Part 11 (1/2)
he broke off. staring over Biggles's shoulder.
A drab destroyer was bearing down on them at full speed, two white ostrich-plumes of spray leaping up from the knife-like bow. While still a hundred yards away it swung hard over and then churned up a whirlpool of foam as it went aback. Almost before it had stopped a small boat had dropped from the davits and was skimming towards them under the swift strokes of half a dozen pairs of oars; an officer sat in the stern.
”Who are you?” he said curtly, as the boat ran alongside.
Biggles frowned. ”I'll give you two guesses,” he said. ”Who are you anyway?”
”H.M.S. Scud. Captain Watkins wants a word with you. Bring your papers-step along, please,” was the peremptory reply.
”Who are you ordering about?”
”You,” snapped the Lieutenant. ”Step lively, now, unless you want to be blown out of the water.”
Biggles swallowed hard. Quivering with rage, he put his log-book in his pocket, jumped into the boat, and a moment later scrambled up the ladder that had been lowered to receive them. He flushed as two blue jackets fell in, one on either side of him, and marched him briskly to where the Captain awaited him.
”Your name?” said the Captain coldly, holding out his hand for the ”Vandal's” log.
”Bigglesworth,” replied Biggles icily.
The Captain started. ”No relation, by any chance, to a fellow who served in 266 Squadron during the war, are you?”
Biggles nodded. ”I was in 266, he said wonderingly.
”Good heavens! My young brother was with you. He told me a lot about you before he was-”
Biggles stared and then thawed. ”Watkins-of course,” he mused. ”A good lad,” he went on. ”We called him the Professor. Lacey-who is with me now-the Professor and I did many shows together. We were with him when he went-west.”
Captain Watkins rose and extended his hand. ”Pleased to meet you,” he smiled; ”but what are you doing here? Don't you know that this is a prohibited area?”
Biggles's eyes opened wide. ”I'm dashed if I did,” he admitted, and forthwith related briefly what had happened from the moment they had met Stampoulos in Alexandria.
The Captain exchanged a quick glance with the Lieutenant, who had entered the room. ”
Sounds a grim business to me,” he observed. ”Tell me, what was he like, this Stampoulos?”
Biggles described him, and again the eyes of the Captain sought those of the second-in-command.
”And this Sheikh-what did you say his name was, Abd-el-Ahmud----what was he like?”
Again the pilot drew a rough description, and the Captain pursed his lips. ”I wonder,” he said softly, ”I wonder.” He unlocked a safe, took out a docket, and selected a photograph.
Covering the top part of the head and the body with his finger and thumb, he beckoned to the pilot. ”Was he anything like that?” he asked.
”That's the man,” began Biggles, but broke off with a gasp of amazement as the Captain lifted his hand and exposed the rest of the picture. It was a well-dressed middle-aged man 'in European clothes. ”Who is he?” he asked.
”He has many names,” replied Watkins, ”but his real one is Lafoix, Rene Lafoix; our people got this snap of him in Paris. He came out here about twenty years ago as a French secret-service agent. He still works for the French, of course, but he has developed some profitable sidelines in pearls, slaves and has.h.i.+sh. Stampoulos, by the way, is his agent in Alexandria. We've had Lafoix in our hands a dozen times, but he's slipped through our fingers; an eel is a roll of sandpaper compared with him.
The trouble is he's played the Arab so long that he is one. When we catch him he's got an honest-to-goodness load of hides on board; when we nab his dhows with dope or slaves he isn't there It isn't that which annoys us as much as his infernal nerve in writing a book about it, saying how he's fooled us It made France rock with mirth. Our people said nothing to France about it, but they said something to us about it, believe me. We've got to get him, and when we do we'll see who laughs last and longest.
”We're watching for him now,” he went on quickly. ”We know he's along the coast here somewhere, waiting for a chance to slip up to Greece for another load of dope; it all comes from there. To get it to Egypt, where it is as much in demand as tobacco at home, he s.h.i.+ps it to Syria, brings it overland by camel to the coast hereabouts, and then rushes it across the ditch in dhows, which come back with a load of slaves. The dope disappears; broken up into small parcels, it gets into Cairo a thousand different ways. You see, the trouble is, even if we do nab him going north, he'll only laugh at us, because he'll have a clean bill of lading. But when we spot him this time we shall never take our eyes off him again, and he knows it.”
”He's got a dhow there now,” interrupted Biggles, ”but he wanted me to fly him to Azir,”
”He did? I begin to see the drift of this. Stampoulos got wind that we were watching and came down here to warn him. I'll bet you any money the Greek knew all about your aircraft before you spoke to him; the pearl business was only an excuse to get in touch with you.
He knew he couldn't get down here any other way through the net we've drawn about the place. They then got the idea of flying out of it-pretty good. They've got spies everywhere. Every Arab on both sides of the water is in with them. What are you going to do about your pearls?”
”I was just wondering,” replied Biggles slowly. ”Have you got a machine-gun on board?”
”But you can't go and shoot them up! It would start another European war-”
”I wasn't thinking of anything so crude,” broke in Biggles, ”but if you'll help me to get my pearls I'll help you get his body. Listen-”
HI.
Biggles landed the ”Vandal” near the grove of date-palms, handed the controls to Algy, and jumped lightly to the ground. The engine roared again and the machine soared up into the blue.
He made his way quickly towards the trees, and ignoring a scowling group of Arabs strode up to the entrance of the palace. ”Are you there, Stampoulos?” he called loudly. A dozen Arabs began to edge towards him, but paused as they looked into the muzzle of a revolver.
Stampoulos entered, dressed in Arab clothes. ”What do you want?” he said, his eyes glinting evilly.
”In the first place, my pearls,” replied Biggles, replacing his revolver and lighting a cigarette.
”Is that all?” sneered the Greek.
”All for the moment,” replied Biggles coolly. ”Where's the Sheikh? I've a proposal to make-ah, there he is! Now, listen, Stampoulos,” he went on; ”translate as I go. I don't like the company I'm in, and the sooner I'm out of it the better I shall be pleased. You've got my pearls, and you were pretty smart, I'll admit. You give them back to me-no, wait a minute, I haven't finished-give me my pearls plus one hundred pounds, gold, and I'll fly you and your Sheikh to Azir right away.”
The Greek laughed, a short, unpleasant laugh.
”Do you think you are in a position to dictate terms?” he scoffed.
”I certainly do, or, not being entirely a fool, I should not have returned to this den of thieves.”
”What is to prevent me killing you now?” asked the Greek, with an evil smile.
”Come here and I'll show you,” said Biggles, imperturbably, crossing to the window.
The other followed. ”I'm going to show you what will happen if I'm not back in my machine in half an hour,” he went on, waving his handkerchief through the window.
The ”Vandal”, circling above, swept down in a steep dive near the palm-grove. A sheet of orange flame leapt upwards and a deafening detonation shook the palace to its foundations. The ”Vandal” made a quick stalling turn and Smyth could be seen crouching low over a Vickers gun.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat- The sand flew up in a long line as the mechanic put half a belt of ammunition into the ground as the machine roared past.
Biggles saw the Arabs running for cover. ”My friends have had quite a lot of experience at this sort of thing.” he observed casually, ”and if anything happens to me I can promise you that neither this building nor any man on the oasis will be standing by the time they'
ve finished. The dhow in the offing will also make a handy target. Furthermore,” he bluffed as an afterthought, ”I have told them if :they want any a.s.sistance to call up R.A.