Work Text
"Don't you send them on a lot of trips, dear?"
"Possibly. They need to keep busy though. Not very good at sitting around."
"I know" Phyllis sighed. For she did know, as only the wife in a childless marriage could. How her dear husband would throw himself into work, or encourage her love of travel, or suddenly indulge in a mania for a sport he'd never cared for before. How many times had he merely nodded in resigned understanding when she'd rolled out of bed in the grey morning light, away from him and warmth and comfort and onto her trusty bicycle and to work? How many times had he stood helplessly by as she cuddled a warm brick to her aching womb, scared to sip at the tea he'd painstakingly made her?
Those days were behind them now, thankfully, but he would still throw himself into work sometimes, and she herself was no layabout. So yes, she understood when he justified sending Bigglesworth and his team off yet again by saying it helped them. She could easily imagine it did. A recent month in Cannes had been particularly enjoyable. "Cannes was nice" he agreed, and she flushed and laughed, "You're as bad as Sherlock Holmes! I never said anything about Cannes!" Her husband looked smug but had the humility to blush as well. "You started playing with your scarf, dear." Sipping his tea, he added “I’m glad you like it." The Raymonds were relatively well off but a silk scarf like the one Mrs Raymond was wearing was a luxury only affordable after some modest winnings. "It's wonderful" his wife smiled, running the smooth fringe through her fingers, "and just perfect for tea this afternoon. Don't be late, please dear. I want to have a proper tea with my husband and our friends." "Don't worry" her husband smiled, "there's nobody looking to steal state secrets at the moment." "I should hope not" her prim disapproval was at odds with the laughter in her eyes. The two of them teased each other often but woe betide anyone who suggested Phyllis didn’t have a lovely, caring, husband. "I'll be there. Just one meeting this morning." Finishing his tea, Raymond stood, kissing his wife's forehead fondly. "Have a good morning, won’t you." He left before she could find out their trip to Cannes had been more than just a short break for the two of them.
***
"I'm off to see the old man" Biggles announced as they climbed the stairs to their office "you chaps go on ahead."
"Sure thing chief!" Ginger chirped, bounding up the stairs with a bright grin. Algy and Bertie followed more sedately, Bertie stopping at their little gas ring to put the kettle on to boil. "What do you think Raymond wants?" Ginger asked, crouching to open their safe. "I don’t know" Algy admitted, “but it probably means we’re going to be sleeping away from home for a bit." Ginger nodded, counting the number of spins under his breath. "We really need to break that habit" Algy murmured, not unkindly, as he sat down at his desk and pulled a buff coloured folder in front of him. "If you have to open a safe and someone is trying to break in, they’ll hear that a mile away" "I'm not saying the combination" Ginger grumbled, pausing at the penultimate number to talk. "Maybe not but it’s a bad habit all the same. All it takes is for you to say '40, 2, 3' instead of '1, 2, 3' and there’s a number for you." "You’re taking all this very seriously all of a sudden. What’s got into you?" "You can never be too careful" Algy said, vaguely.
Bertie interrupted them with a tray of steaming mugs. "Here you go chaps. Now we just have to wait for Biggles."
Algy took the mug with a murmur of thanks. "I think we should prepare instead of wait. Can you ring through to Smyth, please Bertie, and get a report? Find out what birds we can have. Ginger, go and get some maps and charts of Europe and while you’re down that way look in at the radio chaps, see what’s happening with that coded whatsit they were talking about. It could be useful"
"Right oh!" Ginger pulled the top two files from the safe and handed them to Bertie. "You can finish these when you’re done" he grinned cheekily, heading off and leaving his mug behind.
"I don’t know why I bother" Bertie sighed, moving Ginger’s cup to his desk and placing the files on his own carefully, "we never seem to finish our drinks."
Algy, one hand curled lazily around his tea and the other fiddling with his pen as he read a memo, grunted sympathetically. The office slowly settled into quiet readiness.
***
"Ah, good morning, Bigglesworth" Raymond began, nodding at the pilot, "I trust you are well?"
"Thank you Sir" Biggles murmured, carefully, almost as though other such queries had deteriorated to some uncomfortable mission in the past, "and yourself?"
"Well thank you. As well as can be expected given we have a family gathering today." Raymond fingered his double-Windsor self-consciously. His tie was even more staid the Biggles’ today, and it was clearly causing him some distress not to have his usual knot of colour in a casual half-Windsor. “Very smart, Sir.” Biggles approved, content with his standard Victorian in staid grey. “Well I didn’t call you in to talk about ties” Raymond grumbled, “I need to give you another mission. Don’t distract me.” Biggles sat, notebook on knee, attentive.
“Some time ago” Raymond continued, “we received information that there’s a new gang trying to muscle in to the market here. They deal mostly in high-end products. Artwork, precious gems, original manuscripts, that kind of thing. It’s all highly specialised. Of course it’s very difficult, usually, to clear those goods for sale if they have been stolen. As you are aware, something of that nature would gain much publicity if it were reported as stolen. Our sources tell us that many of these goods are being used as collateral either in high-stakes gambling or as blackmail payments. Naturally they wouldn’t be reported when it could become common knowledge that their rightful owner had been blackmailed or cheated at cards. It’s all rather clever. However, no matter the ingeniousness of the plan, it cannot continue. The sorts of people who own these things in Britain are not the sorts of people we can allow to have blackmailed. Most of them are involved in Government work and many of them have access to classified information. Are you following me so far?” At Biggles nod, he continued, “I want you to go to Cannes and find these people. We have some names and identities but we need their logistics chain. More things are coming in here than ever before. They seem to be going through Christies at an increasing rate; they may have someone there working for them. We need to see how they’re moving things into the country. Focus on that. We have other people who can see how they’re obtaining their goods in the first place.”
Raymond glanced down, running a piece of paper between index finger and thumb. “I have a list of contacts here. Note them down and get everyone to memorise them. I’m sure between you you’ll be able to get on with everyone. Maybe it’s time for Lissie to ease the cogs of social interaction.” Biggles swallowed an undignified sound as he heard Raymond inadvertently quote something Bertie himself had said some time ago. “Yes, Bigglesworth?” “Nothing, Sir. Just…my pen slipped.” “Well, make sure you get it all down.” Raymond returned evenly, clearly not believing his subordinate at all, “let me know when you can leave. Let me know before 1400 thank you.” “Sir.” Biggles stood, clicking his pen lid on with a small snick. Raymond nodded and turned back to his desk as the pilot walked out.
***
“Alright chaps” Biggles looked around as he entered, comically confused at the empty room. “Where is everyone?” “What am I, cut glass?” Algy retorted, looking up from his paperwork. “You’re my world, old boy, but you’re not the whole team.” Biggles murmured, regarding Ginger’s cold mug with distaste. “Ginger’s down checking on that new encrypted radio, and Bertie’s just left. Something about a man and a dog.” “So he won’t be long, at least.” “No. He spent so long waiting on the phone that he drank more than his fair share.” Algy grinned, shaking his head and finishing his own tea. “Where are we going?” “Cannes.” Biggles perched on his companion’s desk as Algy raised an eyebrow. “Yes, all of us. I’ll tell you the details when the others get here but we’ll need an operations base set up there, and we may end up doing several things at once.” “Well, it’s a start at least.” Algy admitted, closing the file he’d been working on. “When do we head off?” “There’s no rush. Probably in a couple weeks. We need to tell Raymond today. He’s leaving at 2, some nobby function or other. I think we spent five minutes talking about his tie!”
Biggles smiled, watching as his partner finished his drink and stretched, fetching brown tie lounging lazily inside his waistcoat. “So long as it isn’t making his eyes more arresting than mine, he may wear what he likes.” Algy stated, magnanimously.
“Who can?” Bertie asked, coming back just in time. “Hullo, Biggles.” “Raymond.” Algy replied, “Biggles was just waiting to fill us both in.” “Go and see if Ginger can join us.” Biggles told Bertie, “it’ll save time.”
As soon as he had gone again, Biggles settled once more on the edge of Algy’s desk, one leg swinging freely. “I know we had talked about taking furlough….” He opened. “Don’t be silly, Biggles.” Algy nearly snapped, “Cannes will be a good break. Besides, we’ll be together on the 14th. That’s the main thing.” Biggles nodded, smiling thinly.
Neither of them were usually this open at work but then again they’d tested the soundproofing of the room and found that the old walls made normal conversation entirely inaudible from right outside the door. This didn’t prevent them from talking in hushed tones. “I’m looking forward to it” the older man admitted, a little sheepish. “Me too.” Algy smiled up at him for a moment before clearing his throat. “Pass me that readiness report Bertie has on his desk?” Report received, he flipped it open and tapped his lips with the lid of his pen a few times before starting on a clean copy, cross-referencing it with the up-to-date copies of the maintenance logs which occupied a substantial part of their bookshelf. He worked in silence for a while and then looked up. “If there’s truly no rush then we could wait ten days and take two aircraft across, which would give us options. The Auster and then the DC-6 can come along with anything else we need. Both frames will have plenty of hours by then.” “That’s a good idea” Biggles approved. Moments later, Ginger and Bertie tramped in, Ginger carrying a teetering stack of charts, maps, and a bright red book. “What did Raymond want?” he asked, dropping the papers on his desk with a series of dull thuds. “Careful!” Bertie jibed, rescuing a rolled chart that was making a bid for freedom. “Before we get into that, how’s the radio?” Algy interrupted hurriedly. “Oh, it’s coming along” Ginger revealed airily, “She says it’ll be done in the next week. There’s only a couple more tests to go here and then it needs to be tested in the field. I said we could do that.” He added, airily. “Did that get you a kiss?” Algy asked drily. “No!” Ginger looked scandalised and hopeful all at once. “But if we’re really going somewhere it makes sense, right?” “I suppose.” Biggles sighed. “I already know all about it…” Ginger wheedled. “I said I suppose.” Biggles returned, walking to the window and looking out briefly. Turning, he changed the subject. “I’ll tell you what Raymond wants.” Briefly, yet omitting nothing, he did so. At the end he took the page containing the contact information out of his notebook and placed it in the safe. “We can worry about that later.” He averred, “but for now we’ll focus on the logistics. Algy’s been working up our notes, Bertie, so you and he had better finish that. Ginger, we can do some route planning.” Ginger, eyes alight, started rummaging in his stack of updated charts.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Jeeves” I said one morning, as I surveyed the remains of two delectable kippers, “I think I might go to Cannes this year. We skipped the usual trip to Europe last year, and if you recall the year before we were at Monte Carlo.” “I recall, Sir.” Jeeves intoned, removing the remains respectfully. “Would you like me to book tickets today, Sir?” “By all means, Jeeves, by all means.” Now, hang on a minute, I can hear you say, is this the voice of true love? Does one call the object of ones adoration Sir, or Jeeves, as the case may be? Not unless one is into that sort of playacting, anyway. No. Normally, as the astute among you no doubt recall, we are on a first name basis around the home. However the Wooster abode was currently housing three people of iron will, viz, myself, Jeeves, and Aunt Agatha. Aunt Agatha, the Aunt who spends much time sharpening her tongue on hapless nephews, and crunching down on a tasty piece of steel or broken glass, is not noted for her trips to the Wooster residence. Usually upon coming to London she stays at the Savoy, or the Ritz. For some time she had actually maintained a London residence until the fun to be had bullying hotel staff could not be ignored. However she had recently heard that a servant at the Ritz (or was it the Savoy?) had opened a door onto a dog’s paw. In her mind such animal abuse was tantamount to assaulting her own self, and fearing such a fate would befall MacKintosh she hastened to stay elsewhere, to wit, my flat. With such a presence in the house one could hardly spend the morning tangled in the sheets with one’s man, or be heard calling him a precious lambkin. The nephew crasher had risen early, as was her want, and was now sitting – bolt upright – on the Chesterfield awaiting my attendance. We were going to take MacKintosh for a walk.“Cannes is a good idea, Bertie.” She pronounced from her throne, “If you can’t get a job you should at least get a wife. There are dozens of eligible ladies at Cannes.” “Do you really think so, Aunt Agatha?” I enquired politely, as surprised she found this a good idea as I would be if Jeeves sat down and put his feet up on the dining room table. “I do. Now come. I will tell you about some of them on our walk. Are you familiar with the Weeble Albe Smyths?” When I shook my head she tutted gently, as to a dull child, and chivvied me out the door almost before Jeeves could provide the young master with hat and whangee.***Having endured a lecture on the delights of Miss Weeble Able Smyth, Miss Montague, Miss Brathwayte, Miss Braithwaite, and numerous other ladies who were capable of moulding poor Bertram like an old log in a damp corner, I was finally allowed to return to Wooster GHQ. After a staid lunch, Aunt Agatha announced her intent to dine at her club and, upon her going, I breathed a sigh of relief and downed a cocktail.Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Jeeves and self don’t just drop trou when the mood strikes us. When Aunt Agatha left we did not hop to it like rabbits. We didn’t even hop to it like turtles. However it was pleasant to indulge in a short labial press and sit in his kitchen as he prepared us dinner. A sort of cosy feeling, you know, like a cat in front of a fire.Jeeves had placed our tickets on his kitchen table, and now I chattered on about Baccarat and Faro – two games I have a passing fondness for – as he prepared the jolly old roast beef. “I can’t wait” I assured him. So it was that, for once, I escaped the country with Aunt Agatha’s blessing, and ended up in Cannes.***“Ah Cannes.” I looked around the hotel room with satisfaction, giving my man a warm smile. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been here with an Aunt’s blessing without an Aunt in tow. It gives me an awfully good feeling, what?” I mused, regarding the Lilliputians on the street below with a feeling of good will and joi d’vivre. “Indeed.” The fact the Jeeves was leaving the ‘sir’ off the end of this indicated to me that he was feeling as safe and happy as I was, and we would be able to continue at least most of the activities that we enjoyed in the flat. I beamed at him, and felt the old ticker give a jump as his lips quirked up at the edges. “You know.” I mused, “I’m a bit tired after all that travelling. Would you mind seeing about a bath? Then I think I’ll take a rest.” His voice, always delightfully rich and low, lowered a little more as he nodded his approval of this plan. “Very good, Bertram.” I shivered, delighted.Jeeves and I soon slipped into a holiday routine. He would bring my tea up early and I would be awakened with delightful touches and the sorts of words that only my Reggie could say without sounding like he was the soppiest of people.Early in his employment I had told him to save the poetry for the long winter evenings, but now that he chose poems that were tender or salacious, depending on the mood, I could quite happily listen to him for minutes at a time. I say minutes advisedly for after a few minutes of looking at my Reggie’s face…well. There are things a gentleman can say in public, and there are things a gentleman can’t, if you take my meaning. So the hours and days passed, neither of us spending time away from each other. I wouldn’t have left the room at all – propriety be hanged – except for the need to fill the old tum and the desire to listen to Reggie’s delightful voice murmur pleasant requests in faultless French. Then, of course, I made the decision to bow to social convention and repair to the casino tables.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Do come on old thing! You can’t expect us all to live like monks!” Bertie readjusted his bow tie, missing the amused look Biggles shot Algy. “Most monks I’ve heard of spent their time making beer or exploring the world” Biggles rejoined mildly, “Good luck you two” he added, as he followed Bertie from their room. Ginger and Algy grinned identical grins and headed up the road to the left, towards the aerodrome. Biggles and Bertie, meanwhile, got a handy taxicab to the largest casino around.