A/N : There's some editing to do still, but if I waited until that was finished, I'd never post this story. So here goes. Due credit to Shirley who beta-read this story (I haven't finished going over her corrections, so whatever mistakes are left are probably things she pointed out and I haven't corrected yet). But, hey, we all have a busy life.
Thanks also to all who review, it's much appreciated.
And finally, please note this story is going to be twenty chapters long. Myra and I are still working on the sequel (already fifty pages and it feels like we're barely getting started...)
Chapter 4 - In the enemy's lair
Ginger ended up having a bite to eat with Harry and his mother - an amazing lady whom everyone looked up to - before continuing his way back to the hotel in the cooler afternoon.
He almost laughed as he snuck in through the back gate and just missed von Stalhein's deck chair. Quickly he dropped to his knees and peered around the plants till he could see properly.
Sleeves rolled up and feet crossed at the ankle the super- spy didn't look very scary. Mind you, neither did the two other men, in their brightly coloured shirts and shorts and sandals. Algy had his eyes closed, probably against the glare of the sun, and Biggles was half following his example, keeping half an eye on von Stalhein, who seemed prepared to enjoy the afternoon.
It made Ginger a little twitchy, but he was happy to be able to use the front door, so slithered off.
He'd wanted a dip but decided a quick wash in his room would be safer.
"You didn't see what I just did, did you old boy?"
Algy frowned, squinting up at Biggles with one eye. "I've got my eyes shut. We haven't lost our friend, have we?"
"No, though I rather thought we'd gained a new one for a minute. I could have sworn I saw Ginger underneath von Stalhein's chair."
"So long as the charge he planted isn't so big it means I get covered in gore, I don't mind." Algy decided, quirking on eyebrow in the German's area and checking he was still there.
"We had a nice talk, him and I. I offered to teach him to swim but that didn't cut the ice - turns out we're both quite interested in the Bach family though. It saved things getting to awkward."
Biggles looked at him. "You aren't advocating the man is human, are you?"
"Nothing of the sort. But I had to pass the time somehow. And I wasn't the one who offered him dinner, was I?"
Ginger was leaving again - a long soak in cool water had completely revived him - when he came face to face with Bertie, sneaking along the corridor looking very conspicuous.
"What are you up to?" He hissed, "I thought you were down on the wharf, with the plane."
Bertie followed him inside and snatched up a towel, wiping his face with it before sinking back on the bed and answering. "I stayed there for a long time - Biggles came and went but eventually I caught up with this Brownie fellow. He's going to give the other two a lift over there tomorrow morning - 9 sharp. I'm not so easy about it but the other two - well, I actually only talked to Biggles but you know what Algy's like - are rapt. Don't know why, it's sure to be a trap. These men have been down here for month, I gather."
Ginger nodded, looking troubled as he tugged an unruly curl on the nape of his neck. "They're nothing if not crazy. If you or I had tried that..." He thought for a moment. "There's no sign of another plane which we can follow them in, you know, unless we take ours. And Biggles won't hear of it coming unstuck unless we absolutely have to."
Bertie raised his eyebrows but shrugged, "Of course they wouldn't see very probably being shot to death as spies as an emergency, so long as they can get the information out first."
"You know what he says," Ginger assented, "They're soldiers and the mission comes first."
"Which is all very well, but it still relies on us getting the information out of them somehow. Well, no doubt Biggles has a plan. What have you been up to since you took the little blighter to look around?"
Ginger related there'd been people snooping around asking similar questions, and that he'd met up with Algy, "Who seems far too happy with all of this. I'm sure he's got some knowledge we haven't. He's sure we'll end up arresting von Stalhein and his cronies."
Bertie shrugged, "Well, they've been working together since 1916, remember. There's plenty of couples haven't stayed together that long."
"They aren't a couple," Ginger pointed out, "which is why they managed it, probably."
"Shall we repeat the dinner exercise we had last night, Mr Stahl?" Biggles asked cordially, standing over the reclining figure opposite them.
