Tommy's father, being honest, was given the cold shoulder. But there's usually a fly in that sort of ointment. In this case it was the native who, being short of tobacco, followed the wagon to get some. He offered diamonds for it." Biggles looked at Tommy.
"Your father would smell such an obvious rat instantly, but rather than make a fuss he took the stones. Then, bravely but unwisely, I think, he went back to find out where they were coming from ; or, perhaps, to try to locate the crook who was handing out the gin.
In doing so he lost his life. The native who was after tobacco must have been spotted and followed. His fellow tribesmen, furious that he had divulged their secret, killed him.
Your father may have run into the same crowd. Maybe they were drunk. That is conjecture, but something of the sort must have happened."
Tommy nodded. "That's about it."
"Had they found you no doubt you would have shared the same fate,"
averred Biggles. "
Curiously enough, the lions may have saved you. By starting off on foot you gave them the slip, although as we can see they found the wagon."
"The thing is to find this white man, who is really at the bottom of the trouble," said Ginger in a hard voice.
Biggles held up the tin. "This, originally, held cigarettes—anunusual brand, too, judging from the name on the lid. Did your father smoke cigarettes, Tommy ?"
"Never. Only tobacco."
"In that case, as this box is in shop-new condition, we can assume that it belongs to the fellow who supplied the gin. It's hard to see how the native could have got it any other way. When we find the man who smokes this particular brand of cigarettes, and there can't be many in this part of the world, we'll ask him some questions."
"Africa is a big place to start looking for a man smoking a particular brand of cigarettes,"
Ginger pointed out.
"We shan't have far to go I fancy," said Biggles dryly.
"You mean—Ubeni ? "
"Of course."
"He may not be there now."
"If he isn't he'll come back. Oh yes, he'll come back—while there are diamonds to be had for gin and jam," declared Biggles cynically.
"Which means that you're thinking of going to Ubeni ? "
"It's the one place where we can be sure of finding this crook—sooner or later."
"The natives will kill you as they did my father," protested Tommy.
"I shall do my best to avoid any such unpleasantness," averred Biggles.
"From the air we could soon spot a wagon heading in this direction," said Tommy eagerly.
Biggles smiled. "And from the ground we should see an aeroplane coming this way just as easily," he said softly. "When our man comes along he'll be in a hurry. Crooks are always in a hurry. A wagon is a slow way of getting over the ground. Let's go back to the machine. I want to show you something, Tommy. You might as well bring that money that belonged to your father. There's no point in leaving it there."
They all returned to the aircraft. From the pocket in his instrument panel Biggles took a large envelope. Still speaking to Tommy he said : "I gather you've travelled quite a long way beside this lake ? "
"Yes. Dad and I struck it to the south, and followed the bank to keep near water."
"Very well," continued Biggles. "I want you to look at these photographs and tell me if you recognise any place shown in them. Never mind the animals, the hippos and crocs, and so on. Concentrate on the scenery." As he spoke Biggles drew from the envelope a batch of prints.
Ginger looked surprised. "Where did you get those ? " he demanded.
"In London," answered Biggles, vaguely.
Tommy looked hard at several photographs before he stopped. Then he held one up. "I know this place," he declared.
"Are you positive ? "
" Absolutely."
" Where is it ? "
"A mile or two below Ubeni village. We spent a night there. I remember it well because I've never seen so many hippos as there were there. There they are, in the photo. I walked out on that very fallen tree to get a bucket of water."
"Thank you," acknowledged Biggles. "We needn't bother with the rest.
That's all I wanted to know." He replaced the photographs.
"Is there some secret about this ? "inquired Ginger, with gentle sarcasm.
"No," admitted Biggles. "There's a travel film showing in London called The Heart Of Africa. It was made by a man and woman named Steiner. It's a good film. I saw it the night before we left. I liked it so much that I went to the publicity agent and bought some enlargements of the shots—
particularly those showing scenery. I thought there was a chance that I might recognise some of the places when I got here."
"In what way can that help us ? "
"In this way," rejoined Biggles. "The Steiners had no permit to operate in British territory. They did not apply for one. They say they were nowhere near British territory when they were in Africa. Their picture, the film states, was made in the Belgian Congo.
That's a lie. They came here, otherwise they could not have taken a photo of the place Tommy has identified. Why should they lie about a little thing like that ? People who lie in little things will always lie in big ones."
"Because they didn't want it known that they had been here."
"Good. Go to the top of the class. Their lie has now rebounded on them, as lies usually do."
"You think it was their machine I saw ? " put in Tommy.
"Let us say it seems highly probable."
"In that case," surmised Ginger, "It could have been these people Steiner who handed out the booze to the Ubeni in return for diamonds ? "
"It could. I'm not saying it was . . . not yet. But had their visit here been clean and above board there would have been no need for them to lie."