***“Your sporting blood is up, isn’t it old thing?” I enquired as Reggie’s dear suave head remained at the window, “I can’t say you’re wrong. Let’s make today the night we strike lucky eh?” I smiled what I hoped was a becoming grin. “More fun than a flutter on the gees-gees, wouldn’t you say?” “There’s a certain mathematical precision in a casino that is missing from the race course.” Jeeves admitted, turning to regard me with what I once heard Aunt Dahlia describe as an inscrutable gaze. It never ceases to amaze me how people claim not to be able to read my beloved. He tells me it is because I spend more time looking at his features than most and I remind him his features are simply smashing and must be looked at.Appropriately attired, Jeeves and self sallied forth. Jeeves is always well dressed of course, but that night he was wearing a penguin suit as formal as mine and looking a dashed sight better in it than I had ever imagined a black suit could look. The joy of Cannes, of course, is that whilst at the table anyone could be who they liked, and tonight that meant we were dressed as equals. It gave me quite a warm feeling just thinking about it.I was imbibing some of Bacchus’ best, and trying to work out if I was better off sticking to the same bet or not, when I saw a familiar figure pass by some two tables away. Jeeves and I had decided to be prudent and not spend all night next to each other for exactly this reason. This one instance I decided that discretion was the better part of v., and remained put. Not only was the now distant f. figure ignoring me but he was well known to me partially due to our time together at a particular gentleman’s club. The sort of club, if you follow me, that you don’t take your Aunt to for lunch – and also not the Drones. Nothing would be rescued by telling Jeeves to keep away. Bertie and his chum Biggles were both aware of that particular attraction; as to how Bertie managed to be as dense as a particularly dense fruitcake, well, a man who has spent as much time with Barmy Fotheringay-Phipps as I have cannot be surprised by anything anymore.“Bertie?” I hear the more noisesome amongst you cry, “why the sudden switch to the formal?” It’s very simple, you see – I speak now not of Bertie Wooster, but Bertie Lissie, a friendly egg who hangs about with the afore-mentioned Bigglesworth, and flies planes. There’s another couple of chaps too, Algy – a sort of suave charmer who is yet somehow able to remain unattached to women without any sort of ill feeling – and Ginger, the only one actually interested in women amongst them. Poor chap never seems to find any interested in him, but women are well known for their poor decisions. It was nice to see that a couple of them were taking a break, anyway.So deep was I in these musings that I ceased to practice the sharp-eyed vigilance a man of tender years must practice in these places if he wishes to remain undisturbed. Finishing my drink and looking for somewhere to place the empty glass, I caught a girl looking at me. Sadly this isn’t as unusual as one might think, in this free-and-easy age, so I employed my usual technique of a non-committal smile and turning away. I always aim to look as nonchalant in these moments as it is possible to look with the spectre of marriage reaching out his bony hand towards me. Inside my stiff-fronted shirt front (Jeeves has won that particular battle), however, my heart beat rapidly. Some sixth sense must have told me what would happen next, for it was mere moments later before she was standing in front of me, having apparently stalked me like my Aunt Dahlia stalks the fox.“Bertie Wooster, as I live and breathe!” she beamed. “What ho” attempted self, casting about for an escape. “What ho!” she returned cheerfully, looking for one dreadful moment like she was considering hitting the corpus a la Honoria Glossop. “I recognise you from your Aunt’s description! Phoebe Weeble-Able-Smyth.” She held out a hand in much the same manner the King may do. I have never met the chappie, but I am assured he walks around the place being regal. I took the hand carefully and with a certain amount of terror. This was the woman my Aunt had decided I should marry.Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself and relax with the love of my life, in a cruel twist of fate here was a woman determined to marry me. “Oh. Ah.” I replied, lest I be taken for taciturn. “Let’s have a drink to celebrate!” She clasped my arm in a vice-like grip and scuttled me sideways like a captured crab, till we reached a waiter in a brilliant white mess jacket. My heart broke a little at the sight, remembering my younger, carefree, days with a sigh. The filly didn’t seem to notice, releasing me from the v. l. g. to take a drink, gabbling away about her luck at the tables as though it were the most interesting topic in the world. I personally didn’t find it that interesting, especially as she was merely guessing at roulette. I swallowed a sigh with my drink and looked around for inspiration.“But I say” she shrilled, slapping my free arm, “here I am gabbling on about that like a ninny.” I perked up a little at this pronouncement, only to sink back in my chair again a moment later. “I promised myself that I’d ask you about Spindrift right off.” She pronounced, apparently dead to my spirit sinking down past my well-fitting silk socks. “I was given a copy, you see, when it first came out, and I enjoyed it so very much. My friend knows the author and we met at a dance not that long ago. Her Mamma and mine….” She twittered on but I know not what she said as I was utterly lost in a wasteland of fear. I felt rather like an antelope must feel when, upon being approached by a lion, that lion then watches him running away. Just as the antelope thinks he is free the lion whips out a gun. I mean to say, bad enough have the W-A-S there talking to me when all I wanted was my man, but then to have to talk about Spindrift! Well! “So her Mamma said I must say how I knew her and told me all about it. I do think it was funny! Fancy being put off by a little thing like a moustache.” She laughed and the noise made my bones freeze more than a little.Honoria Glossop’s laugh was a little like that. This dashed filly sounded like infantry tramping over a tin bridge. I shivered. “Yes, it is a little cold here.” The strapping lass crooned, so I was obliged to escort her elsewhere.Somehow I ended up sitting drinking with her in a warm little nook, and I couldn’t help looking around a little desperately for Reggie. I needed a rescue before those slavering jaws got hold of me. Just as I was beginning to think that great brain had lost its touch and I would be left to kiss the girl, the massive brain, handsomely attired in his dear face and super body, came around the corner. “Oh dear” I trilled, jumping to my feet, “there’s my friend. He needs me. I’d best leave you old thing.” She stood too, looking determined, so I gabbled a quick “see you tomorrow”, pecked her on the cheek, and hoofed it like the lion of earlier was after me. Reggie, sensing hurried movement, walked briskly after me and we only slowed once we were well outside.“You found Lady Weeble-Able-Smyth there?” he surmised, as we passed through a quiet square. “I think it would be more accurate to say that she found me” I gasped, finally stopping and looking around. Hearing no footsteps behind us I took a deep breath and then another. “Reggie, she’s bally awful” I whispered, and at his flickering eyebrow I dropped his name and continued in the same vein for some time and in no small amount of detail. Discretion is all very well up to a point but some things are too much for a fellow to bear without knowing his own true turtle dove is there beside him. “She’s like a hideous cross between Aunt Agatha, Florence Craye, and Honoria Glossop” I bleated feebly, walking on when he urged movement with a soft touch to my elbow. “I am sorry to hear that” he murmured, as quietly as a sheep on a mountain considering clearing its throat. “However I have some news that may cheer you. Our mutual friends Lord Lissie and Major Bigglesworth are here, apparently with Mr Lacey and Mr Hebblethwaite, as well.” “Oh yes I saw them” I remembered, following him like a lamb to the hotel. “They are engaged in some work for the Government.” Reggie informed me, thanking the door man. “I say!” I I-say-ed. “I thought they were here on holiday!” “Only a working break” Reggie informed me, holding the suite door open and following me in. “Major Bigglesworth intimated that should you be available, a meeting would be most appreciated.” As he said this, his clever fingers were divesting the corpus of its clothes. Not wanting the chap to feel alone in his efforts, I did the only decent thing I could do and joined in, divesting him of his significant sartorial achievements.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Algy and Ginger, meanwhile, had not been idle. When they had started their current journey, Bertie had suggested that he should be the one to go to the airfield, because, as he put it, he could parley-vou with the best of them. Biggles, retaining control of their group despite his frequent assertions that he was getting too old by half to be running around the world leaping in and out of aircraft, had replied that although Ginger admittedly spoke French in the same way he had learnt English – that is to say, learnt from bad romances and generally not in a way that would impress at the Sorbonne – he did at least have solid skills at appropriating items of interest. “Besides” Algy had grinned from behind his coffee cup, “I happen to be perfectly capable of speaking French.” Bertie looked surprised, Biggles a little pink. “and casinos aren’t really my thing any more, so we’ll head off and look at the jolly old kites while you two can dress up and smile sickeningly through that horrid excuse for champagne they always serve in Cannes.” “Don’t I get a say in all this?” Ginger had protested feebly. The others turned on him as one man “No!”All that was in the past, however, and now Ginger and Algy were strolling onto the airfield in the late afternoon sun. “Let’s hope the food here is better than the last club we ate at!” Ginger joked. Their last club meal had been a work of art from a new chef trying to prove his worth. Algy hadn’t eaten for days afterwards, having been stuffed as full as the geese that had featured in their pate. “If it is, we’ll put on so much weight we’ll need a ‘plane each to fly us home!” Algy pointed out, leading the way into the club.The club, as with most clubs the men had been in to on French aerodromes, was stuffy with smoke and full of French chatter. The two Englishmen were told that there were no tables free – a fact that Ginger had already noted – ordered a drink each, and leant against the bar. Algy carefully manoeuvred them to be near a group of local aviators, and eventually managed to inveigle his way into their conversation. Three rounds of drinks later and they were all firm friends. Ginger tried to help the older man guide the conversation towards cargo flights or flights into England, but the men were not particularly forthcoming on these topics to start with. For half an hour or so they mostly drank, and both Britshers began to despair. Finally, however, Algy remarked that he himself was thinking of starting a business in this ‘so fine city’, specialising in taking select French goods back to England, and perhaps being able to find something in England that the French in turn may wish to purchase.This was, luckily, the right approach. They were running out of ideas, so Algy breathed a sigh of relief. A man was called over, and then a second and third, and all three were displayed as the competition Algy would be going up against. The general consensus was that any Englishman – Algy compressed his lips and looked grave and interested – would not be able to compete with the Frenchmen. Between them, they had the market sewn up. There was no possibility – no, not a single chance – that Algy would be able to offer anything. Algy withdrew his cigarette case, rummaged carefully, withdrew a hand-rolled cigarette, regarded it closely, and returned it regretfully to the case as though he had forgotten where he was for a moment. He glanced up just as the eyes of one of the Frenchmen rested on him, and managed to colour slightly. “I suppose you’re right” he murmured, regretfully, “Another round of drinks for my talented French compatriots!” “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” Ginger remarked as they awaited their drinks. “Nonsense. Though I could do with a bite any time. I don’t mind telling you it’s rather later than I had hoped.” “Hopefully we can get something soon” Ginger agreed. With a display of his usual magnetism, Algy managed to attract the waitress’s attention soon after and they took their leave of the group for a small dining table. Ginger stubbornly practiced his French by ordering for them, rather than letting Algy handle things, but other than that it was rather a successful evening. The high point, however, arrived when they were leaving the establishment. Ginger had gone on ahead whilst Algy settled up and gently convinced Mlle that she was better off finding a local than following a foreigner like him around, so when the older man left the building, he was leaving alone.***“I thought I’d lost you” Ginger greeted him, pushing himself off the fence and waiting for Algy to catch up. “What’s eating you?” he added more nervously, noting too late his companions pallid face. “That chap offered me a job.” Algy spluttered, running a hand through his hair and looking as though such a thing had never happened before. “Said he liked a man with a bit of spunk and would I like to work with him.” “You said no, of course.” “Of course not! I said I’d think about it. If he is offering it for the reason I think he is then I shall take the job with both hands.” “You will not!” “I will too! Think about it. If this chappy thinks I’m the sort of fellow who goes around smoking special cigarettes and has a sort of understanding of the underbelly of civilisations, and he wants me to work for him, then he probably wants me to work for him because of that understanding. That’s the sort of thing that we’re here to look in to.” Algy tapped a cigarette out of his case, lit it, and took several deep puffs as he strode down the road towards town. Ginger shook his head; Algy usually relegated walking as the sort of activity that other people did. Seeing him walking down the road and smoking was a sign that the man was thinking things over. Stopping shaking his head, Ginger lengthened his own strides and followed, hoping that they would be able to take a taxicab back to their hotel soon enough.By the time they’d been walking for a couple of miles, Algy seemed to have made a decision, and turned to the road in the hopes of a lift. It was quite a lot later than Ginger had expected by the time they eventually got back, although their two companions were apparently still out. Algy, seeing his empty room, thinned his lips and reached for another cigarette. “See you at breakfast” he murmured, nodding at Ginger amicably enough but clearly not really paying attention. “See you.” Ginger agreed, giving it up as a bad job and heading down to the bar. “No need to sit around thinking” he told himself, “may as well have a bit of a drink.” Drink ordered he added, “Bertie’ll just wake me up when he comes in anyway.”***When Algy awoke the next morning, his cigarette case was neatly on his bedside table, and he squinted at it for a moment before rolling over. As he had expected, there was Biggles in the bed next to him, hand tucked against his shoulder and lips parted a little in relaxed slumber. Smiling, the younger man stretched and sat up, rubbing his hair back and doing the same for his companion before getting up and dressing himself. “You’re up early” Biggles grumbled, hand pushing down onto the still-warm sheet as he levered himself upright. “I didn’t get back in the early morning” Algy retorted, his morning smile taking any sting out of the words. “True. True.” Biggles yawned and stretched, “I think it will be another late night tonight. In fact, it might be for all of us. Bertie Wooster is here and he invited us for dinner.” “What?” Algy ejaculated, “he’s not here is he?” “Rather.” Biggles reiterated, “and he and Jeeves are interested in dinner with the two of us.” “Oh alright.” His companion agreed, “but don’t you worry about spending nights at the Casinos. I had a very interesting job offer after dinner.” Briefly, yet omitting nothing, he told Biggles the whole story. When he had finished Biggles lit a cigarette, whistling low as he did so. “That’s a turn for the books. I don’t mind telling you that last night was particularly fruitless, unless you consider the money Bertie – our Bertie – won. You accepted of course?” Algy shook his head. “I didn’t want to appear too keen. I said I’d think on it but strongly suggested I wouldn’t think too long. We’re going to meet tomorrow morning.” Briskly, he stood again, taking himself to the mirror to begin his morning battle against curly hair. “Ginger and I agreed to meet for breakfast” he observed mildly, “he might wonder where you are too.” “Less likely to wonder if you aren’t there to remind him” Biggles tried, and was granted a peck on the lips for his trouble. “I’ll see you down there” Algy promised, and disappeared. Biggles’ chuckles followed him down the corridor.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Dear Drew,
We’ve been keeping pretty busy here, as you can imagine. The old place might look different but really it’s all the same, just with different trappings. People still promenade and so on; some girl apparently got nipped by a shark here last year but there’s still plenty of bathing; mixed and not so mixed.
It’s a shame you can’t come out here while we’re working; Biggles expects to be off again in a couple of days so he and Algy are sharing temporarily. There’s plenty of space for visitors so you could be here looking up the old spots. I haven’t had a chance to get out to the stables yet so you’d probably call the whole trip a waste of bally time.
I was at the tables last night and ran into an old pal – you remember Bertie Wooster?
Bertie’s lips thinned as he wrote about the man who had effectively introduced him to his especial friend. The inability to write clearly was a constant frustration, one he had once thought would be lifted after the war.
Biggles has some bee in his bonnet about the chappie so it sounds as though we’ll be seeing rather a lot of him. Perhaps it’s all got too much and Biggles is going to pass it over to Jeeves!
I thought I’d have time to write more, but what with the late night last night and Ginger’s bally interruptions about breakfast, it looks like I’ll have to sign off and post something short. If you have a moment you might just look something up for me in that book I lent you.
