Biggles and the Blue Moon Page 2

  ‘If that’s the sort of joy money brings you can have it,’ declared Bertie.

  ‘Once Mr Lin Seng was himself captured by bandits and had to pay a fantastic sum to buy his release,’ continued the Air Commodore. ‘Fearing it might happen again he now lives in what is virtually a prison; armed guards on duty day and night; dog patrols; steel-barred windows and so on. The beautiful gardens that once surrounded Taihan have been cleared away to leave the ground open so that no one can approach without being seen.’

  ‘What a life,’ muttered Algy. ‘Why does he do it?’

  ‘This state of affairs has come about gradually and it’s now rather late to do anything about it.’

  ‘He still lives at Taihan?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he get out?’

  ‘I think he probably would if he could be sure of getting the pearls away with him. He would like to get them to London where he could still enjoy them in his old age. They could live in the strong-room of one of the big banks.’

  ‘Are they covered by insurance?’ asked Ginger.

  ‘You still don’t understand. Lin Seng isn’t interested in the monetary value of the pearls. He wants the pearls.’

  ‘What’s wrong with taking them to Kuala Lumpur and putting them on a plane for England?’

  ‘Lin Seng is convinced that; if ever those pearls left his house he’d never see them again. And he could be right. A lot of people would like to get their hands on them. The devil of it is, if the pearls stay where they are he may still lose them. First, let me remind you of what’s going on in that part of the world. To the south, in Singapore, there’s a strong anti-government faction that might boil over at any moment.’

  ‘You mean Chinese nationals?’ put in Biggles.

  ‘They are not of any particular nationality, nor are they all necessarily communists. The world is full of unscrupulous rogues with glib tongues who induce men of less intelligence to cause trouble for what they can get out of it. Race riots, and that sort of thing, provide opportunities for looting. Men who hope to become dictators take every chance to stir up trouble and so get a country seething with discontent.’

  ‘That sort of racket is going on all over the world,’ Biggles said gloomily. ‘Try to stop it by force and there’s the deuce to pay.’

  The Air Commodore resumed. ‘Indonesia has made it clear that she has designs on Malaysia, of which the Malay peninsula is now part, and has already landed parties of commando-type troops on the coast to do as much mischief as possible. Some have been rounded up; others are still at large in the forests. As if that were not enough, to the north-east, no great distance away, across the Gulf of Siam, Vietnam government forces are being steadily pushed back by a communist army advancing from the north. What the position will be in a few months’ time no man can say. With such dangerous enemies closing in on him from all sides, is it surprising that Mr Lin Seng is a worried man?’

  Biggles nodded. ‘I can understand how he feels, but there’s still time for him to get out, taking his precious pearls with him.’

  ‘He doesn’t think so, bearing in mind the long jungle road he would have to travel to get to comparative safety. Another hazard has arisen recently, although just how serious it is he doesn’t know. Strangers have appeared in the forest around Taihan; even small parties of white men. Who they are and what they are doing Lin Seng hasn’t been able to find out. They don’t behave like genuine prospectors, or hunters, or natural history collectors. Some, certainly, have an interest in Taihan because faces have been seen on the fringe of the forest, even up in the trees, overlooking the open ground round the house. What is the interest? Lin Seng has a suspicion that some of these men are professional crooks who are only waiting for the confusion that would be caused by a local war or insurrection to raid Taihan for its treasures. Of course, there always have been bandits. We spent years with a lot of troops trying to winkle them out. There aren’t as many as there were, but there are still some diehards hiding in the jungle. You may remember they ambushed and killed a senior British officer and his escort, and they were in an armoured car. A tree across the track forced it to stop. It boils down to this. Mr Lin Seng is convinced that if he tried to move his valuables, or even just the pearls, to a safer place, they wouldn’t get as far as the main road. At least, for the moment they are reasonably secure where they are.’

  ‘Can he be sure of that?’

