Biggles and Son: 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. 

For a minute silence hung in the air and it looked as though Biggles was actually contemplating the possibility of attacking Algy to get to the front door.

The moment passed. Biggles said curtly, “What if you went with me? Would that make you feel more at ease?”

“That sounds like a good plan,” agreed Algy, with no inflection in his voice. “I’ll just get my jacket. Do you think we should take the car or ring up a cab?”

“We’d better take the car in case of accidents,” replied Biggles, his voice just as careful as Algy’s. “Come on. Ginger, Bertie, you both stay here and look after Sebastian.”

As the door closed on the silent figures of Biggles and Algy, Ginger exhaled a breath he did not know he had been holding and turned to Bertie. “Well!” was all the comment that he managed to make.

Bertie adjusted his monocle, glanced at Sebastian, and said nothing.

“They’re off to a good start,” continued Ginger sarcastically, crossing over to the window so he could watch Biggles and Algy walk silently to the car parked in the street below. They walked side by side, but their movements were stiff, as if they were complete strangers passing one another in the street. “A very good start,” he said again, exchanging another glance with Bertie.

&&&

Biggles took the wheel. The drive down to East London was just as silent as the walk to the car had been. Biggles kept his eyes straight ahead, fixed on the road with unnecessary intensity. Algy stared morosely out of his window and said nothing.

The silence was finally broken when Biggles pulled up in front of a house that appeared to be empty; there were clear visible cracks in the gray exterior, and the windows had been boarded up. “Here we are,” announced Biggles.

Algy stared at the house for much longer than he needed to. “Here?” he echoed. “Are you sure?”

“I think I can find my way around East London,” retorted Biggles snappishly, opening his door to get out of the car.

Algy followed in silence.

They got up to the rusted metal door of the house, and after a pause Biggles stretched out a hand and knocked.

The knock was answered so quickly that it startled both of them. Biggles’ knuckles had barely left the metal surface of the door when it was flung open from the inside. A face peered out suspiciously. “Major Bigglesworth?” inquired a low voice with a slight American accent.

“That’s me,” confirmed Biggles.

The man turned to glance suspiciously at Algy. “Who’s this?”

“A colleague of mine,” replied Biggles. “Mind if we come in, or do you plan on discussing our business outside?”

A voice spoke from inside the house. Biggles and Algy could not hear what it said, but evidently the man at the door was satisfied, for he stepped back and beckoned. “All right, come on in.”

They entered the rundown house cautiously. Inside, there was not much to be seen. The front room of the house was bare and the paint on the walls was peeling badly. Somewhere close at hand, Algy heard the scuttling of tiny feet; probably a mouse some such animal.

There was another man in the house, a man with an expressionless face and an air of quiet authority. He stepped forward as the two airmen entered the house. “Major Bigglesworth,” he greeted, holding out a hand. “Thanks for coming.”

Biggles was not in the mood for pleasantries. “Where’s Jane?” he demanded.

“She’s close,” said the man impassively. “Or she should be. Hopefully she managed to convince Brechovich to come and meet you. He has some contacts of his own; he might have found his own pilot already, which would be bad news for us.”

“Where is she?”

“Not far from here. I’ll take you to her in a minute, but first we should discuss some issues concerning your personal safety—”

“There aren’t any issues concerning my personal safety,” interrupted Biggles. “I know perfectly well what I’m getting into, and I’m perfectly willing to do whatever it takes to see the job through. I understand that there might be some risk, but as it’s my own neck I’m risking, I don’t see why you should be concerned. There, I think I’ve covered everything. Can we go now?”

The man regarded Biggles thoughtfully. “You seem to be in an awful hurry,” he observed.

“So I am,” agreed Biggles. His tone was cheerful on the surface, but Algy could hear the undertone of steel in his voice. “Let’s go.”

“Okay, come on then.” The man led the way to the door, opened it, and gestured for Biggles to follow. “This way.” Algy made as if to follow as well, but the man shook his head. “Not you, pal, just him. Don’t want to attract attention.”

“But—”

“It’s all right,” said Biggles quickly. To Algy, he said, “Don’t know how it’s going to go, but most likely Brechovich will be expecting me to leave with him, so if I’m not back in an hour you should probably go home and wait for me to get in touch. If you don’t hear back from me within three days, you can please yourself what you do, but for goodness sakes don’t tell Raymond. He’ll have a fit.”

“Righto,” said Algy, resigned. “Take care of yourself,” he added half-heartedly, as Biggles strolled out of the door and into the night.

Go to Chapter 11.

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