Chapter 4

 

New facts and old enemies.

 

It took almost an hour before the Commodore returned Biggles' phone call at the small Alderney Post office.   This was due to the latest developments of the case. The Commodore had to inform Guernsey’s Bailiff, who was in fact the actual governor and under whose jurisdiction Alderney also fell.

Ginger, currently on extraordinary leave, was temporarily put back into active service and his rank restored, which gave him the authority to undertake official Police duties. The comrades were ordered to go on with the case and report back until such time as “Jolly” was back and able to take over the case.

Due to the delicate international character of the case, they were ordered to avoid any publicity and operate secretly. Biggles informed Ginger about the Commodore’s orders and as it was the first time ever that Ginger had been the only one able to undertake official Police duties, it proved a cause for much merriment and leg pulling.

“Come on laddie," suggested Biggles.  "Let’s go to that pub where we had lunch and see if our young friend from Israel is there. We might be able to persuade him to give us his point of view on the case,” added Biggles meaningfully, so they lost no time in going straight to the pub.

When they arrived back at their luncheon venue, they chose a spot, which commanded a view of the entire premises and ordered a drink. Biggles lit a cigarette and Ginger opened a newspaper, which he had found abandoned on another table. After reading for a while he folded the paper and put it aside.

“Any news?” asked Biggles casually.

Ginger shook his head.  “Nothing to worry about," he replied.  "The only article worth reading was about the theft of an old World War II patrol flying boat from a Naval airbase on Majorca.”

“Pass the paper over,” requested Biggles and he began to leaf through it. When he found the article, he started to read:

From our overseas reporter:

Last week a twenty-year-old German-made Dornier 24 flying boat, belonging to the Sea Air Rescue Service of the Spanish Navy, was stolen from its moorings at a Spanish Naval Airbase. The Guardia Civil, the Spanish Military Police, are investigating the theft, but no trace of the seaplane has so far been found. Spanish officials believe that the seaplane has crashed and are searching the Iberian Peninsula and the surrounding seas.

“Well," remarked Biggles a shade cynically, "it seems that stealing old seaplanes has become very popular today.”

They were still chatting casually when suddenly the young man from Israel came down the stairs and into the bar. He went straight to the door and left the pub.

"Quick!” urged Biggles, “after him!”

The two of them stood up and left the pub in pursuit of the young man.

“Are you going to question him?” asked Ginger when they were out on the street on the heels of the young man. Biggles shook his head.

“No, I'd like to learn more about this chap first before I start asking questions. As you can see he's carrying a map.  It's probably the one he took from the Russians.  With any luck he might take us somewhere interesting.”

Conversation lapsed as they continued walking.  Soon St. Anne was left behind and they were heading for the coast.  Fortunately, there were plenty of tourists about enjoying Alderney’s beautiful scenery, so Biggles and Ginger had no difficulty disguising their pursuit of the Israeli by acting like tourists themselves.

When the path neared the coastline it became much narrower, and they could see the cliffs. Everything was quiet and peaceful and they took the time to enjoy the sea view while they carried on walking parallel to the coastline. Suddenly Biggles grabbed Ginger by the shoulder.

“ Where did that Israeli go?” he asked Ginger surprised.

“I don't know," replied Ginger, equally mystified.  "He was just in front of us a moment ago!  He's disappeared into thin air!”

Quickly they walked over to the place where they had last seen the Israeli. When they reached the spot they found a small path leading down between the rocks towards the rough sea. Cautiously they made their way down the slippery path. Once they caught a glimpse of the Israeli for a moment but then he vanished again. They tried to hurry but the risk of falling was too great. Suddenly Biggles noticed that the tide was rising very rapidly. He remembered that the difference between high and low tide around the Channel Islands was over fifty feet.

“Stop, Ginger!” he rapped out suddenly. “The water's rising too fast now. I don't want to get trapped here.”

“But what about the Israeli?” asked Ginger. “He might drown here.”

“We can't go after him. He'll have to take care of himself,” averred Biggles. “Let's walk back and see if we can see him from the top of the cliffs. If he's in any danger we can warn the coastguard."

Slipping and sliding they made the ascent as fast as they could and reached the cliff top again without mishap. After a short rest to recover their breath after the fast climb Biggles remarked: “We're very lucky.  Look how fast the water's rising now.”

“The Israeli must have drowned,” stated Ginger. “There's no sign of him anywhere.”

“We can't do anything for him now,” muttered Biggles helplessly.  “If he doesn't show up, we'll report his disappearance to the local authorities.”

There was no sign at all of the Israeli and Biggles lit another cigarette to kill time. When the water reached its peak they decided to go back to St. Anne to report the presumed drowning of the Israeli.