Bertie went to his jacket, fishing out his pocket notebook and consulting a list there, a half-smile curling his lips into his mustache. Chanting ‘shake the buds of May – blue’ under his breath, he settled back to the page.
I think I marked it by a blue bookmark but I could be quite wrong. Could you let me know what it says?
Your pal,
Bertie.
***“I thought I might visit the club today, old thing” I asked my paragon over breakfast. Well, my breakfast, as even on holiday together Jeeves still tends to get up earlier than self. For a short time he tried postponing breakfast until I was awake, but the resultant hunger pangs weren’t worth the effort. Perhaps it’s because of his height, or more likely due to his immense brain, but a regularly fed Jeeves is a far nicer thing than a hungry Jeeves. “An excellent idea” the great man concurred, “when should I expect you back?” “Oh, I don’t know.” Luckily I glanced up at that moment, otherwise the slight pressure as those handsome lips pressed together in annoyance would have been lost. “How about mid-afternoon?” I tried, then, “three?” “Three will give us ample time between you returning and Major Bigglesworth and his colleagues arriving for dinner.” Jeeves allowed. Smiling, I got myself outside the eggs and b., and inside the linen lounge suit. “See you at three then old top.” I said cheerfully, kissing him on both lush lips and then each cheek – French style, you know – before he could protest. He was still blushing when I slipped out the door, and I hummed cheerfully on my way down the street. Today was a good day.Sadly, the day did not remain good. I had taken a long route to the club we had reciprocal rights with, and was lingering in the park I had found on my way, when I saw a well-dressed girl in the middle distance. In vain did I pay particular attention to the ice cream vendor nearby. In mere moments the female was upon me, and it was the female I was least wishing to see. In retrospect, of course, I should have paid attention to a vendor who was open.“Mr Wooster!” The Weeble A-S bellowed, “Mr Wooster! How good to see you again!” I have recorded in the past how an Aunt may bellow to another Aunt such that their tones may be heard across a fairly large primeval swamp. The A-S wasn’t quite at that level yet, but her dulcet tones would certainly have been heard across a sizeable pond or lake. With the suavity of a great man, I smiled and greeted her. “What ho! Amazing seeing you here, what?” “Oh you are funny Mr Wooster.” She slapped my shoulder a la the Glossip and I staggered towards a small child. “you and I are both adults.” “Oh. Ah.” I agreed, surreptitiously wriggling the old ball and socket. “Quite.” “How did you know this was where I’d be? I didn’t think I’d told you.” She giggled, clasping one talon over her ruby-reds. “Surely I didn’t…you know.” Thankfully her voice lowered at this point and my ears took a welcome break. “drink” she whispered. “No more than I did.” I hastened to reassure her, “no no you didn’t tell me. I was, well, funny thing really…” She didn’t look the sympathetic type, no symp. at all. She looked rather more like a crusty old battle-axe considering its next victim. Perhaps that victim would be the man who admitted to thinking with his stomach; I changed tack. “Well, not funny per se, more along the lines of slightly interesting. What I mean to say is, well, you see it happened like this.” “Mr Wooster.” “I was just moseying on down...” “Mr Wooster!” “Oh, Ah, I mean walking. I was walking briskly on down here because I thought…” “MR WOOSTER!” “Hallo?” “Mr Wooster. Let us accept that you have found me, and leave it at that for now shall we?” At my nod, she continued, “I’m glad to have met you here. I’m early for an appointment.” “Oh?” I enquired, politely, still recovering from the near miss. “Yes.” She said firmly. Dimly, the old noggin realised I was to take her to coffee until it was time for her appointment. I have had more unpleasant drinks, but very few that unpleasant without a member of the family present.Following an ice age or two, I was released from eternal bondage. A French chappy sauntered past – not unusual in this neck of the woods – and peered around as though looking for someone.“I must go. I’ll look for you at the tables tonight. Till tonight!” With a smack on the cheek, which I thought showed some bally nerve since she’d known me about as long as I’d known her, which is to say not very, she bustled off to annoy the Frenchman instead. I was just restoring the nerves with a cup of tea when a familiar-ish voice murmured, “mind if I join you?” and Algy Lacey was folding his legs in under my table. “I say!” I expostulated, “you’ll give a chap a heart attack.” “Not as much as that woman will.” Algy shot back, winking and signaling for another cup. “I need to talk with you and this is as good a place as any.” “You’re seeing me tonight!” “We need to talk before then.” I watched him pour himself a cup, wrinkle his nose at the local attempt at making a decent drink, and take a careful sip.“Are you listening, old thing?” he waggled his eyebrows at me till I nodded, then leant forward to murmur at the shell-like. “What do you know about that woman you were here with?” “The Able-Smith? Not a lot.” At his look, I attempted to tell him everything I knew. As Aunt Agatha would say, that would never take long no matter the topic. Prospective fiancées are a fearful thing to make a man talk about, but I tried to tell him everything.“Thank you” he said at the end, “that’s very helpful. I don’t suppose she mentioned anything about the chappy she was meeting?” “No, nothing” I admitted, “merely that she was early. He just came by the window and she jumped off after him. One doesn’t like to cast aspersions, but in these days of free and easy morals, well….one does wonder, doesn’t one?” “One does indeed.” Algy replied, more grimly than I thought necessary for such a conversation.“I say” I exclaimed, “you don’t subscribe to that frightful rot about the spirit of the empire being eroded by loose morals and so on, do you?” The man tipped back his head and laughed, like a land flowing with milk and honey, “certainly not!” he choked out, “nothing of the sort old thing.” More seriously, he tapped his ring finger and winked at me, “be a bally hypocrite if that was the case anyway.” I nodded, still befogged as the dickens. “Well what then?” “Just a spot of confusion at the office.” He assured me airily, standing and stacking the lady’s tea things neatly, “tell you about it tonight. Pippip” “Toodle-pip.” I responded, and ordered another cup to help me think. This was becoming quite the morning.***What with one thing and another, I was a little later than I should have been for dinner, and two of the chappies were already sitting at the table. “What ho!” I trilled as gaily as one can when one is running late. “Evening!” Algy trilled back, sipping something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a château. “Hullo.” Biggles joined in, pale fingers stark against the dark red wine he was sipping at. “Apologies for starting without you, but the waiter was rather forceful.” “No matter, old thing!” I chirruped, and ordered a glass of whatever excellent vintage Algy was sipping at, “the chaps at the club here are all decent enough, but the doorman didn’t seem to understand the jolly old French. Can’t imagine why, he speaks enough of it to everyone else. Well, it took that long to get sorted that I wanted a taxi back to the hotel that in the end I just decided to walk. Set everything else this afternoon back a bit, don't you know…” I shook my head as the waiter started hovering, “just the three of us is it?” “Bertie was supposed to meet us here. Ginger’s a bit tied up at the moment.” The way his lips looked – like a railway line disappearing into a tunnel – I gathered he meant the laddie was sleuthing away rather than enjoying himself. “Jolly good! We’d best wait for Lissie then.” I turned to tell the waiter this but Algy, bless his socks, was already nattering away in the local lingo and managing it much better than I had with the doorman, if the man’s disappearance was anything to go by.“This is jolly good drink, old thing.” I told the younger aviator, “I shall have to get Jeeves to procure some.” Biggles sort of perked up at that. I don’t mean that he sat up straighter or anything, because I doubt he could have sat up straighter than he already was, but his eyes slewed around and he licked his lips, like a hound that’s caught the scent. (Algy told me once that even when Biggles was 18 and not quite sure whether he’d be around the next day, he still had the most deliciously self-assured posture. Apparently Algy likes a man in uniform just as much as the rest of us.)“How is Jeeves?” was how the working man started. “Well enough.” Self replied, truthfully, “he’s been off broadening his mind today, at some of the museums I think. Very learned cove, you know.” He and I had talked of other things that afternoon. “Indeed. I don’t suppose he’ll be coming to pick you up?” “I shouldn’t think so.” “That could be quite good.” Algy broke in, as Biggles looked more like the scent had turned out to be a week-old carcass. “Do you need Jeeves’ help?” I may have sounded somewhat incredulous at that, having thought these chappies were friends with both of us, and more than capable of sorting out their own messes to boot. “Yes.” Algy glowered at Biggles, and I hoped fervently there wasn’t a tiff brewing. Jeeves and I had seen one of those before, in a hospital of all places, and I for one wasn't eager to see another.“What ho!” cried another familiar voice, “fancy seeing you chaps here!” Bertie Lissie sat down next to me, beamed around, and the party got rather underway. It was, in fact, quite a lot later that we eventually all ended up in the temporary Wooster HQ.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The three aviators followed Bertie into the flat, allowing Jeeves to tidy their outside wear away. Lissie, catching the tender smile and gentle hand on the small of his namesake’s back, was particularly glad that his companions were not paying attention. Biggles had moved to the window, looking out at the people passing in the street and lighting himself a cigarette. His companion, polishing his monocle, followed to make use of the lighter before Biggles returned it to his own pocket.“Jeeves, a word?” both Berties glanced at each other, Lissie feeling his mouth go dry and struggling to take an unconcerned puff from his cigarette. Biggles, watching the interaction, wondered if it would be in this moment that he and Algy’s partnership was exposed, probably through the younger man’s need to comfort what looked like an increasingly alarmed aviator. “Smoke?” he interpolated, offering Bertie one and then his lighter, “this is a nice view” he added, inconsequentially. He wondered what Algy was up to.“Yes it is, isn’t it?” the younger man replied, artlessly, accepting the distraction, “there’s a rather nice place just round the corner, actually, serves bread and brioche and so on. Jeeves has been taking the young master through their menu and so far I haven’t found anything bad.” The three of them sat down near the fireplace, their host finishing his cigarette before jumping up and pouring three more drinks for them.The door into Jeeves’ small room swung silently shut, the larger man turning to regard the aviator with an intrigued expression on his face. Algy noted the sparse decoration and well-built but dated furniture, recognising the small table under the window (with a small posy in a vase which didn’t quite match the room) as one their own landlady had in her kitchen. This was not his domain at all. “Thank you” he began, straightening his tie and his shoulders at the same time, “I appreciate the time.” “Of course, sir.” Jeeves replied, smooth as the door behind them. Algy reflected again how Jeeves and Bertie complemented each other despite the difference between their excitability. He swallowed, steadying himself.“The thing is, we’re here on a job regarding smuggling, and probably involving certain women of repute. I am relying on your discretion here.” “Of course sir.” “Of course, Jeeves. Briefly, individuals are attaching themselves to aristocratic young men, insinuating themselves and keeping an eye out for the main chance. Once spotted, the objects d’art are either gifted to the women, or taken by them, and smuggled to buyers in other countries.” The rest of the story was not necessary, Biggles and he had decided. The fewer people who knew, the better. “of course sir.” Algy wondered if Jeeves would make him come out and say it. “Do you have proof that it is Lady Weeble-Able-Smyth, or do you merely suspect?” “Good man!” Algy ejaculated, relieved. “We have proof that she is currently scouting for a man of good breeding to shower her in gifts. One doesn’t want to speak ill of anyone, however Bertie is rather transparent.” “Mr Wooster has a noble heart, sir.” Algy grinned, nodding quickly, “none nobler! But it does rather make him transparent. He couldn’t possibly act as normal with her if he knew.” “Indeed not sir. He would consider her a cad, if you will excuse the expression.” “Jeeves, I have heard you say considerably worse.” Algy paused, both of them a little pink, then uttered a muffled oath, “sorry, Jeeves. That was uncalled for and I apologise.” “It is of no matter sir.” “It is of matter, Jeeves. I apologise unreservedly.” Another pause. “I extend that apology to Biggles as well. He has been very protective of late.” “I understood Major Bigglesworth to be concerned regarding your activities recently, sir.” Algy’s lips thinned, “that’s one way to put it.” He sighed deeply. “Some would find it promising that their life partner, if you will, was so concerned for them, sir.” “Some would.” Algy agreed grimly. “I trust this tête-à-tête will not cause undue difficulty, sir.” Galvanised, Algy shook his head and laughed awkwardly, “I should hope not, Jeeves” he muttered, then, “If you could keep us informed about any…undue activity…with the lady that would be much appreciated.” “Of course sir.” Jeeves regarded Algy with a certain amount of fondness, before making a noise that reminded the airman of spring in Wales. “Allow me to adjust your tie, sir.” With a deft movement, the valet did so, opening the door and ushering Algy out. Feeling rather as though he had for the worst of the conversation – even though he had achieved the aim – Algy thanked him and returned to the sitting room.He was greeted by an intensely curious look from Bertie, who polished his monocle nervously and emptied his glass in a gulp. “Is that brandy?” Algy asked nonchalantly, sitting next to Biggles and trying to be reassuring without giving away that he thought the man needed reassuring. “Here you go old chap!” Their host pressed a glass into Algy’s hand, refilling the others’ as well. “Thanks” Biggles acknowledged, shortly. “Welcome old thing” the younger Bertie grinned, “I’m glad you enjoy it.” “Do you know why brandy came about?” Biggles asked, on the receiving end of a stern look from Algy. At a collective shake of the head, he proceeded, “it originates from the practice of taxation being based on the volume of the drink rather than it’s alcohol content. Importers dehydrated their wine with the intent of adding water into it again in England, thus escaping their taxation. Of course it could never last, and the Government introduced taxation by proof, eventually adopting a more scientific method in the mid-1700s.” Bertie looked a little lost, “but why did they need to prove they were bringing in alcohol?” His counterpart, warming his glass between his airman’s fingers, caught an indulgent look on the visage of Jeeves as the valet quietly prepared the rooms for the evening. “Proof refers to the alcohol content of the drink, not that it is of itself alcoholic.” Biggles explained, looking more than happy – as ever – to share his encyclopaedic knowledge. Biggles’ companions both appreciated the chance to think of other things without the interruption, both used to Biggles’ educational stories. “Initially, the spirit was considered pure, and therefore saleable, when a small amount was burnt and nothing was left over. Soon, it was found that soaking gunpowder in the spirit, then burning that, was a more accurate test as all gunpowder will only light after a good concentration of spirit. So proof meant that you could demonstrate the spirit was of a good quality and concentration because gunpowder soaked in it would burn. Now-a-days of course.” Biggles added, ruminant, “it’s all done by a formula and they have the tax issue locked down very well. Knew a chappie tried to make poteen in the middle east. He’d hidden it away in a barrel he picked up somewhere – “ “Paris” Algy interpolated “and went back a few months later to find out that the angels had been there taking a lot more than their usual two percent. He’d forgotten that instead of the climate being cool and dry it was hot and wet, so there was a lot more evaporating.” Biggles chuckled into his brandy. “Poor chappie!” his main audience member grinned, sipping his brandy as if to remind himself it were there. “Sounds like an interesting fellow though.” Biggles made an uncertain noise, clearly not agreeing. Algy knew that he didn’t want to upset the mellow mood by explaining that the man in question was with his much-maligned angels.They talked a little more, about alcohols they liked and people they knew who were making them, before Algy finished his drink and stretched, ready to leave. Jeeves appeared with their coats just as they realised they wanted them, and the three aviators were soon departing. Biggles and Algy shook hands all round, following each other out. Their companion slapped his pockets, muttering something about his lighter and ducking back into the room.“Jeeves!” he hissed. “Sir?” “What did Algy want?” “Merely to talk about your work, sir.” As Bertie opened his eyes wide, Jeeves said reassuringly, “I do not believe there is any reason to suspect they would talk about anything else, sir. Reflect that even if they should see something untoward here there is nothing to cause that to reflect on yourself.” “True. Very true.” Grinning a sheepish smile, the aviator shook his hand, “cheerio, Jeeves!”***Upon returning to their rooms, Biggles beckoned Bertie to follow the other two, shutting the door and turning on the light in the room Algy and himself shared. “What did Jeeves tell us?” he asked, getting straight down to business. Algy explained the conversation, missing nothing of importance to the three of them but also refraining from telling Bertie about Biggles and himself.