Biggles and the Plot That Failed

by W E Johns

  ‘That’s no way to treat a dead man,’ protested Bertie.

  Sekunder glared at him. ‘I haven’t finished yet. There’s something else here,’ he muttered, and again lying flat proceeded to reach for it.

  Bertie remembered something. ‘Be careful. You may find yourself shaking hands with—’

  That was as far as he got. The warning came too late.

  Sekunder’s face was suddenly convulsed. He let out a cry of agony. Snatching out his arm, he scrambled to his feet, screaming. The reason was plain for all to see. Clinging to his hand was a scorpion, its tail arched over as it drove in its venom. It was a huge black beast, presumably the one Bertie had disturbed. Swinging his arm, Sekunder flung it off. Then, his face ashen, he sank down, groaning, clasping his injured hand.

  Nobody else moved. The suddenness of the accident left everyone speechless. Ginger, in spite of what he knew about the man, could not help feeling sorry for the victim. He had never been stung by a scorpion, but he had seen men who had.

  ‘Help me, somebody,’ choked Sekunder. ‘Don’t just stand there staring.’

  Biggles looked at Bolzana. ‘Can you do anything?’

  ‘I have nothing for such wounds.’

  The Tuareg simply stood there, impassive, their dark eyes indifferent over their veils. They must of course have seen this sort of thing happen often enough.

  Biggles stepped forward. He took Sekunder’s hand and looked at it. Already it was swollen to nearly twice its normal size. The wrist was thickening as the poison went up the arm. ‘Didn’t you bring anything with you to deal with this sort of situation?’ he asked, keeping a thumb pressed on the artery.

  ‘No. Have you got anything?’ Sekunder appeared on the point of fainting.

  ‘Not here. You need a doctor.’

  Sekunder groaned.

  Biggles looked at the others helplessly. The fact was, with the poison already in Sekunder’s veins, he thought there was little he could do, little anyone could do. More in the hope of appearing to do something than to serve any useful purpose, he twisted his handkerchief over the lower part of the victim’s arm to form a rough and ready tourniquet. Speaking over his shoulder he said: ‘Ginger, go as fast as you can to the Merlin and bring me the medicine chest.’

  Actually, he did not think Ginger could get back in time to do any good. Nor for that matter was there anything in the chest likely to restore Sekunder. The poison would be in his body. There was some permanganate of potash, sometimes recommended for snake bite, and brandy. What he was really thinking of was a bottle of pain-killing tablets carried for emergencies, such as a crash in which someone might be injured. He did not think Sekunder would die, but he was likely to be ill for some time and would suffer a great deal of pain.

  Sekunder had now collapsed. The sun was beating down, so the limp body was carried into partial shade provided by the engine cover spread over two rocks. Nothing more could be done.

  Biggles looked round. ‘This is a nice business,’ he observed. ‘I didn’t think it would end like this,’ he told Bertie.

  ‘Couldn’t we have flown him to Siwa?’

  ‘I thought of that. There would have been difficulties, explanations, and that sort of thing. Strictly speaking it isn’t up to us to do anything. He isn’t with our party. But we may have to fly him somewhere eventually.’ Biggles looked at Bolzana. ‘Couldn’t you have done something?’

  It turned out that Bolzana spoke better English than Adrian had supposed. ‘Me not a doctor. With camels too far to Siwa. Five, six days.’

  This was obviously true. In five or six days Sekunder would either be dead or on the way to recovery, so the long and arduous journey, even if he survived it, would serve no useful purpose.

  Biggles lit a cigarette and looked around. ‘Where are the Tuareg?’ he asked Bertie casually.

  ‘No use asking me, old boy. I don’t know.’

  ‘The camels!’ exclaimed Biggles.

  Where there had been six there were now two.

  ‘I didn’t see ‘em go.’

  The fact was, everyone’s attention had been so occupied with the stricken Sekunder, that no one had paid the slightest attention to the Tuareg.