"Tempting though that is, I have a meeting I must attend in town. I shall no doubt see you later, though, gentlemen."
Von Stalhein stood and bowed, striding out of the enclosure.
"Well, I'll catch up with you later then, Biggles. If I'm not awake by 8 for goodness' sake don't send Ginger in to wake me up." Algy started off before Biggles managed to catch his shoulder.
"You are going to follow him," Biggles said in a flat voice, once he'd caught up.
"That's the general idea. After all, I'm his personal shadow. Perhaps you'd like to join Ginger and Bertie, to let them know the rest of the story?"
Nodding, Biggles left, muttering about people who showed initiative. He couldn't complain when the orders being carried out were his own, though. At least he'd given Algy a general run - down of the warehouses in the area. He'd have some idea of where he was going, surely.
Von Stalhein, clearly sure he was being followed, dodged and turned as much as he could before getting into a taxi. It wasn't that Algy had had particularly a lot of practise as a child; rather he'd learnt to follow in war-skies in planes made from the scrap which could be found hanging around the shed. It stood him in good stead now as he caught a ride on a rickshaw, which could follow easily through the streets and side-turns the taxi took, and could keep up through virtue of the crowded streets and low horsepower of said vehicle.
Algy bid the driver of the Rickshaw to continue past the drop-point of von Stalhein and paid him off around the corner, before reverting to following on his own feet.
The German had disappeared but there was a small chink of light coming from a boarded up window near where the taxi had stopped. Algy flickered along the wall near it and managed to catch voices - often the very familiar (no matter which language he happened to be speaking) one of von Stalhein.
Most of their conversation was in what he concluded was Russian, though there was a bit in German when another man entered. Algy could follow that well enough, though the translating of the words and their actual meaning was a little different in the circumstance.
The general gist seemed to involve, when in German, the movement of people, while the Russian he could only guess at. Algy was just beginning to think the whole thing was a waste of his time when he heard another tread and another new voice, speaking English with an accent peculiar to the colonies.
"So you're sure yer want 'em ter come along with me tomorrer?" Algy frowned; sure his ears were growing to elephantine proportions as he strained to hear more.
"I am sure." The coldness was all von Stalhein,
"And I'm ter land and drop 'em. Will I be refuelling there or coming straight back?"
"Carry as much fuel as you can. There may be company- they flew in as we know, so one or the other may turn up and the other follow you instead. I wouldn't put it past them."
Algy grinned to himself. Not a bad plan, but again it overlooked their main reason to come here - to gather information.
"Right, well yer can expect them ter be on that island o'yers bout quarter-to, or ten o'clock."
The steps receded again and Algy slipped out soon afterwards, when there were more boot-movements on the stairs.
He reported straight back to Biggles, who was in his own room staring at the ceiling.
"Well, at least we know what his orders were regarding fuel," Biggles decided, struggling up on his bed, "Any questions or would you like a drink?"
Grinning, Algy passed a drink to Biggles, took one himself and waved his hand to indicate his companion should make room for him on the bed.
The next morning Algy and Biggles breakfasted early and headed down to the wharf. "Bertie is right. This is probably a trap," Algy commented, more for something to say than because he thought it contestable.
"It's a good lead, though, and solves the problem of stowing away for days without sustenance," Biggles pointed out.
"Unless they land us on an island and leave us. Then we'd be worse off than before."
"But we have the advantage of knowledge and surprise - Bertie was very careful to intimate we had only a passing experience with planes. Brownie doesn't know we can easily overpower him and do what we like."
"So long as there's enough fuel. I'd like to know that much, at least. Remind me to drop it into the conversation if I can," Algy concluded, as they turned into the appropriate walkway. «We're lucky that von Stalhein didn't tell Brownie much about us at all. Or at least, I don't think he did." There was just a tinge of anxiety in his voice.
