Biggles (29 page)

The Times
man tried to contact Biggles, but Biggles cursed him
down the telephone (not recommended when dealing with the press) and Algy's version of the story hit the headlines. Later that same day, Algy rang Ginger, asking him to pack up his belongings for him, and by the evening Algy had moved out of the little flat which he and the friends had shared through thick and thin for nearly twenty years. Biggles and Co. had broken up.

At first the break-up seemed to make little difference. Biggles and Ginger still kept their aircraft down at Brooklands, Smyth still serviced them, and they even had a holiday together early that summer on the Norfolk Broads, where Biggles found he rather enjoyed sailing, in a leisurely sort of way. He drank somewhat more than usual, but otherwise life continued as before. Algy was never mentioned.

From time to time there were reports of Algy in the foreign pages of the press. He hadn't married but was plainly still as close as ever to the Frau von Sternberg. That summer they had piloted the Junkers to New York, breaking the record for the transatlantic crossing, and had returned to a full-scale hero's welcome in Berlin. Algy was subsequently photographed with Goering and several leading German politicians. Later he toured Germany, visiting German Air Force installations, and helping the Frau von Sternberg in her lectures and her meetings with the members of the German aircraft industry.

Ginger discussed it all with Nobby Smyth.

‘Can't understand it, Nobby,' he complained. ‘It simply isn't like old Algy. Must be that confounded woman.'

Nobby Smyth agreed. ‘Weak as water, poor old Algy, where women are concerned,' he added sagely.

‘Still,' continued Ginger, ‘I blame Biggles for what happened. Always has been too possessive over Algy, and it was stupid of him going off the handle as he did. Finesse is what you must have where women are concerned.'

‘Absolutely, Ginger,' Nobby Smyth agreed. ‘That's how I run my married life. What I like to call the subtle approach. Always works with women. But tell me, Ginger, how's Biggles really taking all this latest news from Germany? Isn't he upset?'

‘More than I've ever known him to be,' he replied. ‘Of course he keeps it bottled up, his sort always does. But in a way I don't think he'll ever quite recover from it. He doesn't only feel that Algy's let him down, he thinks he has betrayed his country.'
‘I always say that pheasant is absurdly over-rated, don't you agree, James?' asked Colonel Raymond, scanning the evening offering at the Blazers' Club. (Some time a year or two before, Biggles had been elevated from ‘Bigglesworth' to ‘James' in the Colonel's personal vocabulary. Biggles, however, still continued to address the older man as ‘sir'.)

‘Dry, fairly tasteless,' the Colonel went on. ‘A boring fowl, fit for nothing but the casserole. I recommend the partridge. Shot, incidentally, on the estate of your old friend, Elberton. They should be rather good.'

‘That sounds marvellous,' said Biggles, surrendering the choice of food as usual to the Colonel. ‘How is the old boy, incidentally?'

‘Unbearable as ever,' said the Colonel with a somewhat toothy grin. ‘He was in the other night, and inquiring after you. Seems that he has a brand-new version of the Swallow being developed for the R.A.F. Terribly hush-hush, of course, so keep it to yourself, but it could be just the bomber the Air Force needs. He seems to be wanting you to test-fly the thing for him sometime, so I expect he'll be in touch with you. You've been warned.'

‘Thanks very much for telling me, sir,' said Biggles with a wry smile. ‘Perhaps I should become a test-pilot and have done with it. A short life, but a cheerful one.'

‘Oh, I don't know about that, my boy. With this war in the offing, I think we can find you something a bit more interesting than that, if it's still excitement that you're after. Now, how about some smoked trout to begin with — or why don't we push the boat out and have caviar? A year or two from now and caviar will only be a memory.'

Biggles knew from long experience with Colonel Raymond that a sumptuous meal at the Blazers' Club invariably preceded some assignment with the British Secret Service and, as a rule, the better the food, the worse the task that followed. So, when the caviar arrived, Biggles was on his guard. But Colonel Raymond was in a mellow mood that night. He talked about the salmon fishing in the Highlands, the shooting on the Surrey-Hampshire borders and the hunting with the Quorn. He reminisced about their time in France and spoke discreetly — but disparagingly — of his colleagues at New Scotland Yard. In short, he spent a good three-quarters of that most delicious meal beating about the
bush, and it was not until the
marrons glacis
had appeared that he finally inquired, ‘Oh, and by the way James, heard anything of Algy Lacey lately?'

