Biggles and the Plot That Failed

by W E Johns

  ‘Then quit moaning and make yourself useful.’

  After this exchange of pleasantries the bivouac was soon busy. A quick breakfast and, with the false dawn throwing its pallid light over the scene, the party was ready to move off.

  ‘What about the tools?’ asked Ginger. ‘Are we taking them with us?’

  Biggles answered by putting a question to Adrian. ‘How far have we to go?’

  ‘About a mile and a half.’

  ‘Then as you say the tools aren’t much use, we needn’t hump them with us. If we did decide to use them we could fetch them. Listen, Adrian. You’ve still time to change your mind about staying here. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather pack it in and go home while the going’s good?’

  ‘No. I’m seeing this business through.’

  Biggles shrugged. ‘Very well. Let’s go. You lead the way.’

  The party set off, each man carrying a water-bottle slung over his shoulder.

  Reaching the end of the chasm, where the cliffs broke down to open, rock-strewn ground, they paused to survey the scene in the direction from which the caravan would approach. Nowhere in the miles and miles of sand that rolled away to the pitiless distances was there a living creature; not a movement. The face that the dunes turned to the sky was one of a world that had died, long, long ago.

  ‘They can’t get here before sunset at the earliest,’ said Biggles pensively. ‘Look at that desert. Someone must have a thundering good reason for coming here. I wouldn’t cross it on foot for all the crown jewels in the Tower of London.’

  They went on for about a mile, by which time the rim of the sun, a fiery orange, was showing over the edge of the horizon. On the way Biggles pointed out what he thought were old river beds or gullies caused by storm water.

  ‘You might as well have a look at this, in passing,’ said Adrian, turning away from the desert to some rising ground on their right.

  A short walk brought into view a yawning cavern which had from its regular shape been dug by men into the side of a hill. Outside and all around lay the heaps of debris from the excavation. ‘My emerald mine,’ went on Adrian, with a curious smile. ‘I wouldn’t go too close. The cave is lousy with snakes, and from the way they came at me they don’t like visitors. There are more up there.’ He pointed to a slope above the cave. It was spotted with holes like a great rabbit warren. ‘That’s where the people who lived here buried their dead. It looks as if they just pushed the bodies into a hole and left them to dry out.’

  ‘Is that where you found the gold necklace?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘That’s the place.’

  ‘Then there may be more.’

  ‘Without a doubt. I only looked in one hole, out of sheer curiosity, wondering what had made it. When the snakes started to appear, hissing like a lot of wild cats, I lost no time in removing myself. I can only imagine it was the vibration of my footsteps that disturbed them.’

  ‘It must be a very long time since anyone came here,’ remarked Biggles, thoughtfully. ‘With grave robbing a regular profession in North Africa — and other places in the Old World if it comes to that — one would have thought these would have been ransacked long ago.’

  ‘Maybe the snakes discouraged them,’ offered Adrian.

  ‘That may be the answer. Does Sekunder know about this?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I found it after he’d gone. Are you going to have a closer look?’

  ‘No. Well, certainly not now. This is no time or place to fiddle about with a colony of vipers. I’m more concerned with the big tomb, so that I shall know what Sekunder will be up against when he tackles it. Let’s press on while the sand is still cool.’

  They continued on their way, Adrian sometimes pointing out inscriptions carved on rocks where flat surfaces made it possible.

  By the time the so-called leaning pinnacle came into view the sun was up and the sky its usual unbroken blue. As Bertie remarked, pinnacle was the right word. A needle of coal-black rock, some fifty feet high, blunt at the base but tapering to the apex, thrust upward like a warning signal. They went on to it, and there at the foot was the tomb. Or what was thought to be a tomb, although there was not much reason to doubt it.

