Chapter 13 - Various Connections

Biggles went down with Wilks to meet the new arrival, mainly to make sure that it really was Marcel.

'I'm beginning to believe this gang is capable of anything,' he remarked as they strode towards the taxiing plane. 'That looks like Marcel's Morane, though.'

He smiled as a lithe, dapper figure with a trim moustache jumped easily to the ground and came over to them.

'Bonjour, Marcel,' Biggles said.

'Bonjour, mon ami. How go you?'

Biggles introduced Wilks.

'Come in out of the cold,' invited Wilks. 'My ground staff will look after your machine.'

'Tres bon. Your weather, she is foul as usual. In Paris we have the sun.'

'So that's where it's gone,' Wilks laughed.

They went inside and there were more welcomes and introductions when they joined the others. But for the circumstances, thought Ginger, gazing around, the room could have been a friendly club, its members relaxing in comfort round a roaring fire on a cold day. Dark wooden panelling on the walls added to the cosiness of the surroundings, as did the tea, coffee and mince pies that had been served.

'Now then,' Raymond began, a wry smile on his face, 'where were we?'

'You were saying something about a fifth key figure, who might be identified later,' Biggles prompted.

'I hope Capitaine Brissac will be able to provide that.'

'Mais oui,' replied Marcel, his face animated. 'Monsieur Henri Sevin, a man of many interests and much wealth who spends most of his time in his grand house in Corsica, on the edge of the Maquis.'

'Another peaceful spot,' muttered Biggles.

'And ideally situated to make contacts all over the Mediterranean,' added Raymond.

'C'est ca,' Marcel agreed, 'and to organise trouble in France, Italy, Spain – where you wish.'

'Does he know you suspect him?' asked Biggles.

'I think not. Whether his wife knows what he is up to, I am unable to say. Madame Monique Sevin is a lady formidable.'

'In what way?' asked Raymond. 'Does she have many friends or is she a solitary being, like most of our suspects seem to be?'

'Tiens, she makes friends all the time. Always the gossip over the coffee cups, though, by all accounts, she takes in more information than she gives out.'

'What are you thinking of?' Biggles asked his chief.

'If the opportunity arises, it might be handy to supply Madame Sevin with a new French lady-friend she can converse with. A pity your features are now well known to the enemy, Worrals, or that might have been a role for you. You and Frecks have passed muster as French women in the past. Of course there is another possibility,' he added, looking uncertainly at Biggles.

'Who do you have in mind?'

'That girl-friend of yours whom you plucked out of Bohemia not so long ago. Marie Janis.'

'Marie! But she's German.'

'Good enough to fool you into thinking she was French the first time you met – and, more importantly, the local people in her area at the time.'

'I think she's had her fill of that kind of excitement in her life,' Biggles said. 'She's enjoying some peace and quiet for once. I shouldn't think she'd want to rush into danger again.'

'She might,' volunteered von Stalhein, 'if you were involved.'

'It's something to consider, anyway,' Raymond suggested.

'Could this Monique Sevin be Cordelia?' Gimlet suggested. '"Queen of us, of ours and our fair France" in the words of the bard.'

'Maybe,' considered Biggles. 'It's a thought.'

'This enables us to fill in many of the gaps we still had in the information gleaned from da Silva's papers,' said Raymond with satisfaction. 'We can now insert real identities for code names. Pedersen liaises with Soviet elements via his fishing fleet; da Silva links with various hostile groups in the USA through Canada, especially Ontario and Quebec, where there are many communities that have their roots in the Azores; Villiers-Silver is concerned with causing problems on the home front, particularly, as we have seen today, with sabotage.'

'Plus a bit of abduction and attempted murder on the side,' chimed in Frecks.

'Yes, I wonder if he has any other safe houses dotted around we'd do well to know about,' Raymond mused.

Wilks entered and handed a note to the Air Commodore. Raymond read it quickly as the Group-Captain left.

'Four other bases have reported attempted sabotage,' he revealed. 'Two of them were successful, each causing the destruction of aircraft and some casualties, though none serious I'm relieved to say. The others were thwarted, though, apart from here, no-one else has been apprehended.'

He looked around the group seriously.

'It's being blamed on Soviet agents,' he added, 'which could lead to demands to increase our defence budget. That would be good news for those with connections to armaments production and sales. Fortunately we can dispel those suspicions.'

