Chapter 6
A Close Run Thing
In the bedroom of their hotel in Linz, Algy and Biggles stared out of the window in consternation. The door of the limousine opened and out stepped a small portly man with an over-weaning sense of his own self importance judging by the way he strutted up to the hotel carrying a portfolio under his arm.
Algy could have laughed with relief. "Thank goodness for that!" he exclaimed. "If that's Erich's deputy, I shouldn't think they work very well together."
"You could be right," acknowledged Biggles. "But we can't bank on it. It does seem to have given us a short breathing space, though. I'd like to take advantage of it and visit the professor's last known address that Raymond gave us, but it's getting very late. I don't know if there's a curfew, but we could well draw attention to ourselves if we're on the streets late at night. Perhaps we'd better slip down and find out."
Algy nodded and they made their way down to the foyer. The pompous little man was just leaving. They waited as the proprietor obsequiously bowed him out.
To Biggles' enquiry the elderly receptionist replied that it was unwise to roam the streets at night as all sorts of undesirables were about. The police patrols did their best, but – he shrugged his shoulders as if to suggest that the forces of law and order were losing the battle.
"That's settled then, " agreed Biggles as they were about to turn in for the night. "First thing tomorrow, we'll contact the Professor."
Algy nodded and consulted the map Biggles had picked up at the airport. "It isn't far," he commented. The Fabrikstrasse runs alongside the river. We'll be best off setting off early tomorrow."
"We might as well walk," announced Biggles the following day when they had finished breakfast. "It will help us get our bearings and the less people who know where we're going, the better."
Biggles deposited the keys at the reception desk. "Where are you going, gentlemen?" inquired the young man behind the counter.
If Biggles was annoyed by the man's intrusive question, he hid it. "We thought we'd have a look round the old town," he commented smoothly. "We've never been to Linz before. Have you any recommendations of things to see?"
The receptionist mentioned some monuments which Biggles recognised from the brochure he had perused at the airport and offered to call them a taxi.
Biggles declined on the grounds that it was possible to enjoy the sights better on foot. "The English are very fond of walking," he added. "It's good exercise."
"The city can be very dangerous for foreigners," warned the receptionist meaningfully.
Biggles met his eyes. "I'll bear that in mind, thank you," he murmured coolly and joined Algy by the door.
As they went out, Algy glanced back. The receptionist was watching them closely with a telephone handset to his ear.
"This place gives me the creeps," he told Biggles as they emerged onto the Hauptplatz. "Everybody seems to be watching everybody else. The sooner we've found the professor and got him and his family safely to England the happier I shall be!"
Biggles acknowledged his cousin's comment with a nod and set off at a brisk pace.
"What's the hurry?" puffed Algy as Biggles strode down the Kaisergasse. "I know I said I wanted to get home quickly, but there's no need to sprint!"
"No hurry at all," observed Biggles, glancing in the window of a café. "In fact, I think we'll stop and have a drink."
He pulled up a chair and sat at one of the tables outside the bar. Algy looked at him curiously but said nothing as the waiter came across to take their order. When they were alone again with two steins of beer in front of them, Algy gave in to his curiosity.
"What made you stop here?" he wanted to know.
Biggles lit a cigarette and offered his case to Algy in such a way that his cousin had to turn to reach it. "See the man in the green coat?" asked Biggles, indicating the direction with his eyes.
Algy's eyes swivelled in the same direction. "Yes," he breathed, "he looks a nasty piece of work."
"He picked up our tail just after we left the hotel. I wasn't sure at first, but he virtually had to run to keep up with us."
Algy swore softly under his breath. "That's torn it," he muttered. "If we're followed everywhere we go, we'll never dare contact the professor."
"He's alone as far as I can tell," observed Biggles. "If we split up, he can only follow one of us. You stay here and finish your drink. I'll go inside and try to find a back way out. If I can give him the slip, I'll make for the professor's address. I'll meet you back at the hotel."
So saying, Biggles got up, remarking loudly that he hoped they stocked his favourite brand of cigarettes at the bar as he was nearly out. The man in the green coat watched as he went inside, glancing rapidly from Algy to Biggles' retreating back. Algy could almost read the man's thoughts as he hesitated what to do.
