19 Biggles Secret Agent

by Captain W E Johns

  We shall do better on foot, across country.'

  `You mean, you're going to try to reach the landing-ground?' inquired Ginger.

  Ùnless you can think of a more promising scheme.'

  `No, I can't.'

  `There is bound to be a guard, in which case there is likely to be some shooting; nevertheless, we shall have the advantage of surprise on our side. I have two spare weapons — von Stalhein's, and the one belonging to the storm-trooper whom I had to shoot, so we are all right for equipment. One of us ought to get through — and it only needs one of us to fly the machine. If you find yourself in the machine with the Professor and his son, take straight off. Don't wait for me. That's an order — you understand?'

  `Perfectly'

  `Good!' Biggles turned to the Professor. 'Professor Beklinder,' he said gravely, 'as you must have gathered from our conversation, although we have got you out of immediate danger the position is still serious. We had an aeroplane ready to fly you to England, but unfortunately the pilot was captured, and we assume that the machine is under guard. My plan is to attempt to take it by force, but I cannot jeopardize your life without your consent. Do you agree, or would you prefer to try some other way?'

  Ìf there was another way I should prefer to try it,' admitted the Professor frankly. 'Not for myself, you understand, but on account of my son.'

  `Have no fears for me,' declared the boy, stoutly. He turned to Biggles. 'Did I hear you say that you had a spare pistol?' Biggles smiled faintly. 'You did.'

  `Then please give it to me. You seem to forget that I have scores of my own to wipe out.'

  Without a word Biggles passed him the revolver which he had taken from the wounded storm-trooper, and gave the Professor von Stalhein's automatic.

  `Be careful with that, Gustav,' said the Professor, nervously, and thus the others learned the boy's name. 'In case the plan miscarries, there is one thing I should like to say,' he went on, turning to Biggles.

  Ìt is how much I appreciate what you, personally, are doing on our behalf, and the British government—'

  Òh, don't think about that now,' broke in Biggles. The British government looks after those who serve it, anyway. My only regret in this matter is that we did not make contact with your son earlier; he would have been a useful ally. But we've no time to waste. If we are all agreed, let us push on. Every hour will make our task more difficult.'

  Leaving the car as it stood, they set off through the forest in the direction of the landing-ground, which was, Ginger judged, about two miles away.

  They said little as they walked, for the night was still, and, well aware of the distance at which the sound of human voices can be heard in such conditions, Biggles requested silence. So they walked on, Biggles taking the lead, his brief remarks being confined to warnings against obstructions, such as low-hanging branches. They were, of course, travelling across country — if a forest can be so described. It was one which they had not previously seen, and the close-growing trees offered perfect cover. But after going about a mile Biggles suddenly called a halt, and the reason was at once apparent to the others.

  They had reached the edge of the forest. Strictly speaking, it was not the edge; the trees ended, but began again on the other side of what was, in effect, a wide strip of cultivated land that had swept far into the forest. The distance to the trees on the far side of this clearing was about two hundred yards, but in the whole of that area there was no cover of any sort.

  `What do you think about it?' whispered Ginger.

  think it is the sort of place that might be watched,' replied Biggles.

  Ì don't see anybody.'

  `You wouldn't be likely to. A man keeping guard would hardly be such a fool as to stand in the middle of the field. He'd keep back in the trees so that he could not be seen.'

  `That looks to me like a footpath running down the middle there,' observed Ginger.

  Ìt is,' put in Gustay. 'I once walked to the edge of the wood yonder; I remember the place well,' he added by way of explanation.

  Ìt would take us over a mile out of our way if we had to go all round the edge of the wood,' remarked Biggles. 'We can't spare

  the time to do that. We shall have to go straight across, and risk it.'

  The words had barely left his lips, and he had, in fact, taken a pace forward with the object of continuing the march when from out of the forest, at the extreme end of the cultivated land, travelling away from Unterhamstadt, came a fast-moving object, which, as it drew nearer, resolved itself into several component parts.