  It was an extraordinary structure and Adrian had not exaggerated its massive strength. In general appearance it took the form of a giant pudding basin, inverted. Its diameter at the base might have been twenty feet; its height, half that. It was built of what were obviously hand-cut rocks, not all the same size, but none, for a rough guess, weighing less than half a hundredweight. The rocks had been beautifully fitted together, without mortar, so that the joins hardly showed, making it evident that the masons who had done the job were craftsmen of a high order. There were inscriptions everywhere, but being in an unknown language they conveyed no information. There was no door, nothing to show there had ever been an entrance. They walked round it, examining it closely, to make sure.

  ‘The whole bally thing might be solid,’ said Bertie.

  Adrian answered. ‘I’d say it’s a hollow sepulchre. That’s how it was with others that have been found farther north.’

  No one argued about this.

  The dome-shaped tomb and the tall finger of rock close to it gave the whole thing the appearance of a primitive mosque. The rock, clearly, was a natural formation, although to what extent time and the weather had been responsible for its present shape it was impossible to say. The sides were smooth, almost polished. But the most striking — one might say alarming — feature of the spire was the way it leaned towards the tomb; indeed, hung over it. Poised at such an angle, it looked as if a touch would send it crashing down. What would happen if it did fall was a matter for surmise. It might splinter, break to pieces, or it might by its weight crush the dome flat, making examination even more difficult.

  ‘Well, what do you make of it?’ inquired Adrian, looking at Biggles.

  ‘What can one make of it? I must say I don’t like the look of that cockeyed rock. A shake would send it over. Have you touched it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did Sekunder?’

  ‘No, although he thought it more secure than it appeared.’

  ‘How did he propose to get into the tomb?’

  ‘At first he said what we really needed was a crane.’

  ‘Ha! That’s a good one. How did he think he could get a crane to a place like this?’

  ‘That’s what I asked him. Then he talked of fetching some dynamite to blow the whole thing open.’

  ‘Dynamite! He must be out of his mind. That rock wouldn’t stand up to the shake of an explosion. I wouldn’t care to let off a squib near it.’

  Adrian agreed.

  Biggles went on. ‘I can’t believe this was the original set-up. Why put a tomb in such a dangerous place? For what possible reason? No. I’d say that rock at one time stood erect, to mark the spot, like a tombstone. Either the sand on which it stands has shifted, causing it to lean as it does, or else wind-blown sand has scoured it into that shape and position.’

  ‘Well, what can be done about it?’

  ‘Don’t ask me. Frankly, I’m not interested. I came here to find you, not mess about with ancient monuments. Now, having done that, if I wasn’t as dim-witted as an old hen I’d be on my way home. As far as this tomb is concerned one thing sticks out like a bandaged thumb. Even if we were prepared to risk being crushed as flat as flounders by working on the tomb, the tools we have would be about as useful as a toothpick on a tin of sardines. Anyway, I’d think twice before I started hammering on those stones, with a hundred tons of rock hanging over my head.’

  ‘You aren’t very helpful,’ complained Adrian.

  ‘Maybe not, but I hope I’m talking sense. A gold bucket full of emeralds wouldn’t be much use if you were spread-eagled on your back with that lump of rock lying across your chest. At the moment I’d be happier with a galvanized iron bucket full of bacon and eggs. But why talk nonsense? Let’s go home.’

  ‘Just a jiff
y,’ put in Bertie. ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘Spill it. We could do with one.’

  ‘How about digging a tunnel under the bally thing and coming up inside? It’s only standing on sand.’

  Biggles looked pained. ‘Have a heart! How long would that take? Sekunder may be here tomorrow. Besides, how do we know it’s built on sand? There may be rock below. I’m no miner, anyway, and I can’t see any of us wielding a pick and shovel in this heat.’

  ‘I see what you mean, old boy,’ said Bertie sadly, rubbing his monocle. ‘Funny how my ideas never seem to click.’

  Adrian looked at Biggles suspiciously. ‘I’m getting the impression that you don’t care whether we get inside the tomb or not.’

  ‘You’re dead right,’ answered Biggles. ‘I never did think much of this business of digging up dead men’s bones. If they go to the trouble of building themselves a cosy grave, they have every right to lie in it undisturbed. People who come along and dig them up for the sake of the things that were buried with them are thieves just as much as those who rob the living. That’s how I see it. You asked for it, now I’ve told you.’

