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.
For a long moment, they simply stared at each other.
Von Stalhein was the first to recover. Casually
lighting a cigarette, he remarked, “Lord Lissie. We meet again.”
“I say,” murmured Bertie. “Fancy seeing you here. Rum
coincidence, and all that sort of thing.”
Von Stalhein flicked some ash off the end of his
cigarette, and said, with deadly calm. “You should realize by now, there are
very few things in this world that can be coincidental.”
Bertie shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it,
old bean. But what brings you to this neck of the woods, if you see what I
mean?”
Von Stalhein smiled a mirthless smile. “I am wondering
if you really are as big a imbecile as you look, or if this is merely an act.”
“I say!” said Bertie, outraged. “That’s a bit steep,
what? Practically vertical, in fact.”
“I have no idea what you are saying.” Von Stalhein
paused to flick some more ash off his cigarette. “No doubt you are wondering
what has happened to your friends. I am pleased to inform you that we shot down
Bigglesworth and Hebblethwaite last night.” There was a much longer pause as
the German waited for this to sink in. “And this morning, we shot down Lacey…”
Bertie had a brief instant to realize that the South
Americans must have lied to Von Stalhein as to Algy’s actual fate. Judging from
the conversation he had heard earlier, Algy had been very far from shot down
when he had left the two pilots.
“…I’m afraid that leaves only one…how do you say…loose
end?”
Bertie realized his danger, but he was just a second
too late. Just as he was turning away, he heard the roar of a bullet exiting a
gun, somewhere very very close at hand…
&&&
It might have been only fifteen minutes, but to Ginger
it felt like a lifetime. He was not particularly tired, but he had not yet
fully recovered from his earlier encounter with the dragon, and he was not
eager for a second.
They were carrying their rations, and for some
inexplicable reason, these seemed to get heavier and heavier as the trek went
on. Once, an animal of some sort crawled over Ginger’s foot, but he had a
strong suspicion that he would not like what he saw if he looked down, so he
determinedly kept his eyes on the path in front of him.
Robbs, in the lead, was grim-faced, eyes constantly
scanning their surroundings for signs of danger. “If you see one of those
dragons, you’d better shoot first and ask questions afterwards,” he advised.
“They don’t need much provocation to attack. They’re vicious little creatures.”
“I was given to understand that shooting wouldn’t do
them much harm,” said Biggles, in surprise.
“Not if you’re using a rifle,” replied Robbs, with
grim humor. “The one
I’ve got can bring down a lion.”
There was a long silence after that, only broken by
the calls of animals.
Behind Biggles, Ginger trudged on, feeling curiously
trancelike as he continued to put one foot in front of the other. The humidity
of the atmosphere was oppressive, and his clothes were drenched with sweat and
sticking to his skin. Also, even though they all carried torches, the feeble
beams did little to light up their dim surroundings.
He felt as though he had been walking for days, and as
he raised his head, he briefly wondered why it was still night. His overactive
imagination almost convinced him that he had spent all of his life walking like
this, and that everything else he remembered about his life was all a dream.
But all things come to an end, and for Ginger, it was
the moment when ahead of him, he heard Robbs say, “We’re here.”
&&&
Puzzled and worried by Bertie’s disappearance, Algy
was in a quandary. What he wanted to do was climb into the new two-seater and
fly back to the island to see if Ginger and Biggles were all right, and
hopefully land so he could talk the position over with them. However, he also
wanted to try to find Bertie, even though by now he had exhausted all the
possibilities that he could think of to find him.
In the end, he decided he would proceed with his plans
to call Raymodn before he did anything else.
He was soon on the phone explaining the situation to
the Air Commodore, who was understandably agitated at the mention of guns,
although with some pressing he did at least reluctantly promise to make some
calls and see if a suitable machine could be sent over for the purpose.
“But Lacey, do try to see it a last resort, if
possible.”
“You mean I should only shoot at them if I’m
absolutely sure that they’re going to kill me?” inquired Algy, with perhaps an
unnecessary amount of sarcasm.
“Well, no…” said the Air Commodore uncomfortably. “But
do at least try not to start a war?” his voice was pleading.
“I didn’t start it,” retorted Algy. “But now I’m in it
I’m jolly well going to finish it.”
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