  ‘Looks as if they’ve decided to go somewhere else,’ said Biggles grimly. As if a thought had struck him he went on: ‘My God! Ginger! I wonder — will they interfere with him?’

  Bertie answered. ‘No.’ He pointed. ‘There they go.’

  Some distance out in the desert four camels were trotting towards the big dunes. They had nearly reached them.

  Biggles spoke sharply to Bolzana. ‘I believe they were your men. Did you tell them to go?’

  ‘No. I say nothing.’

  ‘Then why have they left you?’

  Bolzana shrugged. ‘Tuareg are like that. I think I can explain. They like not disturbance of tombs of ancestors.’

  ‘So that’s it,’ breathed Biggles. ‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. I was always given to understand the Tuareg were unpredictable. Are they likely to come back?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you going after them?’

  ‘No use.’

  ‘But what about the camels? They were yours.’

  ‘No. The four camels that have gone are their own. I hired them with the use of their animals. Only the camels they have left are mine. I don’t think they would rob me. They have worked for me before. They have left us some water skins. That also is like the Tuareg. They know the meaning of thirst.’

  Silence fell: a scorching, sun-drenched hush in which the departing Tuareg appeared to be swallowed by the sea of sand — as in a manner of speaking they had been.

  Biggles looked directly at Bolzana. ‘How do you come into this? Who are you? Where do you come from?’ he asked bluntly.

  To which Bolzana replied: ‘I would like to ask you the same questions. There are many things I do not understand.’

  CHAPTER 15

  HOW IT ENDED

  After a brief pause in which the still unconscious Sekunder was moved a little to keep him in the shade, Bolzana continued, in fair English, but with a marked accent:

  ‘I will speak first,’ he said. ‘I am Turkish, but long resident in Egypt. I began my career as an archaeologist, but having little money I became a professional explorer and dealer in antiquities. Some I find. Some I buy. That is why I am here.’

  ‘And what you find you keep, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh no. I am an agent trusted by the Egyptian government. Anything that comes my way I hand over to them.’

  ‘For a reward?’

  ‘Of course. I have to live.’

  ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Now I live in a little house beside the lake at Maasir, which is near Siwa. People know me and bring me things they find. I give them a fair price.’

  ‘Is that where you met Sekunder?’

  ‘No. I met him first in Upper Egypt about two years ago. I was excavating some ancient ruins and for a short while he worked for me. Some weeks ago he came to see me at my house at Maasir and made a proposal. He said he had a clue to the position of the lost tomb of King Ras Tenazza, sometimes spoken of in the legends of the natives. He said he was about to confirm this. If he did so, would I finance an expedition to the place? He wanted my assistance because I had a drill for my work. He had seen me using it when he was with me in Egypt. It would be needed to excavate the tomb, if he found it.’

  Biggles glanced at Adrian. ‘Now you know where he went and what he was doing when he left you at Siwa. It looks to me as if he had already made up his mind to do away with you once he had located the tomb. For that, all he needed was your plane.’ Biggles turned back to Bolzana. ‘He had previously made a similar proposition to Mr Mander.’

  Bolzana looked puzzled. ‘I don’t quite understand.’

  ‘Sekunder had no intention of sharing anything with anybody. He wanted everything for himself. First he had to find the tomb. To do that he asked Mr Mander, who owned
a plane, to fly him here. Which he did. Sekunder then went off with the plane, leaving Mr Mander here to die, as he thought, of thirst. Then, needing your help and transport, he went to you, having previously prepared the ground.’ Biggles went on to explain exactly what had happened, filling in the details.

  Bolzana looked horrified. ‘I knew nothing of this, I assure you.’

  ‘I believe you.’

  ‘The man is a scoundrel.’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘And a liar.’

  ‘I’m beginning to wonder if he ever told the truth in his life.’

  ‘Now I begin to understand many things.’

  ‘Sekunder, having no money to finance an expedition, was on something for nothing. He used Mander for his plane, and you because you were an experienced desert explorer able to provide a means of opening the tomb. That, I think, in plain English, was his scheme. Had a treasure been found in the tomb, I doubt if you would have had any part of it. You may never have got back to Siwa. With that end in view, it would not surprise me to know that Sekunder, behind your back, told lies to the Tuareg to induce them to desert you.’