  ‘Yes. Unless the house was attacked by a strong force of well-armed men; and they’d need skilled engineers with explosives to get into his strong-room and blow open the built-in steel safe in which the pearls are kept.’

  ‘Does this mean he never goes out?’

  ‘I’m not sure about that.’

  ‘If he doesn’t go out how does he run his business?’

  ‘He keeps in touch with his office at Kuala Lumpur, the capital, either by private telephone or radio — I’m not sure which. Perhaps both. There was a time when the army was able to provide him with an armoured car escort, but that can’t be done now our troops have a war on their hands in Borneo. Anyway, no surface vehicle can be absolutely safe because it couldn’t leave the road and a road block would stop it. An aircraft seems to be the only answer.’

  ‘Let’s get this clear,’ Biggles said bluntly. ‘What does Mr Lin Seng actually want?’

  ‘He would like to see his pearls in some safe place in London; one of the big banks, or perhaps the Bank of England, until other arrangements can be made. He could still add to the collection. In such conditions he would return to Singapore or Kuala Lumpur to carry on his business. If things were quiet he might even continue to live at Taihan. The first thing, and the one that matters most, is to get the pearls out of the danger area to where Mr Lin Seng wouldn’t have to worry about them.’

  Biggles stubbed his cigarette. ‘Well, sir, I still can’t see that it presents any insurmountable difficulty. From the way you seem to have been briefed in so many details, I take it that air transport has already been considered?’

  ‘I have been consulted. I said I would put the matter to you, as a practical pilot of experience, for your opinion. Does any particular point occur to you at first sight?’

  ‘Yes. What are the possibilities of landing an aircraft close to Mr Seng’s house at Taihan? What about this open space which you say surrounds the house? How big is it? Could a plane get down on it? If so that seems to be the answer.’

  The Air Commodore looked doubtful. ‘I wouldn’t think so. The landing area itself might be large enough for a light plane to get down were it not for the forest trees. You know what the Malayan forest is like. Even if the ground is dead level the trees might be anything up to two hundred feet tall, too high to allow a plane to get in. Of course, never having seen the place I couldn’t be sure of that. A helicopter would probably have no difficulty.’

  ‘It’s a long way to take a chopper. What about this golf-course you mentioned? Could that be the solution? I mean, is there at least one long fairway? If the course is sprinkled with bunkers that puts it out.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about it, and I don’t know anyone who has seen it.’

  ‘Then it seems to me that it’s time someone looked over the place. On a job like this it’s no use hoping everything will be all right. What we want are facts. I’d suggest that before anything else is done someone goes to Taihan to get them. Perhaps have a word with Mr Seng about how the operation should be organized. Let him take the final decision. The pearls are his babies. If for any reason the aircraft carrying them made a boob landing and went up in flames, all that would remain of the collection would be a handful of grey dust. I wouldn’t like to see that happen.’

  ‘Nor would Mr Seng, you may be sure,’ returned the Air Commodore dryly. ‘It would be the crowning tragedy of his life. Some people might say what does he want with all these pearls, anyway; but I don’t see it like that. Any man, rich or poor, is entitled to do what he likes with his money; and if Mr
Seng likes to make a hobby of collecting pearls, there’s no earthly reason why he shouldn’t. But to come back to the question of how they can be saved, I think you are right. The ideal thing at this stage would be for someone to go out to Taihan to discuss the matter with Mr Seng and see exactly how the land lies. But the whole thing may come to nothing. He may decide to make his own arrangements. I’ve told you what’s in the wind. That’s enough to go on with. Think it over. Let’s leave it like that.’

  ‘As you say, sir.’ Biggles got up, and followed by the others left the room.

  CHAPTER 2

  TAIHAN FROM ABOVE

  A month later, with Algy beside him in an Auster aircraft, Biggles was cruising over Taihan.

  There had been no difficulty in finding the country retreat of Mr Lin Seng, for the mountain after which the house was named, isolated and towering 8,000 feet from apparently endless and unbroken forest, provided an unmistakable landmark that could be seen from afar. As the aircraft approached Biggles regarded it with suspicion. ‘If we should strike bad weather we’d better not forget it’s there,’ he remarked.