«Being a spy, he's naturally overly cautious what he says and to whom,» said Biggles with a discreet smile. He spoke lower as they arrived in sight of the plane. «That's not what worries me most, really. I'd feel a lot better if we had a means to get in touch with Bertie and Ginger. But this is an opportunity we just cannot pass up, no matter our misgivings... hush now, I see Brownie coming our way.»
Algy's head turned sharply to find the other man coming their way indeed. He greeted them with a cheerful, carefree smile. Algy would have felt badly for involving him in their troubles, had he not heard what he had the day before. As it was, the pilot's amiable attitude put him doubly on his guard.
«So, you're the guys who want a tour in me plane, heh?»
«That's right,» answered Biggles pleasantly. «And we're grateful for the opportunity. We love flying, and we so seldom have the occasion...»
«What, are there no planes in England? Surely you can afford a tour every now and then?»
«Not all that often. We live in London, and then we have other obligations that leave us little free time. That's why we're so keen on taking advantage of this holiday to fly.»
«Well, you're welcome to it... though you might be disappointed. There's not much to see, up there, except a vast sheet of water.»
«That's what we like about flying - the immensity of an empty sky,» Biggles replied, never caught at a disadvantage.
«All right then, everyone in t'plane! We'll be taking off shortly.»
Brownie climbed up first and slid himself in the pilot's seat. Biggles naturally picked the copilot's seat (for the view, as he put it innocently) and Algy found himself a seat in the back of the machine. A moment later, the plane was gliding on the sparkling blue ocean, white foam spurting in its wake. Algy felt a familiar excitement in his chest as the little machine finally hauled itself from the pull of gravity and slowly gained height, soon leaving the harbour and the island behind.
It ascended sharply at first, then gradually more evenly, and it glided easily on its right wing until the island was again in sight, to their right. Algy marvelled to see it already so small and distant. He had not so often taken off from an island, and his perception of distances was different with the wide ocean all around them. The fact that there were only very few clouds, when any at all, added to his disorientation, for he was used to using them as points of reference.
«So, where are we going?» Biggles asked casually. For a moment Algy thought it was a mistake, until he realized it would have been more suspicious not to ask.
«Some way north, north-west-north,» Brownie informed them. «As I told your friend, I had to go up anyway, so I'm really just sticking to my schedule. You'll like it though, it's more interesting this way - plenty of atolls and islands. Back south there's nothing at all between Port-Vila and Australia or New Zealand.»
«It's fine by us. We didn't really have any direction we wanted to go,» Biggles assured him, while pretending not to notice that Brownie had, in fact, neatly evaded the question. «It's a very nice plane you have here. Small but fairly powerful. I'm no expert, but I like it. What can you tell us about it?»
«Oh, it's not a new machine, by far, but I take very good care of her.» Brownie genuinely glowed with pride. «People say things about planes and old models, but the truth is, if you keep them in a good enough shape, they'll never let you down. Not like women.» He spoke off-handedly, but there was a shade of something underlying his tone that suggested he said so out of bitter experience.
Algy saw his chance, both to get the information he wanted and to change topics. «So what can she carry? And what's her range?»
«How much she can carry, it depends on how far you want to go... but she'll carry easily a dozen people - as far as weight goes, because as you can see there's no room for that many people. And there's a small storage unit in the back for any cargo I need to carry. And her range, depending on the weather and how heavy she is and a number of other things will be around five hundred kilometers. Right now her tanks are full, so she's a bit heavier, but don't worry, there's no risk of us getting stuck. She could easily go as far as Australia - and she has.»
«Not bad,» appreciated Algy. «But a long range is necessary I assume, when living on an island. Emergency landings must not be a lot of fun.»
«Yes and no,» Brownie shrugged. «If it happened - and really it has, once or twice - I'd be stuck in the middle of nowhere, granted, but at least I'd be sure not to hit a tree or a car or something. And I've got a radio anyway.»
«So what happened when you had to land? Did you call someone on the radio?»
Brownie's eyes crinkled in a malicious smile. «The first time, I was able to repair on my own. The second time I was stuck good, and out of range of radio contact. I was lucky enough that a ship came by soon after, and that the weather was nice at that time.»