“That sounds promising” Biggles mused, crossing to the small desk and seating himself at it, regarding his colleagues warmly, “Algy tomorrow you’d better get back to the airfield and make yourself available. Bertie can take Ginger back to the café and start looking for our mysterious man – it will be easier for two of you to blend in.” “Of course.” Bertie smiled, smoothing down his moustache, “what will you be doing?” Biggles smiled thinly, “If everything goes well, I’ll be talking with home. Did Ginger get the radio working?” “I think so” Algy nodded, “he said it was a bit slower than he thought but put that down to not being as familiar with this model.” “Bertie, tell him to stop in before you leave tomorrow would you? No need to wake him now, it’s late enough and this isn’t urgent.” “Will do.” Bertie stretched, moving towards the door. “Night Biggles, Night Algy.” “Night to you too.” Biggles returned, fishing for another cigarette. “Cheerio” Algy grinned, shutting the door behind their friend and crossing to Biggles. “How is old Bertie?” He inquired, and at Biggles’ confused look elaborated, “I thought he was going to faint when I went to talk with Jeeves, I assume because he thought I’d taken exception to Wooster’s rather blatant activities.” His partner leant back against his chair, releasing a gentle cloud of smoke, and raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t suggesting we tell him anything?” “Not at all. The fewer people know the better, especially in our line of work. Besides, it will make things difficult for Ginger. No, I just think that perhaps we need to realise that he might draw some inferences if Wooster continues inviting us to his rooms.” “If that happens, and he approaches us about it, I can’t think of another believable option.” “Neither.” Algy sighed, “but if you think of one, let me know. In the meantime, I’m for bed. Night old thing.” Suiting action to words, he was soon closing his eyes. Biggles was just preparing to follow suit when there was an urgent knock at the door followed by the handle wiggling wildly. Getting back into his slippers, Biggles opened the door with a stern expression which faded as soon as he saw how worried their interruption was.“Ginger’s disappeared.” Bertie gasped, looking pale and stunned, “can’t find a trace of him.” “Come in and tell us all about it.” Biggles replied quickly, “I’ll just get Algy up.” Leaving Bertie in their sitting room, he disappeared.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Reggie” I started, as apologetic as a man can be before he is outside his breakfast, “I’m awfully sorry old thing but I have to see that horrid woman today. She all but held me down till I agreed.” I had feared this would upset the man, but he seemed more worried than I thought. “You know there’s nothing…” “I know” the dear chap promised, serving up a delicious breakfast with a tender smile, “I just wish she wasn’t so set on you.” “Well couldn’t you come up with a plan? Nobody can stand up to you.” If I sounded a bit wistful well, what of it? It’s bad enough having to hide how much we are to each other without having to fend off half the female race as well. “I shall consider one, Bertram. For now, though, you must pretend as though you are attracted by her avidity. We must not have her scorned before time.” I nodded, sagely, well familiar with the power of scorned womenfolk. The bally epitome of terrifying women. “Nothing for it then” I sighed, gloomy as a rain cloud, “stiff upper lip and all that. Bung me inside a suit and I shall go and be as attracted as a man can possibly be to a filly that is more Aunt than girl.” ***“Oh Mr Wooster!” I have mentioned before that if I must spend time with a filly I’d prefer her either to be the jolly sort – like my estimable cousin Angela – or the retiring sort who talked quietly of not very much and then disappeared like mist does when the sun pays it too much attention. The woman greeting me now was the exact opposite of this ideal, greeting me with a stentorian bellow that shifted the hair of the poor chappy directly in her firing line. “Oh, er, What ho, and all that.” In my hurry to get the blasted girl seated and talking in a voice that didn’t carry quite so far, I ended up tangled up in the chair and by the time I was seated on it like an Englishman, it was to discover she had ordered for the two of us. I hoped Jeeves wouldn’t leave me with her for too much longer, for the coffee was weak and sweet, the pastries numerous and all rather similar. I do not consider myself a connoisseur of food, but when four of the five p. all have layer upon layer of pastry and butter, with no discernible flavour, and a tendency to dribble, I begin to wonder if they’re worth the trouble. The b. g. tucked in with all the gusto of a boa-constrictor coming off a month of short rations, making noises I imagine a mother boa-constrictor would despair at. I mean to say, I was shocked and I have spent years supping with such stalwart trenchermen as Stilton Cheesewright and Tuppy Glossop.“I was thinking, dear” the boa-constrictor slurped out around a third cup of sugary possibly-coffee, “we’ve known each other for a while now, and I hope you know how I feel about you. I mean” here she broke off to giggle, a noise that reminded me of something unpleasant stuck in a drain. “I mean, I hope you know I don’t do this sort of thing with just anyone.” I returned her expectant gaze with a strong manly smile, “I should think not.” Self attempted, rather befogged. “Good! Well, I was thinking that maybe we should make a promise to each other.” She smiled a smile as sickly sweet as the horrid coffee she was force-feeding me, and I felt my heart sink somewhat below my boots. Here it was, the dreaded moment when she picked up the ball and chain and attempted to attach it to Bertram. “When my dear Mother first started being courted, my Father gave her a brooch which had belonged to his Grandmother. It’s a lovely cameo, set with sapphires actually, quite lovely. Of course I don’t think you could possibly have something from your Grandmother with you on holiday! But Mother said it really made her realise how sincere he was. She still wears it, you know. It’s so romantic.” And the dratted woman heaved a saccharine sigh that made me stagger it was so gusty.“Oh, ah?” I attempted, and was then fixed by what I have heard called a gimlet eye. “Oh” I tried again, giving it up for a bad lot. I had absolutely no wish to buy the W-A-S baubles, be they lovely c. brooches or any other kind of decoration, but knew not how to explain this without coming a cropper. A gentleman does not deny a woman her a b. without good reason, and I was without a g. r.. I wondered desperately what my peerless hero Jeeves would do, and realised that I could ask him if only I could buy some time. “I, err, I actually might have something. From the jolly old Grand-mere, you know. Slipped into the bag by mistake you might say. Well, not as to say mistake, more on the off chance. Not that I knew I would find you here but, well, a chap likes to hope.” “Oh Mr Wooster!” She clapped her hands in girlish glee, but her eyes made me feel like a small rabbit being sized up for seconds by a boa-constrictor, or perhaps a python. “How simply wonderful. Why! Imagine if it were the right colour for me to wear tonight! That would be simply spectacular.” I must have looked puzzled for she glared at me again and said in a stern sort of voice, “tonight. We are going to the Hotel Royale for dinner and dancing, how could you forget?” I was fairly sure that I had never agreed to something quite as awful as dinner and dancing with this filly of the worst order, but a true gentleman cannot say things like that either. Either he is preux or he is not. “Sorry, old th- err, sorry, darling” her glare relaxed slightly, “I was just so distracted by, err, puzzling over where the brooch or necklace might be.” She positively melted at that and I finished the third cup of well-nigh undrinkable coffee with the air of a man who has much on his mind. “In fact” I extemporised – if that word means what I think it does – “I think I shall rush off now to dig it up, you know, so as to put my mind at rest.” I stood, pressing chilled and trembling lips to her proffered paw, “must dash. See you tonight and all that.” And I fairly ran out of the café, stopping only to sprinkle largesse upon the manageress before allowing the door to swing shut between me and the terrifying filly.***“Jeeves!” I wailed upon entering the flat, “Jeeves! Rally round!” I rushed towards his lair and found him mid-shimmer, already on the move towards the helpless Bertram. For a few blissful moments I hid in his strong arms, letting him soothe my restless spirit before he led me to the sitting room and bade me settle onto the sofa. Having plied self with hot tea and cool hands on a fevered brow, he perched next to me and coaxed the full story out of me. “So now I have to find the blasted girl a bauble and dance with her all night!” I finished, and if the voice wailed a bit well, this was an emergency. “Hush Bertram.” The brainiest cove I know soothed, “hush now.” His embrace was simply spiffing, and I allowed it to soothe me more while the great brain set to work. It took longer than I had initially thought, as though there were things I didn’t understand or he didn’t want me to worry about, but overall that is not unusual for Bertram, so I just sat there and enjoyed his caresses in the curly locks while his brain whizzed along at 100 rpm or thereabouts.“Bertram” he began, in a voice as soft and gentle as the caress of a fine silken cravat, “you should not buy this woman anything. It would be unfair to suggest to her that you are interested enough to spend this money on her, and from what you have said of her she would expect something that cost a not inconsiderable amount. This is not merely a case of buying her a small memento; you would need to buy her a piece of art as perfect in it’s way as the lovely vase you were so generous as to give me not so long ago.” The damask cheek coloured somewhat at this. Reggie has always had a small vase in his room, filled with a posy or sprig of some plant or other. It was not until we reached our current understanding that I discovered this was something his Mother had instilled in him from a young age, that she had always provided her children with a small flowering or sprouting thing in their rooms each day when she returned from the House she served at, telling them that when they looked at it each morning and evening they should remember the green pastures of their holidays, and feel refreshed. “I’m not a particularly religious man” Reggie had admitted, as I stroked his hair from his distinguished forehead and covered it in kisses, “but that has always stayed with me. Even when the only flowers were poppies.” Too young to understand, I did the best I could with a cuddle, and well-nigh drowned the poor man in green stuffs. It wasn’t until quite recently that I saw a simply spiffing piece of Wedgewood and gave it to the keeper of my heart.“I’m glad you like it old thing” I mumbled into his strong shoulder, “do you really think I shouldn’t buy her anything?” “I really do.” He stroked my hair in that way he has, making me purr, and added quietly, “I think not only will this save you considerable expense and trouble, but it will aid in convincing the young lady that she is better off looking for another man.” This pleased me greatly, and I passed into a sort of feeling of elevated bliss until my darling man gently extricated himself, setting me up with a book and a pot of tea, and going off to beat my penguin suit into submission. Jolly old suit had got rather messy the last night I’d worn it, and it wasn’t entirely my fault. ***Algy was already pushing back the bedclothes when Biggles came in to the bedroom, and had his slippers on by the time Biggles had told him what had happened.“I’m assuming he didn’t leave anything helpful like a note?” Algy asked Bertie, leaning against the mantlepiece. “The room’s exactly the same way as we left it this morning.” Bertie confirmed, “he was supposed to be back in time for dinner here.” “This is Cannes.” Algy grinned. At two dirty looks he raised a placatory hand, “alright, alright. I’m as worried as you two are, but we need to keep clear heads. It’s entirely possible that he has just run into a spot of fun and is just a bit late getting back.” “It’s also entirely possible that he’s run into a spot of bother and will need fetching” Biggles countered dourly. “It is.” Algy agreed, “now how are we going to find out which it is?” Bertie peered out at the night sky with a pilot’s calculating eye. “This is just the sort of night I wouldn’t like if I was smuggling stuff into Blighty. Too settled, the sea would be too calm to muddle the radar picture down low.” “Not to mention the moon.” Biggles agreed, “Bomber’s moons are treacherous things. I’m with Bertie – if I were smuggling I wouldn’t go tonight at all, not with what we know of their route. Raymond thinks they’re flying into London and we all agreed with him, so we know they’ll be spotted on a night like tonight. Therefore, if Ginger is in trouble –“ Here Biggles broke off to nod at Algy “- and I’m not saying that he certainly is – he won’t be very far away, certainly no further than we could catch up with easily. Besides, Algy is meeting the boss in a few hours to accept a job flying for them, so the boss won’t be going far.” Algy bared his teeth, “I’ll start work right away and the first thing I’ll do is look around for Ginger.” “Good fellow. Now supposed the chap’s got into some other little bother he knows where we are and he knows we’d rush in to help him no questions asked. So I think we should double check with the front desk that there isn’t a note or we didn’t miss a call, and then assume Algy was right and he’s having a night out practicing his French.” Algy swallowed a laugh. Bertie wasn’t quite so circumspect. “Well alright” Biggles muttered through a blush, “however you want to put it. Jump down to reception, Bertie, and just check for us.” Bertie jumped.“I didn’t know you liked French that much” Algy teased, crossing to look at the sky as the others had done earlier. “I shall remember that” he added idly, twitching the curtain aside and regarding the moon with a practiced eye. James spluttered behind him and Algy regarded him fondly “nothing wrong with it” he assured the helpless man, “you only had to ask.” James looked just about capable of replying coherently when Bertie came in, whistling and grinning cheerfully, waving a rather grubby piece of paper.“Just like Algy said!” he cried, “he sent a note but it got a bit waylaid – some story about the delivery boys sister needing help with something or other, all very convoluted you know – but it got in eventually. He – Ginger that is – says he went out for a walk and to find something to eat away from the hotel and has found a bunch of friendly chaps and he probably won’t be back till after us. Says he has good news but will tell us in person.”Algy, who had a large and rambling family comprising almost entirely of overbearing sisters now all busily engaged in the all-absorbing practice of running their own homes with a rod of iron, hoped the poor delivery boy was managing after such an ordeal. Biggles, blessed with no sisters at all, merely nodded and looked pleased. “Back to bed with us all then. Some of us have early starts.” “More fool they” Bertie quipped, waving goodnight at Algy and returning to his own bedroom.“Well that was exciting” Algy pondered, returning to his bed and rolling himself thoroughly around in blankets. “Thankfully not too exciting” his bed-partner agreed, tutting at Algy’s blanket-hogging ways and getting into his own bed. “The next time I don’t have an early start…” Algy began “Then I will” James grumbled, “or, worse, you’ll nick all the blankets.” He listened to Algy splutter for a moment before adding a fond good night, falling asleep much more quickly than he had dared hope for given the excitement.***Algy left early for the meeting the next morning. The meeting itself wasn’t nearly early enough to warrant such a departure but he wanted time to mentally prepare himself. Also, the hotel they were staying in did a perfectly adequate breakfast, but he was beginning to weary of croissants every morning.He was thus in an excellent frame of mind when he made it to the aerodrome. Approaching the clubrooms, he thought for a moment he was the only one there as everything was still and quiet. Still, he was confident the offer had been genuine so he continued up the steps and into the room. The main club room was lit only through the narrow windows, creating bars of dark and pale light from the morning sun. Dust motes drifted through the air, disappearing in the darkness and reappearing on the other side; a single chair at a corner table had been left on the floor while the others were still on the tables they had been tidied away on the night before. Algy stood very still and listened; hearing slight noises behind the bar he moved that way. The corridor beyond the bar had several closed doors on either side of it but there was a slight glow coming from underneath the one at the very end on Algy’s left so he went and knocked on it, entering when told to.The room was clearly an office, and just as clearly the occupier didn’t have particularly strong feelings about cleanliness or tidiness. Algy side-stepped an overflowing waste-paper basket and smiled hopefully. “Good Morning, M. Cardon” He began, in French.The man from his dinner with Ginger turned, smiling warmly and replying in the same language. “I hope this means you will be working with us?” “If you’ll still have me” Algy replied frankly, smile becoming broader when Cardon tapped some papers on his desk. “You are too kind.” “Not at all” Cardon stood, going to a battered wardrobe and retrieving a bottle of brandy from it, “It is early, but we must toast this auspicious occasion. To our newest employee” Algy took the glass with every show of readiness, tapping it against his new bosses and sipping the contents with every air of a man who is impressed with the taste. Cardon, also savouring the drink, re-seated himself. Following some discussion as to particulars and the ‘side-benefits’ Algy would receive for his work, Cardon stood again, shaking the hand of his new employer in a clear dismissal. “I shall leave you to get acquainted with your new colleagues” he said grandly. Algy, for his part, was quite keen to do this so was as prompt as Cardon would have wished in following his request.