Chapter 2

Biggles makes his plans

Biggles was silent most of the way through lunch, and when he took Algy, Ginger and Bertie into his office afterwards, he had more or less decided on the broad outline of a plan.

He gave them a resume of the project and then went on: "Our biggest problem is that the nearest British possessions are the Falkland Islands. Raymond had the idea that they could be used as a base for reconnaissance work. They're hopelessly too far away to be useful for that purpose. We should waste far too much time and juice just getting across to the Argentine coast. I've got another idea. Ginger and I will go to Argentina in a civil aircraft - preferably an American type, preferably an amphibian - posing as British employees of an American outfit. We can say we're photographing likely oil-bearing terrain. Algy and I were doing that for the Oil Investment Company of British Guiana for a while before the war. I'm sure Raymond can arrange the necessary papers. That will provide us with cover while we cruise down the coast from Buenos Aires. It would also give us an excuse for bringing cameras and photographic gear into the country. That would enable us to take a strip of photographs of possible sites to examine at leisure. After all, we can hardly land at this secret German airstrip and start asking questions."

"The Gosling would be a suitable machine for the purpose," interposed Algy. "It's a twin-engined, general utility amphibian. Better still, it's American-built, and used in civil as well as military applications."

"Yes," agreed Biggles. "That would work out very well. Raymond should be able to arrange to pick up a Gosling in the United States for us, on charter. We will want one with American registration marks."

"Will we use false names?" asked Ginger.

Biggles shook his head. "That would only complicate matters. It would mean false passports."

"That could be arranged, too."

"No doubt; but one slip and we shouldn't have a leg to stand on with the Argentinian authorities. We might arouse suspicion. After all, if our plan goes right, we might be genuine. But if we are found to be carrying dud passports we might as well admit that we are spies."

"Algy and Bertie will go to the Falklands," Biggles continued. "We'll use the milch-cow system invented by the Germans for their U-boats. Algy and Bertie will fly some kind of big machine out to meet us at pre-arranged rendezvous points from time to time. Using another aircraft as a refuelling tender will help us avoid attention. I believe that there's no dearth of aerodromes, even if they're a long way apart; but I shall endeavour to keep clear of them, for if ever it reaches von Stalhein's ears that we're in Argentina he'll know why and our job will be even more difficult than it is now. The supply machine will have to be a seaplane or amphibian as well, and I doubt that they'll have the sort of thing that we want in the Falklands. Algy and Bertie can go out via the Azores, Ascension Island and Tristan da Cunha. They can either go in a flying-boat or pick one up on the way. Frankly, I don't think we can make any more definite plan at this stage. The only thing we can do is wait until we spot the airstrip and then act for the best as the conditions suggest. Any questions?"

"And if everything works out according to plan, and you chaps discover the diamond mine, what then?" inquired Bertie, polishing his eye-glass.

A peculiar smile flitted across Biggles' face. "Well, the mine would have to obliterated - blotted out; otherwise there is no point in finding it, is there?"

"Of course - absolutely. Silly ass I am - what?" murmured Bertie apologetically.

Biggles paused to light a cigarette, and continued, "I'll ask Raymond to organise some military machines for use if and when we locate the airstrip that the Germans are using, or the mine. Algy and Bertie can bring our uniforms out with them to the Falklands because if it comes to shooting, when I stop a bullet it will be in my own pants. On a lighter note, one good thing about this mission is that in southern Argentina we won't need any special tropical kit, and we shouldn't be bothered by the insect pests that normally make a white man's life such a misery in the tropics."

"What d'you mean, old boy?" queried Bertie with interest. "South American jungles sound like fun; toucans, orchids, butterflies, all that sort of thing."

"He means," declared Algy, "Flies, bees, mosquitoes, ants, piums, tiny beasts worse than mosquitoes, which squirt a sort of acid into you eyes, polvoras - the name really means 'powder', because they are so small. They fly about literally in billions and sting you all over. Worse still is the little horror known as the carrapato, which is a flat beast about the size of the end of a lead pencil. It has wonderful clinging powers by means of hooks on its feet. Its great object in life is to stick its head under your skin and suck your blood. The trouble is, you can't get it off. If you pull it the head breaks off and sticks in your skin and makes a nasty sore. The only way is to get it out with a pin."

