BIGGLES PRESSES ON

More Adventures of Biggles and the Special Air Police

by Captain W. E. Johns

8. FISHY BUSINESS (Pages 150 – 160)

This story was originally published in the I-SPY ANNUAL (1955) by News Chronicle, London and ran from pages 7 to 12 in that book. I cannot find any differences between this version and the version in Biggles Presses On.

The “inter-com. Phone buzzed” and Inspector Gaskin is on the line. He is sending a Pole named Lutenski along to see Biggles. “A short, stout, dark-eyed, black-coated little man who gripped a bowler hat and umbrella with fierce indignation” is admitted who complains that he has been robbed. The story he tells is this. Six months ago, in Leningrad, on a Trade Mission to Russia, he saw a parcel of eight matching cream mink skins that were like no others he had ever seen. He paid a lot of money for them and they had to be imported through official channels. When the parcel of eight mink arrived, they were not what he had bought, but common stuff, of poor quality. “Someone has changed my parcel and I am ruined”. In London, the other day, he sees Lady Branding wearing his mink skins. Furs have been the family business for generations and he knows skins like faces. Lady Branding tells him she got the skins from Marius Kindus, who has an expensive shop in Mayfair. Kindus, who was not on the Trade Mission to Russia, says he got the skins from a special show at Flat 17, Greenwood Mansions in Park Lane to which several dealers were invited. On checking, Lutenski found that flat to be empty. On checking with the Chief Customs officer, Lutenski finds that there is no record of such skins ever being imported. Lutenski says the skins must have been smuggled in and, if skins come in without paying duty, honest traders will be ruined. Biggles agrees to investigate. Algy rings the leading furriers to ask if they have attended a private show in Greenwood Mansions at Park Lane. In half an hour, Algy is able to confirm that none of them have any knowledge of such a show. Ginger rings the hall porter at Greenwood Mansions and discovers that the relevant flat is unoccupied and hasn’t been let for more than a year. Biggles smiled cynically. “Now we know Kindus is a liar, if nothing worse”. Biggles thinks that Kindus didn’t know the skins were stolen, otherwise he would have sent them to Paris or New York, but he knew they hadn’t come into the country openly and that was why he had to lie. Inspector Gaskin is asked to get the “low-down” on Kindus and in two days’ time Biggles has the information. Kindus is aged forty-seven and married with no children. Born in London of Latvian parents, he was a furrier of repute and lived in a flat over his shop. He often spent week-ends at a country house he maintained at Wivenhoe, in Essex (a real town near Colchester). There he kept a launch named Scandik, in order to indulge in his recreation of deep sea fishing. There was a newspaper clipping of him standing on the deck of a vessel of about fifty tons, with a tunny. (A "tunny" is an older or regional name for a tuna, specifically, in British waters, the term often refers to the large and powerful Atlantic Bluefin Tuna). Ginger checks at the Head Office of Customs and Excise as to what happens with small boats when they return to port. Are they checked for contraband? Ginger reports back that all craft landing are checked, at least, a Customs officer is there. How far he searches depends on how well he knows the owner of the craft, and its crew. The Scandik has a crew of two and the local officer is called Mr. Bright. Biggles decides to watch the Scandik the next time it puts to sea. A fortnight elapses before Gaskin informs Biggles that Kindus has gone to Wivenhoe for the weekend. Algy and Bertie take the Auster aircraft to watch the boat from the air. Tunny live mostly on herring so follow the herring shoals. Boats of all nationalities also follow the herring shoals. Biggles says “There are rod fishermen who are not above buying a tunny from a fishing boat rather than return home without one”. Algy and Bertie are told to “report the position on the high frequency”. “The first message came through during the evening. Bertie reported sighting the Scandik fifty miles off shore, fishing, about half a mile from a drifter flying the Latvian flag”. “Ah-ha,” murmured Ginger. “And Kindus a Latvian by birth. That’s no coincidence”. Biggles conceded that the proximity of the two vessels had a fishy aroma. “If contact is made between the two craft it will be after dark,” asserted Biggles. “There’s no need for them to take chances in daylight”. Dawn found the Auster in the air again and Bertie reported that the Scandik was on a course for home and the drifter had disappeared. Biggles tells them they can pack up and he tells Ginger to get the car out as they are going down to Wivenhoe. “I shall be surprised if he hasn’t got a fish of some sort” says Biggles. “It was late on the quiet Sunday afternoon when they saw the Scandik come chugging in to its mooring. Several idlers gathered to watch. A man in a dark blue uniform arrived on a bicycle”. “That must be Mr Bright,” surmised Biggles. On the deck of the Scandik is a magnificent tunny of about six-hundred pounds. The Customs officer spoke to Kindus whilst one of the boat crew fetched a motor truck. Biggles tells Ginger to take a look at the eyes of the fish. “I’d wager that fish has been dead for a week. Kindus didn’t catch it. It was caught by the Latvians whom I’d say he met by appointment”. Biggles went to the head of the fish and pulled open the jaws. “What are you doing?” demanded Kindus curtly. “I was wondering what sort of hook would be needed to hold a fish that size,” answered Biggles evenly. “I don’t see a hook mark,” he added casually. Kindus tells Biggles “Leave my fish alone”. Biggles says “I want to examine this fish” and shows his police badge. Biggles says “Mr Bright, I’d like you to come here, I may need a witness”. “What do you expect to find?” asks Kindus. “You should know,” answered Biggles, quietly, taking a heavy knife from his pocket. Kindus, his face ashen now, hesitated. “All right,” he said in a shaky voice. “I give in. But don’t let’s have a scene here”. “As you wish,” agreed Biggles. “Where would you have it?”. “At my house” is the reply. They all go to Kindus’s house and open the fish in an outbuilding and a collection of expensive furs, each one tightly rolled in oiled silk is removed. “Well, there you are, Mr Bright,” said Biggles. “I’ll leave the rest to you”. “What beats me,” said Kindus miserably, “is how you got on to this”. “If your Latvian friends who sold you the fish had stuck to common mink, bought in the open market, you might have got away with it for a long time,” answered Biggles. “It was the eight cream skins you sold to Lady Branding that gave you away. They were stolen, and the rightful owner, Mr. Lutenski, quite naturally, complained. “I didn’t know they were stolen,” protested Kindus. “You’d better save your explanations for the Court,” Biggles told him.