***Biggles and Bertie, meanwhile, were becoming more concerned for their hapless fourth member. There was still no sign of him, and Biggles wasn’t entirely sure he could manage their new radio without him. Not that he wasn’t entirely capable of undertaking his own transmissions in the usual sense of the word, but this new voice ‘scrambler’ was something he’d not been exposed to before and he had no wish to make a fool of himself or worse, endanger people through inadvertently transmitting in the clear.“I’ll pop on down to the casino once we have this contraption set up” Bertie volunteered, “take a look around for him. You know how easy it is to get caught up there.” “If he’s been sitting there gambling away then I’ll have more than a few strong words to say to him” Biggles growled, spreading the various wires and boxes out over the desk in Bertie and Ginger’s room. “Here, is this yours?” he added, arrested in the process of clearing space by knocking up against a slim volume of ‘selected verse by great authors’. “Just educating myself old chap” Bertie replied easily, taking the volume and depositing it on his nightstand, “used to read a fair bit at school but got rather out of the habit afterwards.” “Good for you” Biggles smiled, squinting slightly at the instructions before carefully connecting wires and boxes with many checks and double-checks of the paper. “Come and double check this for me, will you? Then you’d better go and find that infernal Ginger.” Bertie chuckled, doing as Biggles asked and nodding, satisfied. “Looks good to me, Biggles. I’ll leave you to it then.” Taking a stamped envelope from the inside cover of his poetry book, he shrugged into a jacket and smoothed down his moustache, “see you in a bit then” he grinned, trotting off. Biggles just grunted, already engrossed in his next task.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was a lovely morning, Bertie thought to himself, stroking his moustache and stepping out onto the main road. There was a gentle breeze and the sun was everything a man could want when he was away from England. His tie shifted lazily in the little gusts of wind he encountered passing other streets; it was impossible to think that anything particularly terrible had happened to his friend. His first stop was the post office, where he posted Drew’s letter and then received one in return as per their agreement to shield Bertie from questions about his mail; letter in hand he retired to a café and savoured the gentle words over a coffee. Sitting in the quiet establishment it was easy to remember the way Drew’s eyes would crinkle at him over the top of whatever he was reading, the smell of his favoured blend of tea, the feel of their fingers entwining against his woollen trousers and then separating gently to rub Towser’s ears – Drew was not a quiet reader.The feeling of being home eased his shoulders and jaw until he was stepping inside the casino Ginger had last been seen at. Bertie hadn’t been lying when he’d told Algy all those years ago that he had met Tom in a casino, though he had been far from truthful regarding their subsequent activities. To this day, and despite having gone to many such establishments since, casinos were inextricably linked with Tom. Bertie wasn’t any more superstitious than any other pilot you might meet, but he always crossed his thumb with his index finger when he walked in; call it an appeasement to the spirit of his first love.“Well this is bally useless!” Bertie muttered to himself, having walked twice around the mostly-empty floors and found nobody who looked at all helpful. At this time of the morning, the people spread sporadically around were either unable to remember what they’d been doing the previous night, or were not the sort to pay attention to others around them. Bertie did find a sympathetic barman or two, but everyone he spoke with was in agreement that Ginger had left before midnight and had left alone. “A fat lot of good that does me.” Bertie reflected, retreating from the casino and pondering his next move. He tried to imagine what his erstwhile companion would have been thinking about as he left but as he often didn’t really understand what Ginger was thinking about this was not wholly a success. Eventually, however, he decided that a group of ‘friendly fellows’ who were actually friendly would be looking for drinks and maybe a show, so he turned left and sauntered up the road, slipping his hand into his pocket to feel the crinkle of blue air mail paper. Drew had revealed a taste for Odes early in their correspondence, and Emerson’s words danced through Bertie’s head as he made his way towards the collection of clubs and restaurants. This was looking to be a morning of drudgery, so he may-as-well take what pleasure he could find.***Meanwhile, back at their hotel, Biggles was busy with the radio. It seemed a lot bigger than the ones he had seen going in to the Auster and, earlier, other aircraft. Even the one in the Lancastrian he had truly disliked flying in had seemed small-ish, but Biggles knew this was just because he saw only a small aspect of it and that a large portion of the weight of his ‘kite’ was the batteries required to run their technology. After all, there were boxes of things behind the buttons they used on the aeroplane. The buttons he was going to use this morning weren’t connected to much at all. In this particular instance there wasn’t even necessarily someone listening at the other end. There were girls (and boys, sometimes) who maintained a listening watch but they were frequency hopping for all intents and purposes, and Biggles was transmitting outside of a scheduled time. Luckily this wouldn’t prevent his transmission from being recorded straight onto their audio tapes and registering as an automatic alert for whoever came in next. It wouldn’t do if they needed immediate assistance but as a method of communicating information from the field, it was a vast step up from a debrief once they returned. Biggles had no qualms at all.Designed to be lightweight, using the transistors that had led to Ginger and Algy scribbling excitedly all over their dining room table, the radio sat squat and khaki on the desk in his suite. Biggles drew a single piece of paper towards him, then reconsidered and placed another five on top, removing a light pencil from his breast pocket and thinning his lips. Despite the ruggedized frame and angle modulation, this wouldn’t give him very many minutes and he had no wish to waste them hemming and hawing. Carefully, Biggles came up with the bare bones of his report, then fleshed it out, reading it through several times until he was happy there was no way to misinterpret what he was saying or that he had left anything out. Eventually, he depressed the transmitter and began.
Arrived with nil to report. Lacey leading investigation into person of interest at aerodrome. Person’s name CARDON. Lacey has job flying for CARDON. Premises appear near aerodrome with club house back rooms also in use. Investigation ongoing but appears point of departure for England. Lissie and self met mutual friend unexpectedly. Friend has been approached by WEEBLE ABLE SMYTH in manner outlined during brief. WEEBLE ABLE SMYTH playing role of femme fatale. Hebblethwaite following own lead, last reported in last night. Out.
The transmission completed, Biggles carefully picked up all the pieces of paper he had placed on the desk, taking them to the window and opening it before moving in to the small washroom and lighting each piece with his lighter. Once they had all been turned into ash, he turned the tap on half pressure and swept them all down the basin. That done, he dampened the towel and wiped each surface to ensure there were no tell-tale signs of ash anywhere. It was only once he had finished tidying up any hints of his need to write things down that he made his way back into the bedroom. He reappeared just as the door started opening.A ginger blur rushed past, making straight for the radio and fumbling with it. “Here! What do you think you’re doing?” Biggles expostulated. “What do I think I’m doing?” Ginger retorted, standing back and running a freckled hand through his hair, “what about what you’re doing? Blatting away on that thing as if nobody would like to do their own transceiving.” The younger man was so earnest that Biggles couldn’t quite hold back a chortle even as he shook his head. “I turned it off” “No, you merely turned the encryption off. It sends out a constant unmodulated stream as a baseline. Everything is off now – see? You forgot this switch.” Biggles had to admit that he had, in fact, not turned the power switch. “In my defence, usually we don’t go around with a radio that transmits constantly.” “Well you do when you want this to bounce over to England. Let’s pack this all up in case anyone else was monitoring and gets interested.” Ginger was halfway through screwing on the last cap and replacing the equipment in his half-full valise before Biggles started talking again.“How did you know it was still transmitting? And where have you been?” If his voice was somewhat sharper than strictly necessary, neither of them acknowledged it. “Before we go into all that, I need a change of shirt, and a shave.” Ginger grinned meaningfully at his mentor, “a cup of tea and breakfast wouldn’t go amiss, either.” He pointed out. “Cheeky. Alright, go and wash, I’ll send down for something to eat. Then you sit and tell me everything. You do realise Bertie is out scouring the streets for you right now?” “Is he?” Ginger sounded more amused than anything, “well he’ll be a bit peeved when he gets back, I bet.” He was still chortling as he closed the door to the bathroom behind him. Shaking his head again, Biggles returned to the ‘phone and ordered the lad a proper breakfast along with a pot of tea for himself.In the end, the breakfast arrived before Ginger, and Biggles was well through his first cup of tea by the time he was no longer alone in the room. “I know you’ve spent a lot of time in casinos, but do we really need to hear that song?” “It’s a classic!” “It’s not a classic, it’s a one-hit wonder by an American. I don’t know why you’re so keen on learning all about their culture.” “I don’t see why you aren’t, chief. Sorry, boss.” Ginger whistled well I’d not been down in Washington, many more weeks than three and hastily cut himself off as he sat down to eat. Biggles could be quite the stickler.“You got my note?” he began, once the first few mouthfuls had started their way into his empty body. “We got it eventually. Apparently the delivery boy had some sort of sister emergency. Algy thinks it’s just an excuse, but you know what Algy’s like.” “I dunno why. Gwen is a peach.” Ginger gulped down some coffee to hide his flush and added quickly, “well, anyway. That part was true, got in with a bunch of boys who weren’t quite right if you ask me. Figured it would be better to make friends with them than come back and do the official stuff later, and it panned out fine.” Ginger paused for another mouthful of his breakfast and Biggles waited as patiently as he could. He was getting a new appreciation for Algy when everyone left him to go out on jobs! Ginger continued, “we headed to a coupl’a clubs, had a few drinks. They were handing around some other things but I managed to palm them off without anyone seeing. Then we ended up at one of the guy’s pads. He’s English so we were getting on like a house on fire anyway, but I made sure to pick up the tab and that got me sitting around his front room. Managed to get away and scout around and they’re definitely up to no good. There’s piles of boxes there full of drugs and different money. Lots of Marks and Lira, but heaps of Francs and Pounds, and a few other things like Schillings and Drachma as well. I was going to take some but I figured there was no safe way to get them back any time soon and they might have noticed. I know where they are though. Anyway, there’s three of them living there and they’ve got it all done up pretty nicely. Plenty of paintings and statues and things, and I said it looked nice and they said thanks, but sort of changed the conversation, you know? Like they didn’t want me to ask too many questions, so of course I didn’t. But I went back to the room with the money and so on and in one corner there was a different box, and it had lots of jewellery in it. Just sort of sitting there like they knew nobody was going to take a look. I guess they figured I wouldn’t or they wouldn’t have invited me.” “They probably also heard you’ve been hanging around with Algy, and they think he spends his spare time smoking these cigarettes too. Enough that they trust him to need them, not so much that they don’t think he can fly a plane.” “I thought of that too. But still, I didn’t want to be there when they came around properly.” At Biggles’ confused look, he explained, “they were all smoking those things by this stage, and were getting more and more mellow. You remember Collins saying the next step is paranoia, well for some people anyway, and I didn’t want to risk that. So I sort of faded to the background and started heading back here.” The older pilot nodded at the mention of their main drug squad contact. “But you didn’t end up here.” He replied shrewdly.“I didn’t end up here” Ginger echoed, “no. Because I was heading along thinking of this and that and I thought, we must be able to track where Algy is. He has a plane, after all, and planes have radios. Well, alright” he amended at Biggles’ look, “Algy’s plane has a radio. Most planes do these days. Now we know they’ll pick him up on radar on his way in to England but he doesn’t have any homing devices in there, it’s not like they went ahead and put in a VOR or whatever. So we won’t know where he is, and neither will his new bosses. It worried me a bit, because some of the boys I’d been drinking with were clever chaps, and they obviously had a bit of knowledge. I decided that they must have something rigged up out at the airfield, and that if they did we could put the wind up them by telling Algy to transmit differently somehow, or I could take something out of their gear. By this stage it was pretty late – early I suppose – and everything was jolly quiet so I legged it over to the rooms at the aerodrome and took a look around.” Biggles looked somewhat reproving at this laissez-faire approach to locked property, but it was hard to be too tough when he had undoubtedly been acting for the greater good. Sometimes it was handy having a more…diverse…member of their team.“So, there was nobody around and I found their comms cen. They have lots of kit there, all nicely labelled and so on, no need to pretend I suppose. There was a sort of huff-duff looking thing and I got busy looking at it. Took a while to sort everything out because it wasn’t one of ours. I think it was built on a Soviet design cause it was like nothing I’ve seen before. Then some chaps came in early and started getting some things ready. They were talking about that Weeble-Able-Smyth girl, you know?” “I know” Biggles replied grimly, “what were they saying?”Ginger was just in the middle of explaining how the mysterious chaps had been complaining the girl had yet to convince Bertie Wooster to part with money, jewels, or information, when they were interrupted by the unmistakable sounds of Bertie Lissie arriving in the room next door. “Go on.” Biggles said, “catch him up. I’ll see you both in my room once you’d calmed him down. You can finish the story there.”Biggles had stopped pacing the room, and smoked a calming cigarette by the time his team mates turned up. Bertie didn’t seem any the worse for his trek about town, and Biggles wondered what had happened to make his friend quite so happy.“You had just been nearly interrupted at the huff-duff, or whatever they call it” he reminded Ginger. “That’s right! They had a cuppa or something and headed off again and I was pretty pleased, I can tell you. I decided to turn the thing on to make sure it worked and see what the readings looked like before I took a piece out.” “And when you turned it on you saw my transmission.” “Not quite right then, I turned it on and worked out what bit I could take out without killing the screen entirely, and then I turned it on again to do a final check before I took the piece out and I saw a transmission. We’re pretty close to the airfield, and it was a faint reading, but there’s nothing over in this direction other than the city. It was a pretty interesting freq., too, so I thought it wasn’t going to be a normal broadcast. I grabbed the bit and tidied up, legging it over here. Luckily there was a taxi right outside.” Ginger grinned, “probably waiting for someone more important but there you go!” “And you stopped my blank transmission. Good job, Ginger.”Ginger fairly glowed under the compliment but all he said was, “swell, chief.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I’d been told by Jeeves that I could weasel out of the dance with a proper excuse, thus preventing me from having to present a bauble. He suggested that I offer an alternative of an intimate dinner, explaining that I had found the Grandmere’s brooch but needed to have it cleaned. I had rung to make this suggestion to her and had been turned down like a bedspread. “I promised my friends we’d be there, Mr Wooster, and I intend to keep that promise. You may see me at breakfast tomorrow. I shall expect you at ten. Goodnight.” “I think she may be a little scared, Jeeves.” I informed him, “but she still wants to breakfast with self so it can’t be that bad.” “I shan’t pretend not to enjoy the idea of a night in, Bertram” he practically purred, “In the morning you must be prepared for some unpleasantness, but I’m sure she will come around. You remember the description of the brooch?” “Jeeves, is now the time to speak of brooches? I would rather hear your thoughts on camomile tea.” The dear man chuckled richly and allowed me to make us a pot of tea for us to take at the kitchen table. It was a rich feeling to indulge so, and we both savoured the words rolling off his tongue.