«And here I thought nothing ever happened in a place like this,» Biggles remarked. «But I guess being a pilot is never completely free of danger.»
«But worth it every inch of the way,» answered Brownie proudly.
They kept talking of nothing and everything in the hour that followed. Experienced pilots, Algy and Biggles knew exactly what questions to ask to keep the conversation running, and they spoke mostly of planes and flying. It kept them from having to say anything about their personal lives, but it also was a little frustrating at times to pretend they knew nothing or almost nothing about planes, when they had spent more time in the air than on the ground.
After some time, as mid- to late morning was beginning to loom closer, Brownie began to focus less on the conversation and more on the sea under them. He was obviously looking for landmarks, and seemed to find them after a while. He looked to his right at Biggles.
«Well, we're getting close to our destination. I need to get down for a little while, and then we'll get back.»
«Really?» Biggles squinted down at the sea. It was hard to see because of the sunlight reflecting intensely on the water. «Where are we landing?»
«This atoll, there - the bigger one. You can't really see the landing strip from here, but don't worry, I know exactly where it is. I could make a sea landing, but this way we won't have to swim ashore. We'll just need to circle a little and lose height - I'm flying a bit too high still. And maybe we'll have lunch there, if you feel like it.»
«Actually, I think not,» Biggles said softly. He must have carefully located the atoll in question, as had Algy, who felt confident he could find it again. He had not thought Biggles would make his move so early, but he was right - there was really no reason to risk a landing.
Brownie, on the other hand, looked completely taken aback. Either he had truly expected nothing of the sort, or he was a better actor than Algy would have given him credit for. «What on earth do you mean?» he asked, straightening up from the controls to stare at Biggles - Algy was too far behind him for him to comfortably crane his neck towards him. «I told you I was following my schedule -"
«And I have no doubt of that,» Biggles cut him pleasantly. «But we've just made a change in that schedule. I think you must have an idea why, and if you truly don't, then I'll be glad to explain when we're back to Port-Vila.»
«You're crazy,» Brownie asserted, with a dismissive shrug. «Look, I'm landing, and you're certainly not going to stop me. I'm the one who can pilot that plane, remember.»
«We'll be glad to take the stick if need be. Now turn away.»
«And what if I don't?»
«We'll make you.»
«I'd like to see you try that,» the pilot scoffed. «Not without making us crash, you won't.»
«You seem to forget I'm sitting in the copilot's seat,» Biggles said, a little more harshly. «Algy can hold you down, why I take control of the plane. It's as simple as that. Now, are you going to do as we say, or are you going to be difficult and risk all of us crashing?»
«You bandits - I certainly won't -" Brownie began furiously, but Algy stood up and in a stride was behind his seat.
«You're one to talk... besides, you really have no choice,» he said in a quiet, low voice. «Rest assured that if we have to take control of the plane by force, it won't look good for you. Don't bother resisting - there are two of us, and we're both good pilots, let me assure you.»
«Well - I -" Brownie trailed off, and seemed to be considering his options. He really had no choice, and Algy saw his shoulders tense as the realization sank in.
«Enough,» Biggles said. «We've lost enough time. Get up and step back now. That's the last time I'll ask."
Brownie hesitated for a long moment, but after a while it looked like he was going to be reasonable and obey, angry though he was to have to submit.
«This is quite enough, gentlemen.» The voice, cold and familiar, rang out from the back of the plane.
Algy froze. For a handful of seconds, he wondered if it could have been a hallucination. It had to. But before he had time to convince himself of that, he heard the voice again.
«Keep still, Lacey. And you, Bigglesworth - step back. Just one step, mind you.»
In spite of the order he had been given, Algy looked back. He really could not stop himself - nor could he quite believe his eyes when he saw von Stalhein standing less than two meters back. The sheer impossibility of their enemy's appearance out of thin air was such a shock that for what felt like the longest moment, he was not able to put two thoughts together. He just could not wrap his mind around that gap in logic.
