CHAPTER TEN -A Rescue by Moonlight
It took Bertie a few seconds to recover from his surprise by which time he realised Algy's presence in the warehouse was perfectly natural. He listened for a few moments to Kaufmann discussing with Algy the repackaging of the contents of the crates for air transport.
Feeling it was time that Algy knew where he was, he hammered on the window. "Hi, you there. What's happening? Let me out, you bounder." For good measure he hammered on the window again. He saw Algy look up, startled, and Kaufmann remove his gun from his pocket and come over.
He scrambled off the desk and dragged it aside. By the time the door opened he was sitting on it, arms crossed.
"About bally time, " he complained. "How much longer am I going to be kept here?" He looked at Kaufmann. "I recognize you. You were here earlier with that rascal, von Stahlein. And if you're with him," he turned to Algy, "you're as bad as the rest of 'em."
Algy, feeling that something was required of him, ignored Bertie and turned to Kaufmann. "Who's this," he demanded.
"The Englishman I told you about. One of Bigglesworth's men."
"Is that so? I thought you said he'd been arrested."
"He is in custody, isn't he? Don't quibble, Jameson. Von Stanlein will take care of him." He turned to Bertie. "It is no use. No one is going to come. " He waved his automatic in Bertie's direction. "The sooner you-" he was interrupted by Algy, who had gripped his arm.
"Hark, did you hear that? There's someone outside."
Kaufmann cocked his head. "I hear nothing."
"And if there is someone? What will you tell von Stanlein if he comes and finds those crates gone? I don't know him but I'm willing to bet he won't be too pleased and you'll get the blame. You've got a gun, you'd better check. I'll make sure this one doesn't get away."
Reluctantly Kaufmann nodded and went out.
Algy turned to Bertie. "Listen, we've only got a couple of minutes. Are you all right?"
Bertie nodded. "For now, old boy. What about you?"
"Kaufmann's offered me the job. That's why I'm here. He was waiting for me tonight when I got back to my hotel. I'd just come from meeting with Biggles. There's no time to tell you everything but he's stirred up a bit of a hornet's nest. If you're sure you'll be okay for a couple of hours, I'll let him know where you are and he'll get you out."
"Okay, old boy, but watch your step. They're a nasty bunch of blighters."
"Don't worry, I will. I'm going to lock you in now, but Biggles will think of something. So long." And Algy turned and walked out, bolting the door behind him. It went against the grain to leave Bertie, but as he wasn't in immediate danger Algy felt safe in not blowing his cover by rescuing Bertie there and then.
He was sitting on an old box by the warehouse door smoking when Kaufmann returned, irritated at what he saw as a fool's errand.
"You are getting jumpy," he complained. "There was no one there. Did you have any trouble?"
Algy stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. "What? Him?" he exclaimed dismissively. "I think it's time we went. I need my beauty sleep."
Algy paid more attention to where he was on the way back to his hotel so he could find the warehouse again. It was in a particularly seedy part of the city but his trained eye picked out and noted several useful landmarks along the way.
To his intense annoyment, Kaufmann had insisted on escorting him back to his hotel, telling him he would pick him up the next morning so he could return to the warehouse to supervise the re-packaging of the crates. Algy got the impression that he would not now be let out of sight. He was sure of it when the taxi stopped and he got out. He spotted, across the road, a man leaning against a lamppost. Algy sighed. It looked like he was under surveillance. Even at this this stage, von Stahlein was not taking any chances. That meant he would have to use the fire esccape.
Like the good ex-soldier he was, Algy had already marked out a line of escape, so going up to his room for form's sake, he sat on the bed, had a cigarette and then went out again into the corridor, after checking it thoroughly. From there, it was a short step to the fire escape at the end. Climbing out of the window, he went down the rather rickety structure into the hotel's rear yard. He was over the wall in a second and walked swiftly through the dark alley at the rear of the hotel, with only the moonlight showing him the way.
Reaching the main thoroughfare at the end, he turned left and walked swiftly down it and then turned right. Here, he paused and flagged down a taxi. He gave the name of a street not far from the Casa del Flores and sat down thankfully in the back seat. He had not given a thought as to how he was to gain entrance to Biggles' room at that time of night but now he exercised his mind on the subject. By the time he had reached his destination he had the makings of a plan.