***When the beazel and I did meet the next morning, she looked rather the worse for wear. She revived like one of those witches you hear about somewhere after the second cup of coffee, but was listless enough that she accepted the brooch story with little response. All in all it was one of the most depressing meals eaten in the history of a particularly terrible courtship and I was glad to escape with no more than an agreement to attend a supper. She headed off as though to an important meeting and I strolled along the water enjoying the day and puzzling over some of the things she had said. I simply could not decipher why she was so concerned about my knowledge of jewellery shops and patronage of the same. Besides which she asked rather odd questions around my friends and how many of them were from different parts of England. I started telling her about the jolly old newt fancier Gussie Fink-Nottle, but she seemed particularly disinterested in people who hid in their country houses and more interested in people in London. It wasn’t until later that I realised how lucky I was she hadn’t come out and asked about aviators straight away for I should have told her all about Bertie and his chums, not knowing at the time that it wasn’t the sort of information she should have.I spent some of the afternoon with said chappies, as a matter of fact. Well, with Bertie actually, the others apparently being tied up. We took a turn along a promenade smoking like a couple of companionable chimneys in spring, and naturally the conversation turned what Jeeves would term ‘personal circumstances’. Turned out the chappie – Bertie, I mean – had been the lucky recipient of a jolly sort of letter from his mate Drew. Knowing the aforementioned object of the aviator’s affections, it was with some interest that I listened to him wax a tad on the lyrical side. It was all terribly common I’m bound to say, but it’s unusual for chaps in our situation to have someone to speak with and he enjoyed the opportunity. More than once, I’d spoken with Jeeves about nudging Biggles and Algy into telling Bertie what was going on under his nose, but Jeeves always shook his head and averred it wasn’t our place. One sample of conversation is outlined below for those who appreciate the full story. Those reading under a time pressure – waiting for a bus, say, or in between Aunts – can skip ahead till the story picks up again.“I’m sure they have considered the matter frequently and at length” he would assure me, “it is not to us to suggest they reconsider.” “A case of easy for us, but they have to live with it, you mean?” “As you say. One false step would be dangerous to any of the three of them; I am sure this is the main reason they are maintaining their silence on the matter.” “That and it being jolly awkward for the kid.” “Mr Hebblethwaite is hardly a child, but I take your point. I understand he is particularly interested in the fairer sex, though somewhat diffident about actually achieving the desired results.” I played this through the noggin a couple of times before smirking, “you don’t mean to say he’s yet to enjoy the, well, one doesn’t wish to be crass but…” “I did not say that. Merely that I understand that currently there is no especial friend of his, unusual in one of his age, temperament, and business.” “Yes. I’m sure the fillies are all into the pilots and whatnot. It’s a glamorous job.” “Indeed. I am of the opinion that young ladies enjoy such jobs in their young men.” “There’s no accounting for taste, is there Jeeves?”Well, we had exhausted the ingenious plan for Drew and Bertie to send soppy messages to each other along with more prosaic letters, and had moved on to the state of love in general, before the combination of finished cigarette and sudden evening breeze recalled self to duty. Hastily pressing the flesh, I retired to dress.While I hadn’t been looking forward to the blasted supper, I’d been prepared for it, and to find myself alone rather than a deux was rather miffing. After all, when one has donned the stiff-fronted and endured a short lecture on why this is a superior garment to the soft-fronted of one’s desire, then one wants the effort to be not in vain. But in vain it was. I mooched around for a bit before deciding that I mayaswell have a drink, at least, and seated myself at the watering hole of the agreed establishment. The rushed looking chappy who was leaping around behind the bar like a rabbit looking for his lettuce, laid eyes on me and perked up somewhat. “You’re Mr Wooster?” he interrogated rather like an actor in a bad movie. When I had established my credentials he shook the noggin. “she’s not coming.” He reported with some glee, “rang through and said to say that. Says if you’re going to toy with her affections like that then you clearly mean no good” he glared at me as though the Weeble Able Smyth was his own sister and tutted gently. “I guess you’ll want some whisky then.” “Brandy, my good man.” I corrected absently. This was a turn for the books! I needed to speak with my man to untangle this, and post haste, but first a couple snifters in celebration. Said man had the evening off and had planned to spend it at the club the Junior Ganymede had reciprocal rights with, so there was no rush. No rush at all, and plenty to celebrate. Despite the general mood of celebration, however, I was miffed more than a little. In line with Jeeves’ suggestion I had prepared a closely-reasoned argument to give the menace, full of hearts yearning but pledged to another and that sort of rot. He had decided that with the woman already turning off the young master it was the correct time to change our campaign. I had pointed out it was but 48 hours since we had been spinning tales about the brooch, but Jeeves had pointed out that circumstances change quickly and we were better off adjusting, a change I had agreed with eagerly. We’d practiced the speech till I was word-perfect and a largeish part of my frustration was at not getting to deliver the goods, so to speak. I felt rather like one of those wind-up toys you win at the church fete, all wound up and nowhere to go.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Algy was high coming in over the coast, not quite on a commercial route. He’d been told where and when to land, and noted there was plenty of time in hand for what appeared a regular flight. This, it had been explained to him, was because the correct man would be on shift at that time. Shift management was the same reason the take-off was so early. Besides, as Algy’s new boss had explained, the powerful retro-fitted engines were not to be flaunted. Once he landed he was to taxi to the far end of the apron and await boarding from an officer wearing a particular cheesecutter. Algy had suppressed a smile at the idea of gangsters running around wearing secret signals, especially inappropriate hat choices. Biggles would have something to say about it!Knowing his friends were safe and he could act to prevent the dogs from enjoying their ill-gotten gains with relative impunity had kept his brain busy as soon as he was in the cruise. He’d made some radio contact on his climb but had mostly just enjoyed the milk run while he turned the problem over in his mind. Before he’d left, the four of them had talked about the best options for Algy to take. They’d agreed that the best thing to do was trust the police would be waiting, but if that wasn’t the case that Algy should continue to play his part for as long as he could. Ginger had pointed out that Algy should try and get a sample. Bertie had laughed at the idea of Algy being a drug runner. Biggles had kept quiet until they were alone.Once they were in their rooms, Biggles had been overtly casual about pouring two glasses of brandy and sitting next to his partner. “There’s a chance that the police who respond will be crooked. You’ll need to guard against that.” “I wondered when you’d bring that up” Algy returned, “it’s not that long since Smethers, after all.” “Smethers was at least trying to help his wife. Jenkins was just rotten.” “It doesn’t matter why in the end, Algy, they could give you a spot of trouble.” Biggles took a sip, grimaced, took another, and cradled his glass. “Unless it’s someone you know is clean or someone so new they can’t possibly be established yet, you’ll need to assume they’re bought too.” Algy had nodded sagely, mirrored his partner’s actions, then looked out the window at the gloaming. “I’ll need a sample then, and if I can raise someone as soon as I land so much the better.” “Yes, but you might get delayed. I’ll have another word with Raymond once you’re well underway so he can send someone good too.” They drank in companionable silence for a while, Algy observing the steadily dimming sky and Biggles looking at nothing in particular, until the elder man brought his gaze closer and murmured, “I hope I never have to make a choice like Smethers did.” “Neither.” Algy put down his empty glass and regarded those familiar stormy eyes carefully, “I can’t think of a reason why you would. Don’t fret.” Biggles agreed, but he still didn’t sleep easily that night.Algy pushed these memories away as he checked his bearing and speed, then changed to the local frequency. He hadn’t packed the aircraft himself, instead merely double-checking the load was in the correct location for the weight-and-balance, so obtaining a sample had so far been impossible. Nevertheless, with the weather so settled and taking a quieter route, he felt confident enough to turn and begin working a brick out of the netting which tied it down. Luckily they had been designed to be relatively easy to conceal and so were quite small compared to some he had seen. It would fit in his pocket and look like a wallet, or so he hoped. He had nearly secreted the brick when he heard a call which every aviator dreads.Over the emergency channel a mayday call crackled out. It repeated itself as Algy checked his location. For a few moments he had feared it was an aircraft and was then ashamed when he realised it was just a p-craft. He was within 20 nautical miles so announced his intention to locate the troubled vessel and provide what coordination he could. A familiar jolt of adrenaline straightened his spine, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile as he confirmed he had more than enough fuel – so long as everyone else reacted quickly too.Algy was a seasoned aviator and had done a few search and rescue missions, although usually not for a vessel that was basically underneath him when it first hit trouble. Usually he had other people in the aircraft to keep a look out but it was technically still possible to locate the troubled vessel alone so long as he was careful. He’d completed his second turn by the time the unfortunate seaman managed to get his attention. Waggling his wings, he remained in a tight orbit around the increasingly damp mariner. As the rain got worse, Algy dropped a little lower, ever mindful of the other aircraft in the area and the potential for this to go wrong. He wished with all his mind for Biggles to be there carrying out half the workload and working seamlessly with him. It wasn’t that he needed Biggles, but more that they worked well together and there was a lot to keep track of. Algy re-settled his headphones, picking up his microphone again and prepared to broadcast his position and intentions again.He'd just finished the transmission when a strong gust combined with a tight turn to make a sickening wrench on the stick. Shoulder wrenched, Algy switched hands, leaving the throttle momentarily uncontrolled. Panting with pain, he gingerly wriggled his fingers. Next, he flexed his elbow. As the sharp pain settled into an ache, he rested the abused limb on his knee. Through sheer luck any further gusts where over control surfaces and didn’t jerk the plane around more than he’d usually expect. Still, it was hard work, especially with an arm that didn’t have any muscle memory of the task. Another orbit in and he felt ready to try again, breathing out a sigh of relief when it seemed he’d suffered no more than a wrench. In those first terrifying seconds he’d feared a dislocation and having to land one-armed. The relief overwhelmed any other feeling for the moment.Eventually, with his fuel closer to empty than he’d have liked, Algy had assisted vectoring a small fishing boat and a larger patrol boat to the stricken p-craft. Somewhere in the rain, wind, and general panic, the dampened mariners had lost their radio and were clearly beginning to despair. Algy waited until the fishing boat had succeeded in hailing them with a loud-speaker before he returned to his course and set off towards the airfield. As he flew he realised his neck was sore and his jaw ached; it took a conscious effort to release the tension he’d started storing there. The delicate rescue operation had called on all his years of military experience. It had cost him complete range of movement in his stick arm. There was no way he wasn’t being tracked now; he’d have to hope the right people got to him first. Algy exhaled forcefully, relaxing further. The wind was gusty as he circled the airfield, and he briefly chewed his lower lip. Had he been flying with Biggles, he’d have been told not to indulge in such a habit. Had he been flying with any other pilot, had he not had his arm and something in the tail plane wrenched during the rescue operation, he’d have been less concerned. This crate wasn’t going to make landing her easy and he didn’t relish fighting the crosswind alone. Nevertheless, he felt more in tune with her than he normally would have following a short flight, thanks to the tight search patterns he’d already been flying. He deliberately started his set-up further out and a little higher than was normal, taking in the activity below him and the general lay out of the airfield. There were two large vehicles parked to one side, one along the apron near where he had been told to taxi and the other to the side of the nearest hangar. Briefly, Algy wondered if he should abandon everything and land elsewhere claiming technical difficulties, but he saw the lead car’s headlamps flash deliberately four times, and then another two, longer, flashes, and realised he’d been spotted. Again his lower lips was subject to a nervous chew before he turned deliberately onto final and started fiddling with the flaps. The old bird sunk steadily, rocking now and then as Algy crabbed her in.***Bertie had been dispatched to the airfield, to prepare both aircraft for departure. He’d actually suggested one of them following Algy but Biggles had ruled that out on the basis that the airfield wasn’t used to Government aircraft landing and if they were being tracked it would spook the smugglers, possibly endangering Algy. Taking the rare moment of solitude, Bertie re-read Drew’s letter and started in on a reply as the taxi took him through the crowded streets. In the end, once he’d arranged for fuel, more hydraulic fluid for the DC-6, and ensured the galley of each aircraft was stocked with food and water, it was lunch time, so he stayed at the clubhouse for food. He was just beginning to enjoy the first steak he’d had since arriving, when a particularly obnoxious perfume assaulted his nose and a sleek, dangerous, looking lady took the chair next to him. “Mr Lissie?” “Yes?” Bertie swallowed hastily, nodding to the intruder with as much grace as he could manage at short notice and when facing someone he didn’t know. “Mr Lissie my name is Lady Weeble-Able-Smyth. I am a friend of Mr Wooster’s. I know you and he share certain activities.” “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Lady Weeble-Able-Smyth. Mr Wooster and I certainly occasionally enjoy the odd flutter on the horses together, a spot of tennis, sometimes hunting…whilst we are friends I shouldn’t consider us close friends.” “Not, perhaps, as close as your other friends, Mr Lacey and Major Bigglesworth, are?” “Well…” Bertie placed his cutlery onto the china with nary a chink, his open face showing his very real confusion, “of course they’re close, they’re cousins. They’ve been together since the bally War to End All Wars. Not a lot they don’t know about each other.” The woman brayed a laugh, showing a strong mouthful of teeth. When continuing to experience Bertie’s quizzical regard she giggled, “don’t tell me you’re serious! You can’t be.” “I’m very serious madam. Was there something in particular I could help you with?” “You can tell Mr Wooster why I’m not longer interested in him next time you see him. Also-“ here the woman leant in towards Bertie, who held himself very still, overcome by the perfume and the impatient bosom so near him, “also, you can take me for dinner tonight. My last date unfortunately is no longer available.” Bertie felt nearly physically lighter as soon as she moved away, and managed to mumble something in reply. “You’re so charming.” The apparition cooed, standing and dropping her eyelids coyly at him, “and so very naïve. I shall look forward to continuing this tonight.” Bertie gaped after her.It was only because he needed to blow his nose to clear it from the astringent perfume that he even put his hands in his pockets, but as soon as he did he realised he’d lost not only his book – with its letter – but the signature ring he habitually wore these days. It took several seconds of incredulity before he leapt up, threw some notes on the table, and abandoned his meal for the second time in two minutes. He raced to the veranda in time to see the thief’s scarf trail her around the corner of the building he knew the smugglers were using as their headquarters. For a moment, as he followed, he wondered about leaving the items to their fate; the ring was worth very little in terms of pounds and the book was only a second edition. But inside the book was Drew’s potentially compromising letter, and inside the ring were initials which fit the letter perfectly. Decided, Bertie crept to the back door, listening for the unmistakable voice of a woman. Probably due to her own adrenaline rush, she was speaking loudly and quickly, and Bertie was able to hear her quite clearly. He made out most of what she was saying, and listened the reply with shock. As quietly as he could he retreated to the club house, asking for the phone and placing a call back to Biggles and Ginger who were luckily both still there.“They’re all here, and they’re turning to blackmail. Get out here right away.” Bertie informed Biggles. His mind was so focused on retrieving his own items and preventing their current victims from being blackmailed that he didn’t consider who else she had referred to or why. “Keep an eye on her. We’ll move towards the club when we arrive and plan on the way.” Bertie hung up quickly, returning to a window seat and re-ordering his lunch. If he had to keep watch he may-as-well do it while eating. If the waiter was confused, he didn’t show it, and Bertie was allowed to finish his meal in peace.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
As soon as Bertie saw the other two, he made his way to them. The three aviators moved in sync towards the building in question, Bertie filling the other two in along the way as best he could.