Biggles looked just as stunned as him, and a small smile played on von Stalhein's lips as he saw how successfully he had tricked them.
«I must admit you're the last person I expected to see here,» Biggles said when he had recovered from the initial shock. «Do you have some hidden powers of dissimulation? Or -" his gaze drifted to the storage unit Brownie had mentioned early. Its door was still half-open.
«Step back, Bigglesworth.» Von Stalhein may be vain and enjoy his little success, but he was no fool, nor was he losing track of the situation. «I would advise against trying anything. You know I am a good shot, and I could hardly miss you at such a distance. Or I might shoot Lacey. I suspect that threat would be more effective than one directed at yourself.»
Biggles recognized the seriousness of the threat and slowly, without any sudden move, he extricated himself from the copilot's seat.
«Sit on the floor,» von Stalhein commanded. «You too, Lacey.»
Sitting down would make it that much harder to try anything - such as leaping at von Stalhein and taking the gun from him - but there was no way out of it. No bulletproof way, in any case. Algy and Biggles had to recognize it, and they obeyed without a fuss.
«Now, Mr. Rainbow, land this plane, if you would,» von Stalhein said coolly.
«All right,» Brownie said nervously. He cast frequent looks over his shoulders, clearly ill-at-ease with having someone with a gun standing behind him, even when that someone was one of his employers.
Algy slid a glance at Brownie, but there was obviously nothing to expect from him; even putting aside any issue of morality, the man was scared stiff, and not keen on getting involved any deeper than he already was. Algy wondered if he had known about von Stalhein being in the storage unit. He certainly had looked as surprised as his passengers when the German had showed up.
«So, you decided to get a lift to your base,» Biggles observed. Apparently he had decided that small talk was a good idea, though von Stalhein was a dour companion at best. But, Algy thought, it might allow them to gather more information, and perhaps get the German to lower his guard.
«That was not what I planned initially,» von Stalhein admitted. «But after due consideration I decided to take no chances.»
«So it was all a trap, from the beginning.»
«Certainly not.» To Algy's meager satisfaction, von Stalhein sounded a little annoyed. «You were not supposed to show up, and if I had known you would, I would not have been anywhere in the vicinity. But since you were there - and as usual, getting involved in other people's affairs, you forced me to act.»
«You're the one who always gets tangled in any fishy business that comes our way,» Biggles complained light-heartedly. «If you chose your employers better, we would not be in this situation.»
Brownie was looking over his shoulder again. «You... you all know each other?» he asked timidly. «Nevermind,» he added hastily when three blank stares were directed at him.
«Oh, we're old friends,» Biggles said with a smile that showed a little too many teeth. Von Stalhein scowled.
Brownie could certainly take a hint, and he said nothing more. Besides, he had to focus on his piloting as the plane had descended quite low and was now beginning its final approach. No matter what else he could be, Brownie was definitely a good pilot. But even the best pilot could not keep his plane entirely steady while landing, especially such a small machine.
Biggles had been watching for it, and he had given Algy a discreet sign. When the plane suddenly lurched a little to the right and von Stalhein stumbled, they were both ready. Biggles dashed forward, aiming for the gun, and Algy got ready to tackle von Stalhein. They were just a little too far. If the German had been standing fifty centimetres closer, they might have made it. As it was, a bullet whizzed past Biggles' cheek. His momentum cut off, he looked back anxiously to see if Algy had been hit, and Algy gave a little wave that he was fine. The occasion was lost, however.
«Get back, Bigglesworth,» von Stalhein said. Frosty did not even begin to describe his tone. «You are quite lucky that you were not hit, or your dear friend Lacey. Another attempt might yield more woeful results.»
«Well, I know when I'm beaten,» Biggles said genially. Algy saw the fire in his eyes though, and he knew there was still hope. They had been in much more desperate situations than this. Then he looked at von Stalhein, and wondered how he could have missed them - both of them. He was quite a nifty shot, as he had reminded them only minutes earlier. But what had he said... you are lucky that you were not hit. Not, you are lucky that I missed you. He had not missed - his aim had been off on purpose. Algy filed the information away, though he was not sure yet what it could mean.