  `Keep quiet,' breathed Biggles, stepping back farther into the trees.

  It was soon possible to make out the details of the approaching figures. There was a storm-trooper on a bicycle. Beside him, controlled by leads, ran two Alsatian dogs. The man made no sound, but, pedalling fast, went on down what Ginger had rightly supposed to be a path and finally disappeared into the dim distance. Nobody spoke until he was out of sight.

  `That gives us an idea of how careful we shall have to be,' murmured Biggles.

  `Where was he off to, I wonder?' said Ginger.

  Ìf that path bears round to the right it would take him somewhere near the open country where Algy landed — that is, if my bump of locality is correct,' answered Biggles.

  `Yes, I think the path does go round that way,' put in the Professor, his voice heavy with anxiety. 'What had we better do?'

  `We've got to get across this field before we do anything else,' declared Biggles. 'We can'

  t afford to lose a minute. Let's make a dash for it. If we're challenged, go on running, but keep together. Everybody ready? Good. Let's go.'

  They broke from the sombre trees and set off at a steady run for the opposite side of the clearing, where, at the foot of a low

  hill, the trees began again They could just see the silhouette of the hill against the sky. At every moment Ginger expected to hear a challenge ring out, but nothing of the sort happened, and he voiced his relief when they once more plunged into the welcome cover of the trees. The Professor was out of breath. 'I am not so young as I was,' he said apologetically, as they waited for him to recover before they went on again.

  Groping their way, stumbling over roots, and colliding with unseen obstacles, they pushed on, and they had nearly reached the top of the hill, which began to take the form of a ridge, when a sound split the silence — a sound that pulled them up short. There was no possibility of mistaking it. It was the sound of an aero engine being started up.

  `He's done us,' grated Biggles through his teeth, as he ran on to the top of the ridge.

  `Who?' asked Gustay.

  `Von Stalhein. He's afraid of us. He guessed that we should make for the machine, and he daren't even trust his guard. He's removing our only link with France — look, there it goes.'

  By this time they had all reached the top of the ridge, where an outcrop of rock prevented the growth of trees. There was no need for Biggles to amplify his remark, for what had happened was plain for all to see. The ridge overlooked the stretch of open country which they had chosen for a landing-ground. On the side of it nearest to them was a little group of lights. The machine was in the air, heading eastward. The noise of the engine diminished rapidly — became a hum. Some of the lights on the field went out. Figures began to move towards a waiting motor-car. The car went off, and disappeared round the shoulder of a neighbouring hill. Silence fell.

  `Well, that's that!' said Biggles in a resigned voice.

  The Professor sank down and buried his face in his hands. `Here — here, just a minute, Professor,' chided Biggles.

  Ìt's hopeless now.'

  `Hopeless?' Biggles laughed quietly. 'If you'd been through what I've been through in my time — and Ginger, too, for that matter — you'd know that nothing is hopeless until you'

  re dead — and buried. You were supposed to be dead and buried, don't forget — but here you are.'

  `But surely there is nothing we can do, is there?' ask
ed Gustav miserably.

  `There are plenty of things we can do,' answered Biggles. 'It's just a matter of choosing the best one.'

  `That's right enough,' agreed Ginger, with a bigger show of cheerfulness than he felt in his heart.

  Biggles took him aside, and, choosing a sheltered place among the rocks below the ledge, took out his map and the torch. He studied the map for a moment without speaking Then he placed the index finger of his left hand on a spot a little to the north of the village. '

  Look here, Ginger,' he said in a low voice, 'we've got about one chance left — but it wouldn't do to let the others know that things are as bad as that. I'm afraid they are depressed. If they lose heart altogether we shan't be able to do anything with them, so behave as if it were all plain sailing.' Biggles glanced at his wristwatch. 'It's nearly ten o'

  clock,' he continued. Now this is what I want you to do. You see this place on the map?'