  ‘It is possible. He spoke much with them. He could speak their language. I remember now hearing the Tuareg whispering among themselves. I overheard something about a spirit guarding the tomb, but I paid no attention to it. They think there are evil spirits everywhere.’

  ‘As it happened on this occasion they were right. There was one in the tomb, in the shape of a scorpion,’ replied Biggles, succinctly. He looked straight into the eyes of the man facing him. ‘Tell me this, Mr Bolzana. Why did you sabotage our base camp?’

  Bolzana looked mystified. ‘This I do not understand.’

  ‘You reached these hills by way of the Oasis of El Arig?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You must have seen our tent and the stores we left there.’

  ‘Of course. But we did not touch anything.’

  Biggles frowned. ‘Are you sure of that?’

  Bolzana hesitated, thought for a moment, then drew a deep breath. ‘This explains something. It must have been Sekunder.’

  ‘How could he do that without you seeing him?’

  ‘It was after we had left. Sekunder said he had forgotten something and must go back. He would catch us up.’

  ‘Did he do that?’

  ‘Yes. It was some time later when he overtook the rest of us.’

  ‘That’s when it must have happened. Would you have touched our things?’

  ‘Never, and I would not have allowed anyone else to touch them. I did not know to whom the camp belonged, but it is a law of the desert to respect the property of others. To touch it could bring death to someone.’

  Biggles nodded. ‘Very well, Mr Bolzana. That explains that. It seems that your friend Mr Sekunder does not obey the law of the desert.’

  ‘Please do not call him my friend. A travelling companion, yes. What are you going to do with him?’

  ‘Me? Nothing. I suppose I could take him to court for theft and attempted murder, but what good would that do? It would only involve Mr Mander in more trouble and expense. Mr Mander still hopes to recover his plane if Sekunder will tell us exactly where he left it.’

  ‘When I get home I shall see that Sekunder never again sets foot in Egypt. I am not without influence. I will report him to Cairo. He is a danger to everyone.’

  ‘That’s up to you,’ rejoined Biggles, carelessly. ‘The silly thing is we still don’t know what’s in the tomb, or if there is anything at all. While we’re waiting here for my friend to return with the medicine, don’t you think, as we are on the spot, it would be a good thing to settle the question once and for all? I see no point in spending more time here than is necessary. When the tomb has been opened we can all go home.’

  Bolzana agreed. ‘That should not take long now we have made an opening,’ he said. He went to his drill and started the engine.

  He was quickly able to demonstrate that in this he was right. The stones round the aperture were easily loosened with the point of the drill and with three helpers could be dragged to one side. ‘Sekunder’s downfall was his impatience,’ said Bolzana, during a breather, for the heat was appalling. ‘I told him to wait.’

  ‘You won’t catch me putting a hand inside until I can see what’s there. No bally fear,’ asserted Bertie.

  With stones removed from the base, weakening the whole structure, it was the weight of the lower part of the fallen pinnacle that really finished the job. It had cracked the dome right across, letting in enough light for the interior to be seen. A few minutes’ more work removing stones that seemed likely to fall inside, and they all crowded round to see what there was to be seen. There appeared to be very little. Certainly there was no sign of the fabulous treasure which Sekunder believed must be there. What there was could be observed at a glance.

  On the sandy floor had been spread a piece of woven material, a rug, a mat, or perhaps a small blanket. It was in shreds anyway. On it reposed a human skeleton minus the skull, which Sekunder had of course already thrown out. The bones were so old that only the larger ones remained, the vertebrae, the arms and the legs.

  ‘So now we know,’ said Biggles quietly, taking a cigarette. ‘Not much to make such a fuss about.’

  ‘This is how these things so often end,’ said Bolzana sadly.

  ‘You don’t think the tomb may have been robbed?’