"And you think they'll come back ? "
"I don't think. I know. They've announced in London that they are returning to Africa to make another film. There may be money in films, but pictures are chicken feed compared with diamonds. I made enquiries and found they were scheduled to leave within a week after we left."
"Which way are they coming ? "
"I don't know. In that respect, wisely perhaps, they kept their plans to themselves. If they come here we shall see them."
"Does that mean you're going to wait to see if they come here ? "
" It does."
"So that's why you packed all that canned food on board ! I thought it was a precaution against an emergency landing."
Biggles laughed. "What's this, if it isn't an emergency landing ? "
"Okay. And what exactly is the drill ? "questioned Ginger.
Biggles took a cigarette from his case and tapped it pensively on the back of his hand. "
That's not an easy matter to decide. Of course, there are plenty of things we could do, but most of them bristle with difficulties. If one native can produce several diamonds the place must be littered with them.
If they get loose on the market they'll cause no end of mischief by lowering the value of all the other diamonds in the world. That's why the government maintains such a strict control. Another risk is, when the Ubeni realise their value they'll start selling them for cash and buy rifles with the money. That mustn't happen."
"But surely you could prevent that by letting the authorities know what's going on ? "
argued Ginger.
"That's true up to a point," replied Biggles. "But official action is slow. Suppose the fellow who knows about the stones slips in and buys the lot ? Once he gets away with them how could we hope to find them ? If I was sure he'd stay in British territory I'd follow him and nab him with the goods on him. But once he leaves here he might go anywhere. Remember, we're close to French and Belgian territory. Once the fellow got across the frontier we could do nothing about it. The best way might be to grab him in Ubeni village, but there are difficulties about that, too. The natives would take a hand. I don't want to finish up on the p
oint of a spear. That would start a punitive war, and Raymond wouldn't thank us for that. There is this about it. If the Steiners do come here I shall soon know whether it's pictures or pebbles they are after."
" How ? "
"If they really wanted pictures they'd be here for weeks. If it's diamonds, they'll be gone in a few hours. That's the dickens of it. Once they're away we've lost them—and the diamonds."
"So what ? "
Biggles stroked his chin. "Short of force, the occasion seems to call for headwork. Give me a little while to think it over."
Sitting on the ground, with a cigarette smouldering between his fingers, Biggles gazed across the shimmering lake. It took him twenty minutes to reach a decision ; but having done so his manner became brisk. He beckoned Ginger to one side. "I'm not going to carry the responsibility for this," he said tersely. "I haven't said so to Tommy, but I'm by no means convinced that his father is dead. He may be a prisoner in the village. Natives think twice before they murder a white man.
Should Tommy's father be alive, one bad move on our part might cost him his life. I'm going to ask the Air Commodore for instructions. The Steiners, if they're coming, won't be here for some days, so we have a little leeway in the matter of time. I want you to make flat out for Egypt. Go to the Air Officer Commanding, R.A.F. Headquarters, show him your papers and ask for contact with Raymond, on service radio. Explain the position to him. Having got his instructions come back here. I'll do my best to keep the situation under control in the meantime. Tommy will stay with me. We'll unload some stores and make camp in the wagon."
Ginger nodded. "Okay. I'll hit the breeze as fast as I can. I ought to be back here in three days if there's no delay in getting hold of the Air Commodore."
"Good enough," confirmed Biggles. "Get cracking. By the way, if you don't find me here when you get back, give me a few hours and then make for home to report fully to Raymond."
"Does that mean you'll have gone to Ubeni ? "
"Probably. I shall have to go there if this diamond buyer on wings turns up before you get back. I daren't risk letting him get away with the loot."
Half an hour later the Saro was in the air, heading north. Biggles and Tommy were at work unloading food stores and making camp.
On the afternoon of the third day after Ginger's departure Biggles was sitting on a shaft of the wagon, talking to Tommy, when he broke off suddenly, his head in a listening position. "Here comes somebody, and it doesn't sound like Ginger," he said sharply. "
Ginger would be flying low, if not actually gliding in. The machine we can hear is pretty high, which means it still has some way to go."
"There it is ! " Tommy pointed to an aircraft moving swiftly across the dome of implacable blue overhead. It was well out over the lake, coming from a north-westerly direction, the direction of the Belgian Congo.
Biggles regarded it critically. "That's the Steiner's machine," he announced. "It's a Cornell flying boat, the same machine they used on their previous trips. From the course they're on it looks as if they're heading for Ubeni. They've wasted no time getting here. I didn't expect them just yet. Maybe they had a reason for being in a hurry. I'm afraid I shall have to leave you alone for a bit."
Tommy looked surprised. "What are you going to do ? "
"I'm going to Ubeni."
"They'll kill you."