"Any more horrors?" asked Bertie, in a shocked voice.

"Plenty," replied Biggles, smiling. "There are the carrapatinhos, which are the younger and perhaps more active brothers of the carrapatos. But they won't bother us; we aren't going into the jungle. Argentina is mostly pampas."

He glanced around at the little group. "You fellows may as well get your kit packed. I've got a few squadron matters to clear up to leave everything ship-shape for Angus Mackail to take over, but we should be able to get away tomorrow."

And so it came about that two weeks later, after an uneventful journey via the United States, a Gosling glided down to land at Ezeiza, the international airport of Buenos Aires, at about three o'clock in the afternoon. Biggles was at the controls, and Ginger seated beside him. They had made good time along the trunk line down South America although they had been held up in Montevideo for the best part of a day by punctilious officials who had insisted on making some further inquiries in relation to their carnets - the documents relating to the alleged purpose of their flight which enabled them to buy fuel and oil on credit. Ginger had not been altogether sorry at the delay, as while Biggles was dealing with the officials he had taken the opportunity to slip down to the harbour to see the spot where the German pocket battleship Admiral Graf Spee had been scuttled not long after the outbreak of the war.

The Gosling had proved to be an ideal choice. It had a comparatively slow cruising speed of about 150 m.p.h, which is an advantage for survey work. It had a slow landing speed and five watertight hull compartments, which was desirable in view of the nature of the mission, which would require landings on unknown waters. There was enclosed seating accommodation for five passengers, but Biggles had had the seats removed, the space thus made available being cleared for freight, for the machine was heavily loaded with all the equipment they were likely to need. The equipment included a small collapsible rubber boat, spirit stove, quantities of tinned food, warm clothing, and a two-man tent. Perhaps the most important pieces of equipment carried were the cameras, for vertical and oblique photography; for they would enable suspicious objects to be reproduced and studied at leisure. This in turn meant developing and printing devices. That the putative enemy landing strip would be well screened against air observation was a possibility not to be doubted, averred Biggles. The photographic equipment also gave colour to the Gosling's ostensible purpose in being in Argentina. So far as their real purpose for being there was concerned, there was so little to go on that in his heart Biggles had not much hope of success.

Algy and Bertie had made their around the other side of the world to the Falkland Islands, that wild, rocky, windswept, treeless group which formed the southernmost colony of the British Empire. Their instructions were to meet Biggles and Ginger at a largish but apparently uninhabited island shown on Admiralty charts as lying several hundred miles south of Buenos Aires, three days later, bringing with them a fresh supply of fuel and food. The island was shown on the charts as Isla Santina, but Bertie had immediately dubbed it "Treasure Island".

Periodic rendezvous were anticipated to be the only regular means of communication between the two parties as although the Gosling was fitted with radio, it was not sufficiently powerful to reach the Falklands. However, the call sign consisting only of the cypher X L had been agreed as a precaution, in the event that both the need and the opportunity to send a wireless message to Port Stanley arose.

The first hour Biggles and Ginger spent on the ground was taken up in refuelling, finding accommodation for the aircraft and going through the usual tedious formalities; and in this respect, Ginger noted with some alarm, there was nothing slack about the way the Argentinian customs officials went about their business. However, after careful thought, Biggles had decided not to try to take weapons or large amounts of Argentinian currency into Argentina in the Gosling, on the grounds that British agents in Buenos Aires could supply these and it was better not to risk being caught with anything that contradicted their cover story, and at the finish they were "cleared".

The hangar in which Biggles and Ginger were directed to park the machine was located at the perimeter of the airstrip. As they taxied up to the hangar Ginger noticed a high wire fence, topped with barbed wire, running across the airfield behind the hangar, and on the other side of the fence, to Ginger's surprise, stood two or three Messerschmitt 109s. Then he recalled that he had heard Biggles say that the Argentine airforce, the Aeronavale, used part of the Buenos Aires airport, and they had purchased some German machines just before the outbreak of the war. The Messerschmitts were not, of course, decorated with the Latin cross and the swastika of the Luftwaffe, but painted in an unfamiliar colour scheme which Ginger assumed to be the livery of the Argentine airforce. Although Ginger had often encountered these sleek monoplanes in combat, he had rarely had an opportunity to see them on the ground and while Biggles manoevered the Gosling into the hangar he wandered over to the fence for a better look.