  ‘No. It was intact. There was never more here than there is now. I see a gold armlet on the forearm — a common object in this type of grave. There is also something round the neck, as I would expect.’ Bolzana brought it out. It was a primitive necklace of leather thongs linking some gold beads and various stones, mostly only semi-precious, but including some roughly polished emeralds. There were also one or two nice pieces of lapis lazuli. ‘Nothing of great value,’ observed Bolzana. ‘The emeralds might be worth something, but they are not very good ones.’

  The only other object that a closer search revealed was a sword with the blade so corroded by rust that it crumbled at a touch.

  ‘So now we can all go home,’ said Biggles, when they had assembled outside. He gave Adrian a sympathetic smile. ‘I hope you’re not too disappointed.’

  ‘Frankly, I am, rather,’ admitted Adrian ruefully. ‘I expected something more exciting, but I suppose that’s the luck of this sort of business.’

  ‘You’re right. That’s one lesson you’ve learned, anyway. The only question that remains is, what are we going to do with him?’ He looked across at Sekunder who, eyes open, was watching them. ‘We can’t leave him here.’

  ‘That’s up to you.’

  ‘He can come home with me, at least as far as Siwa. But we can talk about that presently,’ concluded Biggles, as Ginger arrived with the little white plastic box, decorated with a red cross, always carried in the aircraft against an emergency. He took it and went over to Sekunder, now beginning to moan again.

  ‘Come on. Pull yourself together so that I can have a look at you,’ ordered Biggles briskly, putting the box on the ground and opening it.

  Sekunder opened his eyes wide. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

  ‘If I had any sense I’d go home and forget about you, but I’ll help you as far as I can. Here, drink this.’ Biggles poured a tot of brandy to help him to swallow a pain-killing tablet. Sekunder drank it. ‘Now give me your hand.’

  With an effort that brought a groan, Sekunder raised the injured arm. Livid and swollen to the shoulder, it was not a pretty sight.

  Biggles did what he could. He was not a doctor, and he had had no experience of scorpion wounds, so all he could do was treat the sick man as for snake bite. He found the mark of the sting, smeared it with iodine and lanced it till the blood ran. At the sight of his own blood Sekunder nearly fainted again. Biggles took no notice. He rubbed in some crystals of permanganate of potash, put on a bandage and rested the arm in a sling. After another sip of brandy he said, ‘Sit up.’

>   ‘I can’t.’

  ‘All right. Lie still and die. You’d do better to keep your blood moving. If the poison—’

  Sekunder sat up.

  ‘That’s better,’ said Biggles. ‘I’m going to ask you some questions and I want straight answers. But first of all you’d better know we’ve seen inside the tomb.’

  Sekunder started. ‘You have! What did you find?’

  ‘Nothing. Well, practically nothing. A few old bones.’

  With another groan Sekunder fell back. ‘Then I’m ruined. I put all my money in this venture.’

  ‘What you mean is other people’s money,’ said Biggles bluntly. ‘What you’ve got is what you deserve. Where did you leave Adrian’s plane?’

  Sekunder hesitated. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘We shall take it home with us.’

  ‘You might as well forget about that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I crash-landed and it went up in flames.’

  ‘You told me—’

  ‘I know. That wasn’t true.’

  ‘What a liar you are. What happened?’

  ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘That, I suspect, is another lie.’ Biggles’ voice hardened. ‘The truth is, having no further use for it you set it on fire to get rid of it before awkward questions could be asked. Is that it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where did this happen?’

  ‘Where I told you. At the Fountain of the Sun.’

  ‘That’s just south of Siwa,’ put in Bolzana, who was listening.

  ‘Then we’ll check it on the way home,’ Biggles told Adrian. He turned back to Sekunder. ‘The Tuareg have deserted with their camels. Were you responsible for that?’

  Sekunder did not answer.

  Biggles went on grimly. ‘Now you listen to me, and listen hard, you damned scoundrel. We’re off home, and you have to face the little matter of getting home yourself. I hope you enjoy your walk.’

  Sekunder looked startled. ‘You can’t leave me here.’