'I might give Eddie Ross a ring in the States in case they try the same thing over there,' said Biggles thoughtfully. He stood up. 'You carry on,' he advised. 'It might take a bit of time to get through.'

He went off to find Wilks. Raymond helped himself to a mince pie.

'What's our next step?' asked Steeley. 'Presumably we can't just walk in and arrest these fellows yet.'

'No. We still do not have enough direct evidence. The house Miss Lovell was taken to is not in Villiers-Silver's name but in that of a company, apparently in use as business premises. He would claim he knew nothing of what was going on there and that the place was being used illegally by outsiders. Besides, though he and Sidlington come under our jurisdiction and this couple in Corsica under that of Capitaine Brissac, our other two candidates do not, however friendly the relations between their countries and ours. And as we know from the experiences of our ladies here, it is by no means sure that a police investigation in San Miguel would fall into the right hands. It wouldn't get very far with Pereira in charge.'

'What do we do, then?' queried Algy. 'Just keep watching?'

'That, of course, but we may receive information from these fellows we picked up. They may change their tune about not speaking if they think they're likely to be marked men anyway. Whether they know enough to incriminate Villiers-Silver is another matter, though. A man as clever as he is would be sure to stay in the background as much as possible.'

Gimlet had gone to the window.

'No more cars on the road,' he reported. 'A regular blizzard again. Wonder how Freddie's hunting went. Be interesting to know if there were any observers there.'

He reached for the phone and rang through. The others heard only his side of the conversation, which wasn't much since most of this was listening. After some final pleasantries, he rang off.

'The snow's only just reached Sussex,' he announced, 'so the hunt went ahead. Some protesters turned up. Not wholly unexpected these days but Freddie was suspicious of two of them, who seemed to him to have simply attached themselves to the group, rather than be a natural part of it. Freddie's eye for infiltrators is still keen after all these years. It was a young couple who took his eye, chiefly because no-one else seemed to know them. Moreover they became detached from the main group later but still managed to keep a close eye on Freddie.'

'That could be the pair that picked Frecks up,' commented Copper.

Gimlet could only give a vague description, gleaned from the phone call but Frecks nodded.

'Could well be them,' she said.

'Well, it looks as if my hopes that Freddie could act as a distraction may have been fulfilled,' Gimlet concluded. 'I trust the happy couple had an enjoyable day and are now stuck in a snow-drift.'

There was some laughter and then Biggles returned.

'I spoke to Eddie,' he began, in answer to the expectant glances. 'Earlier in the day there, of course, but it seems the same thing's happening. Three attempts foiled but two successful, including a hangar blown up, causing massive damage to a number of aircraft inside. Some arrests but on each occasion a back-up team effected an escape, in one case commandeering the vehicle taking the prisoners to custody. Fake police and air force personnel simply driving them to freedom.' He smiled across at Steeley. 'At least that's one stroke we've managed to pull ourselves.'

'And presumably this is being blamed on the Soviet Union,' said Raymond.

'Yes. A number of bristling senators are demanding a tougher stance and more armaments. But Eddie also said that there have been sabotage attempts in Russia as well and they are blaming the USA and also getting hot under the collar.'

'So Pedersen's been busy,' mused Raymond. 'I hadn't thought of this kind of thing going both ways. But then, they have to buy their weapons from somewhere, too.'

'I told Eddie our suspicions and he'll pass them on to his superiors and the military. What notice they'll take of them is another matter.'

'Yes, I may have a tough job to convince our people here,' affirmed Raymond. 'I was asked a moment ago what should be our next step. Well, if we are interpreting da Silva's notes correctly, the masterminds behind this infernal organisation are meeting soon to finalise their plans. Chaos among our students, sabotage, assassinations, bank robberies – all these activities are mooted and some of them, as we have seen today, have been actively pursued. If we could only find out when and where that meeting is likely to be, we could plan some action based on that.'

'Catch them all in the same net, sort of thing, what,' said Bertie.

'Yes – if we can gather the evidence around them. We'll have them under surveillance, of course.'

'They'll soon get wise to that, if I'm any judge,' said Biggles. 'Villiers-Silver is already suspicious of Gimlet and I'm sure the others will be equally alert. They'll be likely to give us the slip, when the time comes, you may be sure of that. Somehow we'll have to find out the details in advance so that it isn't a matter of following but being already in place waiting for them to arrive. It's going to be a matter of pursuing every avenue of potential information that we can.'