When they arrived back at St. Anne both Biggles and Ginger received an unexpected shock.  In the main street, hardly able to believe their eyes, they saw the Israeli walking in front of them.  He made his way to the pub and went in.

“I can't believe it," averred Biggles.  "My imagination's playing tricks,” he said confused. “ How could he disappear in front of us and get back without passing us? That rocky path was the only way up or down. How on earth did he manage a conjuring trick like that?”

“I wonder if that map he's carrying is the answer to that,” suggested Ginger.   "There must be a way through the cliff."

“Yes, you might be right,” admitted Biggles thoughtfully.  He looked at his watch. “It's high tide now and the next low tide will be over twelve hours from now, which will make it in the middle of the night.  Let's find somewhere we can buy ourselves some electric torches and have an early dinner. We'll catch a few hours' sleep and then when the tide's low we'll go back to the cliffs and continue our investigation.”

Having bought a couple of torches and some spare batteries they went to the Post office and telephoned Bertie. Biggles told Bertie about what had happened and their plans for the coming night. There was no news from Algy and von Stalhein and Bertie himself had little to report; his investigations were proceeding slowly. Ginger and Biggles left the torches and the batteries in their room in the guesthouse and then went to a restaurant for dinner.

Afterwards they went back to the guesthouse and turned in early, setting the alarm clock for 3 am.   

At twenty past three, Biggles and Ginger were carefully descending the narrow path from the cliffs.  When they arrived at the bottom they walked along the base of the rocky cliffs, shining the beams of their torches on the outcrops as they investigated the cliff wall, hoping to find answers to their questions. They reached a point where they could go no further and turned back, still playing the beam of light from their torches on the rocks as they tried to find the secret of the young Israeli's disappearance earlier that day.

“Look over there, Biggles,” Ginger pointed. “I can see a hole in that wall over there.  It looks artificial.” 

They examined the hole, finding it quite small but big enough for a man to go through easily. Ginger walked towards it and investigated the inside.

“I was right," he told Biggles with satisfaction. "It is an entrance; I can see a shaft with what looks like a metal step ladder going up, although it's very rusty,” added Ginger. “Shall I go up?”  

“Yes,” returned Biggles, “but be careful.” 

Ginger climbed the metal stepladder, testing his weight on each rung.  When he reached the very top, he climbed onto a sort of platform. He reckoned he must be about 50 feet above sea level. He swung his torch in a wide arc and looked around.

“Can you see anything?” asked Biggles from down below.

“Not much," answered Ginger.  "You can come up now,” he added. “There's a platform here with a metal door. It seems to be locked with a wheel.  It should open because it's covered with lots of grease.”

Biggles joined him on the platform. “Can you get the door open, Ginger?”

“I'm trying,” replied Ginger struggling with the mechanism.  The wheel turned slowly and in the event, he managed to open the door fairly easily.

“That Israeli must gone through here yesterday, “ he told Biggles. “The mechanism turned quite easily once I'd got it started.”

With their torches lighting the way, they passed through the steel door, locking it behind them, and found several concrete rooms filled with large piles of wooden crates. 

“German ammunition crates,” observed Biggles. “I've seen them before.” 

Carefully Biggles opened one of the crates. Inside they found ten German steel grenades of the sort known as “potato mashers.” They opened more crates but they all contained grenades or guns and ammunition. Ginger walked to a pile of crates and tried to lift one, but it was far too heavy.  He thought it must contain something other than just grenades.

“Lets have a look at this one, Biggles,” he suggested.

 Biggles opened the crate and carefully took out the grenades one by one. At the bottom of the crate, he discovered a small board, which he took out.  Hidden beneath the board were six black rolls.  His curiosity aroused, Biggles lifted one of the rolls out of the crate, and found it was very heavy. Using his penknife he scratched the black coating off the roll.

“So that’s what they are after,” he whispered to Ginger who was watching him curiously. “It’s gold. There must be a lot of this stuff hidden here at a guess. Those Russians must have murdered Dietrich to get their hands on that map which showed the location.”

“I just can't make out what that young Israeli is doing,” commented Ginger.  "How does he fit into the picture?"

“I don't know, laddie,” replied Biggles, “but we must inform the authorities as soon as possible.”  

In the feeble light of their torches they examined the extent of the bunker and discovered another metal door.  They were just making their way over towards the exit when they heard a sound behind them.  Immediately, they switched off their torches and turned around.  The sudden blaze of a powerful torchlight blinded them.

“Well, there is our intruder again,” said a sharp voice from the darkness behind one of the torches, speaking English with a heavy accent.