"Possibly." Biggles smiled. "I'm a policeman," he reminded. "Being killed is a risk every policeman must take occasionally if he does his job.
After all, I'm paid to arrest law breakers, not run away from them."
"I'll come with you."
Biggles shook his head. "That's sporting of you, Tommy, but I have a job for you. You'll stay here to meet Ginger when he arrives, and tell him where I've gone, and why. He won't be surprised. You should be safe enough here. I'll leave you the rifle."
"But this is Africa ! You can't stroll about as if you were in England !
" cried Tommy, aghast. "What will you do if you meet a lion ? "
"That will depend on what the lion does," answered Biggles, with mock seriousness.
"What about the natives ? "
"If they're bent on mischief a rifle wouldn't make any difference. On the other hand, the sight of one might be enough to set them off, if they're in an ugly mood. I've an automatic in my pocket should things get really sticky."
" Ubeni is a long way," Tommy pointed out. "It'll be dark before you get there."
"So much the better," returned Biggles. "There will be less chance of my arrival being noticed. If I wait until tomorrow our birds may have flown.
That's a risk I daren't take.
Well, I'll be getting along. Take care of yourself and don't go far away.
Ginger should be along any time now." With a wave Biggles set off on his long trek, taking a line roughly parallel with the side of the lake.
For an hour he saw no sign of wild life except innumerable water fowl and hippos in the lake, and some waterbuck that made off at his approach. A little later, however, a lion stood up suddenly in the dry grass not far away. Biggles walked on. The lion watched him suspiciously, but without actual hostility. After a final stare it made off, unhurriedly, with frequent glances behind, in the opposite direction. About dusk, with still five miles to go, he heard lions roaring in the distance, but he did not see them.
He now proceeded with more caution, keeping a sharp lookout for natives, but to his satisfaction, for he hoped to reach his objective unobserved, he saw none. He finished his journey under a brilliant African moon. By that time he felt reasonably safe from surprise attack, knowing that the natives would by now be in their village, the fires of which he could see at no great distance.
Before reaching it he made a discovery which, in view of what he knew, interested him immensely. In the ordinary way it would hardly have been noticed, for it was merely a water-course, shrunken by drought to a trickle which seeped through a gravelly beach.
But on either side of the water the gravel had been thrown into heaps, and, as there appeared to be no other reason for such labour, he supposed it to be the place from which the diamonds were being won. Work had of course been abandoned for the night, so with barely a pause he went on until the beehive-shaped huts of the village loomed darkly in front of him. A little to the right of it the moon glistened on the tranquil water of the lake.
On it, close against the bank, an aircraft rested motionless on its own reflected image. He recognised it as the machine he had seen earlier in the day. This told him that the Steiners were there, whatever their business might be. He could see no one near the machine, although there seemed to be a good deal of activity in the village, mostly of a boisterous nature, as if the natives were in great good humour. A frown knitted Biggles'
forehead as he listened, for such unusual behaviour at such an hour, he suspected, was the result of hard liquor.
Moving on, another object came into view. It was a tent, pitched perhaps a hundred yards beyond the perimeter of the huts. A strong light glowed through the canvas. From the fact that there were no natives near it Biggles judged that the Steiners had already concluded their business.
For a moment he hesitated, surveying the scene to make sure that he had not been observed ; then, making a wide detour, he approached the tent from the rear. As he drew near he could hear the voices of a man and woman in low but animated conversation.
Taking out his penknife, moving slowly and with the greatest possible care, he pressed the point of the blade through the canvas, and after withdrawing it, applied an eye to the incision thus made.
For perhaps two minutes he stood motionless. Then, with a curious expression on his face he straightened himself, and after another scrutiny of the village backed away to some scrub. From there, still moving with infinite caution, he made his way to the aircraft. It rocked a little as he stepped aboard, but the ripples soon died away. He watched the village until it fell quiet. The light in the tent went out. Leg-weary, he settled down
in the cockpit to rest.
Dawn broke with its daily miracle of an African sunrise. Land and water came to life.
Biggles stretched limbs that had become cramped, and looking through the windscreen saw that the village was astir. A native woman went to the lake for water. A man, squatting, began sharpening his spear with a stone. A white man appeared outside the tent with a folding washstand, and hanging a small mirror on the canvas proceeded to shave. Presently a woman, dressed in a sweater, slacks and mosquito boots, came out, carrying a Primus stove. Having pumped it up she lighted it, put a kettle on to boil, and retired. The man, having finished his ablutions, also went inside. The woman fetched the kettle when it boiled. All this Biggles watched without particular interest. He was more concerned with the village, and was relieved to note that the natives kept their distance from the tent. He was even more relieved when a number of them, carrying spears and shields, strode away in single file, apparently on a hunting foray.
41 Biggles Takes The Case Page 10