Wilks returned.

'Snow's drifting,' he reported. 'Looks as if you'll be staying the night. I've a team working on the hole in the fence so that'll soon be secure again.'

'Until the next explosion,' said Biggles drily. 'Well, it doesn't look as if we'll be able to do any following today. What's for supper?'

Mindful of what had happened the last time they had all slept under the same roof, Worrals and Frecks tossed uneasily in their beds in a separate room, half wishing they were in sleeping bags in the lounge like the others and making the most of an expiring fire. They slept at last though and woke to a silent white world that defied any outdoor activity.

Nevertheless it was the sound of a helicopter that had awakened them and by the time they were up, Biggles and Algy were greeting a heavily built man, shaking snow from his overcoat at the entrance to the mess. Wary of waking the others, they went downstairs to join the little group. Biggles introduced the newcomer as Inspector Gaskin from Scotland Yard, who had come up to interview the prisoners. Wilks came in and organised coffee for them with the promise of breakfast to follow and they sat down with the appetising smell of bacon and eggs being cooked to tantalise their taste buds.

'We've identified some of your villains,' said the inspector, sugaring his cup. 'Their explosives expert yesterday was Buster Briggs, whose usual line of country is blowing the doors off safes. I thought it might be him from the description I was given.'

'Interesting,' said Biggles, 'so they're recruiting key men from the criminal fraternity for special jobs.'

'Looks like it. You were away earlier or I could have told you that we'd also matched the prints we found on the cigarette butts you found for us and in the car they had. Two more of our old clients with records for violence.'

'Attempted murder in this case,' Biggles pointed out. 'How about the helicopter pilot?'

'Nothing on our files but we're checking with the FBI. The prints we got from the Jaguar show that the pair who tried to blow you off the road and then turned up in the Solomons are also known to us. Records as long as your arm.'

By the time the breakfasts were ready, others had joined them and Gaskin waited for them all to assemble before adding any more.

'Besides this sabotage attempt – and the others that were attempted yesterday – we suspect this gang of carrying out a number of audacious robberies recently. Two banks and bullion raid at least.'

'Financing their major activities, no doubt,' put in Gimlet, who was now sitting beside them.

'And they may well be doing the same sort of thing in other countries,' Biggles suggested. 'Their international network means they can fly in, do a job and then fly out again and before you've had a chance to work things out, they're the other side of the world.'

'Anything from the house?' queried Gimlet.

'Nothing much. It was deserted when we got there – apart from the dog. He took some getting past,' the Inspector added, ruefully.

'You must feed him,' chuckled Trapper, softly.

Breakfast over, they adjourned to the lounge, its fire now re-lit and warming the room, and Gaskin lit his pipe.

'We'll follow your lead on this, of course,' he said. 'Keep tabs on all your suspects – that sort of thing. Give us the descriptions and we'll keep them under close surveillance.'

'Not too close,' advised Raymond. 'We don't want them getting wind of us. They're bound to be on their guard now.'

'I've detailed some of my best men, sir,' Gaskin assured, mindful that he was addressing an assistant-commissioner. 'We'll take care. And whenever you want us to make a move, just say the word.'

'Just a reporting brief at present, I think,' said Raymond, 'unless you catch them in the act, of course, as we did these fellows here.'

'Right sir!' Gaskin stood up. 'I think our safe-breaking friend may be persuaded to spill the beans, if you'll excuse the expression. The fact that this lot is willing to kill each other rather than risk someone talking has got him worried. I suggested to him earlier that if he doesn't talk then sooner or later they'll come gunning for him whereas if he does we might get them before they do. He's thinking that over and so, I imagine, are the others, especially the one with the wounded shoulder, who's still furious that they meant to kill him once it was clear they couldn't get him away.'

'Good work, Gaskin,' said the Air Commodore, shaking hands, 'and good luck. That's five prisoners for us to work on now, counting Crazy Jim. Surely one of them will break.'

'I hope so, sir,' said Gaskin, and took his leave.

'And now,' said Biggles, 'we need to consider our next move. Once this snow has stopped,' he added gloomily.

The weather had improved a week later when a British trawler was ordered to heave to just off the Faroe Islands. Its skipper checked his position as the patrol boat approached. Just outside the limit, he confirmed. Perfect reckoning. He gazed at the oncoming motor launch with equanimity.

That this was just a routine visit was clear by the fact that it carried only two men. The familiar figure of Jens Joensen clambered aboard; the other returned to his ship.