He had the taxi drop him around the corner and he hurried along to Biggles' hotel, checking to make sure he was not being followed. He paused outside, looking up at the structure as if he hoped Biggles was hanging out of one of the windows.
The Casa del Flores was a bitter disappointment to anyone who had expected, and with good reason, to see a building bedecked with flowers. It was, but not the fresh, bright, South American blooms that gave off a heavy scent. At one time, it must have been a handsome building, it's balconies and pillars reminiscent of the old colonial style house which was rapidly going out of fashion in modern Argentina. The paint was chipped and peeling, the balconies crumbling, bricks missing and overrun with ivy. But what gave the hotel it's name were the flowers. Hundreds of them, all artificial. These were attached to the ivy which festooned the outside walls. They occupied the balconies and trailed down to brush against the heads of passers-by. They were old and faded with the sun, the moonlight draining what little colour remained.
Algy had been inside the building once, for a small cafe occupied most of the ground floor and he had needed to use a phone. He knew the inside was no better. Plastic flowers were everywhere, all gathering dust and dead insects. Whatever gave the proprietor reason to think they would enhance his establishment, no one knew. Any tourist foolish enough to book himself in there, soon booked himself out again and it was shunned by all but the most hardy of locals. It was spoken of disparagingly within the circle he now moved and Algy had sent Ginger there for no other reason than that it was the safest place he could think of, where they were the least likely to be found.
Now he began to put his plan into operation. At that time of night, or, rather, early morning, the door was locked and bolted naturally enough, so he hammered on the door as hard as he could. Eventually, a light appeared in one of he upstairs rooms and a head was pushed out of the window.
"Qué es ? Qué deseas ?" (What is it? What do you want?)
Algy knew very little Spanish but he could guess what was being said. By using signs, indicating sleep and holding up a bundle of notes he was able to convince the proprietor that he needed a bed for the night. There was some muttering, which Algy suspected was cursing, but eventually the head disappeared. Algy waited in a fever of impatience, wondering if he was going to be let in after all. Shortly afterwards, there was the sound of several bolts being drawn back and locks being turned.
He was given room number thirteen and as the proprietor bad-temperedly pushed the registration book towards him Algy was able to see that Biggles and Ginger were occupying only one room, number seven. He handed over the required amount of notes, took the key and followed his host up two flights of stairs to the second floor. They paused outside number thirteen where the proprietor, evidently considering he'd done enough, left him and shuffled off up a further flight of stairs to his own quarters.
Algy opened his bedroom door and went in. He went straight over to the window and looked out. As he suspected, there was no way out that way so he wasted no more time and leaving his door unlocked, retraced his steps down the stairs as far as the first floor.
Creeping along the dark corridor, Algy peered at the doors, trying to ascertain which was number seven. He passed number three and went on. He reached number seven and paused, leaning forward to listen at the door. He jumped suddenly as the barrel of an automatic was thrust into the small of his back.
"Turn around," said a voice, in English.
"Biggles," Algy gasped in relief. "Do you have to creep up on me like that?"
The door to number seven was opened suddenly and Ginger stood there, automatic in his hand. Biggles bundled Algy unceremoniously into the room, thrusting the door shut behind him."What the heck are you doing here?" he grated, throwing his gun on the bed and reaching for his cigarettes. "Was it you making that infernal racket outside?"
"Yes, it was," Algy returned, sitting on Ginger's bed. "I needed to see you urgently. I've found Bertie."
Biggles paused in the act of lighting his cigarette. He looked at Algy keenly. "Where is he?"
"In an old warehouse where von Stahlein's stashed the Nazi hoard." Algy then went on to tell Biggles everything that had transpired since he left the restaurant, describing the warehouse and Bertie's prison as well as he had remembered it.
"And you'll be able to find this place again?" Biggles asked when Algy had finished.
Algy looked pained. "Of course I will. I made particular note of any landmarks."
