Biggles Married III Chapter 5.

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. 

“If you touch one hair—” grated Biggles into the phone.

The unknown caller cut him off. “Please, Major Bigglesworth. I know all you have to say, believe me. But you do not know what it is I have to say, and as I am the one who has your wife, I suggest you hold your tongue and listen to me.”

“What do you want?” demanded Biggles, keeping his temper in check with an effort.

“That’s better. So nice when we are all civilized. Now. It is almost two o’clock. A letter will arrive at your place of residence within ten minutes. The letter contains directions to a warehouse. You have one hour to get to the warehouse. I advise you to be on time. I am a busy man, and I do not like to be kept waiting. Oh, and by the way, you are to come alone, no weapons, and no police. Please do not insult my intelligence by thinking you can--what is the phrase--“put one over” me. I have you watched. If I even have reason to think you are playing games with me, I shall kill your wife. Are we clear?”

“Perfectly,” replied Biggles coldly.

“Good. I look forward to our meeting.”

Biggles hung up the phone and turned an anguished face to Algy, who had been sitting at his elbow, listening to the conversation. “What do I do?” he half-wailed. “They’re going to kill Jane!”

“Well, they haven’t killed her yet,” replied Algy practically.

“What do you think he wants?” asked Biggles. “Money?”

“No...” said Algy slowly. “I don’t think it’s money he’s after. If it was, why would he lure you out?”

“What should I do?”

“One thing’s certain, anyway,” declared Algy. “You can’t go to wherever it is on your own. It might be a trap. Perhaps it’s you they really wanted, and taking your wife was a mistake.”

“They can have me,” declared Biggles savagely. “As long as they don’t do anything to Jane I don’t care what they do to me. I hope she’s all right. What if she tries to fight with the kidnappers, they could kill her—”

“Pull yourself together,” said Algy curtly, noting how white Bggles’ face was, and how badly his hands were shaking. “You can’t afford to fall apart now.” Crossing to the cupboard, he glanced at the array of bottles inside, wondering idly why so many of them appeared to be empty. Taking out a bottle of whiskey that was still half-full, he poured out a generous measure and handed it to Biggles. “Drink up,” he ordered.

Wordlessly Biggles did as he was told. The drink brought a little color into his cheeks, and his hands seemed to be shaking less as he reached for a cigarette.

“You can’t go on your own,” continued Algy. “For one thing, you’ve got a broken right arm, so you won’t be doing much damage with that.”

“We’ve got to do what they want,” declared Biggles, putting his cigarette between his lips and lighting it. “If they think we’re trying something, they’ll kill Jane—”

“The thing then is not to get caught,” replied Algy calmly.

Biggles puffed nervously on his cigarette, put it out in the ashtray, and immediately reached for another. “Why are they making us wait for the letter?” he asked, in an almost plaintive tone. “All this waiting is getting on my nerves.”

“That’s what they’re trying to do,” said Algy. “Whoever they send will probably stay to make sure you go where you’re supposed to go.”

“What should I do?” Biggles again nervously stubbed out his cigarette and began to pace around the room. “What do you think they want?”

“Never mind that now,” said Algy. “We need to be thinking up some sort of plan for when the letter arrives. You can worry about the rest later.”

“I don’t want any sort of plan,” announced Biggles. “Not if it puts Jane in danger. I can’t risk it.”

“If you don’t start thinking out a plan, you’re likely to lose her—and your own neck at the same time,” grated Algy. “Now, listen. Here’s what I think we can do. I’ll go out now and get hold of a cab. Once you get the letter, go outside and wait for me. There won’t be anything suspicious about you taking a taxi; they can see your arm’s in a sling, so you can’t be expected to drive.”

“How’re you going to get a taxi?” asked Biggles, starting to take a vague interest in the proceedings.

“Never mind that; I’ll think of something. The minute I see you outside the house, I’ll drive up and you can get in.”

“But how are you going to get outside?” protested Biggles. “They’re watching the house, they’ll see you leave.”

“I’ve thought of that. I won’t be going out the front door. That way they won’t see me.”

“Well, how on earth are you planning to get out, then?”

“There’s a window in my bedroom, isn’t there?”

Biggles stared. “You’re crazy! You’ll break something trying to get down from there.”

“Rot!” said Algy easily. “It’s only two floors up. I shall be all right.”

