Biggles Married III Chapter 13.

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.

Smith’s car came to a halt in front of a shabby looking building.

“Is this it?” asked Algy, still covering Smith with the gun.

“Yes.”

“Good. Get out. Don’t try anything stupid. I’m quite a good marksman, and I’m already wanted for murder, so frankly it doesn’t matter to me whether I kill you or not.” Smith blanched at the word murder but said nothing as he clambered shakily out of the car. Algy opened his own door and got out. “Take me to her,” he ordered curtly. “And it’s no good looking at the driver,” he added, seeing Smith’s eyes darting to and fro. “He might get help, but by the time it gets here, you’ll be dead.”

Smith approached the building gingerly and produced a key which he used to unlock the front door.

The interior of the building matched the outside in its shabbiness. It looked as though no one had lived there for years. There was a thin layer of dust over everything, and what furniture there was did little to brighten up the atmosphere.

“James?” A figure in pink in the middle of the main room half-rose to its feet, but the two men on either side of it pushed it back down.

“No,” said Smith, with venom in his voice. “It is not your precious husband.”

But by now Jane’s eye had fallen on Algy and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed. “Where’s James?”

“He’s busy,” replied Algy shortly.

“Did the bomb go off?” A man who had been standing behind Jane took a few paces towards them. He was dressed neatly in a dark suit.

“No. At least, it did not explode in the part of the building where the conference was held.”

Jane looked from one man to the other with something like horror in her eyes. “What are you saying?” she asked faintly.

“I am saying that he was bluffing us,” said Smith coldly. “He takes us for a fool, this Englishman. He thinks he can play us.”

Algy jabbed the barrel of his gun more forcefully into Smith’s back and said, “Enough talking.”

The well-dressed man behind Jane sounded amused. “You think you have the upper hand here, Mr. Lacey? There are four of us, and one of you. Not to mention, we have your friend’s wife. What you have is merely an…employee of mine.”

“That’s true,” acknowledged Algy cheerfully. “But I’m facing a murder charge and I don’t care who I kill. Furthermore, the lady’s husband is no longer my best friend, so I have nothing to lose if anything happens to her. And by the way, the police are hunting everywhere for me, so they’ll be here sooner or later. I’m sure it would be much easier for you to make your getaway if you’re not lumbered with a prisoner, but if you want to risk it, I’m not going to stop you.”

The man’s eyes fixed on Algy’s face, glittered with something very much like hatred. “What do you want?” he asked, finally.

“Send the lady over here.”

The man hesitated for a minute, then nodded slightly to the men on either side of Jane. The men raised Jane to her feet and gave her a shove forward, but Jane refused to move.

“Where are my shoes?” she demanded. “You said I could have them back later. I can’t walk without my shoes. This floor is horrible. There’re little pebbles and dead animals and goodness knows what else on it. I’m not taking another step until I get my shoes back on. I don’t want to die of the plague or whatever it is people catch from things like this. Well?” Her voice rose. “Where are they?”

“We threw them out,” said the well-dressed man coldly, not looking at her.

Jane exploded. “You had no right to do that! Those were my shoes! Do you have any idea how much they cost? You can’t get shoes like that in England! I had to have them especially delivered from France! They were the absolutely latest fashion! If I—”

“Shut up,” snapped the well-dressed man.

“No, I will not shut up! It was bad enough losing my sunglasses—”

Despite himself, Algy felt his lips curl into a sudden grin. “And you wanted to stop me taking her?” he murmured to Smith.

“She is a terrible woman,” declared Smith, expressionless.

“I have an idea,” said Algy. “Why don’t I do us all a good turn and just kill her?”

Jane stopped what she was saying and stared at Algy for a second before launching into an earsplitting scream.

&&&

“You are idiots,” declared Biggles, stubbing out his fourth or fifth cigarette on the roof of the police car he was leaning on.

“That’s a bit strong, don’t you think?” protested Ginger, looking abashed nonetheless.

“Whatever possessed you to make up such a ridiculous tale—”

“It’s not his fault that he was worried,” broke in Gaskin, getting out from inside the police car Biggles had been leaning on. “People do things when they’re under stress.” Despite his mild words, the look he gave Ginger could have burned a hole in a chunk of ice.

Ginger looked away and blushed.

Bertie took out his monocle and began to polish it.

“Any news?” asked Biggles.

“Bits and pieces, nothing definite.” Gaskin straightened, deliberately leaving the door of the car open so that he could hear the police radio. “He’ll be all right. We’ll find him.”

“I hope we find him in time,” said Biggles, grimly. “If anything happens to him, I’ll—” he broke off and reached with shaking fingers for another cigarette.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” asked Gaskin.

“What is it?”

Gaskin gave Bertie and Ginger a meaningful look. “Alone?”

Bertie took the hint and dragged Ginger away with him. Biggles turned to Gaskin. “Well, what is it?” he asked impatiently.

“You know you told us that you set a bomb off at the conference?”

“Yes. What about it?”

Gaskin gave Biggles a strange look. “I’ve had my men search that hotel from top to bottom, and none of them can find anything even remotely resembling a bomb.”

Biggles dropped his cigarette. “What do you mean?”

&&&

“You!” shrieked Jane, after she had finished screaming.

Algy winced, wondering how none of the windows had been smashed by Jane’s voice.

“I should have known the moment I laid eyes on you what kind of man you were! You’re supposed to be James’ best friend, and now you’re trying to kill me?”

“He isn’t my best—”

“Don’t interrupt me!” screamed Jane, on the brink of hysteria. “I can’t believe you people! You backstabbing little rat!”

“You know,” murmured Algy drily. “I used to wonder what Biggles saw in you. I didn’t realize how similar the two of you really are.”

“And why do you always have to refer to him by that stupid nickname? His name is James! Call him James!”

“She is crazy,” said Smith, a hint of contempt in his tone.

The man standing to Jane’s left tried to force her back into her chair, but Jane caught hold of his wrist and twisted, sending the man flying through the air to crash against the far wall. “Don’t touch me!”

“Sven,” said the well-dressed man sharply, and the man to Jane’s right reached out a hand to grab at her.

“Stay away from me!” shrieked Jane, suddenly producing a small and very familiar-looking pink gun. “I’ll shoot the first person who comes near me!”

“Jane—” began Algy, taking a step forward.

Jane’s eyes blazed as she glared at him. “You!” she snarled, squeezing the trigger.

Algy felt something pop against his shirt.

He felt himself falling.

The ground rushed up to meet him, and then, he felt nothing at all.

Go to Chapter 14. 

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