Biggles Married III Chapter 6.

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,” said Biggles, desperate to say something, anything, to make the situation right again between them.

“I said, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Please, Algy, we’ve known each other—”

But Algy, grim-faced, was no longer listening. He was glancing anxiously at the rear-view mirror. “Someone’s following us,” he declared.

“What?” Biggles twisted in his seat.

“That Ford turned the corner seconds after we did, and it’s just passed the two cars that were between it and us.”

“Perhaps it’s in a hurry.”

“Well, if it was, it’s not anymore. It slowed down as soon as it reached us. I’d say it’s our kidnapping friends making sure that we do what we’re told.”

Panic gripped Biggles, and he almost leapt out of his seat. “But they can see you! They’ll know you’re—”

“Calm down,” said Algy, eyes on the mirror. “For all they know, I’m just the cabbie.”

A shot, close at hand, rang out. Algy swore, ducking. “That was a bullet!” he snapped. “Get down!”

The warning came just in time. A bullet zipped through the rear windshield and continued on towards the front windshield, shattering it to splinters.

“What on earth are they doing?” snarled Biggles, as he cautiously raised his head and brushed shards of glass off of his shirt. “We’re following orders!”

“Goodness knows,” muttered Algy. “Perhaps the plan all along was to kill you.”

“That’s—”

Another bullet zipped between them and Algy growled an expletive, drawing a gun from his pocket. “Hold the wheel for a minute,” he snapped, leaning out of the open window and squinting at the car behind as he took aim.

Biggles, feeling helpless, used his good arm to hold the car steady as Algy pumped out round after round at the car pursuing them. He would have liked to join in, but with a broken right arm, he would have found it impossible to hold a pistol, let alone fire one.

“Ha!” barked Algy, after a minute. “That’s given them something to think about!”

“What happened?” Biggles kept his eyes on the road.

“Their wheels mysteriously suffered several punctures,” replied Algy promptly. “These chaps clearly mean business. All right; I can drive now. But keep your head down. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of the fireworks.”

&&&

It took all of Bertie’s skill and an incredible amount of luck to bring the car to a halt by the side of the road without anyone getting hurt in the process.

For a moment after the car had stopped, both airmen sat where they were, overwhelmed by the turn of events.

It was Ginger who spoke first. “Algy shot us!” he exclaimed, incredulity thick in his voice. “Can you believe it? Algy shot at us!”

“Well, old boy, to be fair, you did shoot at him first,” Bertie pointed out reasonably.

“He’s gone crazy!” declared Ginger. Reaching up, he gently touched the spot on his forehead that a bullet had grazed, unsurprised to find blood on his palm as he brought it back down to eye level. “He shot me!” he repeated, his voice growing shriller as the truth gradually sunk in. “Algy actually shot me!”

“How badly are you hurt?” asked Bertie briskly, taking out his handkerchief and handing it to Ginger. “Better do something about that head wound of yours, what? Fairly pouring blood.”

“If he’s willing to shoot us,” said Ginger slowly. “Goodness knows what he’s planning to do to Biggles.”

Bertie looked startled and somewhat anxious. “I say, old boy. You don’t think Algy would actually—I mean, he wouldn’t really hurt Biggles or anything like that, would he?”

“Ho, wouldn’t he?” asked Ginger, with biting sarcasm. “He’s already hit him. Who knows what else he’ll do.”

“Well,” said Bertie, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “We don’t know Algy hit Biggles.”

“Who else could it have been?”

Bertie declined to answer the question. “There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this, you know. It’s just we don’t know it yet, if you see what I mean?”

“I don’t need a perfectly reasonable explanation,” declared Ginger. “Algy’s off his rocker; that’s all I need to know. He’s got to be stopped.”

“I say, I wonder what happened to the wife?” said Bertie suddenly, as a thought struck him. “Did you see her in that car?”

“No,” said Ginger. “I didn’t. I bet Algy shot her as well. That would explain why he hit Biggles—he must have tried to protect her. He wouldn’t just stand by and let Algy shoot her without doing something about it.”

Bertie shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I say, old boy. I don’t know that Algy would hurt a lady, what?”

“What lady?” retorted Ginger. “And never mind what’s happened to her; we need to do something about Biggles first. I’m going to call Gaskin and tell him to find that taxi cab. I’d better tell him to prepare a warrant as well.”

“A warrant?” echoed Bertie. “What for?”

“What for? Kidnapping, car theft, attempted murder, murder, reckless driving...there’re so many that Gaskin will be spoilt for choice.”

Go to Chapter 7. 

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