“And Mr Bigglesworth, as well. I see you are here too,” he added mockingly.

Biggles switched on his torch and pointed it in the direction of the voice.  He glimpsed Karkoff standing there, holding a gun in his right hand pointed at Biggles and Ginger.

Biggles and Ginger looked at each other, confused. The Russians must have followed them through the narrow shaft.

“You can lower your gun, Karkoff,” Biggles told him reassuringly. “We aren't armed.” 

Karkoff shouted an order in Russian and both Biggles and Ginger were search thoroughly.

“Well, Bigglesworth,” mocked Karkoff.  “I'm very grateful to you.  You might almost say I owe you one.  Thanks to you showing us the way with your torches, we had no trouble finding our way to the hole and shaft. If you had not been there we might still be looking.  I don't think we would have found the hole tonight at least. By the way," he continued, his curiosity piqued, "what is your business here in this bunker?”

“I'm retired now," replied Biggles evenly, "but I don't take kindly to your punching my friend in the face.  I also wanted to find out why you have decided to grace these Islands with your presence,” added Biggles sarcastically.

“I came here to collect something which belongs to the Soviet Government,” replied Karkoff in measured tones.  "This time you and your friends will not interfere in my business,” he continued snappishly. Again, he shouted an order and Biggles and Ginger found themselves gripped roughly by Karkoff’s accomplices. Their hands were tied tightly behind their backs with a rope and they were pushed unceremoniously to the ground, ending up sitting with their backs against a wall.

“If you are moving from here you will be shot by the guard,” threatened Karkoff menacingly.

Karkoff and the others then started to open the ammunition crates. Suddenly one of them gave a shout of victory.  Karkoff and the Russians had discovered the real contents of the ammunition crates.

Biggles and Ginger watched helplessly as the Russians clumsily unloaded the ammunition and grenades.  They exchanged glances, knowing they were both thinking the same thing; that one of the old grenades might explode and turn the bunker into an inferno that would kill them all. All the crates, with the valuables they contained, were moved towards the platform.

When the last of the crates had been moved, Karkoff returned to Biggles and Ginger.

“It is time to say goodbye, my friends,” he gloated. “ I am afraid that you will not enjoy the benefits of your retirement, gentlemen."

 In the dim light they could see Karkoff raising his gun, which he pointed at Biggles. “I do not want the world to know what really happened here. Goodbye gentlemen.”

Biggles waited for the final shot. When it came, he was untouched.  He heard several more shots, none of which came near him.  He was blinded when the lights suddenly clicked on and flooded the room with brightness. The room appeared to be lit by ordinary lamps.

In front of him lay Karkoff's dead body, a look of total disbelief on his face. Ginger, too, was unharmed and they both looked at the newcomer who stood there, a smoking gun in his hand. It was a tall man dressed in black, wearing a black balaclava, which covered his face.

“Was machen Sie da?” he asked. (What are you doing here? trans.)

Biggles answered, also in German, that he preferred to speak in English for Ginger’s benefit, as his German was rather rusty.  

The man switched easily over to near perfect English with only a slight accent.

“And who are you?” he asked in a civilised manner.

Biggles introduced himself.   "And who are you?” he wanted to know.

“My name is Schmidt,” answered the man now pulling off his balaclava.

The man who called himself Schmidt had blond hair and blue eyes.  On his face was an expression of arrogance, not uncommon for many Germans.

“What on earth are you doing here on Alderney?” Biggles asked him irritated.

“You are not in any position to take such an attitude,” Schmidt rebuked him sharply. “I am asking the questions here. Just one snap of my fingers and the pair of you are history.”

“Okay, you've made your point,” said Biggles in a more conciliatory tone in the hope of getting some information out of Schmidt. “Those Russians you shot were after the crates. Are they that valuable?”

“Yes, they were after those valuables. They belong to us and are needed to reach our goal,” said Schmidt.

Biggles was thinking fast and decided to be frank with Schmidt with the intention of tempting him to reveal more.

“You arrived here on the Channel Islands with Hans Werner Dietrich, didn't you?” Biggles remarked, watching the man with interest.

Biggles knew this must have been a shock to Schmidt but the man recovered fast.

“Dietrich was a traitor," he spat. "I finished him off because he wanted this treasure, which had to be left behind in 1945, for his own benefit and not for the Movement. Because he was the only one who knew the exact location of this secret place, I had to co-operate with him. But tell me, please" he asked, curious, "how did you and your friend get involved with those Russians? I have never met either of you before.”

