Chapter 4

Unexpected Snag Number One

"That's Linz ahead," breathed Biggles at last, peering through the windscreen. "It looks as though we've made it."

Algy nodded, his eyes still diligently sweeping the sky as Biggles started his approach, keeping the river on his right as he descended onto the airfield.

The wheels touched and Algy let out his breath as the aircraft rumbled to a halt. "Well, we're here," he announced. "What next?"

"I rather think that depends on those officious looking fellows who are coming over to have a word with us," murmured Biggles, his eyes on the airport buildings.

Algy followed his cousin's gaze and saw two stout men in grey uniforms, stomping across the hard-standing. "Tweedledum and Tweedledee," he declared facetiously. "I wonder what they want."

"It doesn't exactly look like a welcoming committee," muttered Biggles. "Now we find out if the Department of Trade have done their job properly."

The two armed officials demanded to see their papers, which Biggles handed over without demur. Algy watched as the Austrians scrutinised their permits, rustling the sheets as they shuffled them. After what seemed an interminable time, the uniformed reception committee handed the paperwork back with a grunt of "in Ordnung".

Algy breathed a sigh of relief, which he soon realised was premature as the officials began to search the cabin. To his dismay they were very thorough. Biggles and Algy watched, trying to appear nonchalant while Smyth stood impassive by the cabin door. Biggles caught Algy's eye as the officials examined the stores, moving them from one side of the cabin to the other. The tension in the atmosphere was almost palpable when the officials reached the hidden compartment. Algy silently prayed that it was as invisible as Smyth had assured them. Biggles lit a cigarette and proffered his case to the customs men. The stouter of the two was about to accept a cigarette when his companion brusquely ordered him to refuse. Biggles shrugged, drew deeply on his cigarette and blew the smoke into the air where it hung in a thin cloud.

To the comrades' relief, the two officials finished their inspection and left. Biggles and Algy watched them march across to the main airport building. Smyth broke the silence.

"That was a close one, sir," he commented to Biggles. "I thought he was going to poke and prod until he'd found the compartment. Then the game would have been up."

Biggles nodded. "I think we'd better not leave the machine unattended, Smyth," he reflected. "If they come back snooping around we want to know about it."

The mechanic agreed, observing he would be quite comfortable bedding down in the cabin. Leaving him in charge of making the aircraft secure in the hangar, Biggles and Algy made their way to the main building in the hope of finding a taxi into the town centre.

There were more formalities before they could reach the street. Algy muttered with impatience at the delay as more uniformed officials scrutinised their passports, but Biggles was more philosophical. When the immigration officer demanded the purpose of his visit, he took the opportunity to ask for recommendations of a decent hotel for delegates to the Trade Fair. It seemed that there were not many in the centre who were prepared to take foreigners, so their choice was restricted to the Wolfinger on the Hauptplatz.

"Seems a rum do to me," opined Algy as they headed for the door. "You'd think hotels would be falling over themselves for the custom."

"The whole place is rum if you ask me," murmured Biggles. "I'm not given to imagining things, but there's a nasty atmosphere of suspicion everywhere we go. I didn't like the way that chap examined our passports and checked our names against a list. I'm glad we've left Smyth in charge of the machine."

Algy nodded as he looked up and down the street in search of a taxi. A large black car drew up and stopped in front of them. Biggles glanced at it, then took Algy by the arm, drawing him back inside the building.

"What's the matter?" asked Algy in surprise as Biggles appeared to be engrossed in choosing some picture postcards from a stand near the entrance.

"I recognised the passenger in that car that just arrived," explained Biggles. "Don't look round!" he hissed as Algy turned. "I don't think he saw us, but if he did, we'll soon know about it."

"Who …" began Algy but as the doors opened and out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a tall, slim man entering the airport buildings the question died on his lips.

There was no mistaking that aristocratic figure with the monocle and amber cigarette holder. If further identification were needed, the slight limp gave the final proof. "Von Stalhein!" he exclaimed softly. "I might have known that if there was any dirty work to be done that skunk would be ready to do it."

"We don't know that he's involved with what's happening to the professor," argued Biggles as the German strode across the concourse.

"Then what's he doing here?" parried Algy. "I don't suppose he's on holiday from the Wilhelmstrasse."

"It could just be a coincidence," suggested Biggles. "I believe Germany has a lot of nationals in Austria at the moment."