  Ginger dropped on his knees to see more clearly the place Biggles was indicating. 'Yes,'

  he said.

  Ì want you to be there, with the Beklinders, at twenty minutes past twelve precisely.'

  `You're not going with us?'

  `No. There's no time for answering questions, but I'm going to try to pull off the cheekiest coup of my life. You be on that field at twelve-twenty. Wait until twelve-thirty.

  If I am not there by then you can reckon that I shan't be coming If that happens, forget about me and try to get out of the country as best you can. It's a thousand to one against your doing it, but you can only try; anyway, there will be nothing else left for you to do.

  Make for the French frontier. You know the tricks. Take cover by day and travel only by night. Remember it is better to lie in open fields of crops than in ditches. Your greatest difficulty will be food. Do without it if you can; don't go near houses unless you are absolutely compelled to. People in the country keep dogs, and dogs bark, and by tomorrow the whole country will be looking for us. One bark will be enough to bring a pack of storm-troopers to the spot. But I hope it won't come to that. The place where I hope to meet you is less than four miles from here, which means that if you started now you would be there in an hour – which is rather too soon. Yet with these storm-troopers all over the place it's going to be dangerous for you to hang about in the open.'

  `We shall have to pass near the churchyard on the way to this new rendezvous; what's wrong with us hiding in the vault until it's time for us to go on to it?'

  `That's a good idea,' declared Biggles. 'You ought to be safe there. I should say it isn't more than a couple of miles from the vault to the rendezvous—'

  `What is this rendezvous?' asked Ginger puzzled.

  Ìt's a big field. Before we started I looked at it with a view to using it as a landing-ground, but I decided that it was a bit too near the village. Had it become necessary for Algy to land he

  might have been heard taking off again. That was why I chose the other place — that and because it was larger. I'm going to try to get hold of an aeroplane. If I can't get a 'plane, I'

  ll get a car. I've no time to tell you more than that now. Is everything clear?'

  Àbsolutely. We'll be at the field at twelve-twenty.'

  `That's right. Stay in the vault as long as you can — but don't be late. If I don't turn up —

  well, you know what to do.'

  `What about Algy?'

  `While either of us is alive we'll try to get him out. He knows that. But we've got to get the Beklinders away first. Algy is a personal matter — they are a national matter.'

  Biggles got up and went back to where the Beklinders were waiting. 'I shall have to leave you now,' he said quietly. 'In the meanwhile I want you to do exactly as Ginger orders.

  Your safety will depend upon it.' And with that he walked away through the trees.

  Ginger beckoned to the Professor and his son. 'Follow me, please,' he said.

  CHAPTER XIII

  Ginger Goes Back

  As they made their way towards the churchyard Ginger explained the situation as far as he was able to the Beklinders,

  who accepted it philosophically and agreed to accompany him to the vault. They avoided roads, and even footpaths, in which matter both the Professor and his son were better informed than Ginger. Indeed, the Professor knew every inch of the country, having —

  as he said —stayed in the district many times when he was a young man.

  In this way they reached the churchyard without trouble; there were one or two alarms, such as when a whistle was blown on a road near to which they happened to be passing; that was all. On reaching the churchyard Ginger recovered the crow-bar from where Biggles had hidden it, and, prising up the stone slab, they descended into their hiding-place. The time then, by Ginger's watch, was ten-thirty.

  Ì'm afraid we have rather more than an hour to spend here,' he told the others.

  `What does your friend hope to do?' asked the Professor.

  `Beyond the fact that he is going to try to get an aeroplane or a car, I do not know,'

  answered Ginger, who then went on to describe the rendezvous.

  Ì am afraid he will have a job to get an aeroplane in Lucrania,' said the Professor, shaking his head.

  Ginger switched off the torch. 'Getting into Unterhamstadt was a job — but we got here,'

  he observed. 'Getting hold of you was a job — but we got you. In fact, nearly everything we do seems to be a job — but somehow we manage to do it. So while getting hold of an aeroplane may be a job, it doesn't mean that Biggles won't get one.'