'Very close to the limit,' Jens commented.

'Just the right side, though,' asserted the skipper. 'Will ye take a dram wi' me below, or some coffee perhaps?'

Jens nodded. They went down to a small cabin already occupied by two men. The captain withdrew. The men stood up to shake hands.

'We meet again,' said Jens to Cub.

'This is Captain King, my chief,' Cub explained, introducing Gimlet.

'So,' Jens smiled, 'I was right. You were an agent.'

'After bigger fish than the ones you're concerned with,' said Gimlet easily, pouring the coffee. 'We'll be interested to know if you can help us in any way. You intimated to Mr Peters that there were some strange events happening here.'

He handed the cup across to Jens and they sat down.

'My boat will return in half-an-hour,' Jens said. 'Any longer would be unusual so I'll tell you what I know quickly. Firstly, on three occasions in recent months I have come upon Faroese fishing boats that I am sure were trying to avoid me.'

'Did these boats come from the same fleet?' asked Gimlet.

'Yes.'

'Mr Pedersen's?'

'Yes.'

'And were there Russian trawlers in the area on these occasions?'

'Yes, each time.'

'And do you suspect that the vessels were making contact?'

'Not just contact. I'm almost sure that, on at least one occasion, Mr Pedersen was on board at the time but wasn't seen for some time afterwards.'

'And you think he might have transferred to this other ship and had a brief visit to the Soviet Union for that time.'

'I think this is a possibility – yes. And it may be about to happen again.'

'Why do you say that?'

'First I must tell you that Mr Pedersen is Danish, not Faroese and at least one of his crews is wholly Danish. They do not mix very much, which is unusual.'

'Maybe these are old friends of Mr Pedersen from his homeland.'

'Yes, but he has some Faroese working for him, one of whom is a close friend of mine. Recently he was taking some coffee to Mr Pedersen, who was studying a detailed map of a small island, which he pushed out of sight when my friend entered.'

'Did your friend see the name of this island?'

'No, it was hidden away. But Mr Pedersen had begun to write down a word on his pad. It was an English word, which was strange.'

'What was it?'

'Wait.'

'Wait!'

'Yes, but my friend thought that might not be the whole word. There was a date before the word – the end of January.'

'Two weeks from now,' Cub murmured.

'Again, it was only Mr Pedersen's eagerness to conceal the map that made my friend curious. It is not against the law to study a map. It may be a place he planned to visit. Especially since he has not been seen around Torshavn for the last few days. The word is he has gone to Denmark.'

'Via a Russian trawler?'

'Maybe. He did not fly out or go by the regular steamer service.'

'So he may be in the Soviet Union again – en route to this mysterious island, perhaps.'

'Yes, although there is one strange aspect about the island I should have mentioned. Whether it'll be of any use, I don't know.'

'What is that?'

'My friend caught a glimpse of the map before Mr Pedersen covered it up. He was too far away to be able to see any names but he noticed the shape. It was like a piece of seaweed, he said, very thin in the middle but wide to its north and south. A little like a squashed capital I.'

There was more coffee and more talk but Jens was not really able to add to his information before the return of his boat was announced.

'Not very much,' he apologised standing up to go, 'but a little bit strange, I thought. Oh, I do have one thing more.'

He reached into an inside pocket and brought out a photograph.

'This is Mr Pedersen,' he disclosed, handing it over.

'Thank you,' Gimlet acknowledged. 'I was hoping for a picture.'

He and Cub stared briefly at a black-bearded face, whose deep eyes beneath their dark brows, stared coldly past the camera at some distant object. A full head of hair complemented the beard.

'Did he know this was being taken?' Gimlet queried.

'No,' admitted Jens. 'I thought it might be useful to have on record. It's an enlargement. The original picture was taken from a little way off.'

'Thank you again,' said Gimlet, shaking hands. 'We're very grateful for your assistance. It might be more important than you think. Now we must hope this little meeting has gone undetected.'

'It should have. Your message came through very discreet channels.'

The skipper escorted him on deck and Gimlet watched through a porthole as the motorboat made its way back to the ship.

'We know when, now,' he said, glancing at Cub, 'but the location is something of a riddle. He's given us the clues, now we have to solve them. And with precious little time to do it.'