When Algy gave him a sceptical look, Biggles continued. "At any rate, we know he's here, so we shall have to watch our step. I didn't expect this to be easy, but I didn't think we would run into a snag so early."

The object of their covert scrutiny passed through the airport building and walked across to a Lufthansa Junkers airliner parked on the hard standing. From their vantage point behind the racks of postcards Biggles and Algy watched as Erich von Stalhein mounted the steps and entered the cabin. As soon as the German was aboard, the door was slammed shut, the engines growled into life and the aircraft began to move. The comrades made their way to the window to watch their adversary take off.

"Right," declared Biggles as soon as von Stalhein was safely airborne, "let's check into the hotel and see about finding the professor." He turned on his heel and made for the street, followed by his cousin. This time there was no obstacle to their finding a taxi and making the short journey to the centre of the old town.

The streets were animated. Biggles watched expressionless as they drove past slogans extolling the Anschluss. As they turned the corner Algy caught sight of a fracas down a side street where a group of men in uniform were beating up a civilian.

"What's going on down there?" he asked, pointing out the disturbance. Biggles' lips tightened. "More Nazi beastliness, I imagine," he ground out. "The sooner we get the professor and his family to safety the better."

"Can't we do anything?" asked Algy in horror as their taxi swept down the wide boulevard.

"What do you suggest?" inquired Biggles, lighting a cigarette to disguise his frustration. "We've got a job to do. Making ourselves conspicuous by getting involved in a fight with the authorities won't help anybody."

Much as it went against the grain, Algy had to acknowledge the wisdom of his words. "I only hope it wasn't the professor or one of his family," he muttered gloomily.

"So do I," agreed Biggles. "This job is going to be no piece of cake even without things like that going on."

They fell silent, wrapped in their own sombre thoughts, until the taxi drew up in the spacious Hauptplatz.

The comrades got out and looked at their hotel. The Wolfinger turned out to be a 500 year old building, built on five storeys, on the main square itself. A porter came out of the main entrance and picked up their luggage.

"Herr Bigglesworth and Herr Lacey?" he queried.

Taken aback, Biggles nodded his acknowledgement. "How did you know who we were?" he queried.

"We were informed by the immigration department at the airport," came the response. "How long will you be staying?"

"We are here for the Trade Fair," explained Biggles, "but we are hoping to stay on for a few days afterwards to enjoy a holiday in your lovely old town. It all depends on how well our business goes."

"Natürlich," acknowledged the porter as he led them into the foyer where they booked two rooms and had to surrender their passports.

Biggles and Algy exchanged suspicious glances as their travel documents were placed in the safe. Their misgivings were not eased when they were given a sheaf of forms to fill in as well as the register to sign.

"Ah, where would we be without forms?" murmured Algy as he completed the paperwork. "The curse of bureaucracy everywhere. I bet nobody even bothers to look at them when they are sent in."

The porter looked shocked at the suggestion. "On the contrary, mein Herr," he hastened to reassure the visitor. "Hauptman von Stalhein is most assiduous in checking all our registration forms."

"Hauptman von Stalhein?" queried Algy with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"He is our Gauleiter. He has taken over since the Anschluss. Now we shall see improvement; he is very efficient," commented the porter proudly as he put the sheaf of forms in a folder.

"I'll bet he is," breathed Algy sotto voce as the porter took their keys from the rack and invited them to follow him.

"Phew, that was a stroke of luck!" exclaimed Algy when, having unpacked their kit, they sat together in Biggles' bedroom to go over the events of the day so far.

"I don't call that good luck," grumbled Biggles. "Of all the places von Stalhein could be in charge of, it's sheer bad luck that it happens to be Linz. So far all we've done is alert the authorities to our presence here. At this rate, we'll be arrested before we can even make contact with the professor," he added gloomily.

"Well we've got a bit of a breathing space," Algy pointed out optimistically. "We saw von Stalhein fly off. That means he won't get our papers for a while."

"Yes, but the question is, for how long?" complained Biggles. "We can't reckon on much grace. He could be back within hours and as soon as he sees our names on the hotel register he'll be round here before you can say "secret police"."

As he made his gloomy prophesy, he glanced out of the window. Algy saw him stiffen.

"In fact, this could be him now!"

Algy looked down. The large black car they had seen at the airport was just drawing up in front of the hotel.