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  Raymond goes on to explain that a wealthy Greek gentleman named Constantine Pelegrinos had originally made his home on the Adriatic coast of Albania, near the small town of Delvaros where he had a luxury villa overlooking the sea.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" .  "I made a slight miscalculation in the timing," muttered Biggles.  "I didn't allow enough for the height of the mountains in the interior.  No matter.  We’re in no hurry".  Two or three minutes passed. "I think I've got it," said Ginger, peering down and ahead. "You're nearly dead on”.  Ginger sees a light that could be coming from the villa.  "Confound it.  If that light is at the villa it can only mean the place is occupied”.  Biggles lands the Gadfly something less than a quarter of a mile from the coast.  Bertie mans the plane whilst Biggles and Ginger get the dinghy out.  The tools are put on board and they row to the foot at the path at the base of the cliff.  There is already a boat there, a sailing dinghy fitted with an outboard motor.  “Looks as if the path is still used," whispered Biggles. "Must be someone living in the villa”. A notice had been painted on a flat piece of rock. The language was foreign. "Probably means private, or landing forbidden," concluded Biggles.  “Let’s press on up Jacob’s ladder”.  They picked up the tools.  The ascent was steep but otherwise easy, steps having been cut in what originally must have been the most difficult places.  At the top, they look on with dismay as lights show at several windows in the villa and the grass lawn is now an overgrown jungle of rank weeds and bushes.  They see two guards patrolling.  Biggles says “The place must be a naval or military post, or maybe a coastguard station.  It’s going to make things awkward”.  They reach a certain point where they know the box is ten yards away and only a foot underground.  Finding the correct area, Biggles uses the rod until he strikes something metal.  Removing the top soil he says “This is it.  I’ve got the handle”.  Biggles pulls the box out but the bottom falls out of it.  “Rotten with damp, or salt in the ground”.  Biggles takes off his jacket and then his shirt and ties the sleeves of the shirt at the wrist.  Biggles then scoops up the coins into the shirt.  The difficulty was to do this without making a noise.  The coins would chink together.  Ginger warns Biggles the shirt is going to burst and suggests they leave the rest of the coins but Biggles says “I’m not leaving one if I can help it”.  Somewhere a man starts calling and whistling a dog.  As the man walks by the villa the dog growls.  The man says something to the dog and they both move on.  Ginger says “Let’s get out of this”.  They abandon the tools and retreat towards the cliff on all fours, Ginger dragging the shirt.  The reach the top of the ascent and the dog appears and raises its head and bayes.  Biggles whipped out his gun.  The animal makes a lot of noise but does not attack.  Such an uproar could not fail to be heard at the villa, as was proved by several voices calling to each other.  As Biggles takes his first step down the path, a firearm flashed and a bullet ploughed through the bushes.  Biggles fires in the air, his purpose being to let the man know he was armed and so keep him at a distance.  The man disappeared as he ducked into the bushes.  Biggles bolted down the track at a speed which in ordinary circumstances he would have said was dangerous.  A general alarm is raised above.  When Biggles was half-way down he heard Bertie start the engines and by the time he reached the bottom, the machine had come right in.  Ginger and Biggles get aboard.  Loose pieces of rock bounce down the cliff and shots are fired at them but do no damage.  The end was in the nature of anti-climax.  In the scramble into the cabin Ginger tripped over the shirt and fell.  One of the sleeves burst, scattering coins all over the floor.  Biggles, his face streaked with grime and sweat, looked at Ginger and grinned.  “How about that for a picnic?  Get me a drink.  I need one.  Then you’d better pick up those tiddlywinks”.  He went forward and joined Bertie in the cockpit.