“So now the gang are going after people we know and we have a lead on it” Biggles stated, sounding grimly pleased, “I’m sure we can get the unfortunate letter from them, Bertie, don’t worry.” He added reassuringly. Bertie nodded, trying to look like a man worried his cousin’s unsavoury debts were weighing him down and potentially going to upset his ability to remain in Parliament, rather than a man worried the man he hoped to spend the rest of his life with was about to be arrested for gross indecency.
“Look out” Ginger hissed, dragging the other two back around the corner. They all fell silent, listening to the door open and impassioned voices come spilling out. Ginger couldn’t catch the full details, not speaking perfect French, but he caught enough to gather that their unsavoury friends were preparing to follow Algy back to England. “Let’s get going” Biggles murmured from behind him, treading backwards almost silently for a couple paces while he checked he had their attention. Bertie and Ginger followed, the three racing to their aircraft as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. Behind them the door slammed and an engine started. Glancing backwards, Ginger realised they were about to be racing another DC-6 across the channel as it was towards a hangar holding this aircraft that the car was headed. “Let’s go chief!” he called, racing to the chocks and starting to remove them. “I’m firing up the radios now” Biggles confirmed, swarming up the aircraft. “Bertie, take the Auster. Land as soon as you can and give Raymond and update. We should be able to roll them all up as soon as they land.”
“Right-o!” Bertie swerved, dashing to the smaller aircraft and starting his own pre-take-off checks. It was all more than a little rushed and he was glad he’d gone over everything properly this morning. So long as the Tower didn’t stop them there was no reason why he shouldn’t be the first ‘plane up and the first one down. He’d complete his planning en-route, he promised himself, glad for the extensive practice he had in this not recommended method of flying.As expected, Bertie made it into the air with little trouble and was soon on his way back west. Spreading out the chart and folding it carefully he began some more detailed calculations. The nearest airfield was barely more than a paddock with a fence and he worried all of a sudden that there’d be no telephone, as it seemed unlikely there was even a building there. A flash of inspiration got him to alter his course a little south and draw his ETA closer. Instead of worrying about receptions – warm or otherwise – he’d land where he knew there’d be a very warm reception indeed. Not only would landing at Drew’s estate allow him to use the ‘phone a full twenty minutes earlier than he’d originally feared, but he could warn Drew about the storm brewing behind him. Also, he’d not seen the man for nigh on a month and was sorely missing his company. Mind made up, Lissie stroked his moustache and settled into the cruise.***Algy landed reasonably well, all things considered, and then sat still until the engines had completely stopped. Now that he wasn’t concentrating on flying, he realised exactly how sore his shoulder really was. “Get going Lacey” he muttered, nimbly climbing back into the cargo hold and opening the door. With the ladder extended to the ground, he awaited the arrival of what would hopefully prove to be two quite different groups of men. He had a fleeting moment to check the location of the sample before the first car drew up and three men dismounted and climbed aboard. “Alright.” The leader opened with, “you’ve done your bit here now. Let’s get a move on, lads.” Immediately the other two removed the netting and picked up as much as they could easily handle. One made his way to the car and the other handed the bundles down. They were both young enough that Algy felt very old all of a sudden. He certainly understood that youth was no barrier to all sort of activities including ones that in the normal course of events would be considered illegal, but that didn’t mean he condoned it. There was a world of difference, in his mind at least, between the things you did because society demanded it and the things you did because it was the path of least resistance.While he had been standing observing these activities, the leader had squeezed into the cockpit and taken his maps and charts. “You’ll need to tidy these up.” He informed Algy, thrusting them back through the doorway. “Of course.” Algy agreed, spotting movement outside and back towards the rear crash gate, “wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.” His interlocutor grunted and fished around some more, eventually coming up with an envelope which Algy hadn’t notice. It had been tucked underneath the co-pilots seat. The van that had rushed through the crash gate was now approaching from the blind side of the aircraft, and was soon lost to even Algy’s view. He was once again impressed with the abilities of the drug squad, and this time favourably. “How’s that unloading going?” The leader barked, pushing back past Algy and checking on the two men. “Good boss.” The blonde one – still inside the ‘plane – replied. “Keep it up.” He grunted, sitting back down to read the note. It must have had something about Algy in it because that man was aware that he was being stared at. He worked quietly away at ‘cleaning’ the chart, all the while listening for the police.It didn’t take much longer for the gangster’s car to be both half full with the packets and cut off by the police car. Four burly men came out, one clapping the lad on the ground into handcuffs immediately while the rest of his colleagues climbed up into the aircraft. Quickly and efficiently all three men were cuffed and led down the ladder. Algy was more than a little bemused at this turn of events but submitted with what grace he could, deciding it would be easier to get out of this predicament once he was back within the central Police station rather than on a somewhat abandoned airfield. The three men who had met him, though, seemed far less sanguine. The leader was spouting obscenities and vowing that this “miscarriage of justice” would get no further.
“As you say, Sir.” Intoned a policeman phlegmatically. Algy noticed he had to fold himself in half when he got into the gang car. The four cuffed men were pushed into the back of the police wagon and locked in. Two police got in the front and the smallest officer joined the largest in the gang car, following behind.Algy prayed they didn’t have far to go. It couldn’t take long before the other three turned on him and blamed him for their change in fortunes. Making a split-second decision, he asked, “does this happen often? Only it’s not that usual in my part of the world.”
“It doesn’t” the leader growled, looking distastefully at the pilot, “in fact it barely happens at all.”
“So we should be back out soon?” Algy blinked at the leader as though he was nothing more than what he had been playing his part as – a slightly foppish, slightly sheltered, upper class gentleman who had turned to some of the finer things in life for a thrill. The square of drugs was burning a hole in his pocket and he shifted slightly, sure it was unlikely to fall out but wanting to reassure himself.
“Some of us will.” His glare left Algy in no doubt that he himself would be languishing for some time if this man had his way. Algy fell silent.***“If there’s no lady then we can just relax and enjoy ourselves, Jeeves!” I exalted, even going so far as to offer up a little labial press. Whilst that great man indulged for a short time, his capable hands gently stood me upright again and his eyes sought mine. “We should return home, Bertram. With Lady Weeble-Able-Smyth already on her way there, and no doubt more of her ilk besides, we should be established in the flat and acting as we always do. Just in case.”
Now, I do not have the quick silver-fish brain of my fish-fed wonder. Oh drat, I’ve used ‘fish’ too much now. Well, you know what I mean. I’m not as canny as good old Jeeves, but I can usually wrap the old noggin around whatever key information he is presenting to self. Give Wooster long enough, and he shall deliver the goods. I doubt it took me above ten seconds to grasp this. “eh?” I enquired, eloquently, “ah?” Then, once somewhat more understanding, “you don’t mean…oh no Jeeves. No! That’s not cricket and I didn’t do anything anyway.”
“I’m afraid, Sir….”
“Don’t call me that. Not yet.”
“Very well. I’m afraid, Bertram, that there is no other ready explanation for the lady’s activity.” The man actually sighed! My heart sunk when I heard that noise, and I edged onto the sofa with trepidation in my heart. “Reggie! She hasn’t…what haven’t you told me? Tell me quickly, my good man!”
“Hush, Bertram. Hush.” Reggie sank next to me, taking a hand. He looked quite distressed. “Do not fear so. All will be well.” Well, when he talked like that, I simply had to believe him. When he saw I was listening attentively, he explained the situation.“I wished to spare you this, Bertram” he began, slipping our fingers together in the way he knows I enjoy, and letting me rest our clasped hands on my knee. “Mr Lacey was the one who confirmed my suspicions, but we knew that with Lady Weeble-Able-Smyth determined to spend significant time with you, it would be easier for you not to have to dissemble but rather to act in the way I trusted your pure heart would naturally guide you.” Whilst these compliments were all very well in their own way, and you’d have to have a heart significantly harder than mine to turn down a compliment from a human god like Reggie, they didn’t exactly get us to the point. “These compliments are al very well, Reggie, but they hardly get us closer to the point, what?”
“I apologise Bertram. The point, as you put it, is that Major Bigglesworth, and Messrs Lacey, Lissie, and Hebblethwaite, were sent here to identify and mitigate the work of a blackmailer who has been casting a shadow through the lower echelons of Government. Further, she apparently is using this money to assist with illegal activities- “when I raised an eyebrow he elaborated “-especially drug smuggling. This is the reason your friends were asked, because the smuggling is done via aircraft.”
I whistled long and low, mulling all this information into its correct place. “Gol-ly Jeeves! I mean to say! That’s a turn for the books, what?”
“It is.” His stoic face remained relatively implacable, but I could tell this wasn’t as pleasant for him to relate as an outside listener might suppose. “That would explain why Bertie was so concerned for Drew when we last spoke. I thought it was just natural caution and enjoying chatting about something that can be hard to discuss, but this throws a whole new light on it.” After a moments quiet reflection, I had a horrid thought. “I say, Reggie? You don’t think Biggles’ boss is aware of their activities do you, and that’s why they’re all on this?”
“I think that unlikely. From what the four of them have said I gather he is a gentleman and unlikely to do such things even if he were aware, which I gather he is not. In either case.” He confirmed. I nodded, again soothed by Reggie’s clear explanation.“So, what was all the filly’s thinking with the bauble she was so keen on then?”
“I imagine it was a form of entrapment, as well as collateral. But, Bertram, if she has truly disappeared, then we must warn the other four and make our way home. We may be of use to the police as they conclude this operation, and we must safeguard ourselves by returning to the outward life of gentleman and gentleman’s personal gentleman.” His fingers squeezed mine and then retreated as their owner stood, dropped a fond kiss on my wrinkled brow, and oiled off to pack. “I shall let you consider this news.” He murmured just before vanishing from the room. Of course I was cut up about the idea of leaving just when things were getting fun, but when Jeeves has decreed a course of action then all right-thinking people merely fall into step. The times I haven’t are the only times since I’ve met him that I’ve truly come a cropper.Thus it was that a few hours later we were on a train and, as the sky drew in close around London, were decanted outside the jolly old flat. No matter how possibly urgent this mission was, Jeeves still insisted I change into a more appropriate suit and have a quick sponge bath before setting out towards the centre of town and the offices shared by the Flying Police and other very studious men no doubt all labouring to ensure the security of Britons everywhere. For the moment I was more concerned with six particular individuals than the chaps I heard Reggie refer to as ‘that amorphous mass of man’.***When Bertie circled the house, he was careful to do so in a way that wouldn’t spook the horses. Drew might love Bertie ‘rather a dashed lot’, but the pilot wasn’t convinced that would extend to any deliberate harming of horseflesh. Checking his watch, he fretted he might be landing well after Algy and the damage could already be done, for of course he had come into the area after Algy had stopped helping with the Mayday call. It was that call which probably saved Algy though, for it meant Bertie had plenty of time, in the end, to land carefully and then go charging up to the house. He was met with a flurry of activity which he responded to with unusual terseness. “I need to use the phone. Now, Donaldson.” Luckily, Donaldson was well aware that Bertie was an especial friend of his employer, and stepped aside with no more than an instruction as to where the instrument was, and a reassurance that he would fetch the master. By the time Bertie had finished chasing answers around the phone lines of various police stations, Drew was awaiting him with impatience and a tray of tea things.“Come and have a cup of tea.” He opened, stroking his luxurious moustache nervously, as though he didn’t know full well that Bertie wouldn’t have arrived unexpectedly if he wasn’t both in need of help and more than a little anxious to see Drew. “I can’t stay.” Bertie replied, but followed him anyway, “I have to put a couple things to bed.”
“Can’t you stay even a little bit?”
“Not more than a cuppa. I need to talk with you. Are your staff near?”
Drew swallowed, the gesture half-covered by another nervous petting of his moustache, and shook his head. “I doubt it. They don’t usually hang around, they’re jolly busy running the shop you know.”
“Nevertheless. Let’s take a stroll.” Bertie led the way, “I can show you the jolly old kite” he added, in what mostly passed as a normal tone of voice, as he stepped unerringly to the French doors and stepped through them.
“What’s this about, Bertie?” Drew accosted him as soon as they were away from the house, “you didn’t mention anything dangerous in your letters.” They both spared a slight smile for the letters, before Bertie shook his head angrily. “That’s part of the problem.” He sighed. Drew paced next to him for a few steps before they turned behind a hedge and he took Bertie’s hand. The movement seemed to invigorate the pilot, who quietly explained the story. “So you see, the absolute swine has my ring, and your letter….and possibly Algy as well.” He finished, glumly.
“I’m sure Algy can look after himself.” Drew murmured, inconsequentially. “I…I suppose it’s no use hoping the engraving’s worn off that ring or something, is it.”
“Not at all. It’s the best-tended ring this side of the Crown Jewels.” Bertie sighed, again. “I’m going to help the others bring in the ferrets. Hopefully that’ll get the goods back too.” They were drawing close to the aircraft now, but still protected by the last hedge before the open fields. Bertie paused, looking up at Drew’s concerned gaze and plastering on a weak smile, “I’ll be alright” he squeezed Drew’s calloused fingers and whispered, “hankering for a bally kiss but we’d best not risk it now. For all I know there are people pushing this way as we speak.”
“I won’t leave.” Drew set his noble face into the severe lines Bertie was more used to seeing when he was considering selling a horse, “it’s tenuous at best and things have been relatively calm lately about all that sort of thing.”
“You shouldn’t leave.” Bertie agreed, “stay here and do what you normally do. Let me sort it out, and if anybody wonders why I flew in and tries to say it’s so we could do something unnatural and unlovely, you might just point out that nobody in their right mind would advertise something quite so blatantly. Not to mention I was here less than an hour.”
Drew chuckled, shaking his head. “I won’t remind you of some of the club nights.” He grinned. Bertie shook his head as well, reluctantly disengaging himself. “I’ll call as soon as I can. Leave a message at the flat if anything happens and for goodness sake stay safe.” Taking a risk, he ghosted his index finger over Drew’s moustache, admiring as always, and yet unwilling to lose his own vague efforts. “Cheerio!”
