42 Biggles Follows On
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He took off the spotted tie he was still wearing, hung it over the door handle, and walked away in the direction of the gap in the wire.
By the time he had reached it von Stalhein and his companions must have discovered that they were locked in, for there was a good deal of banging on the door. There was also some shouting, This was followed by several revolver shots, as someone, Biggles thought, tried to shoot the lock out of the door. He walked on. That the shots in the hut had been heard was soon apparent from the way more figures began to converge on it.
He paid little attention to them, and went on to the hovel without meeting anyone. Bertie and his party were there, a huddled, silent group; but Gimlet had not yet arrived.
Biggles waited, staring in the direction from which they should come.
Wung, alone, was the first to arrive. He reported that the others were on their way. There had been some delay, he explained, because so many people were now moving about.
'Good enough,' acknowledged Biggles, 'As you know the way you can start off and get this gang to the coast. Bertie and Ginger will wait here with me in case Gimlet runs into trouble and needs help.'
Telling the men to follow him Wung set off across the marsh.
A few minutes later Gimlet and his two assistants arrived. 'Everything all right?' asked Biggles.
'Yes,' answered Gimlet. 'I was afraid at one time we might have to cut the programme short, but we managed to complete it. Did you get your man?'
'He's on his way to the boat, with some others.'
'What was the shooting about? That sort of started things.' 'Couldn't help it. A crazy prisoner shot the sergeant. Said he had bumped off his pal, or something.'
'Fool thing to do.'
'People do fool things when they lose their heads.'
'Shan't keep you a minute,' said Gimlet, and turned to watch critically while Copper and Trapper, with the aid of a small, shielded torch, made the connections to their batteries.
Bertie spoke. 'By the way, Gimlet old boy, I've been meaning to ask you for some time, have you still got that flea-bitten old grey mare you called Seagull?'
'Of course I've got her.'
'She could jump like a cat, that mare.'
'She still can.'
'Want to sell her?'
'Not likely. I'm hoping to win next year's Grand National with her.'
'Riding her yourself?'
'Of course.'
'She might do it. She's got brains, that old lady. I remember, out huntin', how she watched for the rabbit holes.'
'Here they go,' came Copper's voice from the ground. 'What did I tell yer, Trapper old chum? Didn't I tell yer we should be fox huntin'
ternight if these two got tergether?'
Trapper clicked his tongue. 'You said it.'
Not so much talking, you two,' requested Gimlet. 'Watch what you're doing.'
'We're all set, sir,' informed Copper, straightening his back. 'Good. All right. You can pull the plug.'
Copper took the sparking plunger in both hands and thrust it home.
Ginger was prepared for a certain amount of noise, but not for what actually happened.
He nearly went over backwards as the earth erupted in a dozen places at once. Spears of flame leapt skyward, taking with them objects that could not be identified. Into the reverberations of the explosions came the crash of falling pylons, which gave a wonderful display of blue sparks as the electrical connections snapped and shorted.
Small arms ammunition continued to crackle in spasmodic bursts from the direction of the ammunition dump. Black smoke began to roll up above a lurid glow.
'Jolly good show, old boy,' murmured Bertie.
'Looks as if we got the fuel tanks after all,' observed Gimlet thoughtfully. He turned to Biggles. 'I wasn't quite sure about them because, having got your message, I had to finish in a bit of a hurry.'
'If I'm any judge of this sort of thing you've made a pretty job of it,'
complimented Biggles.
'Bent the old microphone somewhat, I'll bet,' said Bertie cheerfully.
'Yes. I don't think there will be any Music While You Work from this station for a day or two,' agreed Gimlet.
'In that case we might as well be getting back,' suggested Biggles. 'I don't think we've much to worry about. Everyone seems to be busy trying to put the fires out. From what I can see from here the place is in too much of a flap for anyone to organise anything.'
'Poor old Erich,' said Bertie sadly. 'He'll get a kick in the pants from the boys who thought out this jolly little scheme. Serves him right. Yes, by Jove! absolutely.'
'It's his own fault,' asserted Biggles. 'He will play with the wrong sort of people. Still, I hope nothing serious happens to him. We should miss him. He keeps us on our toes. But let's get mobile.'
They set off, and making good time, overtook Wung and his party just before they reached the coast. There was no pursuit; or if there was, no sign of it was seen. Which was just as well, because the dinghy had to make several trips between the shore and the aircraft to get everyone aboard. However, it was only a matter of time. When the last journey had been completed the dinghy was deflated, and abandoned to save weight, and the Scorpion, loaded to capacity, with Algy at the stick, took off and set a course for its base.
Biggles found Ross and congratulated him on his splendid work. 'By the way,' he went on, looking round. 'Which of these lads is your friend, Macdonald?'
'He isn't here, sir,' answered Ross.
Biggles looked disappointed. 'Why not?'
'He was shot some days ago, trying to escape,' said Ross, in a tremulous voice. 'He blamed himself for getting me into the business.'
'I'm sorry,' consoled Biggles quietly. 'I'm afraid that's the sort of thing that happens only too often when fellows decide to take the bit in their teeth.'
Bertie was sitting next to Gimlet. 'You were telling me about old Seagull?' he prompted.
Copper breathed heavily and nudged Trapper in the ribs. "Ere they go agin,' he said plaintively. 'This is where I snatch a spot of shut-eye.
Strewth! Could I do with a nice plate o' fish and chips? My oath I could.
This stayin' up all night always did make me peckish.'
Ginger looked at Cub and smiled. 'That's not a bad idea,' he whispered.
'I'm a bit weary myself'
The engines droned on under stars that were beginning to pale with the approach of another day.
That really is the end of the story as far as it concerned Biggles and his comrades. The Scorpion reached its base without trouble of any sort, and after a day's rest Biggles took off on the return flight home. He took Ross with him. The other repentant deserters were left behind, having been handed over to the proper military authority for disciplinary action.
Guardsman Ross, it may be said here, was subsequently awarded the Distinguished Conduct Medal for the part he had played, much to the astonishment of his comrades in barracks who had supposed him to be absent without leave.
It turned out that Ross knew the names of some of the renegades who had volunteered to act as spies behind the lines in Korea. Army Intelligence Officers, with this information, soon picked them up. Their fate remained a matter for conjecture. Nothing more was heard of them.
The raid on the village of Fashtun, their headquarters, was made by a force of Marine Commandos with satisfactory results. Biggles knew no more about that than was published in the newspapers, except, of course, he knew why the raid was made. As he said to the others, when they returned to normal duties after a few days break, he had no further interest in Korea.
But he had an interest in a letter that arrived some time later. A slow smile spread over his face as he read it. 'You won't guess who this is from so I'll tell you,' he said. 'Smith, our friend in Prague. He's home, and wants us to have a meal with him.'
'Well, blow me down!' cried Bertie. 'How did he manage it?'
'He doesn't say,' answered Biggles. 'But it should be quite a sto
ry'
And it was. But this is not the place to tell it.
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Table of Contents
CHAPTER I Ginger Brings News
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER xi'
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV