Chapter 3

 

Back in business

 

Biggles was the first to talk to Ginger after he had slumped into the chair.

“What on earth happened to you, laddie?” he asked worried.

“Give me a drink first, please," requested Ginger. "Then I'll tell you all about what happened.”

"Get some brandy, Bertie," ordered Biggles.

Bertie poured a glass and handed it over.

“Thanks, Bertie," said Ginger, sipping it gratefully.  As the fiery spirit burned his throat, he began to feel better, his strength slowly returning.

When he finished drinking he started to explain what had happened to him since he had left the house. They all listened carefully and no one interrupted as Ginger told his tale. Finally when he had finished they all sat back and Biggles lit a cigarette.

“What do you think of the story, Erich?” he asked their former adversary.  "You know these people."

Von Stalhein put a cigarette into his long amber cigarette holder and lit it.

“I think there is a lot at stake if Karkoff is involved. The fact that he is there shows how important the case is to the KGB. After all, he replaced me once I defected to your side."

“But who is that young man who took the map from the table?” interrupted Algy.

“I am sure he isn't Russian, although he spoke in Russian,” said Ginger. “ And he can't be the other German that disappeared. He's far too young. This man I saw must be in his early twenties.”

“Are we going on with the case as we have planned, Bigglesworth?” von Stalhein wanted to know.

Looking thoughtful, Biggles stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Yes, I think so," he decided.  "You and Algy go to Germany as planned and I'll go to Alderney with Ginger and do some investigating. Ginger might recognise one the Russians or the young man. Bertie will have to stay here.  He can try to find any information about this matter that might be available from the local authorities here on Guernsey. But first I'll call Commodore Stone and let him know him about our progress so far. I also want him to contact our agents in Germany so they'll be expecting you and Algy to give you any help you might need.”

Then Biggles walked out to the hall to make his phone call to the Commodore.

Ten minutes later he was back. “As I expected, the Commodore is in complete agreement that we should be involved in this case. "Jolly" who, as you know took over from me, is busy in Hong Kong at the moment. If he had been available it would have been his case but as he's tied up, the Commodore was only too pleased that we offered to help. He also told me," he added with a smile, "that our expenses would by paid for by Her Majesty's Government.  They really are grateful.” 

“Do we have to let the local Police know what we're doing at this stage?” asked Bertie.

“No, not yet." Biggles told him.  "Ginger and I will go to Alderney first and have a look there."  He thought a moment.  "It's Tuesday now. I suggest we all leave early in the morning to start our investigations. On Saturday we should all come back to Guernsey and tell each other what we've found out. In case of serious trouble we had better stay in contact with Bertie.  A daily telephone call should suffice. After we've pooled our knowledge on Saturday I'll tell Commodore Stone what we've achieved, if anything, this week. I may possibly keep Inspector le Cornu of the local Police informed, too.  For now I suggest we all go and have dinner at the restaurant at the King’s Cross Hotel, now that Ginger has unintentionally spoiled the food he bought,” he remarked with a smile.

“Yes," returned Ginger ruefully. "That’s true. I remember I left the fish on the backseat of the Austin.  It won't be as fresh as it might!”

Bertie regarded him sympathetically. “I'll get it out of the car for you, old boy,” he offered. “You look as though a good soak in the tub would not come amiss.  I'm afraid that shirt is ruined.  You'll never get the blood out."

After a delicious meal at the restaurant von Stalhein suggested going to the house where Ginger had trailed the Russians. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of the other Russians involved.

They agreed unanimously and with the last glimmer of light fading away, the Bentley, with Algy at the wheel, was on its way towards the farmhouse. Ginger gave them the directions and there was no trouble finding the place again. Slowly the Bentley passed the farmhouse where was not even a chink of light showing. Algy parked the Bentley at a safe distance and they all got out.

“You stay here with the Bentley Algy,” ordered Biggles. “Be sure to be ready to leave when we need to take off.”

“Ok Biggles," acknowledged Algy.

