Chapter 15
A Stroke of Luck
"If it weren't for von Stalhein, life would be much simpler," sighed Algy as he stirred his coffee. "It's bad enough his being here in the first place, but now he knows we're here too, he'll be going all out to get us in his clutches. We've been very lucky to escape capture so far."
Ginger nodded. "Do you think he's guessed we're here for the professor?"
Algy shrugged. "Who knows? I wouldn't put it past him," he concluded pessimistically. "This much is certain, he'll leave no stone unturned until he's found us and we can't stay in this café on the off chance that Biggles will roll up."
"So what are we going to do?" Ginger wanted to know.
Algy hesitated. "I'm loath to split up now we've just got together. As Biggles says, it's usually a mistake to divide the party. That's certainly been the case so far," he observed. "Biggles and I have done nothing but miss each other by inches by the look of things. Mrs Meier should be safe enough where she is. The question is, did Becca get in touch with Biggles and is that why he went to the Opera, to meet her?"
"I can't think of any other reason," opined Ginger. "If he did, though, what did he do next?"
"He'd hardly sit through the performance," said Algy with a grin. "He couldn't bring Becca back to the hotel," he continued in more serious vein, "so he'd have to find somewhere else to hide her." He paused for a moment before telling Ginger, "I can only think of one place and that's the hangar. He'd reckon she'd be safe with Smyth."
"That sounds likely," observed Ginger, but then he grimaced. "That means that if we go to the airport and we're wrong, we could find that Biggles has done what he said he'd do and come back to the hotel to meet up with you. Then we would miss each other again. At this rate, we'll spend so much time running around looking for each other that the professor will either have started working for the Germans or been bumped off because he refused." He stifled a yawn and passed a hand over his eyes wearily.
Algy frowned. "You look all in," he observed. "You need somewhere to catch up on your sleep."
"Where? I can't book into the hotel," said Ginger. "The receptionist would be on the phone to Erich before I'd got to my room. I can't imagine that he'd believe the pair of you were here alone. My name is sure to be on a wanted list by now. I suppose I'd better go back to the airfield. Perhaps I'll catch Biggles there."
"Erich might have put the word out there as well," murmured Algy. "I think I might know somewhere closer to hand," he mused. "If I leave you with Mrs Meier that will be two of you in one place at least. That will leave me free either to go to the airfield or to keep an eye on the hotel in case Biggles comes back."
"Do you think that's a good idea?" asked Ginger doubtfully. "Isn't it asking the old man to take a big risk hiding two people?"
"Let's ask him and let him decide," concluded Algy, standing up and dropping some coins on the table.
Ginger followed him onto the Square. As they emerged from the café they noticed a taxi draw up at the hotel. With their minds still on von Stalhein, they glanced at it idly as they were about to pass by in case the occupant was known to them. To their relief and delight they saw that the passenger alighting was Biggles.
Abandoning caution to the winds they hurried across and accosted him before he could enter the building. Taking Biggles by the elbow and leading him across the Square in the direction of Elisabethstrasse, Algy brought him up to date as swiftly as possible.
"We had better go to the bric-a-brac shop," concluded Biggles when Algy had finished speaking. "We can't hang around on the Square all evening and now Erich knows we booked into the hotel, there's always a chance he'll spring a surprise raid on us. Ginger looks as though he could do with a good night's sleep, too," he observed "I'll let you know what I've been doing when we get there."
They made their way to Elisabethstrasse without wasting any time. Algy suggested that they go to the back entrance he had used when he left the professor's wife there.
It seemed an age before they heard the bolts being drawn back, but at last the old Jew stood before them. Algy apologised and explained their predicament.
He had hoped that his request would not be refused and he was not disappointed. The old man beckoned them in and took them up to the attic, where Mrs Meier had retreated to the hiding place behind the false wall on hearing them come up the stairs. When she had been coaxed out, Algy introduced Biggles and Ginger.
They all sat down while Biggles questioned Mrs Meier about what had happened to the professor and tried to find out as much as he could about Mauthausen. Joseph brought them all cups of strong black coffee that tasted of acorns, lamenting that it was the best that he could get nowadays.
Ginger, listening to Biggles and Algy discussing plans, found their voices becoming more distant. He leaned against the wall, feeling himself drifting off to sleep despite his efforts to keep awake. He struggled against drowsiness for several minutes, but eventually nature won and he dropped off to sleep. When he woke up, he discovered someone had tucked a blanket round him and placed a folded coat under his head. Biggles and Algy were sitting on the opposite side of the room, still deep in conversation, their voices low. Mrs Meier was nowhere to be seen, so he assumed she had retreated into her hiding place once more. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, a few minutes or several hours, but he felt refreshed apart from a slight stiffness.
Seeing Ginger was awake, Biggles beckoned him across and went over what he and Algy had been discussing. The plan which Biggles outlined was relatively simple and straightforward, but Biggles was the first to admit that there was plenty of room for things to go wrong.
"It all hinges on the question of transport," observed Biggles. "Without a vehicle of our own, we'll have to acquire one somehow."
"What about flying up?" suggested Ginger. "That way, we could go straight home after we've got the professor."
"I considered that," replied Biggles, "but we don't know if there is anywhere to land and then there is a risk of the aircraft being spotted and seized while we are attempting the rescue. We should look pretty silly if we got the professor out only to find that his wife and daughter are in prison and the aircraft is surrounded by armed guards."
"There's nothing to say it's going to be safe at the airfield," countered Ginger. "Now that von Stalhein knows you're here, he's bound to guess we've brought an aeroplane and it won't take a lot of investigation to find out where it is."
"Ginger's got a point," affirmed Algy.
Biggles nodded. "I must admit," he conceded, "that I don't like having the party dispersed like this. The sooner we're all back together the better."
"The sooner we're all back in England with the professor, the better," muttered Algy with feeling. "I don't like the atmosphere in this country one bit."
Biggles' jaw set in a grim line. "You're right. The whole set up stinks worse than a blocked drain."
"Then it's about time we had a go at clearing it," grinned Algy.
"And disinfected the place," smiled Ginger, following up the analogy.
Biggles allowed himself a small smile. "Enough fooling," he continued more seriously. "We need to find out if there is anywhere to land near Mauthausen where the aircraft can remain concealed. If there is, we shall have to find a way to get everybody to the airfield. We're getting to be such a big party that we'll have to be careful or we'll start attracting attention."
Joseph produced a road map, which although not ideal, at least gave them some idea of the terrain.
Ginger was surprised to find that it was produced by Shell. He was even more astonished to find that there was a blue line running through Austria where the rule of the road changed from driving on the right to driving on the left.
Joseph explained to him that it had been like that because of the Hapsburg Empire which had kept to the left, while the part Napoleon had controlled drove on the right. After the Anschluss, he remarked bitterly, everyone had been forced to change over to driving on the right overnight. It had caused chaos, the old man said, shaking his head sadly.
"I'm not surprised!" exclaimed Ginger. "All the road signs would be facing the wrong way."
Biggles looked at the map, scrutinising the terrain for a suitable landing place. He thought it would be possible to land on part of the flood plain of the Danube, to the east of the town.
Once he was sure a landing was feasible, Biggles turned his mind to the question of transport to the airport. He dismissed the idea of taking taxis because of the size of their group. What they needed, he averred, was a car of their own.
Joseph regretted that he had no access to transport himself, but he said he would make enquiries. There was a doctor who, although a Gentile, did not agree with the new race laws. It was possible, he said, that this man would help. He went off on his errand, leaving the group to get what rest they could until his return.