The plane was still descending, but when Algy sneaked a glance towards Brownie, he could not fail to notice how pale and sweaty he looked, even from a distance, nor how shaky his hands were on the stick. The gunshot seemed to have wracked his nerves badly.
A moment later they touched down, and slowed quickly. The landing was not as smooth on the ground as it would have been on the sea, but it was not too bumpy. Unfortunately. Then the plane stopped, its engines were cut off, and for a moment the sudden silence was deafening.
«Now what?» Biggles asked calmly.
«Stand up,» von Stalhein commanded. «Open the hatch and get down. I'll be right behind you.» It was as much a threat as a promise.
«I'm sure,» said Biggles wryly, but he obeyed, moving slowly and carefully. He opened the hatch and jumped down. Algy followed, almost stumbling as he did so, his limbs stiff and numb after hours spent motionless. Von Stalhein came after them, with feline ease though he too looked a little stiff. It must not have been comfortable, spending such a long time without being able to move for fear of making the lightest sound, but Algy was not in a sympathetic mood - and if he had been, he would have kept it for someone more deserving of it.
A fresh, salty breeze brushed his face, and Algy took this first occasion to look around him. The first impression he got was that this atoll was less than hospitable. Rocky and steep, the landing strip they had landed on was pretty much the only flat area of the atoll, and by far the most welcoming. Algy wondered what on earth they could be doing there - it certainly did not look like a secret facility at first glance - but then a small group of people appeared, seemingly out of thin air. When he squinted in their direction, Algy realized that they had in fact come from something that looked like a camouflaged hangar. A very well camouflaged hangar.
The newcomers had now arrived close enough for him to get a better look at them. There were five of them. It was hard to tell what their rank or title might be, for four of them wore a simple grey uniform, with markings unknown to Algy. Of these, two appeared to be officers, considering that their uniforms were a little more elaborated. The one who led the way certainly had the quiet authority of someone accustomed to be obeyed. It was impossible to tell his nationality in one glance, for he had brown hair and eyes and ordinary features, but the fifth man, who wore simple civilian clothes, had blond hair and blue eyes, and high cheekbones, that gave him a definitely slavish look.
The leader stopped a few steps from them and addressed von Stalhein in what sounded like Russian. He definitely seemed to be unhappy about something - perhaps Biggles' and Algy's presence. At some point the officer gave his men a sharp nod, and Algy noticed then that they were carrying rifles - and that those were not aimed far off from the prisoners, either. But von Stalhein spoke persuasively and at length, and eventually the officer shrugged.
«В то время как вы хотите,» he said. «Но я не люблю эту ситуацию.»
Von Stalhein turned to face his two prisoners. «You are going to be taken to a holding cell,» he said. «I strongly advise against any antics, if you wish to live a little longer.»
A sharp order in Russian got the two soldiers ready to escort the British. Von Stalhein must have impressed on them the threat posed by the prisoners, for they watched them closely and never got too near.
«Wait,» Biggles said. «May I ask what is intended for us? You'll understand, I hope, my curiousity.»
«Not much, if you are lucky,» von Stalhein replied dryly.
«Nothing pleasant, if you do not behave,» the Russian officer said with a heavy accent. He sounded like someone who seriously lacked a sense of humour.
«So long as we're in good company,» Biggles murmurred wryly.
«You'll have to be content with each other's company,» von Stalhein said sourly.
He too could use a sense of humour, Algy thought. Or at least a less snarky one.
Aware that there was nothing they could do at the moment, neither he nor Biggles resisted when they were taken to a cell.
A/N : I wasn't sure whether I should translate the russian, since we're seeing the scene from Algy and Biggles' point of view and they wouldn't understand it. But if anyone's curious, it means "As you wish for now, but I don't like this situation".