‘No,' said Biggles without looking up. ‘And I'm not sure I want to.'

‘Oh, it's like that is it?' replied the Colonel, chewing solemnly and trying to decide between the Cockburns and the Courvoisier.

‘Well, don't you feel the same, sir?' answered Biggles sternly. ‘You knew him almost as well as I did, and I still can't quite believe that Algy, of all people, has gone over to the Huns.'

Colonel Raymond looked up quickly.

‘That's what you honestly believe?' he asked.

‘Well, what else can a fellow think? First there's this wretched von Sternberg woman, then he goes flying for the Junkers company and now I hear he's living in Berlin. Surely there's only one word one can use about a rotter who does that. Algy's a traitor to his class and to his country.'

There was a pregnant silence as Biggles uttered these cruel words, and for a while the Colonel seemed to be examining the surface of the table as if uncertain what reply to make. Finally, he screwed his monocle in place and glared around the dining room to make sure nobody was listening.

‘James,' he said at last, putting on that cold, impersonal voice he always used for matters of the utmost secrecy. ‘There's something that I have to tell you about Lacey. Previously, I insisted that for his sake, you, like everybody else, would have to be kept firmly in the dark, and he agreed — reluctantly — but he agreed. Algy Lacey is no traitor. On the contrary, he's one of the bravest men I know.'

‘You mean he was,' said Biggles bitterly.

‘I mean he is. Today. At this very moment. Everything that happened, James, was done on my express instructions — from the very moment he was introduced to that appalling woman, to the day he left with her for Germany.'

Biggles looked slightly stunned at this.

‘But that's impossible,' he said. ‘What about that row we had at the Café Royal? He even flung a full Martini in my face, you know!'

The Colonel smiled and nodded to himself. ‘That was my suggestion, I'm afraid. One of my finer strokes, I thought. Two of
my chaps were just behind you at the time to make sure nothing could go wrong, and I took great care the papers got the story.'

‘You did
what?'
said Biggles angrily. ‘Really, sir, I don't know what you're playing at — or why — but there are limits. And I'd say that getting a chap like Algy to insult his oldest pal in a place like the Café Royal goes beyond the bounds of civilised behaviour.'

The old spy master smiled like an embarrassed greyhound.

‘James, my dear boy,' he said. ‘Calm down, calm down. Your attitude to Algy does you credit, but we live in an unpleasant world, you know. A dashed unpleasant world. At times I feel like you and think I'll chuck it in, but someone has to do the dirty work, and so much is at stake that some of us must compromise. Algy saw the point at once.'

‘What point, sir? I still don't understand,' said Biggles, mastering his emotions sufficiently to pour himself a glass of port.

‘That the von Sternberg creature was an invaluable potential source of information on the latest air developments in Germany, of course. For some time now, the R.A.F. at Farnborough has been desperate to find out more about that Junkers monoplane she flies. That's how it all began. As soon as Algy met her at the Hendon Air Display, I saw the possibilities, but it isn't often that one gets quite the reaction that eventually occurred. Of course, she has a fearful reputation. She's what we used to call a regular man-eater, don't you know?'

‘And you fed my old pal Algy to her, sir? Is that what you're trying to tell me?'

Colonel Raymond nodded. ‘Rather afraid it is. Not that Algy was all that averse to being eaten. Rather enjoyed himself by all accounts — at any rate at first. What was it he said? “Not often that one does this sort of thing for King and Country.” Rather good, what?'

Biggles frowned. ‘I find it all exceedingly distasteful, sir. I know that sometimes you use women for this sort of thing, but dash it all, they're different. You've exploited Algy just as if he was some Mata Hari.'

‘Oh, come now James, you mustn't be old fashioned. You'd be surprised at what goes on these days, and Algy Lacey has turned out to be a first-rate operator. Taken to it like a horse to water.'

‘I thought it was a duck' said Biggles drily.

‘Is it? Well, call him what you like, but the point is that since he's gone to Germany, we have been receiving quite incredible reports from him — news of the latest German aircraft, airport layouts, their defensive plans from air attacks, even seems to have had a chat with that fat fellow, what's his name?'

