CHAPTER SIX – A Headache for Algy
The next morning the four airmen were looking over the Halifax. Biggles thought Algy looked a little less strained and once again he felt a feeling of anger that they'd not been allowed to join Algy sooner. No matter how sensible the decision, Biggles had been fully aware of how vulnerable Algy had been – and still was. He looked across to him sitting in the co-pilot's seat where they were waiting for instructions from Ginger who was working on one of the port engines.
Algy caught the look and grinned. "Did you manage to speak to my guv'nor?" he asked, with studied casualness.
"Yes, just before we came out." He smiled at Algy. "The old boy gave me a message to pass onto you. Told me to tell you to keep your head below the parapet. He may be a cantankerous old walrus, Algy, but he does care, you know."
Algy grunted. "I know. He just doesn't show it much, never has." A shout from outside drew his attention and he stuck his head out of the cockpit window to listen to Ginger's instructions.
The overhaul finished they had a leisurely lunch and then retired to Biggles' room to make their plans. It would not do, Biggles thought, to be in Port Stanley whilst Algy was in Buenos Aires and they discussed the various options open to them as a base.
"Algy" Biggles looked keenly at his friend. "What made you tell them you were going to Ecuador? It's quite a distance, about two and a half thousand miles, by my calculations."
"I know, but I wanted it to be a place that was difficult for any of them to check up on me. It's a bit difficult to get there using commercial airlines. I'm quite sure their network of spies is spread pretty far, but I thought I'd be fairly safe with that."
"I'm sure, too. Just make sure they don't see your passport, otherwise they'll be wondering why it hasn't got an Ecuadorian stamp."
Algy grinned. "No worries on that score. The boffins in the embassy did a nice job for me." He dug his hand into his pocket and drew out a slightly battered passport and handed it to Biggles. The passport bore the name Derek Jameson. Biggles flipped through it, noting that Derek Jameson had been all over the world, including Moscow, Beijing, Cuba and Australia. The stamp for Ecuador was there, plain to see, slightly overlapping the Argentinian one.
He handed it back. "They've certainly appeared to have given you a colourful background" he admitted. "What if you're quizzed about some of these places you've supposed to have been to?"
"That's easy. I simply say I didn't leave the airport, it was a turnaround job. I've even been given some Ecuadorian money." He pulled out some notes and coins from his pocket. "The sucre and centavo. They think of everything." He looked at them all. "I'm glad you're here now. I hate this undercover stuff as much as you do, but I've been here three days and I'll have to go back soon. I'll stay until the day after tomorrow. That'll give them enough time to wonder if I'm coming back. It just might move things on a bit if they think I'm slipping through their fingers."
"We need to move nearer and open up a line of communication." Biggles lit a cigarette and studied the map spread on the table. For a few moments nothing was said and then Biggles gave a little grunt.
"That's it" he said, stabbing the map with his forefinger. "Here. Fray Bentos, in Uruguay. Where the bully beef comes from."
Ginger grimaced. "It's bad enough having to eat it on these jaunts without having to stay there."
Bertie looked at the map and did a quick calculation. "About 100 miles, old boy. Is that close enough, do you think?"
"It is for now. It's a damned sight closer than here, anyway. It has the advantage of being in Uruguay and they're no lovers of the Nazis so there's very little chance of us being spotted or spied on. Anyway, you and Ginger are going to go and have a little holiday in Buenos Aires shortly to watch Algy's back. But for heaven's sake, keep a low profile."
Three days after leaving Biggles in Port Stanley Algy arrived a day later than planned at Buenos Aires. His plane, a Cessna 170, on loan from the company itself at the request of the British Embassy, developed slight engine trouble and he was forced to spend an extra day at Santa Cruz, where he had planned a fuel stop. That the delay, whilst not in itself of any major importance, was to have far-reaching consequences he couldn't even begin to imagine.
The first intimation that there was something afoot came when he had arrived back at his hotel, where he had taken a room for three months on the pretext of needing a base from which to operate whilst he looked around for suitable accommodation.
He had flung himself on the bed and was staring at the ceiling fan whirring above him when there was a knock on his door. He got up, opened it and found Kaufmann standing on the threshold. Without waiting to be invited in, he entered Algy's bedroom and as soon as Algy had closed the door spun round and glared at him.
"Where have you been? You should have been back before yesterday. There was somebody very important who wanted to see you, very important indeed. It is very embarrassing for me that you were not there." The tone of voice and Kaufmann's evident agitation warned Algy to be extra careful.
