Biggles Married III Chapter 4.

By Sopwith

Disclaimer: I do not own, or claim to own, any of the Biggles series characters used in this work. This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and should not be considered part of the official storyline.

Warning: Non canon type fan fiction works may contain severe time mix-ups and character deviations. 

Algy burst through the front door of the Mount Street flat and raced up the stairs, two at a time. Skidding to a halt in the living room, his eye fell on Biggles, who was seated in one of the armchairs, looking very battered and woebegone, his arm in a sling, a bandage around his head, an angry purple bruise starting on one cheek.

“By gosh,” said Algy. “What happened to you?”

“I got run into a lamppost by a car,” explained Biggles.

Algy looked horrified. “You were run over?”

In a few brief sentences, Biggles narrated the events of Jane’s kidnapping.

Algy stared at him. “And what in thunder are you suggesting we do now?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We have to get her back. Goodness knows what they’re doing to her. They could be hurting her—”

“Who do you think could have done this?”

Biggles spread his hands helplessly. “I don’t know. She used to be a spy. Perhaps someone from her past has come to get his revenge for something.”

“Bit late for that, isn’t it? She hasn’t been a spy for years.”

A sudden thought struck Biggles, and he groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “The papers!” he exclaimed. “That’s what must have happened. Whoever it was must have seen us in the papers after we caught that thief at the aero club.”

Algy sank into an armchair and absent-mindedly helped himself to the tin of biscuits that always dwelt on the side table. “Where should we start?” he asked. “Did you see what kind of car it was?”

Biggles shook his head. “Everything happened so quickly I didn’t have time to notice anything. I was too busy trying to get Jane away from those men.”

“Have you asked Gaskin for help?”

Again, Biggles shook his head.

“I’ll call him now.” Algy reached out a hand for the phone, but before he could touch the instrument, it began to ring shrilly.

Biggles and Algy exchanged a glance.

Gingerly, Biggles picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Major Bigglesworth?” said an unfamiliar voice, in flawless English but with a faint accent. “I trust you have had time to recover from your accident. I have your wife beside me. Follow my instructions and she will remain alive and unharmed.”

&&&

Ginger and Bertie returned to the office to find it empty. Not only that, but the door had been left wide open and the lights were all on.

“Where’s Algy?” asked Ginger, checking behind the stack of files that had taken over Algy’s desk. “He’s not here.”

“Maybe he’s gone for a bite?” suggested Bertie, hopefully.

“Maybe.” Ginger sounded doubtful. “But why would he leave all the lights on and the door unlocked? Anyone could have walked in!” His eye fell on the telephone, which Algy in his haste had failed to hang up properly. “Looks like he called someone before he left.”

“Biggles?”

“If he did call Biggles, he can’t have said anything good. Come on, let’s see if he left word with Smyth.”

They found the mechanic working on one of the police Austers. In reply to their query, he shook his head. No, Mr. Lacey hadn’t left any word about where he was going, but he had seemed in a bit of a hurry when he was leaving.

“How did he look?” queried Ginger. “Did he seem upset?”

Smyth reflected. “He looked grim,” he replied, at length. “And quite angry.”

“That can’t be good,” declared Ginger, as he and Bertie walked back to the office. “When Algy’s angry, he’s liable to do anything, you know that as well as I do.”

“So what should we do, old boy?”

Ginger looked at the phone thoughtfully. “I think we should call Biggles first to make sure nothing’s happened to him. I wouldn’t put it past Algy to start hurling bombs at the flat—he used to do that sort of thing quite often during the war, from what he told me.”

Picking up the receiver, he dialed the number for the Mount Street flat. The ringing went on for quite a long time, and when it was finally answered, Ginger was surprised to hear Mrs. Symes’ voice on the other end of the line.

“Mrs. Symes?”

“Oh, Mr. Hebblethwaite, thank goodness you’ve rung up!” The normally imperturbable Mrs. Symes sounded downright distraught. “What a to-do, to be sure! It’s terrible!”

“What’s happened?” asked Ginger, horrified.

“This kidnapping, sir, it’s just terrible—poor Mr. Bigglesworth—”

“KIDNAPPING?” cried Ginger.

“Yes, sir, it’s just terrible! And Mr. Lacey’s just gone—”

“Mr. Lacey?” echoed Ginger, a cold hand clutching at his heart. “Was HE there?”

“Oh, yes, sir, he’s taken Mr. Bigglesworth to—“

But Ginger’s nerveless fingers had already dropped the phone. “My word,” he breathed, turning a pale face to Bertie.

“What is it?” demanded Bertie. “What’s the matter, old boy?” You look as though you’ve seen a bally ghost.”

“I feel as though I have,” said Ginger slowly. He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear, but either Mrs. Symes had hung up, or the connection had broken when he’d dropped the phone, for the only sound the phone made was an angry buzzing. Ginger dropped the instrument carelessly back into its cradle. “Algy’s gone crazy,” he announced. “He’s kidnapped Biggles!”

Go to Chapter 5.

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