Chapter 14

Biggles Shows His Mettle

Biggles stopped and glanced around. They had nearly reached the theatre and the street was full of opera goers in groups of twos or threes. Intent on their evening's entertainment, no one seemed to be paying any attention to them, so he drew Becca aside.

"It's no use complaining when things go wrong," he concluded bitterly. "The main thing is, we've made contact with you and we need to get you to a place of safety. I'll take you to the airport and leave you with my mechanic. You'll be safe hidden in the machine."

The girl protested that she would not leave without her parents.

Biggles sighed. "I don't want to be chasing my tail trying to round you all up again," he explained with asperity. "If you're with Smyth, that will be two less bodies to worry about when we do manage to get out of here. At the moment, we're spread out round the city like ball bearings dropped on the carpet."

Becca looked undecided. "I promise we won't go without your parents if they're still alive," he assured her. "You have my word on that."

She looked into his eyes and was comforted by what she saw. "I believe you mean that," she acknowledged quietly. "It is very hard for us to trust anyone in Linz at the moment," she added, "but I trust you."

Biggles smiled and took her arm. "We'd better get a taxi to the airport."

She recoiled. "I cannot do that," she gasped. "Jews are not allowed to use taxis."

"Who is to know?" asked Biggles. "Nobody has asked for my credentials."

"You are a foreigner," she explained. "If you were a Jew, you would not have been granted an entry permit."

Biggles' jaw set in a grim line. "We'll see about that, if they try to stop you getting in a taxi with me. Say nothing and act as though you have every right to be there."

In the event, Biggles was proved right. He kept the taxi driver talking while Becca got in and the man barely glanced at the girl. The journey to the airport was not lengthy, but Biggles could feel the tension in his companion. Sadly, he realised that resistance to the racial laws was not likely to be great. The Jewish community was already cowed and the rest of the citizens of Linz did not appear to appreciate the sinister nature of what was going on, or if they did, they showed no signs of deploring it.

At the airport Biggles steered Becca through the entrance and across to the door which led to the hard standing and the hangars. An official in a grey uniform stopped him.

Biggles stared at the man and explained that he was with the Trade Delegation, needing some supplies from his aeroplane. The man asked for his papers, which Biggles supplied. When the guard turned to Becca, Biggles broke in sharply, "Fraulein Göring is my secretary. She has been seconded to us from the office of Hauptman von Stalhein. I'm sure you would not like me to have to tell him that you obstructed us in the pursuance of our duty."

The guard stiffened. "Of course not, Herr Bigglesworth. You may pass."

"I shall want to go in and out regularly to my aeroplane," Biggles informed him. "See that I have a pass for myself and my secretary waiting when I return or you may be sure that I shall inform Hauptman von Stalhein of your inefficiency."

"Jawohl, mein Herr," the man clicked his heels and allowed them through.

As they crossed the tarmac, Becca stared at Biggles in amazement. "I can't believe that you got him to let us through," she breathed.

Biggles laughed shortly. "The Germans have a very bureaucratic mind," he retorted. "For one thing, it's unlikely to occur to them that if one set of papers is correct, the accompanying set wouldn't be just as good and for another, they have a pathetic obedience to higher authority. Besides," he added, "I know von Stalhein of old. He's ruthlessly efficient. No wonder the man didn't want to me to report to him. I wouldn't like to be in his shoes if Erich finds out he was duped."

Biggles opened the wicket door in the hangar and poked his head through, calling for Smyth.

The mechanic appeared immediately and Biggles drew Becca after him. When the introductions had been made, Smyth brought Biggles up to date on Ginger's arrival and the return of von Stalhein.

Biggles grimaced. "It's as if this mission is jinxed," he observed. "If Ginger had caught a later flight, he wouldn't have gone into town before we got here. It's always a mistake to split the party up."

When Biggles told Smyth the latest news of Algy, the mechanic shook his head, opining that it sounded bad. "Maybe that was why von Stalhein came back," suggested Smyth. "To interrogate him."

"It's no use assuming the worst," muttered Biggles. "What we need is facts. Put the kettle on and we'll have a cup of tea while we discuss what to do next."

As they sat round a packing case, Biggles went over what they knew so far. "So the next step is simple," he concluded, "find Algy and Mrs Meier, get hold of Ginger and get the professor out of Mauthausen so we can go home."

"Put like that, it doesn't sound much, does it?" remarked Smyth.

"I think I'll try and find Ginger first," decided Biggles. "After all, we know he went to the Wolfinger, so assuming he hasn't gone gallivanting off somewhere, he should be reasonably easy to locate. Once I've contacted him, I'll decide what to do. It's von Stalhein who's the spanner in the works," he complained. "If it weren't for him, we'd be home and dry."