"I had engine trouble" he answered non-commitally. "Why? What have I missed?"
"Someone very important" Kaufmann reiterated. "It is really too bad of you, too bad indeed . I should not wonder if-"
"Now, hold hard" Algy interrupted with an edge to his voice. "Just what is this? I was under the impression my movements were my own affair and no-one else's. As far as I'm aware you don't employ me. I'm free to come and go as I choose. As a matter of fact I may just have another job lined up – three months worth so I'll be out of here in a week or so." Algy bluffed, hoping to hurry Kaufmann into a sober admission of what he'd already let slip earlier. He needed more details and a definite plan and the sooner he got them the sooner Biggles would be able to plan his campaign.
It worked. Kaufmann looked at him. "But you cannot" he protested. "I told you I might have a job lined up and you seem to be the ideal candidate. It will pay well and should only be for a few days. I should not be telling you this but I do not want you to go. I have already told people about you."
"If it is to Moscow, as you said " Algy spoke cautiously, not wanting to appear too eager. " you can forget it. This job I've got lined up will pay well too and it's for three months, not a few days."
Kaufmann looked around the room as if expecting to see eavesdroppers hanging from the ceiling and walls. Algy almost smiled, imagining him opening the wardrobe and looking under the bed.
"Yes it is to fly some people to Moscow. You have been there. That is all you have to do."
"Moscow's cold" Algy feigned disinterest. "Why should I fly to Moscow when I can stay here and be warm?" He shrugged.
"We will pay you five thousand pounds" Kaufmann blurted out.
Algy's incredulous stare was genuine. "Five thousand pounds?" he reiterated, his voice coming out a few octaves higher than normal in his surprise. It was an enormous sum, an incredible one, beyond all reason. He had expected to be offered an inflated bonus but nothing on this scale. "Five thousand pounds just to fly a plane to Moscow?"
"Ssh. Do not let anyone know I have said anything. Hauptmann von Stahlein said we must not say until he has seen you, in case you may not be suitable. I cannot see why you should not be" Kaufmann went on, thankfully inspecting his nails so he did not notice Algy's fleeting, stunned expression.
Algy, recovering swiftly, crossed over to his bedside table and picked up his cigarettes. Still keeping his back to Kaufmann, he lit one and drew deeply whilst he pondered this latest and definitely unwanted development. Having composed himself he turned back to Kaufmann. "So where do we go from here?" He added casually.
"Hauptmann von Stahlein has had to go away on business. He will be back in two days. He wants to see you then. You have your logbooks?"
"Of course" Algy replied, thankful the Embassy cover had been thorough. Derek Jameson's papers would stand up to von Stahlein's scrutiny, if not the man himself.
Algy had expected Kaufmann to leave at this point, but he hesitated. Algy looked at him. "Is there anything else?" He asked pointedly. He wanted to be alone to think and to work out how best to contact Biggles. He was aware that if he was to be offered the job, their task would have been so much easier. He, Algy, could have flown the plane to Port Stanley, but unless he could bypass von Stahlein, which he doubted, that was not now an option.
Kaufmann looked at Algy. "I have put my neck out for you" he began, almost petulantly. "I hope you will not fail me".
Algy understood at once. The man was vulnerable. Having latched on to Algy and put his name forward it would be bad for him if things did not turn out as they should. Algy immediately and ruthlessly began to exploit this weakness. "I'll tell you what," he offered."Since you may have found me a plumb job why don't I take you out to dinner? You can then tell me everything I need to know." Once more Kaufmann hesitated and once more Algy took advantage. "If I know everything I can be ready with my answers. I won't let on you've told me everything. Look, if you're going to pay me five thousand I'd be a fool to jeopardize my chances. If I fail, your plan will be delayed until they can find another pilot. Where will that leave you?" There was only a minor hesitation this time and Algy changed tactics. "A steak and a good bottle of red will make things seem much better. Come, one good turn deserves another. It's the least I can do."
Three hours, two bottles of wine and three brandies later, most of which had been consumed by Kaufmann, Algy was in possession of most of what he needed to know. He had questioned Kaufmann as closely as he dared and now knew the intended date and place and the number of people. He also listened, with barely concealed disgust, the future aim of the Fourth Reich.
It was another half-an-hour before he was able to persuade Kaufmann to leave, and he bundled the man into a taxi as quickly as he could, refusing his guest's offer of joining him in a nightcap at his place. With relief he started to walk back to his hotel.
