is in trouble. I’ll be seeing you again. If Professor Lowenhardt should come back here you might tell him to report to my office at the Yard and wait for me there. Someone will be on duty. Better still, if you have transport available, in order to make sure he doesn’t get a knife in his back I’d be obliged if you’d arrange for one of your cars to take him. The same with the Roths, although I doubt if they’ll return. Goodness onl
y knows what’s happened to them.”
“Meanwhile if I can get a line on these crooks for what they’ve done here I shall pick them up.”
“Of course. I shall breathe more freely if I know they’re out of circulation. So long.”
He went out and in a minute was on his way to Headquarters.
On arrival he made his way quickly to the office where he found Algy and Bertie waiting for him. “All right, go ahead and give me the gen,” he requested tersely. “What’s this about Ginger?”
“I took the call from him—Bertie hadn’t come in then,” answered Algy. “He rang from the public call-box at Saxton village post office, the Doctor’s telephone being dead, apparently having been cut. He found the old man at home, but on the sick list with a nurse looking after him. She’s been with him for some time acting as general housekeeper. It was arranged for Anna to stay there. So far so good. Ginger discovered the house was being watched—he didn’t know by whom but assumed it to be by one or two of Karkoff’s gang. This knocked him all of a heap. He couldn’t imagine how the Doctor had been traced.”
“Never mind that. I think I know. What did Ginger do?”
“His first thought was to let you know the position. When he spoke to me his intention was to return to the house and hang on there until he had orders from you.”
“Otherwise there had been no trouble?”
“Not up to the time he was speaking. He didn’t mention any.”
“So he’s still there?”
“Yes.”
“Nuisance about the Doctor’s phone being out of order. It means I shall have to go down. There’s no other way of getting in touch with him. Is there anything here to deal with?”
“No.”
“Did you see the Air Commodore?”
“I did.”
“What were his reactions to all this?”
“He isn’t happy about it. In fact, he was more than half inclined to drop the case, saying it wasn’t our business. I pointed out that if we packed up now there’d be murder done as sure as fate. If we hadn’t stepped in the murders would already have been done. Karkoff wouldn’t be likely to pack up until he’d done what he’d been sent to do. At the finish the Chief agreed that having gone so far we might as well carry on; but at the first chance we’d better drop the case and he’d hand the whole thing over to the proper department.”