  ‘I don’t want their money,’ retorted Adrian.

  ‘Then what are we doing here?’

  ‘I’m devoted to archaeology. How are we going to find out about the past if we don’t dig?’

  ‘It’s time we started talking about the future.’

  ‘What future?’

  ‘Tomorrow. What are we going to do when that camel convoy arrives? If it happens to be a stray party of Tuareg, maybe they’ll just ignore us. But if it’s a gang organized by Sekunder, the situation could get ugly. Look, Adrian. You’re the one who wants to stay here. Perhaps you’ll tell me exactly what you’re going to do when you come face to face with your late partner — bearing in mind that we’ve only enough food to last a day or two?’

  ‘Sekunder will be in the same position, only his problem will be water. Those camels can only carry so much. They’ve made the long journey here. They’ll have to hold enough in reserve to get back to where they came from. So none of us will be able to stay here long. I imagine Sekunder will come straight here. When he arrives I shall be waiting for him.’

  ‘And get yourself shot? That doesn’t sound very intelligent to me.’

  ‘I shall behave as if nothing had happened. I shall pretend to be delighted to see him. I shall say I always knew he’d come back, and congratulate him on wasting no time in going home to fetch the tools for the job.’

  ‘Do you seriously suppose you’ll get away with that line of bluff?’

  ‘Why not? What can he say? He’s not likely to admit that his real intention was to murder me.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I’ll see how he shapes. I shall co-operate with him in opening the tomb.’

  ‘If he’ll let you.’

  ‘We shall see. If he cuts up rough — well, I’ve always got my gun.’

  ‘He’ll know you must have found water.’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘He’ll demand to be told where it is. It’s going to take him some time to pull down this pile of rocks, and with his water problem solved he wouldn’t have to hurry. Let’s suppose you get away with your bluff and he lets you help him open up the tomb. Then what will he do? Invite you to take half of what you find? Forget it. He’ll do, or try to do, what he did before. Go off, leaving you here. He’d know you wouldn’t have a hope of ever getting home.’

  ‘That’s supposing he hasn’t seen your plane.’

  ‘I’m hoping he won’t see it. I imagine he’ll stay here, where the job is. Why should he go anywhere else?’

  ‘If the worst comes to the worst we’ll have a showdown,’ argued Adrian. ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘I wouldn’t gamble on that. Don’t forget you’re dealing with an unscrupulous rogue, prepared, as he has already demonstrated, to commit murder. It seems to me that you’re deliberately looking for trouble.’

  ‘I’m prepared for it. So would you be if Sekunder had done to you what he did to me. I can cause trouble, too.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I might stampede the camels. Then it would be Sekunder’s turn to stay here, or try walking home.’

  Biggles looked worried. He shook his head. ‘I don’t like this at all.’

  ‘What do you suggest I do? Have you an alternative?’

  ‘Look at the thing from my angle. Here I am, in a position to do what I came here to do, which is take you home. You refuse flatly to come. Very well. You ask for an alternative to your scheme for bringing matters to a head right away. I’d like to think that over, but as I see it now I think you’d do better to stay with us, and keep out of sight until we’ve seen the composition of the caravan, made sure that Sekunder is with it and watch how he goes to work. He may not know the location of the water supply, but if he has Tuareg with him they might. There’s little they don’t know about the desert. We shall soon see.’

  ‘Let’s leave it like that for the moment,’ agreed Adrian.

  ‘Good,’ acknowledged Biggles. ‘It’s too hot to stand here talking, so let’s get back to the aircraft before the soles of our feet are blistered. We’ll need to remain mobile.’

  As they walked back to the canyon in the fierce heat Ginger said: ‘I wonder what became of those oryx we saw, now the poor little beasts can’t get to the water-hole for fear of us.’

  Biggles answered. ‘I don’t think we need worry about them. They can take care of themselves. They may know of another water supply in these hills, perhaps some distance away; failing that they may have moved off to one of the unknown oases thought to be in that part of the desert not yet explored. They have the reputation of being able to travel long distances without a drink.’

