Chapter 25
Fortune Favours The Brave
Algy let go of Ginger. "Get a grip of yourself," he told the youngster tersely. "If you want to make good that promise, we'd better watch out for Biggles."
Ginger nodded grimly. His anger had burned itself out and left in its place a steely determination. He took a glance around the boulder.
"I can see him," he whispered to Algy. "He's just come up the steps The professor is right in front of him."
Becca crouched next to him, eager for a glimpse of her father. "What are you going to do?" she asked breathlessly, pressed against Ginger's shoulder as she scanned the prisoners.
The lad hesitated. "I'm hoping Biggles will give us some sort of signal," he confessed. "We'll have to take our cue from him, really."
"We'll have to let him know we're here," observed Algy. "He can hardly risk starting something if he can't rely on us to back him up."
Ginger acknowledged the wisdom of Algy's words. "What do you suggest?" he asked. "How do we let him know without alerting the guards?"
Algy shrugged. "We'll just have to wait until he's within range and take a chance."
They settled down to wait as the bedraggled procession filed past the watching group. Biggles was the last in line with the professor immediately ahead of him. Algy realised it was now or never. Taking a risk that he might be heard by the other guards, he gave a low whistle as Biggles approached their hiding place. That his cousin heard him was plain. His head moved sharply in their direction and he nodded briefly.
They watched the other guards anxiously, but the signal did not appear to have been heard. "So far, so good," breathed Algy.
Ginger watched Biggles, his muscles taut for action, knowing that if they were to rescue the professor, it must be soon. If they allowed him to be taken inside the camp, the chances of success would be almost nil.
Becca gasped as Biggles pushed her father. He almost fell, but his momentum had taken him closer to the rocks where they watched. The other guards looked round, but did not react. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary in one of their number mistreating a prisoner, most of them turned back to herding the prisoners towards the camp. Bauer asked jokingly if any help was needed, but Biggles shook his head and laughed. Bauer made a comment about the superiority of the Master Race and carried on. Biggles breathed a sigh of relief and took advantage of the situation. He pushed the professor to the ground behind the rocks and feigned clubbing him with the butt of his machine gun. Algy and Ginger reached out and pulled the Jew into the safety of the boulders.
Becca threw her arms around her father's neck and sobbed. The professor looked bewildered by the speed of events.
Biggles appeared behind the rocks. "Let's get cracking," he ordered crisply. "Down the steps and back to the road as quickly as you can. They will expect me to make the most of torturing a poor Jew, but when eventually I don't turn up, they'll have search parties out for me. We haven't got a second to waste."
Keeping low and making the most of what cover was available, the party made its way with all speed to the edge of the staircase. Ginger hesitated on the lip as the vertiginous steps disappeared into the rapidly approaching darkness.
"Come on, laddie!" urged Biggles, glancing back towards the camp.
Ginger took a deep breath and plunged onward. The descent was terrifying. He thought at one stage that he was about to pitch headlong into the abyss, but Biggles caught his arm.
"You'll get used to it," he assured the lad and Ginger found after a while that this was true. Although he never felt entirely comfortable with the steep drop on his right, he did at least feel less nauseous as the attack of vertigo receded.
At last they emerged at the quarry floor at the foot of the steps. Biggles led them across to the narrow footpath that led to the road. The guard was still there in the bushes, conscious now, but bound and gagged as they had left him.
"Sorry about this," muttered Biggles, "but we can't afford to let you raise the alarm." With a swift blow, he knocked the man unconscious again and set off at a brisk pace toward the road, followed by the professor, helped along by his daughter, with Algy and Ginger bringing up the rear.
Before they emerged onto the roadside, Biggles halted to survey the stretch of asphalt. There was no sign of any traffic. "We need to make as much speed as we can," he told the others. "We'll stick to the road as far as possible, but if we hear a car coming, we'll have to get off and hide until they've gone past. If we start encountering a lot of vehicles, we'll have to strike across country. It will be slower going, but we shan't be going anywhere if we're in gaol."
"What about hi-jacking a car?" suggested Ginger. "We'd be able to travel faster still if we had transport."