Biggles glanced at Ginger, who so far, apart from greeting Algy, had not uttered a word. "Seems like it's a simple case of smash and grab." he said. ""We'll shoot the lock, dash in, grab Bertie and dash out again. From what Algy tells us it should be that simple. What do you think, Ginger?"
"It'll make a bit of a racket, busting the lock like that," Ginger answered. "A crowbar would do the trick a bit quieter."
"Since a crowbar is the one thing I forgot to pack there's no sense in mentioning it," returned Biggles, with biting sarcasm.
"What about the car? There's a tyre lever in there somewhere, isn't there?"
"The very thing," exclaimed Biggles. He turned to Algy. "We hired a car at the airport."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Algy leapt up off the bed. "Let's go."
Half-an-hour later, with Biggles driving, they were on their way to the warehouse, having left the hotel by a rear ground floor window, which they had left open for their return.
There was a somewhat heated discussion when Biggles had ordered Algy to stay in the car. "If it's like you say," Biggles had told him "then Ginger and I can find him. If Ginger and I are seen it doesn't matter. Once Bertie's disappearance has been discovered there will be nothing remarkable in that. You, on the other hand can't afford to be seen returning here at this time. If you want something to do, sit in the driver's seat ready for a quick getaway."
Biggles was rather glad it was a bright moonlit night as Algy directed him to the run-down area where the warehouse was. Here, there were no street lamps, only an occasional feeble light from the squalid, run-down, half-derelict buildings lining the pot-holed road, separated by noisome alleys which held unnamed horrors for any one unwary enough to venture down one. Life was cheap in Argentina.
They pulled up outside the warehouse. Biggles and Ginger got out, the engine still running. Algy climbed over to the driver's side, but slid down in the seat until he could only just see over the dash. He watched as Biggles and Ginger approached the door, saw Biggles nod and Ginger work on the lock. There was a sudden, grinding sound and then a metallic pop.
Ginger wrenched off the now ruined padlock and pulled open the door. It was very dark inside, apart from a faint glimmer of light at the far end, high up in the wall. Biggles ran across the warehouse floor shouting "Bertie" whilst Ginger remained by the door, his automatic in his hand.
Bertie's cut-glass voice answered. "Here, old boy. At the back. There's a bolt on the door."
Biggles was over in a trice, throwing the bolt back and opening the door. "Come on," he urged Bertie and together they retraced his steps. Biggles paused for a moment, looking at the crates, but then moved on.
They moved over to the door and passed through it. Ginger grabbed the door and closed it putting the now useless padlock back in place. The whole thing had taken less than three minutes. Bertie climbed into the back of the car with Ginger and Biggles scrambled into the front seat beside Algy.
Algy put his foot down on the accelerator and shot off down the street. There was a collective sigh. It was not often an operation went off as simply as this one and and tensions had been running high. Biggles turned to Bertie.
"You okay?"
"Right as rain, old boy. Glad to be out of that bally place yes, by Jove. Gave me a bit of a start, old Algy turning up like that, though." He polished his eyeglass vigorously and looked out of the window. They were now in a better part of the city, the street lights casting a bright glow over the late-night revellers mingling outside the few cafés which were still open. "Where are we going now?"
"We're going to drop Algy off at his hotel and then on to ours. Algy thinks he's being followed so it won't do for him to be missing. He had to climb down the fire escape. Now there's only about forty-eight hours until he flies them out, they're getting jumpy."
"Oh, that reminds me," Bertie put his eyeglass back in and sat back in the seat. "I overheard dear Erich saying there's a final meeting tomorrow night at 6 o'clock. Well, today, now, I suppose."
"Did he say where? I'd like to be a fly on the wall at that particular event. It would give us all the gen, just in case Algy will be unable to get away, if I can be there and hear what they have to say."
"He did say, old boy, only it sounds pretty much like a private villa to me, so you'd have a spot of bother trying to get in and hide, if you see what I mean."
"I do," Biggles answered drily, "but why don't you tell me the name of the place and then we can find out what it is?"
"Oh, yes, of course, old bean. Absolutely. It's the Casa des Flores on the Avenue Brasil." Algy's sudden crack of laughter brought a pained look to Bertie's face. "What's so funny about that?" He complained as the others joined in.