“No,” said Biggles. “You can’t do it. It’s too risky, not only for Jane, but also for you. I absolutely forbid you to do anything of the sort.”

Algy opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment they both heard the buzzer downstairs ringing. The two airmen exchanged a glance. “You go,” said Algy.

Without a word, Biggles rushed down the stairs and opened the front door.

There was no one there. The only thing in sight was a plain brown envelope lying on the doorstep. Biggles picked it up, closed the door behind him, and then rushed back upstairs, tearing open the envelope as he did so. “Algy—” he began, then stopped abruptly when he realized that the room was empty. Biggles cursed. “The fool! The crazy lunatic!” Rushing to Algy’s bedroom, he flung the closed door open, but it was already too late. The bedroom was empty. The window was wide open.

It took two quick strides to get him to the windowsill. He looked down. There was no one in sight, so either Algy had got away with it, or the kidnappers had him as well.

Thinking of the kidnappers reminded him of the dire situation at hand, and he quickly opened the envelope and looked inside. The only contents was a single sheet of paper with an address neatly typewritten on it.

Biggles took a breath, caught up his jacket with his good arm and hurried down the stairs. He pushed open the front door, and, as if by magic, a black taxi cab swung to a smooth halt in front of the house. Algy was at the wheel. He did not speak as Biggles climbed in and closed the door.

&&&

“This is terrible!” said Ginger, feeling an insane urge to hit something. “We’ve got to go after him. Goodness knows what he’s planning.”

“How should we go after him, old warrior?” inquired Bertie. “We don’t have a bally notion where he is.”

“We know where he was,” declared Ginger. “Biggles’ flat. That’s where we’ll go first. Come on; there’s no time to get a cab. We’ll ask one of the mechanics to lend us a car.”

Ginger did not trust himself to drive, so it was Bertie who took the wheel. Ginger sat in the passenger seat, staring vacantly out of the window, trying to get his nerves under control.

They were almost at the flat when Ginger saw something that broke him out of his reverie. A cab, heading in the opposite direction from themselves, moving forward with reckless speed, took a corner on two wheels.

But it was not the dangerous driving that caught Ginger’s attention, but the face of the man behind the wheel. He pounded on Bertie’s shoulder. “After them!” he screamed. “That was Algy! Go after him!”

“All right, all right, old boy,” muttered Bertie, somewhat peevishly. He was already turning the car around with wild disregard for all the other drivers alongside them. “I saw them as well.”

Wore out from his exertions, Ginger sank back into his seat, nerves buzzing with sick fear. Algy had not been alone in the cab. There had been someone sitting beside him, someone whose bruised and battered features had taken Ginger a minute to recognize. “He’s got Biggles,” he declared aloud. “Looks like he hurt him pretty badly, too, from what I saw.”

“Hmm,” agreed Bertie, who had now rounded the corner and was two cars behind the black taxi cab. He passed the first car, then the second, and they were directly behind the taxi.

Ginger drew his automatic.

“Here, old boy,” cried Bertie, with some alarm. “What’s the jolly idea?”

“We’ve got to stop him, haven’t we?”

“Yes, but not by shooting him! By Jove! Biggles is in that cab! You might hit him!”

“Look on the bright side. I might hit Algy,” replied Ginger with grim humor, as he took aim and fired two shots.

&&&

The cab pulled away from the flat and rushed forward with dangerous speed.

“Where’re we going?” asked Algy.

Biggles read him the address from the sheet of paper in his hand.

Algy nodded but said nothing more.

They drove on in silence for another minute. For the first time in their lives, the silence between them was awkward and strained.

Biggles, unable to take it anymore, mumbled, “Thanks for doing this.”

Algy stared straight ahead, his expression grim. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends again or anything,” he said. “I reckon I owe you something, for old times’ sake, but once we get your wife back, it’s over, you understand? I’m resigning from the air police. You can have your flat, and your police department. I’m done with it all.”

“Algy, please—”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it. I’m done.”

“Is this about Jane?” asked Biggles. “Are you jealous of her, or something?”

Algy gave Biggles a look of disappointed pity. “Don’t you get it yet?” he asked. “It’s not your wife I have a problem with, it’s you. You’ve changed. I don’t know who you are anymore.”

Go to Chapter 6. 

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