Part 7 (2/2)

'Of course. But they'd all be capitalists if they knew how. I know one.

Apart from being a bit cracked, he's not a bad sort. How does he spend his time? I'll tell you. Filling in football coupons. For fun? Not on your life. He's hoping to get a lot of money quickly without working for it. The day he wins a big prize, if he ever does, he'll stop being a Communist. He'll be all against the Reds for fear they take his money off him. I'll wager Stresser became a Communist because he thought there was easy money in it. Now he finds there isn't. He as good as told me that he's fed up with the game because he isn't paid enough. That means he'll switch to anyone who offers him more. You watch it.

Anyhow, it's worth a chance.'

'It's taking a pretty big chance.'

'If you don't take chances, you don't take anything.' Biggles raised a finger to a cruising taxi and named the hotel as his destination.

'What comes after the hotel?' inquired Ginger, as the taxi threaded its way through the traffic.

'We'll lie low while we think things over. A little foresight has provided us with a hide-out for use in just such a situation as this.'

A couple of minutes later the cab dropped them at the hotel. The proprietor was still tidying the vestibule. Biggles asked him if Herr Stresser had left. The man said no. He thought he was still in his room.

Biggles went on up the stairs. A tap on the door of number twenty-one caused it to be opened by the man they were looking for. 'Oh, it's you,'

he said, rather uncomfortably.

'Were you expecting someone else?' asked Biggles.

'You never know who's going to call on you in this business,' grumbled the man.

'How right you are,' murmured Biggles. 'May we come in?' 'What do you want?'

'Before I answer that question we'd better have the door shut,' said Biggles quietly.

Followed by Ginger, he went in and closed the door behind them. 'Now,' he went on, facing Stresser, who was by this time looking somewhat alarmed, 'could you use some money?'

Stresser stared. 'M-money?' he stammered. 'How much money?' 'Say, a thousand West Marks.'

The German's jaw fell. 'What for?' he blurted. Then suspicion leapt into his eyes. 'Who are you?' he asked nervously, flicking his tongue over his lips. He dropped into a chair.

'We're British Intelligence agents,' Biggles told him bluntly. 'All right a” sit still. We're not going to hurt you. You complained to me that you weren't paid enough for what you were doing. I can put that right.'

Biggles showed his wad.

Expressions of fear, doubt and avarice, chased each other across the German's face. At the finish fear dominated the rest, and Ginger knew why. Stresser was afraid that the offer was a trap set by his own employers.

'Well, what about it?' asked Biggles impatiently. 'I've no time to waste.' He toyed with the roll of notes suggestively.

Stresser's eyes glistened. The notes seemed to fascinate him. 'How do I know you're what you say you are?'

'You'll have to take that on trust,' Biggles told him. 'You wouldn't expect me, being what I am, to walk about this city with proofs of ident.i.ty in my pocket?'

'No,' conceded Stresser.

'Then make up your mind. If you feel inclined to talk you can pull out, with the money in your pocket, and be in Western Germany in an hour or two. You'd be safe there.'

Stresser drew a deep breath. 'What do you want to know?' 'Where have they taken your new recruit, Ross?'

'So you were following us?'

'Of course. But you're wasting time. Where is Ross?'

Stresser cleared his throat. 'He's on his way to Korea.' It was Biggles'

turn to stare.

Suspicion clouded his eyes. 'Korea? What are you trying to give me?'

'Well, not exactly Korea. Actually, its Manchuria. But it's to do with the Korean war.'

'What's the name of the place?'

aratsen.'

'Did you tell Ross he was going to Kratsen?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'He kept asking where he was going, so I told him to keep him quiet. It was too late for him to back out, so it didn't matter.'

'Did you tell him where Kratsen was?'

'I told him it was in Poland.'

'Why lie about it?'

Stresser shrugged. 'One has to lie in this dirty game a” you know that.'

'Is Ross on his way to Kratsen now?'

'Well, not exactly.'

'What do you mean by that? Don't talk in riddles.'

'Well, he should have gone direct to Kratsen, but he was a bit difficult, so he's been allowed to make a call first.'

'What was he difficult about?'

'He wanted to see a friend of his.'

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