Smiling inwardly, Algy took a leisurely sip from his drink and consulted the tourist map. When Biggles did not reappear after a few minutes, the man at the adjoining table got up and entered the bar. Algy seized his chance and left. He swiftly threw some coins on the table and walked briskly round the corner of the building before their tail could emerge. He almost regretted not being able to see the expression on the man's face when he realised he had been suckered.
Finding himself on the Elisabethstrasse, Algy hesitated. Biggles had said they would meet back at the hotel, but he had not specifically said that Algy should go directly there. The Fabrikstrasse was not far away, mused Algy, remembering the tourist map he had been perusing at the café. Making up his mind, he turned left and followed the street to its end. He half expected to see Biggles ahead of him, but there were only a few passers-by on the street. Glancing behind occasionally in case he was being followed again, Algy set off briskly towards the river. Realising that his haste was inconsistent with his stated objective of enjoying the sights, he slowed down and took a moment to browse in the window of a bric-a-brac shop. Inside a man in a brown uniform, wearing a swastika armband, appeared to be berating the proprietor. As Algy watched, the Nazi snatched up a figurine and headed for the door. The owner made as if to follow, then shrugged his shoulders and sank down behind his counter with his head in his hands.
Algy made up his mind in an instant. As the would-be thief reached the door, Algy entered the shop. Since two people cannot occupy the same space at the same time, the inevitable happened and they collided. Algy, who was braced for the impact, kept his feet, but the brownshirt, a weedy individual with a small black moustache, reeled back into the shop, letting go of the figurine which Algy caught deftly and in a smooth movement handed back to the proprietor, murmuring quietly, "das ist Ihre, nicht wahr?".
Stunned, the old man nodded and hastily put the figurine out of sight under the counter as Algy turned his attention to the man in uniform and began to apologise profusely in English.
"So clumsy of me!" he gushed. "I do hope you're not hurt. Do allow me to buy you a drink!" he insisted, helping the man to his feet, then taking his arm and hustling him out of the shop into a nearby café.
When the Nazi recovered his breath he began to swear at Algy in German. Algy assumed a hurt expression. "There's no harm done," he protested. "It was an accident. Could have happened to anyone. I saw a rather nice carved picture frame and I was in such a hurry to look at it, I hadn't realised you were coming out. Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink?"
The Nazi glared at him. If looks were lethal, Algy thought, he would have been struck dead on the spot. After another mouthful of abuse the Austrian turned on his heel and stalked away. He hesitated outside the shop for a second and Algy wondered if he was going to chance his arm a second time, but with a venomous look at the Englishman outside the café he quickened his step and strode on down the street.
Algy would have resumed his journey to Fabrikstrasse, but as he passed the shop, the proprietor came out. He glanced nervously up and down the street before beckoning Algy inside.
Algy entered the shop, thinking perhaps he ought to buy the carved picture frame he'd mentioned after all. At least it would add verisimilitude to his story if there were any repercussions. Not that that would help him in that case, he reflected.
The old man clasped Algy's hand and uttered guttural thanks in heavily accented English. "There is no one to stand up for us in Austria," he stated sadly. "It is like a disease. The Nazis and their friends take what they like – soon we Jews will have nothing at all."
Algy felt embarrassed by the old man's effusive thanks. "I can't bear to see people getting away with breaking the law," he muttered.
"The law!" exclaimed the old Jew. "Their law is that they can take our property and we cannot complain."
A thought struck Algy that perhaps, being of the same faith, the shop owner might know the professor and where he might be found. He mentioned his quest and was not disappointed.
"The Herr Professor used to attend synagogue regularly until that became a crime," the old man told him. "He has been forced to move from his apartment in the Fabrikstrasse and take another, smaller one on the Krankenhausstrasse."
"Is that far?" queried Algy, not recognising the name.
It turned out to be quite near, off the Gruberstrasse. Algy thanked the man and turned to go, but the old Jew held on to his arm.
"Remember, mein Herr," he assured Algy hoarsely. "If I can be of any help to you, come to the shop and ask for Joseph."
Algy thanked him and set off towards Gruberstrasse, feeling quite pleased with himself and thinking of Biggles searching in the wrong direction.