  Ì know the field well,' remarked the Professor.

  `Good! That ought to make things a bit easier, at any rate.'

  Ì could go straight to it,' declared the Professor. 'I have walked over the whole district many times.'

  `While we are waiting you might tell me why you came back to this part of the world,'

  invited Ginger. 'Wasn't it rather unwise?'

  `Yes, I suppose it was even worse than that; it was the height of folly,' admitted the Professor. 'But you see, I had a good reason for coming. It began like this. Some time ago I received an anonymous letter from Lucrania, from a man who signed himself "A Friend", informing me that my wife was dead, but my son, who was born after I had left the country, was living at an address in Prenzel. Needless to say I was astonished and delighted at the letter, although I should have been more sceptical of its authenticity had it not been for the fact that the notepaper bore a secret mark — the mark of the society to which I once foolishly belonged. It was when the activities of this society were exposed, twenty years ago, that I had to leave the country. You must understand that I did not even know of the existence of my son. I did not reply to the letter. That would have been too dangerous. Instead, I hired an agent to spy out the land for me, but either the man was a rogue or else he was in the employ of my enemies; I do not know which; I only know that he betrayed me. He came to me, and after telling me that my son was indeed alive, asked me if I would like to meet him, and on my assurance that I would, he invited me to suggest a meeting-place. At the same time he pointed out that it would be easier for me, carrying a British passport, to come to Lucrania, than it would be for Gustav to get out of that country, for everybody leaving is suspect. As I have already told you, I often came to Unterhamstadt when I was a young man; at that time I was interested in archaeology, and stayed at the hotel, which was handy for the castle which I wished to explore. I was actually writing a paper on my discoveries when I had to fly from the country.'

  `Yes, I know that,' put in Gustay.

  `How?' asked his father quickly.

  `Because after mother died I found the papers, and read them,' answered Gustav simply.

  Òf course. It was silly of me not to think of that,' resumed his father. 'Well, to conclude, it was not unnatural that I should arrange to meet my son at the place which held for me so many pleasant memories. You see, I spent my honeymoon here. But alas, the whole thing wa
s a fraud to trick me into coming to the country. Even as I approached the village I was apprehended. They took me to the hotel where I was kept in a semi-conscious condition by means of drug injections.'

  Ì wonder what their object was in taking you to the hotel at all,' mused Ginger. 'And, for that matter, why they buried you in a vault instead of a grave.'

  Ì think that is something we shall have to assume, for von Stalhein is never likely to explain his actions to us,' returned the Professor. 'I imagine that von Stalhein knew about the tunnels

  — possibly they were discovered when the castle was being renovated. It might not have suited him had I merely disappeared, for that would have led to inquiries. He preferred to pretend that I had been killed in an accident. By using room seventeen at the hotel he was in a position to move me — or anyone else — without being observed, even by the village people. I was carried through the tunnel to the castle. I can only suppose that by placing my coffin in the vault he was in a position to recover it immediately should he ever find it necessary. One way or another the tunnels suited his purposes very well. Had you been captured at the hotel no doubt you would have been taken to the castle that way, for had you been seen in custody by someone in the village the matter might have been reported to England.'

  Ginger nodded. 'Yes,' he said thoughtfully. 'They must have taken Algy to the castle via the tunnel. I fancy we were there when he was brought along.'

  The Professor continued. 'Once in the castle I was ordered under pain of death to go on with the work I had been undertaking for the British government. I refused to do this, for in my disappointment at not finding my son I cared little whether I lived or died.

  Many interviews I had with that man von Stalhein, who made vague promises about my son, none of which materialized.'

  `Then presumably Gustav knew nothing about this?' suggested Ginger.

  `No.'

  `Then what brought him here?'

  Gustav answered for himself. 'By the merest accident I saw in the public library at Prenzel, in an English newspaper, a report of the accident. You see,' he explained, '