The others walked slowly back to the farmhouse, careful not to make a sound in the still air.  Suddenly they stopped.  From the dark mass of the German command tower, silhouetted against the sky, red and green flashes were being sent.  Biggles tried to find out what the flashes were being aimed at, but trees obstructed his view. Obviously the signal was being directed out to sea but no answering flashes could be seen from where they were standing.

“I recognise these signals,” whispered von Stalhein to the others. “They are Russian Navy code signals. Unfortunately, I am not able to decode them for you.”

The signals stopped abruptly and a few minutes later they heard the starting of a car, which drove onto the lane and turned in their direction. They all jumped into the bushes next to the road so as not to be seen by the occupants of the passing car.

“Come on, quickly,” ordered Biggles. “We must follow that car.”

“There were five of them, Biggles,” Ginger pointed out as they made their way with all speed to their parked car. “That must be everybody.”

As soon as they arrived at the Bentley, Biggles crisply ordered Algy to set off in pursuit of the Austin, which was heading for the Vale district.

It was the same Austin as had been used that afternoon and they followed it until it suddenly stopped near the beach at Portifiner Bay. They saw the five occupants getting out of the Austin when they passed it. Just after the next bend in the road Biggles ordered Algy to stop the car. They all alighted and walked back towards the beach where the Russians had abandoned their Austin.

They had to clamber over some rocks, which was not as easy as when they were young but they managed it. Now having reached the beach of Portifiner Bay they could see the vague shape of the abandoned Austin at the far end. On the beach itself there was nothing to be seen. It was completely deserted. Biggles looked towards the sea but could not see anything at all.

Suddenly Ginger shouted, “There they are!” and pointed towards another part of the sea, further along the coast. They could all now see red and green signal flashes coming from that direction.

“They've gone,” said Biggles, disappointment in his voice.  "We've missed them."

“There must be a ship out there,” suggested Algy.

“No,” disagreed von Stalhein. “Not a regular ship, I think. It would be a submarine, no doubt about it. The Russians always use submarines in national waters when they are on spying missions.”

“It wouldn't surprise me,” said Biggles. They were all looking towards the sea but there were no more signals to be seen.

After waiting fruitlessly for half an hour, Biggles decided that they might as well return to the Bentley but first they examined the abandoned Austin. The hire car was not locked and the keys had even been left in the ignition. Nothing had been left inside the car, but they spotted some bloodstains on the backseat, obviously belonging to the wounded Russian.

They returned to the Bentley and Biggles told Algy to drive back to the farmhouse so they could do some further investigation.

Algy parked the car near the farmhouse and they all descended for the short walk to the building. Like Ginger that afternoon, they entered the house through the barn. Realising that there was nobody around, they risked turning on the lights to have a closer look at the rooms but there was nothing of any value to be found. The only thing they discovered was that the farm had been converted into a large holiday house, which could be rented from an agency on Guernsey.

“Let's go home,” suggested Algy. “There's nothing here.  The birds have flown the coop and left nothing behind.”

They all agreed and, leaving the deserted farmhouse, they walked back to the Bentley to return home to their house in Fort George.

Later that evening they were all gathered around the fireplace and Bertie was serving them drinks when von Stalhein pointed out once more that there were important interests involved in the case.

Biggles agreed.

“I hope we will have more information on Saturday,” von Stalhein continued fitting a cigarette into his holder. The talk continued in desultory fashion for a while before Bertie served them a final nightcap and they all went to bed.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast, Biggles rang to reserve a room in one of Alderney’s guesthouses and asked the proprietor to organise a hire car for them. Then he phoned the duty mechanic, at the airfield where their aircraft was stored and serviced, to make sure the tanks of both the Britten-Norman and the Grumman Goose were filled and both aircraft made ready for a quick take-off. 

Bertie helped Ginger make packed lunches for Algy and Erich. Algy got the Bentley out of the garage and finally they all got in, Bertie driving them to the airport. When they arrived at their destination they said saw Bertie off and he drove back home to pursue his lonely researches among the Guernsey archives.