  The house, too, some little distance from the mountain, was unmistakable, if for no other reason than there was no other building in sight. Standing in the open on a gentle slope, long and low, built in the manner of an oriental temple with overhanging eaves and a pillared portico, it was as conspicuous as would be a concrete skyscraper in an English landscape.

  The one road that gave access to it appeared as little more than an indistinct track through otherwise unbroken jungle. There were stretches where trees, intertwining their branches overhead, completely hid it from view.

  ‘Not exactly a motorway,’ observed Algy sarcastically.

  ‘It is now probably so little used that it’s in danger of becoming overgrown,’ replied Biggles. ‘In this sort of country growth is so fast that it doesn’t take long for the forest to reclaim anything it has lost. If what Lin Seng says is true about vagabonds in the forest, and all that, it might be difficult to get labourers to do any repair work.’

  ‘At all events, as far as one can judge from here the ground round the house has been kept clear.’

  They surveyed it in silence until Biggles said: ‘The Air Commodore was right. Those trees round it look tall. I suppose it might be just possible to slip in a modern light aircraft fitted with slots or trailing edge flaps, but it would be taking a chance.1 That clearing over to the right of the house must be the golf-course. Let’s have a look at it.’

  Biggles took the machine over it and again silence fell as their eyes reconnoitred.

  Then Algy said: ‘I don’t care much for the look of that, either. You’d lose an awful lot of golf-balls trying to get round. Apart from the ground being undulating it looks to me as if a lot of old tree stumps, not properly grubbed up, are sprouting again. I can see rushes, too. That means soft patches even if the ground isn’t waterlogged.’

  ‘I’d say it’s a long time since anyone played a round of golf in that mess,’ replied Biggles. ‘I suppose, like the road, it’s been allowed to run wild. I don’t know what staff he has, but the whole set-up gives me the impression that Mr Lin Seng is living in conditions not far from a state of siege. One thing is clear, anyway. I’m glad I decided to give the place the once-over before flying in with the idea of landing. I’m going to check from ground level before trying anything like that. Well, there’s nothing more we can do except take some photographs for future reference, not that they’re likely to tell us much more than we already know.’

  Biggles made two runs, one at 2,000 feet operating the vertical camera and another from 200 feet with Algy taking oblique shots with a pistol-grip camera.

  ‘I could see someone on the terrace, or veranda, or whatever it is, having a dekko at us,’ said Algy as he sat back. ‘If Lin Seng knows what’s going on I would have expected him to give us a wave.’

  ‘Maybe he kept under cover because he couldn’t be sure of us; maybe he has another reason for not exposing himself in the open,’ returned Biggles. ‘We may know more about that when we call on him. Meantime let’s get back to base.’

  Events had moved quickly since the conference in the Air Commodore’s office in the matter of the wealthy Chinese merchant and his collection of pearls. Within a week the Air Commodore had sent for Biggles to inform him that a Higher Authority had approved the idea of sending an officer with air experience to survey the general lay-out of the house at Taihan with particular regard to the possibilities of landing an aircraft in order that Mr Lin Seng could be evacuated, if not immediately, in case of emergency.

  Contact had been made with Lin Seng and he had welcomed the proposal to the extent of offering to provide accommodation and the hospitality of his house for the officer to whom the operation was entrusted. All that remained to be done, therefore, was to put this into effect. This did not mean that Mr Lin Seng was to be picked up immediately. That could be arranged later when conditions at the establishment had been examined.

  ‘I have been asked to arrange this and naturally my choice of the officer to do the job falls on you,’ concluded the Air Commodore. ‘Any questions?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Biggles, taking a cigarette. ‘You say contact was made with Mr Lin Seng. How was that done?’

  ‘By telephone, I suppose.’

  ‘You mean, from here?’

  ‘No. I imagine the call would be made to Lin Seng’s office either in Singapore or Kuala Lumpur. Whoever was in charge there would transmit the message on the private line to Taihan.’