He had been walking for perhaps ten minutes when he realised he had the distinct impression he was being followed. It had started off as no more than a feeling, but then grew with the instinct which had kept him alive for so long in perilous circumstances. He stopped to look in a shop window and spotted a figure further back pausing to light a cigarette. He walked on a few yards and crossed the road. He called in at a street cafe, sat down at a prominent table and ordered the local matte leao tea. He deliberately turned his back on the entrance and only when his tea arrived did he shift his position to see if his unwanted companion was still with him. He was.
Algy did not hurry, for he needed some time to think. His first priority was to get into contact with Biggles and warn him of the latest developments. He did not doubt for one second that von Stahlein had had him followed. The man was thorough and as good at his job as Biggles was at his. Algy doubted if he had the two days grace Kaufmann had mentioned. It was just like the wily Prussian to turn up early and catch him unawares, so he had to see Biggles as soon as possible. He knew, from the plans they had made before he left Port Stanley that Ginger and Bertie should now be in Buenos Aires. They might see him but unless he initiated contact they would ignore him for Biggles had ordered them to keep a low profile. So tomorrow he would set about making himself conspicuous. In the meantime, he finished his drink, paid his bill and walked back to the hotel, allowing his shadow to keep pace with him. Tomorrow would be time enough to lose him.
Algy awoke the next morning early and after breakfast proceeded to put the first part of his plan into operation. He left the hotel and took a walk to the nearest tobacconists and bought some cigarettes. Then he went to a small cafe near his hotel and sat down, ordering a coffee. He lit a cigarette and turned to casually survey the tables. The man he had marked down as following him that morning was seated at a table a little distance away. As he wasn't in any hurry Algy merely sat, drinking his coffee and turning over in his mind the best way to lose his shadow. Making up his mind, he took a taxi to the aerodrome where his aircraft was kept, noting on the way the taxi which was following him. Reaching the aerodrome he spent the morning going around his aircraft, giving it a thorough overhaul, more with the hope of catching his tail off guard through boredom than anything else. In this he was successful, for three hours later he spotted his man sitting rather dejectedly on an old oil drum about a hundred yards away, chatting to one of the mechanics, his back turned towards him. Algy lost no time. He walked out of the hanger and around the back. Within two minutes he was out of sight of the hangar and his shadow. He walked swiftly to the gates and down the road where he managed to get a lift with a passing truck taking vegetables to the market in Buenos Aires.
Thanking the driver Algy alighted at the market place and took a swift look round. Opposite him was a hotel which Algy recognized as being one of those Biggles had said Bertie and Ginger would probably use. It had a cafe outside so he took a seat with his back to the road, facing the hotel entrance and ordered lunch. He had barely started when he noticed out of the corner of his eye a man sit down at the table next to him but facing in the opposite direction, towards the street. He glanced across to find Bertie's smiling face looking at him.
"Hello, old bean" Bertie said, unfolding a newspaper and perusing it. "We were hoping you'd turn up. Got the old info? Biggles is in a bit of a flap. Wants you out of here. He's got a feeling in his bones."
"And with good reason" Algy replied grimly. "First things first. Kauffman has as good as offered me the job. The date is set for the twentieth, in three days time. A plane, at this point I'm not sure which, will land at Aeroparque 17 de Octubre, that new airport east of here, at dawn. After refuelling, it will take off again with me at the stick and those dregs of humanity in the rear. For two pins I'd jettison the fuel and bail out over the drink and leave 'em to it."
"I'm with you there, old boy. But can't be done. An awful lot of people are waiting to get their hands on this bunch and orders is orders. You'd only cop a packet. They're not worth it."
Algy grunted at this but then continued to give Bertie the bad news. "I had a visitor two days ago, apparently. It's a good job I broke down and was a day late returning. Our dear friend Erich's got a finger in this particular pie." Algy quickly filled Bertie in on what had transpired. "By the way where's Ginger?" He asked, looking round.
Bertie jerked his head towards the hotel entrance "On his way. But, here I say old boy, that's dreadful. What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure yet. I wanted to let Biggles know. Obviously he mustn't see me or the fat will be well and truly in the fire." He suddenly glanced at Bertie keenly, for Bertie had stiffened in a manner that told Algy something was amiss.
"Whatever you do, old boy, don't turn around." Bertie raised his newspaper in front of his face. "Talk of the bally devil. Old Erich's coming this way. Into this hotel, in fact."
Algy froze. He was trapped for there was nowhere to go.
Bertie knowing this, made one of his sudden decisions. "Stay put, Algy, old lad. I'll get him off your back." He lowered his newspaper and before Algy could stop him, got up and walked up to von Stahlein.