Biggles and Ginger helped Algy prepare his flight plan to Germany in the operations room. After Algy had got the latest information from the met office, they cleared customs where they all parted to go their separate ways.  Ginger persuaded Biggles to come with him to watch Algy and Erich's take off from the
viewing platform.
"Sometimes, I think you'll never grow up," remarked
Biggles with a shake of his head, but Ginger just grinned.

With a mighty roar the Britten-Norman took off safely and they went to their own machine.  Ginger boarded the Grumman Goose while Biggles did the external visual checks.  When he was satisfied everything was in order, he signed the grumble sheet handed to him by a mechanic and got into the Goose. Ginger started the engines and Biggles sat next to him in the cockpit. After receiving permission to taxi from the tower, Ginger moved the Goose to the runway and requested permission to take off.

“I want to have a closer look at the sea surrounding Guernsey,” shouted Biggles when they had been given their authorisation and were soaring into the sky. “Maintain a thousand feet and make a sweep around the island.”

Keeping low, Ginger flew the Goose round Guernsey till they came back to their initial starting point. The reconnaissance of the surrounding sea proved fruitless so Biggles ordered Ginger to fly straight to Alderney.

About ten minutes later Alderney came into sight and again Biggles ordered Ginger to fly around the island but with the same negative result.

There was no sign of the Russian submarine. Ginger contacted the tower for permission to land and a few minutes later the Goose was parked on the hard standing and left in the good hands of the harbour master. Carrying their suitcases they found a taxi to take them to their guesthouse in the centre of St. Anne. The owner of the guesthouse showed them their room and said he would have to lend them his own Ford because there was no rental car available.

Biggles and Ginger appreciated the generous offer and after they had drunk a much needed cup of coffee in the guesthouse dining room they drove off to start their tour of investigation around the island.

St. Anne is situated on a hill in the centre of the island. From there they drove downhill towards the small harbour. Towards the bottom of the hill, near the harbour, they turned right and took a small road between the beach and the only railway left on the Channel Islands. The steam locomotive pulled obsolete carriages from the London underground!

To left and right the island was crowded with all kinds of German bunkers, constructed during the war when the Channel Islands were heavily fortified.

Eventually they reached their starting point again without seeing anything of particular interest and they drove back up the hill to St. Anne where they parked the car on the guesthouse's ample parking space. Five minutes later Biggles and Ginger were walking down St Anne’s main street like any normal tourist.  Since it was nearly midday, they decided to have lunch at a convenient pub, which they noticed on the main street.

Biggles and Ginger made light conversation about nothing in particular while they enjoyed their lunch.  When the waiter collected the dishes they sent their compliments to the cook.

Over coffee, Biggles lit a cigarette and was thinking over their next move when suddenly Ginger kicked him gently on the leg.

“That’s him!” he hissed, slightly inclining his head towards the bar. "The chap who took the map."

Near the bar stood a dark-haired, handsome young man with a suitcase in his hand.  He was talking to the bartender in English, asking him for a room. Ginger and Biggles looked at each other surprised. The young man's accent sounded German.  

The bartender acknowledged that they did have a room available and handed him a form to fill out.  When this had been done the bartender took the young man through a door, obviously showing him the room.

Without hesitating Ginger stood up and walked over to the bar. After a quick look round he found what he was seeking, the form the young man had just filled out. Quickly he turned it over and started to read:

Mordechai Levi, born 16th September 1942 Warsaw Poland. Address: Kibbutz Gevulot, Israel.

Now Ginger was puzzled. He almost forgot about the bartender until the man coughed.  Ginger turned round to find he was looking curiously at him.

“Can I help you sir?” he inquired with a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Oh, yes," replied Ginger trying not to show his discomfiture.  "I'd like to pay my bill, please,” he told the man nonchalantly. He paid his bill, leaving a generous tip and together Biggles and he left the pub immediately.

“Well?  What did you find out?” asked Biggles impatiently. Ginger told him about the young man's details.

“So the Israelis are involved too,” observed Biggles with a touch of surprise. “I thought he was German. I think we should get in contact with the Commodore as soon as possible.”

“There's the Post office,” suggested Ginger. “We ought to be able to arrange a connection with the Commodore in London from there."

They walked to the Post office and Biggles requested his call to London.