  ‘You might find out how it was done.’

  ‘Why? Is it important?’

  ‘It could be. If contact was not made direct with Lin Seng it means someone else knows about the arrangement. If conditions at Taihan are as difficult as we’re led to believe it wouldn’t be safe to trust the telephone. A spy in the office might overhear the conversation. Telephone wires can be tapped, anyway.’

  ‘Contact might have been made by radio.’

  ‘Same thing. Anyone knowing the wave-length could listen in.’

  The Air Commodore shrugged. ‘I’m afraid we shall have to take a chance on that.’

  ‘I don’t take chances if they can be avoided.’

  ‘The only other way contact with Taihan could be made would be by sending a special messenger, a courier, and you’ll be playing that part yourself presently.’

  ‘As long as I don’t run into trouble on the way. We shall see. What exactly is the plan?’

  ‘Well, it’s no use taking an aircraft to Taihan only to find when you get there that there’s no place to get down.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more. So what do we do about it?’

  ‘I thought you’d prefer to make a preliminary reconnaissance on the ground to see exactly what things are like. Can you see any objection?’

  ‘No, but I think I can see a better way of tackling it.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘To arrive at Taihan by road, in a surface vehicle of some sort, would mean exploring the locality on foot.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘To blunder about in the jungle looking for wide open spaces doesn’t exactly fill me with enthusiasm. Think of the time it would take. Days, perhaps weeks. Moreover, if Lin Seng is right about strangers hanging about in the forest — and I think that must be true or there would be nothing to prevent him from going to Kuala Lumpur under his own steam — prowling about like a Red Indian on the warpath would not only take time, it could be dangerous. According to Mr Seng, even the private road that leads to the place isn’t safe. That doesn’t worry me. I’m thinking about the time factor.’

  ‘I take your point,’ agreed the Air Commodore. ‘Very well, what do you suggest?’

  ‘A lot of time might be saved by making a preliminary reconnaissance from the air, perhaps taking a set of photographs that could be studied before taking the next step. In that way a lot of ground could be covered quickly. It wouldn’t be necessary to l
and. I would at least have a mental picture of the house and its surroundings. At the moment I haven’t a clue as to what the place looks like. One glance at it from the air would be far better than any description. Having had a good look, I’d fly back to base. I know something about the Malayan jungle. It’s no place for foot-work. I’m all for an aircraft. Having got a picture of the place in my head, I could then go to Taihan by road knowing something about it.’

  The Air Commodore thought for a few seconds. ‘Very well, if you’d rather do it that way. I can see the advantages.’

  ‘It means I should have to buy or hire a car on the spot to do the roadwork afterwards.’

  ‘That can easily be arranged. What aircraft would you take out?’

  ‘One of our Austers. Why not? I can’t think of a better machine for the job. I wouldn’t reckon on finding a suitable machine out there and looking for one might waste time. Of course, there are plenty of civil aircraft in Malaysia these days. Malaysian Airways, who work with BOAC, serve all the big towns — Penang, Ipoh, Malacca, Kuantan, Alor Star, Kota Bhara and so on; but they operate turbo-props, so even if they’d lend us one it wouldn’t be much use to me. To be on the safe side it would be better to take out one of our own Austers and base it probably at Kuala Lumpur. The airport is only about ten minutes from the town, where I gather Lin Seng has an office. So has BOAC, which might come in handy. You might arrange landing and servicing facilities for me.’

  ‘What reason shall I give for you being there, if I’m asked?’

  ‘Make it unofficial. The one we’ve used before. I’m getting pictures for a BBC TV travel series. That would account for our cameras. Which reminds me. I’d like a permit to carry a gun. You might get me a firearm certificate or a gun would probably be taken off me.’

  The Air Commodore nodded. ‘You may need one unless you’re lucky,’ he said dryly. ‘All right. I’ll get that from the Malaysian office here in London. Are you thinking of going alone or will you take someone with you?’