BIGGLES
FLIES TO WORK
Some unusual
cases of Biggles and his Air Police
by Captain W.
E. Johns
First published
September 1963
TITLE PAGE – Page 3
CONTENTS – Page 5
I. THE CASE OF THE LOST
COINS (Pages 7 – 25)
“Air Commodore Raymond, head of the Air
Police Section at Scotland Yard, looked up with a smile as Biggles entered his
office and seated himself in his customary chair within easy reach of the
desk”. “May I, sir, with respect, share
the joke?” inquired Biggles. “There’s no
joke”. The Air Commodore pushed forward
the cigarette box. “I was just thinking
what a fascinating job this is. One
never knows what’s going to turn up next”.
Biggles expresses his doubts. “Oh
come now, Bigglesworth,” protested the Air Commodore. “You know as well as I do that if yours was a
humdrum, routine, cut-and-dried job, you wouldn’t stick it for a month. But let’s not argue about that. I have a little job here that should be right
up your street. For a start I’d like to
know what you think about it. It’s
essentially an air operation”. Raymond
goes on to explain that a wealthy Greek gentleman named Constantine Pelegrinos
had originally made his home on the Adriatic coast of Albania, near the small
town of Delvaros where he had a luxury villa
overlooking the sea. He was ardent
numismatist. (This term is not
explained as children in the 1960s would have been expected to know. A numismatist is a person who
specializes in numismatics, the study of coins, medals, paper money, and
related items, including their history, art, and value. These specialists
can be collectors, scholars, or researchers who delve into the details of
currency to understand its historical and cultural significance beyond its
monetary value). He is now eighty
years of age and has “built up one of the finest collections of ancient coins
in the world, mostly gold and silver, of course, because they do not perish
like base metals”. They are worth a
large sum for their intrinsic value alone, but their real value lies in the
rarity of the specimens. Some years ago
when the communist revolution struck Albania, her realized he would have to
leave the country but he knew he would not be allowed to take his collection
with him. So he buried it in an ordinary
metal cash box under the front lawn and threw their specially made leather
cases, lined with velvet, into the sea.
Raymond has a sketch map of the house and garden, with figures showing
distances in yards from salient points to the spot where the coins were
buried. The collection could be fetched
as a private undertaking with the British Government not being involved. Biggles says “I don’t see why Mr. Pelegrinos should suppose we’re ready to stick our necks
out to recover his precious toys for him”.
Raymond explains that Pelegrinos has signed
over the collection to the British Museum, if they can get it. In that way he would still be able to see his
beloved coins any time he wished. The
offer was accepted. One difficulty is
that no one knows what has happened at the villa since it was abandoned, but if
the coins had been found they would almost certainly come on the market. Some pieces are unique and Pelegrinos keeps close watch on sales all over the
world. The country around the promontory
where the villa is situated is wild and rugged, so a marine aircraft would have
to be used. There is a path that
zig-zags up the face of the cliff.
Biggles asks about the weight of the money box. Raymond has no idea but it can’t be very
heavy otherwise Pelegrinos couldn’t have carried
it. Biggles decides “It’s worth
trying. It’ll mean careful planning,
timing, the phase of the moon and so on.
Fortunately there’s no tide in the Mediterranean to contend with. I’ll think it over and come back later. I shall need faked papers, of course, in case
I run into trouble”. Biggles returns to
his office. As Algy, his second in
command, was on leave he tells Bertie and Ginger of the proposed assignment. With the file open on the desk and a map of
the Central Mediterranean at hand, the best ways and means of achieving the
object were discussed at some length and in detail. The discussion lasted for two days, for a lot
of figures were involved and there was much checking to be done; the phase of
the moon, the probable weather for the time of year, and so on. At the finish the aircraft chosen for the
operation was the one on their own establishment that had often served for
long-distance overseas work. This was
the Gadfly, a twin-engined, high-wing, amphibian flying boat which, with
an extra tank, had an endurance range of more than two thousand miles – enough
to see them to the objective and back without an intermediate landing. They would take with them a short-handled
pick like a soldier’s entrenching tool, a spade with a sharp edge, dulled so as
not to reflect the moonlight, and a pointed steel rod for probing the ground in
order to locate the box before digging.
From these the makers names and trade marks
would be removed. A knotty problem was
whether to take weapons but it was finally settled that those going ashore
should carry pistols, primarily for purposes of intimidation. They would only be used if it became
necessary to save their lives. Three
days later, the flying boat took off with documents showing it was on official
Interpol duty.
No trouble was expected, nor was any
encountered, and at nine o'clock the same evening, the Gadfly was over
the Adriatic, cruising at twelve thousand feet.
The weather was a typical late summer night in the Central Mediterranean
region with the sea unruffled by a breath of breeze. Presently the moon, nearly full, soared up
over the horizon like a lopsided silver balloon. "That cluster of lights should be Delvaros," remarked Bertie. “If it is, it should give us our
bearing. It's the only place of any size
in the district"