Biggles Married III Chapter 9.

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.

It took Algy the better part of an hour to make his way to the main road on foot, and then another five minutes or so to find a phone. He dialed the number for the Mount Street flat and wondered idly why there were so many police cars driving to and fro, sirens blaring. He did not dream that he was the cause of them, or he would have perhaps acted differently.

The ringing seemed to go on for a long time before the call was answered. “Hullo?” snapped Biggles’ voice, on the other end of the line.

“Biggles!” Algy sagged in relief. “So you got home all right. Why—”

Biggles cut him off curtly. “I don’t ever want to see or hear from you again, you traitorous rat!”

“What?” Algy was astonished, to say the least. Had Biggles mistaken him for someone else? “Look, what’s—” He was talking to himself; Biggles had already hung up the phone. “What on earth?” Algy dialed the number again, but though he let it ring for more than five minutes, no one answered. “What the dickens am I supposed to have done?” he wondered aloud. “Oh, well.”

He stepped onto the main street and hailed a taxi to take him to air police headquarters. Biggles was obviously in a bad mood for some reason, and Algy did not feel up to tackling the matter at present.

The office was dark and empty when he reached it, and he realized with some disappointment that Ginger and Bertie must have already gone home; he had hoped to run into them and ask their advice. He racked his brains trying to remember where they were staying, but either they had forgotten to tell him, or he had simply not been listening when they had.

Letting himself into the office with his key, he headed straight for his desk and snatched up the package containing all the information pertaining to the aviation conference. Biggles was bound to be there either way, if only to keep up a pretense of setting off Smith’s bomb. Unable to think of anything else to do, Algy left the office to find a place to stay for the night. The thought of a warm bed and hot bath were very appealing compared to spending another night sleeping on his desk.

Having bought some food and essentials, he was strolling around looking for a place to stay when he caught sight of his own face staring at him from the front window of a newsagent’s.

“My gosh!” he realized. “I’m on the front page of the evening paper!”

With shaking hands he bought as many papers as he could carry, and then hurried back to the office to read them. What he saw horrified him. He was informed that he was wanted for charges of murder, attempted murder, kidnapping, car theft, shooting a policeman, and reckless driving—apart from the driving, all crimes that he had not committed.

He was further informed that he was armed and dangerous, and that members of the public were advised not to approach him or provoke him in any way. Rather, they were encouraged to call “the number printed at the bottom of this page” and report when and where they had seen him.

Algy’s heart seemed to stop, and he was conscious of a feeling of acute helplessness. Not only were the police after him, but, after tomorrow, so would half of England. Not to mention the fact that Biggles seemed to be upset with him as well.

A horrible thought struck him. “He called me a traitorous rat. Surely he doesn’t think I had anything to do with his wife’s kidnapping?” Apart from Jane, he couldn’t for the life of him think who it was that he had somehow kidnapped, tried to murder, and then murdered.

The world seemed to be taking on the quality of a nightmare.

He tried to organize his thoughts into some sort of order. Obviously the main question rested on Biggles. Would he or would he not set off the bomb? If he had already decided not to set off the bomb, then there wasn’t anything to worry about. If he was going to set off the bomb, clearly there was only one of two things to be done. Either he, Algy, could somehow try to rescue Jane—something easier said than done, seeing as how he had no idea where she was—or he could go to the conference and stop Biggles setting off the bomb.

“Well,” he said aloud to the empty office. “It’s simpler than I thought.”

His next move was to collect as many weapons as he could from all around the office and stuff them into an old suitcase of his. “Things can hardly get worse,” he mused. “If real kidnapping and murder are what it takes to stop this, I might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.”

Go to Chapter 10.

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