“We're just retired pilots,” Biggles told him truthfully. “My friend here bumped into those Russians and they beat him up.  Because I don't like anybody attacking my friends, I went after this Russian chap to give him a piece of my mind. We wanted to report it to the Police,” related Biggles, now departing from the strict order of events. “While we were at the Police station we overheard that an unknown body had been found in the harbour. Our housekeeper had already told us that the guests who were renting her holiday home have gone missing. She identified the body at the Police Station as belonging to Hans Werner Dietrich. Well," concluded Biggles, "I don't think this puzzle is quite so tricky any more, do you?  We came here to Alderney where my friend and I bumped into those Russians and they kidnapped us and took us to this bunker.”

Biggles turn a look of complete innocence on Schmidt.  “Can you tell us what is really going on here?” he asked naively.

The German looked at him as if wondering whether to believe him then suddenly ordered one of his men to guard Biggles and Ginger.  Instantly they were covered with a machinegun.

Schmidt took a cigarette from his case and lit it. He turned back towards Biggles and Ginger.

“Could I trouble you for a cigarette?” asked Biggles. “I seem to have dropped mine somewhere.” 

Schmidt took another cigarette from his case, lit it and put it between Biggles' lips.

Some men think themselves important and like to talk too much. Biggles and Ginger were lucky; Schmidt was one of them.

“I shall tell you what is going on here,” he stated. “You are entitled to know some of it I guess:

“History tells us that Germany lost the war, but some of us Germans knew already in 1942 that the tide was turning in favour of our opponents. In order to continue our life we decided to save gold and valuables and keep them in reserve ready for a new post-war existence. Because it was not so easy to keep back gold and jewellery in the Third Reich, Dietrich, who was also a member of this group and responsible for taking care of … let us say, the prizes of war, was ordered to make a plan to save some of it for the benefit of the group. Between 1942 and 1944 he managed to appropriate a quarter of the total valuables for the secret movement, by falsifying the reports to his superiors. When questions were asked, a high ranking and reliable Nazi Party boss covered up for him.  In 1944 he began, without our knowledge to do some business with Russian criminals on his own account. One meeting with the Russians was raided by the Gestapo and he was arrested too. He told the Gestapo that he had been kidnapped and was due to be shot by the Russians but they did not believe him.  He was, however, released again later after further intervention by the high-ranking party official.

Schmidt paused and tapped the ash from his cigarette.  Biggles nodded encouragingly.

"From his office," continued the German, "he continued his illegal business.  Meanwhile the Russians who had been arrested in the Gestapo raid were interrogated and after severe torture they confessed Dietrich’s involvement.

SS Chief Himmler was informed about this and ordered his immediate arrest. Dietrich, however, managed to escape arrest by shooting the Gestapo officers and somehow got across the lines. With help from Russian criminals and the advantage of being able to speak Russian fluently, he went to the Black Sea where he went into hiding. There was no question of going back to the German side of the lines. He would have been hanged as a defector if he had been caught.   Every fortnight there was radio contact with our man behind the screen.”

“The man behind the screen?” asked Biggles with interest. "Who was he?"

“He was the so called “Gauleiter” of Berchtesgaden. I expect you know that Hitler had a country house, the Berghof, in Berchtesgaden. The Gauleiter was a man with a great deal of influence on Reichsleiter Martin Bormann.  Every fortnight the Gauleiter would go to the Eagle's Nest, situated on top of Mount Kehlstein to maintain contact with Dietrich. 

On the 24th of April 1945 Dietrich was ordered to get ready to be collected by seaplane from a secret place near the Black Sea.  The Americans were almost in Berchtesgaden by the time the Gauleiter and two of his accomplices left for the Konigssee. There they boarded a small Blom &Voss seaplane and thence they flew to the so-called Chiemsee."

Biggles gritted his teeth, wishing the insufferable man would hurry up and finish his tale.

"The next night," continued Schmidt, unaware of Biggles' impatience, "they boarded two well-camouflaged Dornier DO 24 seaplanes and took off. The Dornier with the Gauleiter aboard left for Jersey, which was then still occupied by the Germans, but a night fighter shot it down over France. The Gauleiter jumped from the plane with his parachute and managed to reach Switzerland, which as you know was neutral. The other Dornier flew direct to the Black Sea to collect Dietrich and two Russian accomplices. Together with a large amount of gold and jewellery the seaplane managed to reach Alderney where the pilot was ordered to report to the Alderney Commander, telling him about the escape from Germany, while Dietrich and the two Russians were transferring the gold and jewellery into this secret bunker which was built by prisoners in 1942.  Its purpose was to be a secret hideout and the builders were eliminated in a death camp once the bunker was finished,” concluded Schmidt insensitively.