"I considered that," replied Biggles, "but I think the risk is too great. There are too many variables we can't control and always assuming we managed to overpower the driver and get away in the car, if the driver got free and circulated the registration number we'd be sitting ducks for every policeman and SD member between here and Linz. We'll be better off on foot."
Ginger fell silent and Biggles beckoned them forward. They scrambled up onto the carriageway, Biggles and Algy helping Becca and her father, who looked all in.
After less than a mile, when it was obvious that the professor's condition was slowing their progress, Ginger tackled Biggles once more about trying to obtain some transport.
"I could lie down on the road as though I'd been knocked down and Becca could flag down a passing car to ask for help," he suggested. "If you hide in the ditch beside the road, the two of us ought to look pretty innocuous. Becca will be able to talk to the driver in German. I hope she'll be able to convince him I need to be taken to hospital. With any luck, he'll get out to help her get me into the car and that's when you tackle him."
Reluctantly Biggles agreed to the plan, although he had severe misgivings about the likelihood of being able to put it into operation, never mind bring it to a successful conclusion. The professor, however, was showing the effects of his ill-treatment in the prison camp and Biggles acknowledged that Ginger was right to make the attempt as soon as a suitable opportunity presented itself. In the meantime, they would have to make as much progress as they could.
At length, the longed for sound of a vehicle broke the silence. It seemed to be travelling slowly in the direction of Linz. "Okay, laddie," said Biggles as Algy helped the professor off the road. "This is your chance."
Ginger unwound the bandage from his cheek. The injury had stopped bleeding long ago, but the congealed blood formed a thick scab over the wound. Wincing, he scratched the crust away and the cut started to bleed again. He lay down on the road and flung out his arm as though thrown there by a collision with a car. Becca knelt down beside him. Without thinking, she wiped the blood from his cheek. "Don't do that!" exclaimed Ginger. "It makes it look more realistic. Smear it over my face."
Becca did as he said and had to admit the result was horrifyingly real. She could hear the car clearly now and stood up to wave it down. It was a black limousine like the one who had stopped to ask the way before.
The car coasted to a halt and the driver got out. It was the man who had asked for directions on their outward journey. "Well, what a coincidence!" he exclaimed as he recognised Becca. "What has happened to your friend?"
She started to explain as the man moved towards Ginger. Suddenly he stopped and seized her arm. "What is this?" he cried angrily. "Where is your friend who was with you earlier?"
"Behind you," replied Algy smoothly, covering the man with his pistol. "I'm sorry, but we need your car." The man spun round and let go of Becca, who ran across to where Ginger was getting to his feet. Algy gestured with the barrel of the weapon that the driver should move away from the car
Biggles came silently up behind the German and hit him over the head with his pistol. As the man collapsed, Biggles dragged him unceremoniously to the side of the road and let him slide down the slope.
"I hate this rough-house stuff," he commented as he let go, "but desperate times need desperate measures. Quickly, professor," he urged, giving the scientist a helping hand to ascend the bank. "I can hear another car coming; the sooner we are away from here, the better."
Algy slid behind the steering wheel and the others piled in. Algy let in the clutch and pulled away.
"Not a minute too soon by the look of things," said Biggles, looking through the rear window. "That other car is coming up behind us fast. You'd better let him go past."
Algy nodded to show that he had heard, but did not slacken his pace.
"It's a good job we've got darkened windows," commented Ginger. "At least they won't be able to see us."
Just how provident that accident of fate proved to be was demonstrated as the other car drew level with them. Algy glanced across as he drew to the side slightly to allow the overtaking manoeuvre. He nearly went into the ditch when he recognised the passenger in the back seat.
"Von Stalhein!" he exclaimed.
"Steady!" warned Biggles as Algy straightened the car. "Don't do anything to arouse suspicion."
"Do you think he's after us?" asked Ginger as their enemy disappeared into the distance.
"Anything is possible," mused Biggles. "He was certainly in a hurry. If he came to interrogate the professor and found that he'd apparently been killed by a guard who subsequently went missing, although no one can find the body, I think Erich will put two and two together and come up with the right answer. If that's the case, the sooner we get airborne the better."