‘Goering,' said Biggles tersely. ‘I flew against him once in France. He was rather good. That was before he put on weight.'

He downed the remainder of his Cockburns, and rose to leave. ‘Well, thank you, sir, for a delicious dinner. And thanks too for telling me the truth about poor old Algy. I see now that I've misjudged him and that we can still be friends. That means a lot to me.'

‘Sit down, sit down,' said Colonel Raymond with just a hint of irritation in his voice. ‘Pour yourself-another glass of port and listen carefully. I haven't told you this simply to make you feel better over Algy, though I'm naturally delighted that you do.'

‘Why then, sir?' asked Biggles, feeling suddenly uneasy.

Colonel Raymond gazed at him appraisingly through shrewd grey eyes.

‘James,' he said at last, ‘there's something that I think that you should know. Algy Lacey is in frightful danger, if the reports that I've received are true.'

Biggles felt his mouth go dry, despite the port.

‘Danger, sir?' he hissed.

Colonel Raymond nodded. ‘It's been suggested that his messages are being intercepted. I wouldn't know, but what really worries me to death is the report that our man in Berlin filed this morning. You know who has suddenly appeared upon the scene?'

‘No. No idea,' said Biggles.

‘An old friend of yours. Hauptmann Erich von Stalhein.'

Biggles clenched his fists beneath the table.

‘But that's not possible,' he said. ‘Von Stalhein's been in disgrace ever since we made a fool of him in the Singapore air race. Besides, he was never in the Nazi Party. Himmler hated him.'

The Colonel shrugged his shoulders.

‘That's as maybe, James,' he said, ‘but we mustn't fool ourselves. He always has been a cunning devil and I know he's vowed revenge on you and Algy after the Singapore affair. For a while he was in a concentration camp, but suddenly he's right
back in the middle of Berlin. Three nights ago he was dining at the Adlon with Goebbels himself, and he has several powerful allies in German Military Intelligence. Worst of all, he seems to have been taking an unhealthy interest in Algy. It may be pure coincidence of course, but he was in the audience when Algy and the von Sternberg woman lectured the German High Command the other day.'

‘Are you sure?' asked Biggles.

The Colonel cracked his bony hands.

‘The source was unimpeachable,' he said.

‘Then why on earth not order Algy back at once? Once they can prove that he's a British spy, there's absolutely no hope left for him.'

‘You've no need to remind me of that, James,' replied the Colonel sharply. ‘But that's not the point. With von Stalhein in the picture, I daren't make a move. Algy is obviously being shadowed night and day, and any move that I make will betray him. He'd never escape from Germany alive.'

‘What's to be done then, sir?' asked Biggles.

‘Precisely the question I've been racking my brains to answer for the last few hours. I've hit upon a plan. It's hideously risky, but with the right man and just a little luck it ought to work.'

‘Wonderful!' said Biggles, brightening at once. ‘I knew that you would find a way. But who's this chap you need?'

‘You,' replied Colonel Raymond.

Biggles had never been inside the German Embassy before and he could only hope that his expression would not betray his feelings — particularly when faced with a full-length portrait of Herr Hitler in the second secretary's office. It had all proved surprisingly easy — the phone-call to von Wittelsbach, the German Air Attaché, the meeting they had had beside the Thames at Wapping, and now this summons to meet Kornfeldt at the Embassy. He had heard about Kornfeldt in the past. Theoretically, he was an ordinary diplomat, but as Colonel Raymond had already warned him, he was the top representative of the German Secret Service based in Britain. He was a close associate of Himmler and had probably more power than
any other German at the Embassy — even including Herr von Ribbentrop, the Ambassador. So Biggles was quite curious to see this man on whom so much depended.

Von Wittelsbach had met him at the door and was there to introduce him to his master, and Wittelsbach was clearly nervous. Biggles had got on well with him. He was a tall Bavarian and a former combat flier who had been attached to von Kirtner's ‘circus' during the last phase of the war: Biggles had fought against him in the skies of France, and sensed instantly that camaraderie which unites airmen of all nations who have risked death in the cockpit. He was a brave man and a skilful flier, but it was obvious that he had the jitters about facing Kornfeldt.