He turned back to watch the Faroe Islander's return and see the protection vessel begin to steam away to the south on its long and lonely voyage of patrol. He watched it till it disappeared from sight in the early darkness of a threatening afternoon, his brow furrowed in thought as he sought an answer to the puzzling fragments of detail they had been given.

When the trawler docked briefly at Lerwick, Gimlet and Cub went ashore with the other sailors. A taxi was waiting not far away and as they approached it a Scottish voice offered his services.

'Why not?' said Gimlet. 'Beastly weather for carting bags around.'

They got in. Without being asked, the taxi drove off in the direction of the airport.

'Glad to see you, Angus,' said Gimlet. 'Been there long?'

'Only just arrived. I'd have had to turn fares away otherwise and that would have been suspicious. How was the voyage?'

'A little too rough for me,' said Gimlet.

'It won't be much better in the air with this wind. Good job Biggles will be at the controls and not me.'

'Good idea to have a local accent on the quay.'

'Comes in handy sometimes,' Angus grinned, 'not that it's all that local up here. Only a Sassenach would think that all Scots sound the same.'

At the airport they transferred to the Gadfly, Angus leaving the taxi with a local official before joining them.

Biggles took off at once and headed south.

'Satisfactory trip?' he enquired as soon as they were in the air.

'Could be,' Gimlet replied, 'once we've sorted out a puzzle.'

He explained what Jens had shared with them.

'Doesn't make sense,' said Biggles. 'Why should a Dane make a note for himself in English?'

'Jens' friend did think it might only be the beginning of something,' Cub reminded them.'

'If it's any good to you, we've an atlas aboard,' informed Biggles. 'You can look for your strangely shaped island in that if you like.'

Angus handed it to Cub who began to search through it, carefully scanning the groups of islands, which usually appeared in little boxes at the side of the appropriate page. For a while this was not an easy task as the plane rocked under the onslaught of a gale. Angus had been right about the weather. Quite unperturbed, Biggles and Gimlet were discussing what could be done about the key men they had discovered.

'The only people we could arrest so far are the small fry,' Biggles was saying. 'We have no evidence against Pedersen and not a lot against Villiers-Silver, apart from his association with criminals. We can't prove that he's actually done anything. Putting his chauffeur and a few henchmen behind bars would be a temporary check to his activities but not for long.'

'And it would be difficult to touch da Silva without a convincing case for the Portuguese authorities,' added Gimlet. 'If we can locate this confounded meeting of theirs, it would help enormously.'

'Maybe this Jens has given us that. What were your impressions of him, by the way?'

'I liked him. Good man for the job and nobody's fool. Pedersen may not have realised just how alert he is.'

'As a matter of detail, we may now be able to pin down another of those Shakespearean code names. Sidlington claimed that Hamlet was dealing with the Russians. Hamlet was Prince of Denmark and Pedersen is a Dane. That seems to add up.'

An exclamation from Cub stopped him.

'Found something?' asked Gimlet, turning round.

'Maybe. Too small to be sure but there's something to the east of New Zealand that might be the right shape. Chatham Island, it's called.'

'I've a map of New Zealand,' Angus contributed, surprisingly, reaching in his bag. He brought it out. 'I've a cousin lives in Dunedin and I've a mind to visit him soon. Thought I'd see exactly where that is.'

'And here's the island in an inset. It's actually a small group of islands. Chatham is the biggest. It does look a bit like a squashed I - heavy at the base, long at the top, skinny in the middle. And . . .' Cub stopped in mid-flow.

'What's the matter?' Gimlet asked.

'What do think the main settlement is called?'

'I've no idea.'

'Waitangi. The first four letters spell Wait.'

'Found it, by gad!' exclaimed Gimlet.

'Seems a huge coincidence otherwise,' Biggles confirmed.

Angus was reaching into his bag again.

'I've a wee book about New Zealand with me too,' he said. 'I'll see if it tells us anything.'

'Glad this turbulence is easing,' commented Biggles from the pilot's seat. 'It'll be easier to concentrate. Anything interesting?' he added when Angus announced he had found a reference.

'Not a lot. Settled by Danish whalers originally, apparently.'

Biggles and Gimlet exchanged a glance.

'Maybe Angus isn't the only person with relations in that part of the world,' said Biggles. 'I should have stayed put in the Solomons. I've just flown all the way back now it looks as if I'll be flying all the way out again. Still,' he added as they ran into a snow shower, 'at least it's summer there. I won't be sorry to leave this winter behind.'