“Ta-ra” Drew returned, staying at the hedge and watching him go. He stayed watching until Bertie’s ‘plane was no more than a speck heading back towards central London, and then walked back up to the house to change and spend the day at the stable.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Meanwhile, Biggles and Ginger had landed in London, and were already on their way back to Raymond’s office to report. Biggles suspected he wasn’t alone in planning what he might say to their boss, but as they were taking a taxi he was unwilling to talk about it to his companion. Despite an unwillingness to talk about it, both men were aware that the other was worried, and both breathed a silent sigh of relief when they could finally dismount and enter their goal.“He should be in” Ginger murmured, leading Biggles up the stairs with characteristic enthusiasm. He felt rather than saw some of the tension in Biggles’ shoulder melt away when Raymond could be clearly heard through his open office door, reflecting that they were lucky to work in a team where everyone cared a lot about each other. “I’ll call you back” Raymond announced into the ‘phone, hanging up and standing as they came in. He seemed interested but not unduly surprised to see them, and Biggles took this to mean that not only had Bertie’s telephone call got through, but so had Ginger’s, made as Biggles put away the aircraft. “Do we know if they’ve affected the arrest yet?” He asked, getting straight to the point. “I’m expecting to hear about it very soon.” Raymond soothed him, sitting back down on a low armchair and gesturing the aviators to join him. “A couple of our chaps went along with a couple from the drug squad, so Lacey should be right as rain.” Biggles, who had heard similar pronouncements for many years now, fervently wished this to be true. “Why don’t you tell me what happened while we wait? Tea?” Ginger nodded eagerly, tea was brought, and the two pilots brought Raymond up to speed as to their adventure so far. It was a long story so that, despite how briefly Biggles might speak, or how much Ginger mentioned a diversion then returned to the point, it took some time for the telling to be completed. They had barely wound it up (and sent the teapot away for refurbishing) when Raymond’s secretary knocked and announced another man had arrived. “It’s too early for Algy” Biggles observed. “it must be Bertie” Ginger agreed, looking eagerly to the door.“Hullo!” Bertie trilled, helping himself to the third comfortable seat, “Biggles bring you up to speed sir?” he added, glancing around. “We’ve just finished” Biggles announced, “you’re here sooner than we’d hoped for. The flight in to a proper telephone alone would’ve taken you a tidy amount, I’d have thought.” Bertie looked a little sheepish, “well actually, I know a chappie that has an estate right up along the coast” he admitted, “plenty of land, so I landed there and took a turn on his blower before coming back down here.” “Jolly smart of you.” Biggles approved, “tidy thinking.” The four of them paused in a natural lull that sometimes happens when a burgeoning group is assembling.“Any news of Algy?” Bertie asked finally, settling himself a little more into his chair. “Not yet” reported Raymond, a little glumly, “but I’m sure we’ll hear soon. It’s a few hours since he landed, after all.” They fell silent again, all listening for the telephone and none of them willing to admit it. It was into this general silence that a sprightly set of footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. “What ho!” called a familiar voice, and a figure that all the aviators knew well stepped in to Raymond’s office, followed by a silent, staid, individual wearing an immaculate bowler. “Good day, gentlemen” intoned the immaculate figure, taking up a position near the door. In answer to Raymond’s raised eyebrow, Bertie Wooster started a confused mass of introductions and explanations.***Jeeves had assured me that the bizarre behaviour of the filly was easily explained should I care to hear about it, and that even if I should not it was my civic duty to attend a meeting being held between the aviators and their employer, so I had followed him into the office like a lamb. The feeling of awkwardness which always accompanies any trip into a place of work was less pronounced thanks to the fact they were all just sitting around drinking tea. Seemed like a dashed good idea, at that.“What ho Bertie!” chirruped Lissie, waving his monocle cheerfully at me, “this is Air Commodore Raymond, our boss. Sir, Bertie Wooster.” We shook hands all round and made all the usual noises, but something was a little off. With the quickness of thought we Wooster’s are known for, I realised I had only gripped the paw of four chaps “I say, where’s Algy?” A sort of chill fell over the room and I wondered if he’d finally met with some awful accident, but Biggles looked too self-contained for that to be the case. No leaking around the edges, I mean. “He’s still on his way back” Raymond intoned, “hopefully he’ll arrive soon.” “In the meantime” Biggles sort of interrupted, “perhaps you can tell Raymond what the Weeble-Able-Smyth was all about. He’d be jolly interested.” From what I could make out, Raymond certainly looked jolly interested, leaning forward and fixing me with the sort of stare that Jeeves might have called ‘gimlet’, though I’m never quite sure what that’s supposed to mean. Still, whatever it takes to keep Jeeves happy is something this Wooster is more than happy to do.“The Weeble-Able-Smyth? One doesn’t bandy a woman’s name…” “One does in this office when one is being asked questions.” Raymond reassured self, “so get a cup of tea and let’s hear all about it.” Jolly nice chap is old Raymond. One of the boys, don’t you know. No need to dissemble.“My Aunt said I should look up the filly when I got into Cannes. So naturally I steered clear of her but dash it if the blasted f. didn’t pick me out of the crowd one night and get all limpet-y on me. Said we had so much in common and wasn’t it lucky we’d met and all that rot. Practically forced self to propose on the spot.” “You didn’t?” Raymond looked quite concerned, the sensible old geezer. “No” I assured him, “she tried a few times but luckily she had her mind set on a present first and I don’t mean the sort of thing you give a filly at the fete. She wanted something akin to her Grandmother’s blasted cameo brooch, which of course isn’t the sort of thing one just happens to have on hand.” Biggles seemed to find something amusing, as I caught him hiding a smile into his handkerchief. I’m not sure what part of this tale of woe was tickling him because as far as I was concerned it was pretty jolly serious. “So, she wanted some sort of monetary promise before the big day.” “That’s the ticket” I beamed upon Raymond like the smart cookie he is, dashed glad someone sympathised, “then she got the snit and disappeared on me!”Biggles, who had hidden his handkerchief in his pocket again, gave Ginger one of those meaningful glances chaps like to give when they think they know more than this Wooster.“Jeeves explained it all though, so I hope you’ve got some chaps waiting for her. I say, is that where Algy is?” “Just about” Raymond assured self, “and I must thank you for your help so far. We’re very much obliged.” The great man went so far as to shake my paw, which I though awfully decent of him. Not every day a Wooster does a spot of work, after all, so it was nice to have it noted.I was just getting to the stage where all the attention and follow-on questions were getting a bit dull and routine when a sprightly young filly shoved her head around the door and bleated that the great man was needed on the telephone eftsoons or right speedily. The other three looked up like dogs getting a whiff of anise, and Biggles’ eyes followed Raymond out the door like he wished he could go too. Jeeves looked as Jeeves always looked on these occasions, which is to say I rather think everyone else had fairly well forgotten about him. I caught his eye and he flickered an eyebrow approximately a 16th of an inch, giving me a delightful feeling in the old tum, like a particularly friendly boa constrictor had taken up residence there.***Algy looked up as calmly as he could when the officious young policeman returned from making his call through to Raymond. “Looks like you were telling the truth” he announced, a little glumly, “we’re to drive you into HQ.” “Thanks very much” Algy beamed, “I’ll just freshen up” he added pointedly, holding out his wrists. The official removed them, letting the pilot out and showing him the police washroom. Algy was more than happy to use their scented soap and a proper towel, so different to the facilities provided to the holding cell. As he left he couldn’t help a look over his shoulder; his erstwhile companions remained staring after him. The recently arrived Weeble-Able-Smyth shook her fist and rolled her eyes. Algy again thanked his lucky stars there wasn’t a woman in his life – no matter how rough things might get between him and James, at least they never got to the stage of screaming jealous fits and women scorned.“Here you are Sir” the young officer announced, showing Algy the car and jumping in beside him to drive, “I’m sure you understand we have to follow the book at all times.” “Abso-bally-lutely” Algy assured him. He was free again, and clean, and heading back to the office to tidy everything up…and with a bit of luck to enjoy the postponed pleasures of another anniversary. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault but they hadn’t been together despite his rash promises, and it was about time this was made up. James might be the least demonstrative cove this side of the channel (and probably the other side too), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t as cut up about it as Algy himself was. In the spirit of hopefulness, Algy fell to chatting with his gaoler, and they ended up having quite a good time talking over old cases and the like. Still, it wasn’t as good a time as Algy had as the two of them walked into the office and the whole gang was standing there. He took a glance to his right and saw the officer’s jaw fall open as Raymond himself shook Algy’s hand warmly and congratulated him on a job well done.“Tell us all about it” Raymond instructed, seating Algy and shutting the door after his gaoler.“There’s not much to tell” Algy demurred, “apart from to say that the chaps that picked me up were straight, no doubt about that. We all got rolled up pretty as you please, and the Weeble-Able-Smyth followed – I think she landed just after we did. She had a sheaf of papers and a bag that looked about as suspicious as a bag can bally well look. Well, anyway – “ he continued after the others had had a bit of a chuckle, “we all got locked up together and I was jolly thankful it was in England this time because at least I knew it wouldn’t be for long. And it wasn’t, either” he added, pleased but not particularly grammatically. “You know the rest. I kept protesting my innocence and eventually they called you, sir. Whatever you said convinced them I was the goods, and I even got driven down by that apologetic young officer.” Algy took a large mouthful of the tea that had been provided him and added thoughtfully, “who is no doubt bursting to regale his mates with this story.”“Excellent work Lacey.” Raymond said again, “jolly good. Now I think I have more than enough to be getting on with.” He stood, and the others – aside from Jeeves, who was already standing – followed his lead. “I’ll be seeing you four come Tuesday. Mr Wooster, Jeeves, I have your address if I need to ask you further questions, but I doubt it shall come to that. Thank you for your assistance.” Handshakes all around, then the six of them found themselves out on the street.“Jolly good!” Bertie Wooster trilled, “what a trip! Thanks for letting me sit in chaps. Have to get together for a drink, what?” “I should say so.” His namesake replied, “maybe next week. We’ll be in touch. Excuse me gents.” He continued, “I’m just going to check my friend didn’t get any follow up from me using his field like a jolly old airport. Don’t wait up.” He strode off, apparently determined to walk the distance if that was what it took. “Lucky friend” Ginger murmured, “Bertie always looks out for his mates.” Wooster regarded Ginger with a bit of a smile, making the lad’s fair skin come out in a dusky rose, “I’m sure you do too!” he assured him. “Thanks!” Bertie Wooster chuckled, “I’ll look you up about that drink. I think it’s time for all good men to be heading home. Perhaps you working types are used to these strenuous hours but we idlers need plenty of shut-eye to recover from anything approaching work. Toodle-oo!” “Ta-ra!” Algy replied, turning for home, “Pip-pip Jeeves!” “And to you, Sir.” Jeeves intoned, tipping his hat generally and following his employer back to their abode.***Bertie, walking quickly, soon found a public phone, and rang Drew.“Did you have any trouble?” he asked, as soon as he got to the object of the call. “Not to speak of” his darling replied, “but” he added cheekily, “you could always come and check. You’ve been away a lot.” “I might, at that!” Bertie grinned, “we have the next couple of days off and I’ve told the lads I want to double-check to see there’s nothing missing up your way.” “There’s a train tomorrow.” “Expect me tonight.” Bertie drew himself up, suddenly impatient with all this waiting and sneaking moments when they could, “dash it all, do you think I’m going to fly in and out and then wait on a train?” Drew’s rich laugh followed Bertie to the garage and out of London.They were settled by the fire some time later when Bertie finally voiced something that had been nagging the back of his mind for much of their trip. “Drew old thing” he opened, then had to start again a few minutes later, “I say old chap this is serious.” “Must we talk of serous things?” Drew certainly hadn’t been lying when he greeted Bertie, the pilot reflected. Nevertheless – “just this once. Biggles and Algy you know. They’re jolly close.” “Not as close as we are.” Drew pointed out, not precisely accurately, “oh Bertie you don’t think….” “Not really. Just something Bertie Wooster didn’t quite say the other day.” “Oh Bertie Wooster. Well. He’s the nicest chap there is, after you, but he couldn’t remember his own name if Jeeves didn’t tell him. Mentally negligent.” “We can’t all run awfully complicated businesses.” Bertie laughed, “don’t get uppity. But all the same old thing…it would be bally handy if they were. Stop us having to hide all this.” “There’s still Ginger though.” Drew pointed out, “he might do whatever Biggles tells him to normally but he might be awfully puritan. You never really know.” “Still…” “Bertie I love you distractedly but you’re driving me to bally distraction here. They’re probably not doing anything more exciting than thinking how dull it is being single together over a sad cup of tea while Ginger races out to enjoy himself. Now did you come all this way to talk about the nonsense in your head or to actually spend time with me?”Bertie rolled his eyes and left Drew in no doubt which one he had chosen.***Drew was half right, if he’d only known it. No sooner had they arrived home than Ginger was off slicking his hair back and slapping variously-smelling oils on his body. “See you tomorrow!” he called cheerfully, disappearing again so quickly he nearly met himself coming in. “Bye!” Biggles called, quietly, going through to his room and changing into slippers and a cardigan.“Well.” Algy smiled in greeting from his chair by the fire, “I’m going to propose a quiet dinner in, a couple glasses of this excellent tipple, and that we have an early night. After all.” He added virtuously, “some of us have been through gaol today.” “Don’t remind me” James muttered, joining him, “I thought you’d never get out. You keep saying you won’t do things like that again.” “I didn’t try to” Algy pointed out reasonably. “now belt up, there’s a good chap. I thought an awful lot about what I want to say and you’ll go and make me forget it if you keep distracting me with all this rot about work.” “It’s not rot” James protested, but he smiled as he said it and Algy knew it was just for form.***“But is it any easier than having things delivered?” Raymond asked his wife, regarding her selection of bags from the new fangled ‘supermarket’ laying out on the kitchen table on his return home the next day. “Significantly if I want to be out during the day. And much easier than going to lots of places dotted all around town. It’s so easier and convenient you could go on your way home!” she teased, sliding his coat off his broad shoulders and slipping past him to hang it up. “I didn’t know you held me in such high regard.” Raymond smiled, offering his customary kiss, “most remiss of me.” She preceded him to the lounge, twinkled at him as he poured two drinks. “Especially” she purred, springing the trap, “Especially as you’re so wily.” Raymond placed the decanter back on the sideboard, “wily?” “Wily. I met with Algy Lacey today. Apparently our nice holiday was merely a busman’s holiday. My husband thought he could do a little work on the side.” She regarded him coolly, tapered fingers interlaced at her waist. Raymond nodded, swallowing thickly. How could he’ve known that Algy was going to have a fit of familial guilty and take it out on his wife? He’d half a mind to bring back fatigues just to put Algy on them for the rest of his life.“I didn’t want you to act any differently. It was secret to keep you safe.” He attempted. “We had an agreement. I’ve never been part of your work without you asking first. If you’re going to use me for cover you must ask.” “I wasn’t using…where are you going?” “To make tea. No. you stay here.” Raymond wisely stood still until she’d left, then downed his glass and replaced it carefully. Drat all blasted aviators and especially the thoughts of work that’d overridden his promise to his darling wife!He poured another drink moodily, the Waterford reflecting and refracting prettily. A gift for their crystal wedding anniversary. As he warmed the glass the familiar chink of dinner being prepared filtered through. By the time the food came through Raymond had admitted to himself, at least, that he’d broken one of the tenants of their marriage. Years of the aforementioned marriage, however, taught him that it was too soon to apologise and he resigned himself to at least half an hour of grouchy looks over their roast.“Algy was worried you weren’t in at work” she began, once she was sure that talking would help, “so he rang. I told him that the smog wasn’t troubling us and you’d be there soon. He admitted they weren’t really in today because of their recent travels and thanked me for them…and asked how I felt about berets. I told him I quite liked them. He came around soon after with some tale of a woman giving it to him and asked to see the scarf. He told me the whole story. So now you know.”Through all this, Raymond felt his frustration with Algy melt away. The lad had apparently not wanted some trinket he’d acquired to go to waste, and berets were particularly chic on his lady-wife. Nevertheless, he was now facing the music on a night when he’d had rather high hopes of celebrating the completion of a difficult week for both of them. “I should have told you.” He agreed with admirable frankness, “I broke our promise and I’m sorry.” When this looked like it was getting the required results he dared to take her hand, giving her his most apologetic look. Intelligence officers might lie professionally, and lie by omission due to the very nature of their work, but he strove to never actively lie to his wife.She looked sorrowfully at him for a few moments, and then burst out laughing! “My dear man, do you really think I didn’t know? You hate holidaying in France! Really.” She crossed to his knee, kissing him in forgiveness and chuckling at him, “but you shouldn’t lie.” Once he’d agreed and started laughing in relief and some amusement as well, she led him away from the table to inspect the beret. It was a very fine gesture of Algy, Raymond thought magnanimously some time later, perhaps enough to earn him a reprieve.