  They reached the aircraft, quenched their thirst and with sighs of relief settled down in the shade.

  The rest of the day passed quietly, the conversation being mostly of archaeology in general and the ancient tomb in particular.

  Said Adrian lugubriously: ‘You can imagine how frustrated I feel that having found the tomb I can do nothing about it. Can’t any of you think of a way of getting into it?’

  Biggles shook his head. ‘At the moment I wouldn’t know where to start; however, I’m still thinking about it.’

  Bertie spoke: ‘What we really need is the sort of trumpet old Joshua used to carry. That’s the tool for a job like this.’

  Ginger looked up. ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘Oh come — come,’ reproved Bertie. ‘Don’t say you’ve forgotten how, when he blew his bugle, the walls of Jericho came tumbling down?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s very funny,’ observed Biggles moodily. ‘I doubt if the walls of Jericho were built like that tomb, which I suspect was here before Joshua was born.’

  ‘You know, old boy,’ rejoined Bertie sadly, ‘you’re losing your sense of humour.’

  ‘Who wouldn’t, in this infernal frying-pan?’ concluded Biggles, wearily.

  CHAPTER 9

  AN EXPERIMENT THAT WORKED

  The following morning they were again on the move early, not so much because there was something to be done, as because dawn was the only time of the day when the torrid heat that followed it was bearable. Nothing had been decided. There had been some talk of trying to break into the tomb with the tools at their disposal, but Biggles had opposed it on the grounds that even if they made some impression they would not be able to finish the job before the caravan arrived. This could happen within a matter of hours, and it was hardly likely they would be allowed to continue in peace. Moreover, should Sekunder arrive with an armed force, any work they had done would probably be to his advantage.

  Ginger suggested a sortie in the Merlin to locate the exact position of the caravan; but this Biggles also opposed in view of the petrol position. As he reminded them, in such climatic conditions they might be losing petrol all the time by evaporation. Instead, he asked Ginger to climb the nearest co
nvenient hill to reconnoitre the desert from the top.

  This Ginger did, and returned to say the caravan was not yet in view; but as he had had to face the glare of the rising sun, he could not swear to it.

  ‘So the position remains the same as yesterday,’ observed Biggles. He went on: ‘I’m almost sorry we have an ample water supply here.’

  Adrian looked astonished. ‘That’s an extraordinary thing to say. Why?’

  ‘Because had the water supply dried up we should have to go home whether you liked it or not. That would be the sensible thing to do. I still can’t see your object in remaining here. It’s bound to end in trouble.’

  ‘I’m not afraid of Sekunder,’ stated Adrian curtly.

  ‘So you’ve said, and I believe you. Well, I am. People who provoke snakes are liable to be bitten. If it comes to fighting, as it may unless you calm down, someone is likely to get hurt, and this is no place to have a casualty on our hands. And it isn’t only Sekunder I’m thinking about. Remember where we are. The weather at the moment is settled, but it won’t necessarily remain so. This sort of country is a hazard in itself, and every hour we spend here exposes us to what the desert can do. A haboob, as they call sand-storms in these parts, can last for days. There would be no question of flying, and in forty-eight hours we shall be out of food.’

  ‘I haven’t asked you to stay,’ said Adrian.

  ‘What do you expect me to do? Go and tell your father that we found you and then returned home without you? He’d think we were a bright lot.’

  ‘Tell him the truth. Say I refused to leave. He knows how obstinate I can be.’

  ‘I’ve noticed that myself. I can’t see what you hope to gain. You say you’re not interested in any possible treasure. You’ve taken copies of the inscriptions. What do you want?’

  ‘I’m not letting that murdering little swine Sekunder get away with this. I’m going to have it out with him. He pinched my aircraft.’

  ‘I can understand how you feel,’ conceded Biggles. ‘But I hope you realize that if you had a row which ended with you killing him, the rest of his party — if they didn’t kill you — would report you for murder.’