Having satisfied his curiosity, Ginger returned to the Gosling and asked, "Now what's the drill?"

"Taxi to the Hotel Guibert," replied Biggles. "According to Raymond's information, it's close to the airfield. It's a haunt for pilots, and it would be consistent with our story to stay there. You never know, we might pick up some useful gossip in the bar or the dining room as well."

"He added, with a warning frown, "Remember, Argentina is a neutral country. We may run into some stray Boche at the hotel. If we do - keep away from them. We don't want to start any trouble."

"Okay, chief," promised Ginger.

Biggles continued, "A man from the British Embassy will meet us at the hotel and give us some local intelligence. You remember Carruthers, from British Honduras?"

Ginger nodded.

"He's on the staff of the Embassy here. He'll be coming over at six o'clock."

"Why aren't we going to the British Embassy?" asked Ginger in surprise.

"I imagine that it's watched. I don't think it would be wise to go anywhere near the place."

Biggles and Ginger found the Hotel Guibert without difficulty. In fact, their taxi driver, observing their flying kit, asked them whether they wanted to be taken there even before they got into the vehicle. The hotel turned out to be quite a small place, consisting of a ground floor with a reception area, dining room, etc, and an upper floor used for bedrooms and bathrooms. However, their reception was cordial, and the staff spoke excellent English, no doubt for the benefit of the American pilots who patronised it. They were shown to a large and pleasant double room, overlooking the back garden of the hotel.

Biggles and Ginger decided that they should have a bath, which was needed after their long journey, and wait in their room until Carruthers arrived. Promptly at six o'clock, the telephone rang in the airmen's room. It was the hotel reception, advising that a Mr Carruthers was there to see them. Biggles requested that their visitor be shown straight up to their room.

Carruthers greeted them warmly, and produced a bundle from his briefcase.

"Here's the money - plenty of Argentinian pesos - and those Argentine air force maps you asked for. I've got two copies of the maps, as you requested. And here are two automatics and plenty of spare ammunition."

"Do the maps show all the emergency landing grounds used by the Argentines?" queried Biggles, offering Carruthers a cigarette.

"Yes; you can't miss them, the Argentines lay down the usual white chalk ring on the ground to make the landing ground conspicuous to airmen. These maps also show the private landing strips notified to the Air Ministry as the home base of Argentine-registered aircraft," replied Carruthers.

"You needn't tell me any details of your mission," he went on. "I assume it's something that it would be better if His Britannic Majesty's diplomatic representatives in Buenos Aires didn't know about."

"You may well be right there," smiled Biggles. "Now what can you tell me about Argentine military and civil aviation in the south?"

"Argentina has, as you can imagine, no aircraft building industry of its own. The aircraft in the country are mainly a mixture of British, American and German machines. That applies to the Argentine air force as well. They've got quite a lot of older British machines for general purpose work; for example they've got a couple of Dragon Moths for transport work, and some Avro trainers. So far as military aircraft are concerned, more recently they've bought stuff from the United States and Germany. They bought quite a lot of Messerschmitt 109s just before the war started. That was fairly natural, given that Franco's lot used them in Spain and were pretty impressed with them. I believe, given the distances to be covered here, the Argentines have had them fitted with extra long range fuel tanks."

"Yes, we saw a couple of Messerschmitts at the airport," nodded Biggles. "Where are the main operations of the Argentine air force conducted?"

"There are the usual South-American border tensions with Bolivia, Paraguay and Uruguay in the north, and Chile in the west. The Argentines also have a presence in the south. As you may know, Tierra del Fuego, the large island that forms the tip of the South American continent, is divided into two parts. The eastern half belongs to Argentina and the western half to Chile, and the Argentines have a chain of airstrips running from Buenos Aires down to Rio Grande, in their territory in Tierra del Fuego. They built some military facilities down south a few years ago, when there was some trouble over the Falklands Islands, or Los Malvinas, as the Argentines call them. They've always claimed them, you know. The most southerly of these facilities is at Puerto Guano, which is the port for the town of Rio Gallegos. It rejoices in the name of Puerto Guano because it was originally established as a port for the export of guano, in which there was quite a big trade in southern Argentina at the turn of the century. Actually, the Argentines first established a naval base at Puerto Guano for the purpose of anti-guano poaching patrols. They put the airstrip close to the port because all the supplies come by sea; I believe the roads are pretty ordinary south of San Julian although I haven't been there myself. Now there's no money in guano and the port is used for the meat export trade. There's an extensive freezing plant there."

