Chapter 19

Not So Easy After All

"Alright, you can come," decided Biggles after what seemed to Ginger to be an age. The lad let his breath out with a soft sigh. He looked across at Algy. Ginger grinned sheepishly when he saw Algy smiling at his discomfiture.

Biggles strode back to the Cormorant and opened the hidden compartment. He took out two revolvers, handed one to Algy and put the other in his pocket, remarking that it was best to be prepared for any eventuality. He left one pistol in the compartment in case Smyth needed it during their absence. Biggles detailed the mechanic to stay with the aircraft and make it ready for a quick take-off in case they needed to leave in a hurry. Ginger, who had followed Biggles across to the Cormorant, gave Smyth a hand with the positioning of the machine and the gathering of branches to cover the surfaces.

"You had better stay here with Smyth," Biggles advised Mrs Meier while the machine was being camouflaged. "Becca can come with us to help identify her father. If we can make contact with him, she can convince him of our bona fides."

Reluctantly, Mrs Meier agreed. She spoke to her daughter in German while Biggles took Algy to one side.

"I hope we shall be able to get in touch with the professor on one of these work parties," he told his cousin. "If we've got to get inside the camp, it's going to be that much harder."

Algy nodded. "Did Joseph give you any more information about what is happening?"

"He said that the prisoners were being forced to carry the stone up from the quarries and that new arrivals were marched from the station to the site of the camp. I should imagine the professor is already in the barracks, but we'll start off by investigating the road just in case. It's too much to hope that he'll just march past so close, but we'd look a bunch of idiots if he did and we missed such an easy opportunity of letting him know we're here."

Algy murmured his agreement. Moments later Becca and Ginger came across to join them and they set off across the field towards the road that wound through the plain beside the Danube.

"Don't make too much noise," cautioned Biggles as they neared the highway. "We don't want to be spotted if we can help it."

The party moved on with more caution although there was very little traffic. Biggles stopped to listen before advancing to within ten yards of the causeway. From his place of concealment in the undergrowth, he surveyed the road.

"How shall we know when the prisoners are going to come along here?" Ginger wanted to know, kneeling beside him. "We could be waiting for hours."

"Joseph said that they arrived by early morning train and were marched along this road from the station," Biggles told him, aware of the lad's dislike of hanging around. "If they haven't gone past by 10, they probably aren't coming today."

Ginger sighed and settled down in the bushes to wait with as much patience as he could muster. Algy and Becca found a spot where they could rest their backs against a tree trunk.

Any shreds of mist lingering over the water had been burned off as the sun rose higher. Ginger chafed at the inaction, but said nothing. Biggles took a cigarette out of his pocket and tapped it on the back of his hand reflectively, unwilling to light it lest the scent of the tobacco or the smoke betray their position.

It was Ginger who was the first to hear the approach of the column of prisoners. He sat up and touched Biggles on the arm as the steady tramp of feet reached his ears.

Biggles nodded. "I can hear them," he breathed. Algy and Becca sidled up beside them. "Just point if you spot your father," Biggles warned Becca. "Don't draw attention to yourself."

She nodded, her mouth dry. The noise of marching came closer. Peering between the leaves they could see an untidy procession of prisoners, accompanied by armed guards. The men looked dejected, putting one foot in front of the other automatically.

Becca scanned the faces anxiously, looking for her father. They all looked grim and miserable. When the last of the sorry marchers had passed she shook her head.

"He was not there," she breathed, unsure whether to be pleased or not.

"We'll give them time to get clear and then head for the quarry," decided Biggles. "The sooner we reconnoitre that, the better."

When the tramp of marching feet could no longer be heard, Biggles stood up and headed for the road.

"Aren't we going across country?" queried Algy.

"We'll make better time on a metalled surface," replied Biggles. "We'd better split into pairs so as not to make such a conspicuous party," he advised. "Ginger, you come with me – Algy, you and Becca wait here a moment or two, then follow on, keeping about five yards behind us; near enough to keep in touch, but not so close that we seem to be all one group. Keep your eyes and ears open and stay alert for trouble."

So saying he looked briskly up and down the road. Seeing no one, he descended the bank and made his way onto the carriageway. Ginger followed at his heels. As soon as the lad had reached his side, Biggles set off at a steady pace. Ginger trotted along beside him in silence. At length he asked, "Have you thought about what you'll do when we get to the quarry?"

Biggles grimaced. "Not yet. As I said, it all depends on what I find when we get there. When I see the lie of the land, I'll have a clearer idea of what to do."

Ginger fell silent and concentrated on keeping up with his companion. He frequently marvelled at Biggles' stamina; the man seemed to go on indefinitely and never get tired. He himself, young as he was, was just beginning to feel the strain when Biggles halted.

"According to Joseph," he muttered, looking at the surrounding countryside, "there ought to be a path which will bring us around to the back of the quarry."

Ginger's eyes swept the area. He leaned forward slightly to concentrate his vision on a narrow track in the grass.

"Over there," he exclaimed pointing to the faint depression.

"Well spotted, laddie," murmured Biggles approvingly. He glanced behind. Algy and Becca, deep in conversation, were just coming into sight around a bend in the road. When he was sure they were watching him, Biggles left the road and headed for the track. Now that there was more cover, he halted to wait for the pair to catch up.

"Are they coming?" he asked Ginger who was lingering nearer the road.

"They've stopped," the lad told him. "I think they're just waiting for that car to go past." He watched as a black limousine drew up to the couple. To his horror, instead of carrying on past it stopped.

Biggles saw the change in the boy's expression. "What is it? What's the matter?" he asked, striding up to join him. When he caught sight of the vehicle his mouth set in a grim line.