Biggles and Ginger found it hard to remain unmoved by Schmidt's narration. 

“When the plane had been unloaded,” Schmidt continued relentlessly, “the pilot returned to the plane and he was ordered by Alderney’s commanding officer to fly the Dornier direct to Jersey. Dietrich and the pilot shot their Russian helpers, using a silencer on their guns so no one knew. The pilot started the Dornier and they took off for Jersey. Just as they were about to land on Jersey the Dornier was attacked by an Allied night fighter and crashed in the harbour mouth at St. Helier.  They managed to get ashore but one week later the German Forces of Occupation in the Channel Islands capitulated.  All the Germans surrendered and became prisoners of war.  Dietrich, realising he was now the only one left alive who knew the whereabouts of the treasure, was reluctant to let the pilot know about the secret bunker, but he got his revenge by telling the British Commander that Dietrich was a member of the SS and that the Russians were looking for him. The Russian authorities confirmed that Dietrich was a war criminal and he was transferred to them. The Russian authorities knew all about Dietrich because some Russian criminals, captured by the Reds, told their interrogators about his involvement in all kinds of dark and unscrupulous business dealings.  The Russians were never able to get the truth out of him, though, and after he had spent 15 years in a hard labour camp, they eventually released him. After his release the KGB pursued him."

"Did they catch up with him?" asked Biggles.  Schmidt shook his head and continued his tale.

"Meanwhile the Gauleiter had changed his identity and together with myself and the pilot who had flown the mission to Alderney and Jersey and whom the Gauleiter had traced, we tried to discover the secret bunker but without success.

When Dietrich was released I was ordered to meet him. I told him that I was his cousin, whom he had never met, the only survivor when his family was killed during a bomb raid during the war. Well, he bought that story and we became close friends. I believe that he trusted me because he told me about the treasure hidden in this bunker. Finally we rented a holiday home on Guernsey for six weeks and daily flew to Alderney where we visited this bunker regularly and connected some heavy batteries to illuminate the place. I did not trust Dietrich. I always felt that when everything was sorted he would finish me off and get away with the treasure himself.  Dietrich and I made plans to collect the treasure with a rented motor-launch but until a few days ago we could not find a suitable one.  Then, after dining in a Guernsey restaurant I told Dietrich that I was going to the toilet but instead I phoned the Gauleiter to tell him about the case.

He ordered me to kill Dietrich and return here with my assistants to wait for further instructions. I also received a warning that the KGB was shadowing us and they had sent a man named Karkoff to take command.   Well, Dietrich must have seen me making that telephone call. As we were walking along the harbour he suddenly pushed a gun in my back and asked me about the phone call I made in the restaurant. I told him that I had been phoning somebody who had a boat to rent and to convince him I told him that I would show him the piece of paper with the number. He lowered his gun and I put my hand in my pocket but instead of the piece of paper I pulled out my gun and shot him.  Nobody heard the shot as I had a silencer on.  As soon as night falls, a plane will arrive here and we will load the treasure into plane and disappear forever from this island.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, Schmidt?’ asked Biggles thoughtfully. “Those Russians arrived here from the sea. Maybe they have a submarine waiting out there. You’ll never get away then.”

“A submarine does not worry me at all," Schmidt assured him. "The waters here are quite dangerous and will limit its movement. Now that Karkoff and his accomplices are dead I do not foresee any trouble. When the Gauleiter arrives here he can decide what we are going to do with both of you. We can use some pilots. Maybe he will let you join our movement,” speculated Schmidt.

“Have you got another cigarette?” asked Biggles coolly and Schmidt put a lighted cigarette between Biggles' lips.

“I told you before that there was a burglary at the holiday home. How did those Russians find this secret bunker?” Biggles wanted to know.

“That fool Dietrich must have left the map there. I assume that the Russians burgled the place to steal the map,” said Schmidt shortly. “Now I have told you more than enough," he averred, as if aware of having let slip too much information. "I have more important things to do,” were his parting words to Biggles and Ginger as he shouted an order in German and left them with the guard.

The guard obviously did not think he had a particularly onerous task, guarding a couple of men no longer in the first flush of youth, who were also securely tied up.

Biggles winked at Ginger and whispered, “maybe this guard speaks English.  I bet tomorrow night a Spanish Dornier flying boat will arrive here to collect the treasure. Let's play them at their own game. We must try to get our hands on that seaplane.”

Ginger nodded his agreement. “Let’s get some rest while we can, Biggles,” he suggested in a whisper.  "Things could start to warm up shortly."

Sitting huddled in their cramped position they managed to drop off and slept uneasily for a while.