Biggles drew heavily on his cigarette. "The Argentine air force could be a nuisance. Do you know how many machines, and what types, are based at Puerto Guano?"

"So far as I know, none at the moment. It was put on a care and maintenance basis a few months ago. I believe the aircraft were shifted up north because there's currently a border dispute with Paraguay over some recent discoveries of gold deposits. However, my information is a little out of date. It's got more difficult recently to get information out of the Argentine Air Ministry; our source was suddenly posted to another department a little while ago."

"When was that, out of curiosity?" queried Biggles.

"About four months ago, why do you ask?" responded Carruthers.

"Just testing a little theory," replied Biggles, smiling. "It was about that time ago that an old German friend of ours was spotted getting very friendly with del Vargos, the Minister for Air."

Carruthers nodded. "It's well known that's where del Vargo's sympathies lie," he commented.

What about civil aviation?" went on Biggles.

"So far as civil aviation is concerned, Pan-American Airways don't fly any further south than Buenos Aires, but you know that, of course. The Argentines have a domestic line, and it runs regular flights down to the coast from Buenos Aires to San Julian via Bahia Blanca, Comodoro Rivadavia, Puerto Madryn and Puerto Deseado. I believe that it isn't economical to fly a regular airline service between San Julian and Rio Grande, so the Argentine Air Ministry have put on an aircraft to take mail and despatches and the odd official passenger on down the coast to Rio Grande once a week. It's a milk-run, so it stops at a number of places but I think it refuels at Puerto Guano. And of course there are a number of charter operators, some aero clubs, and a few private airstrips. There's a great sheep and wool industry in southern Argentina and Patagonia, chiefly in the hands of a mixed community of Europeans, including British, and a couple of the big British pastoral concerns have their own airstrips dotted around the place."

"Is there anybody who we could count on if we get into a spot of bother?"

Carruthers thought for a moment. "I think I can help you there. The British & Imperial Pastoral Company have some private airstrips and the main one is at a place called Vicuna, which is about 30 miles north of Puerto Guano. A retired R.A.F officer, named O'Neilson, is in charge there. He's a good type. He told me he served in France in the last war, and was posted to H.Q. Intelligence after being busted up by a Hun near Estree."

"That must be Pat O'Neilson!" exclaimed Biggles. "We served in the same squadron in France, many years ago. About 1934 or '35 - speaking from memory - Algy Lacey and I were flying home from the Far East in an old amphibious aircraft named the Vandal, and we ran into O'Neilson in Karachi. He was in Intelligence there."

"It sounds like the same chap," nodded Carruthers. "O'Neilson could be useful to you - he keeps a decent stock of fuel, and he's got a powerful radio transmitter at Vicuna. It's used to keep in touch with the company's other properties."

"If it is O'Neilson, he owes me a favour; Algy and I helped him out with a spot of bother he was having with a gentleman named Ivan Nikitoff when we saw him in Karachi," smiled Biggles.

"Thanks, Carruthers," he continued. "You've given us quite a lot of useful information. Let's go downstairs and have a drink before you go."

"I'm sorry, I can't stay," replied Carruthers regretfully, getting up. "I'm wanted back at the British Embassy. The Germans are holding a bash at their Embassy tonight – we're never invited, of course - and we always hold a rival show on the same night."

"That must put the Argentines on the spot," Biggles commented. "They must have to send equally senior ministers to each function, for fear of causing offence."

"That's right," replied Carruthers, smiling.

"I assume del Vargos will attend the German function?" queried Biggles.

"Oh yes, he'll be at the German Embassy tonight," was the response. "Well, goodbye and good luck."

"We'll come downstairs with you," declared Biggles. "We may as well have a look around."