Biggles Married III Chapter 10.

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 woke feeling slightly queasy. When he had finally stumbled out of the office at close to ten o’clock, he had been in no condition to go anywhere too far. He had taken a room at the first place he had seen advertising vacancies, all the while glancing nervously around in case someone had seen him and was calling the police.

Thankfully, the girl at the counter had been more interested in her magazine than him, and had barely given him a second glance as she took his money and handed him his key.

The room was small and sparsely furnished, but there was a bed, which was all that Algy really needed. He was not really hungry, but he had forced himself to eat some of the food he had bought earlier; he needed to keep up his strength.

He had gone to bed feeling determined to do whatever it took to stop Biggles from blowing up some of the most important people in the world, but now, in the cold light of day, he could feel nothing but doubt stirring inside his stomach. Never had he felt so scared, or so alone.

He debated with himself whether or not to call Ginger and Bertie for backup, but finally decided against it. He did not know what he would have to do to stop Biggles, but, in any case, he would rather take sole responsibility for his actions and not risk dragging someone else into it, even someone as close to Biggles as Bertie and Ginger. Besides, he would have to waste precious time explaining the situation, and even supposing they believed him right away—and Algy had to admit that the notion of Biggles dropping a bomb into an aviation conference was something that would take some believing—it would still take too much time.

“Looks like it’s on me, then.”

Before he left his room, Algy stuffed as many weapons about his person as he could fit into his pockets. The suitcase he had used to carry them was too unwieldy to carry for long distances.

He handed the key back to the bored looking girl at the counter, walked outside, and hailed a cab.

He opened his mouth to give the location of the aviation conference to the cabbie, but stopped when he realized that the man was staring at him with something very much like horrified panic in his eyes.

“You’re that bloke,” said the cabbie, in a strangled voice. “That bloke in the papers.”

Algy considered denying the accusation until he saw a crumpled paper on the passenger seat of the cab. His own face stared up at him. A man with one eye could have seen that they were one and the same. 

“Please, I’ve got two daughters,” continued the cabbie, quivering in his seat.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” declared Algy, wishing desperately that he could murder whoever it was that had put him in his current position. “Look, it’s all right. This is all a mistake. I’m really not going to hurt you. I just need you to take me somewhere.”

“Anywhere you want,” said the cab driver quickly. “I’ll take you anywhere you want, just don’t hurt me. Please.”

Algy felt his face grow hot with shame as he gave the driver the address for the conference. He felt as if he had just robbed an old lady in the street. Nevertheless, the nonexistent threat had its desired outcome: the cab shot forward at such speed that Algy had to clutch wildly at the door handle so as not to be flung back against his seat.

They reached their destination much faster than they would normally have. This was due to the cab driver breaking any number of laws and almost running over several people, all the while casting nervous little glances in Algy’s direction as if he was expecting to be punished for not driving fast enough.

Algy hated what was happening, but time was of the essence, so he had to content himself with the promise that after all this was over, he would find the cabbie and somehow make amends.

If all this ever came to an end, whatever “all this” was.

“We’re here,” announced the driver, in tones of heartfelt relief. “No fare,” he added quickly, as Algy pulled out some money.

Algy started to open the door, then remembered something. “Look, can I have your cap and jacket?” he asked. “I’ll pay you for—” But by then the driver had already taken off the items in question and thrust them into Algy’s arms.

“You can have ‘em, all right? Do whatever you want with ‘em. I don’t care.”

The feeling of robbing an old lady intensified as Algy got out of the cab and it sped away. Quickly, he donned the cap and jacket as he approached the entrance of the hotel where the conference was held.

He was directed up to the conference room on the third floor. There were two guards at the door, and Algy wondered if he would be allowed in, but thankfully neither of them looked at his face, or even the name on his invitation card as they waved him through.

Inwardly Algy shuddered at the lax security, but, as he mused to himself, “They’ve let me in, so I’ve nothing to complain about. Now, where should I sit?”

He had just taken a seat at a corner table when a familiar figure strolled impatiently into the room.

Biggles.

Go to Chapter 11. 

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