Biggles and the Missing Scientists

Chapter 1

A Dilemma for Ginger

Air Police Constable 'Ginger' Hebblethwaite looked up briefly from filing some dossiers as his chief came in. One glance, however, at Air Detective Inspector Bigglesworth, better known to his friends and enemies alike as 'Biggles,' was enough to bring his gaze sharply back to his boss's face.

"What's up, Chief?" he asked familiarly, his curiosity aroused by the expression on Biggles' face.

Biggles regarded him speculatively and instead of answering, asked where Algy was.

"You've just missed him," replied Ginger, stuffing the last file into its resting place. "He's gone down to the airfield to have a word with Smyth about one of the Proctors. He wasn't expecting to be back for several hours. Why?"

Biggles sat down at his desk and motioned Ginger over. "Pull up a chair, I need to talk to you."

Puzzled, Ginger slammed the drawer of the filing cabinet shut and obediently drew up a chair facing Biggles, who seemed in no hurry to get to the point.

Ginger watched in silence as Biggles lit a cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling, hiding his impatience and realising Biggles must have something unpalatable to tell him and was organising his thoughts to broach the subject.

"I have something to ask you," Biggles told him finally. Ginger nodded encouragingly, but Biggles was not to be hurried. "It's a matter of national importance, but you can say no if you don't think you can do it," he eventually stated, his eyes on Ginger's face.

"I can't say anything unless I know what you're talking about," Ginger pointed out with inexorable logic.

Biggles smiled briefly and nodded. "Alright, I'll tell you what the Air Commodore has just told me. Then you can make your mind up. Some time ago, a well-known scientist disappeared from a conference in Switzerland." As Ginger looked baffled, Biggles continued, "the whole thing was hushed up at the time. The Spanish Government - it was one of their chaps - paid the ransom and the scientist was returned, although he never produced any significant work in his field again."

Biggles tapped the ash from his cigarette. "Just a few months ago, the same thing happened again in Italy. This time it was a German. His Government refused to pay the ransom. The man's body was recovered yesterday, washed up on the Egyptian coast. It had been badly mutilated by crocodiles, but they identified him by his dental records, which was about all that was left of the skull."

Ginger looked shocked. "What has this to do with me?" he queried.

"I'm coming to that," Biggles told him. "Don't be so impatient. There is another conference organised for next month. The plan is that I impersonate the British delegate."

"Why you?" queried Ginger.

"They are all involved in aerospace research, one way or another," Biggles told him. He paused, looking Ginger squarely in the eyes. "In each case, the man's wife was accompanying him to the conference. She was kidnapped at the same time. The body of the German's wife was found roped to her husband's. The Spaniard has changed his line of work for fear of what the kidnappers will do to his wife. For the same reason, he won't give us any information about the kidnappers and of course," added Biggles grimly, "the German can't talk."

Ginger drew in a deep breath. "That's awful!" he ejaculated, horrified. Then he began to suspect what Biggles was about to ask him.

"Just a minute. You aren't thinking of a repeat performance of Princess Lazu1, are you?" he asked cautiously, his eyes on Biggles' face. "You are, aren't you?" he accused, reading the answer in Biggles' gaze.

"I don't want to bring in an outsider who has no idea of the way we do things," Biggles told him apologetically. "Gaskin has offered me one of his WPCs, but I don't feel at all happy about that, for various reasons."

Ginger drew in a deep breath. "I don't know," he replied slowly. "This isn't quite the same thing, is it? I mean, presumably the women all get together while their men are at the conference." When Biggles nodded his confirmation, Ginger went on, "so I'd be trying to fool a lot of women at close range. Do you seriously think I could do that?"

Biggles regarded him steadily. "I have a great deal of confidence in your acting ability," he returned, "and Gaskin has offered to have one of his WPCs give you some tuition in the more esoteric matters of feminine ways," he smiled.

Ginger hesitated. "How long does the conference last?" he wanted to know.

"Five days," Biggles informed him.

Ginger pursed his lips. "That's a long time not to make a slip-up," he averred.

"I know that," returned Biggles. "There is no pressure on you. You are quite at liberty to say no."

"You said that before," Ginger reminded him, "but if I say no, you won't do it, will you?"

Biggles didn't answer and for a few moments there was silence as Ginger thought about what he was being asked to do.

"I'll tell the Air Commodore it's no go," decided Biggles, reaching for the telephone, but Ginger stopped him.

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it," he said reluctantly, "but you have to admit, it has come as a bit of a shock. Rather a bolt from the blue. Can I have a practice first?" he asked. "To test out how likely I am to fool people at close quarters. I don't want to make a mess of it. I mean, last time no one really saw me close up."

"That seems quite reasonable," answered Biggles. "After all, it's your neck on the line as well as mine if things go wrong."

"And," added Ginger dryly, "if I am going to get bumped off, I'd prefer it to happen in my own clothes!" He shook his head. "I must be mad," he muttered, "but if I can get away with it, I'll do it."

Biggles smiled, relieved. "Good lad! I'll tell the Air Commodore that, subject to successful trial, we can put the plans into operation and let Gaskin know that he can organise your instruction straight away." He reached for the telephone.

"And order a good strong pot of tea while you're about it," Ginger told him. "I feel in need of a drink!"

Biggles laughed as he complied.

1 See Biggles and the Noble Lord