Algy Goes Alone: Chapter 1. Ginger and the Plane that Disappeared

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. 

Air Constable Algy Lacey was just putting away the last of the filing when the telephone rang. Crossing to the instrument, he answered it with his usual brisk, “Air Police Headquarters.”

There was no reply.

Frowning, Algy tried again. “Air Police Headquarters. Can I help you?”

This time, after a slight pause, there was a cautious, “Algy?”

Algy recognized the voice as Ginger’s. “Yes, it’s me. What’s the matter?”

“Is Biggles there?”

“No. He’s left for that conference with Marcel. But I can radio him if you like. He’s just been gone about ten minutes.”

“Er—no, don’t do that,” said Ginger quickly. “Is Bertie there?”

“He’s gone to lunch, but he should be back in about twenty minutes. What’s the matter? Did you ring up just to ask me where everyone is?”

There was another slight pause, and then Ginger said, “I think I need a lift.”

“What d’you mean, you think you need a lift? Do you need one or not? Where are you?”

Ginger named a farm near the coast. Algy made a faint noise of assent. It was one they had often flown over on air patrols. “I know it. I should be able to get there in half an hour or so, if the wind’s good. Let me just leave a note for Bertie and I’ll be on my way.” He tore a sheet from the notepad on his desk and began one-handedly scribbling a quick note to Bertie. “By the way, what’s wrong with the Auster? Engine trouble?” Ginger was silent, and Algy frowned at the phone, wondering if the connection was faulty. “Hullo?”

“I lost it,” blurted Ginger abruptly.

Algy paused mid-scribble. “You what?”

“I lost the Auster.”

“How on earth did you manage to lose an Auster?”

“I couldn’t help it. It was—”

Algy sighed. “Never mind, you can tell me when I get there. It’s a good thing Biggles isn’t here…”

&&&

“All right, you’d better tell me just how you managed to lose your Auster.”

Algy had landed, and he and Ginger were sitting facing one another inside his Auster, Ginger looking forlorn with his chin on his knees.

“I don’t know,” confessed Ginger. “I was circling around, just doing a routine patrol, and then I saw something flashing on the ground. I dove down for a better look, but I didn’t see anything. I thought it might have been someone signaling in Morse—asking for help—so I landed and walked over to get a look, but there wasn’t’ anything there. I walked around for a bit, and I was just about to go back to the Auster when it took off behind me.”

“So someone pinched it,” said Algy, grimly.

“Looks like it. I waited around for about ten minutes, thinking maybe it was someone having a laugh, and then I called you.”

“Not much of a laugh to be having,” retorted Algy. ‘All right, let’s get down to brass tacks. Did you see anyone about before you landed? Or did you meet anyone when you were walking towards the place where you thought you saw the flashing?”

“No one. You’ve been here before, you know this field’s usually abandoned, except for the occasional animal. What on earth am I going to do?”

Algy stood. “Well, for starters, I’m going to have a look around. Where did you say you parked the Auster?”

Ginger also got to his feet. “I’ll show you.”

“No, you won’t,” said Algy. “You’ll be staying here. We’ve already lost one plane; I’m not in a hurry to lose this one as well. Tell me where you left the plane and where you saw the flashes. And stay in the pilot’s seat until I get back. We may need to leave in a hurry if there’s trouble.”

&&&

An hour and a half later, Algy and Ginger wearily entered Air Police headquarters to find Bertie waiting for them. “I say, chaps, you look all in, what? What jolly game have you been playing?”

“Not much of a game,” replied Algy, dropping into a chair. “More like a wild goose chase.” He began to tell Bertie of what had occurred, but after just a few sentences the door opened again and Biggles joined them, looking pensive.

“How did the conference go?” asked Ginger, giving a quick pleading look to the others.

“Nothing much to speak of. The usual messing about of brass hats. Is there any tea left in that pot? I could do with some.” Algy complied, and Biggles continued, “You’ll never guess who I ran into—Eddie Ross, our old friend from America.”

“Is he the reason you’re looking unusually thoughtful?” inquired Algy.

“As a matter of fact, he is. He’s on his way to England right now, on the London plane. I did offer to fly him back with me, but he had a few things to do before he left, so he told me not to wait for him.”

“And why’s he on his way here?” asked Ginger.

“I’m coming to that. Apparently he’s on the trail of a gang of crooks who specialize in plane theft. They’ve stolen something like thirty planes back in America, and things got a bit too hot for them, so now they’ve moved their operations to Europe, or to be more specific, England.”

Algy did not look at Ginger. “And just how do these crooks steal planes?”

“Their usual method is to lure pilots down—say, by running around and waving their arms as if they needed help, or by using things like mirrors to attract a pilot’s attention and make them think someone’s in trouble. After the plane lands, they simply walk over and help themselves. Mostly they use stealth instead of force, but when they do get violent it’s quite nasty. According to Eddie they’ve killed three pilots and almost killed a fourth.”

“Grim.”

“I’ve just been to Raymond, and he says there have been similar reports over the past two weeks. Four planes stolen.”

“Five, now,” said Algy, giving Ginger a meaningful look.

“Five?” queried Biggles, pausing in the act of lighting a cigarette.

“Someone pinched my Auster,” confessed Ginger, in a rush.

“What on earth—”

“Bit of the jolly old irony, what?” murmured Bertie, a smile crossing his face.

“How on earth did you manage to lose your Auster?”

“I saw something flashing on the ground and it looked like Morse so I went down for a look and someone took off in my Auster.”

“How did you get back?”

“I rang Algy and asked him to come get me.”

“Well, this is a lovely mess,” concluded Biggles. “From what Eddie says these crooks either sell the planes off to South American countries, or they break them apart and sell the parts, all within twenty-four hours of the thefts. I don’t think we’re going to see that Auster again.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ginger.

“Try to be more careful next time,” said Biggles. “But I don’t suppose I can blame you. Any of us might have done the same thing under the circumstances. In any case, Eddie should be here by tonight, and perhaps we can get together and form a plan of some sort to try and catch these fellows. In the meantime, you’d better report the plane stolen and I’ll get on the phone to Raymond and see if there’s anything more he can tell us. Algy, you might step over and ask Gaskin if he has any related news as well. A gang of American crooks moving in would probably cause something of a stir in the underworld, if I know anything about it.”

Go to Chapter 2. Eddie Takes Charge

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